#literally i have no explanation

[thelikesofus]

ummm so the bobby wendell things is done so ahh WHY ARE BUCK AND EDDIE PLAYING POKER IF NOT UNDERCOVER I NEED ANSWERS

[psymachine]

is he...you know? *lowers voice* catholic?

[luna-loveboop]

I find it funny that Wild, who has basically a couple years ish of full life experience, comes up with the most insane theories for everything

He assumed that the only other explanation to Four being able to split in Four was. That he was quadruplets who'd been hiding this whole time???

Also apparently he believed that his wolf companion Twilight in botw was a diety (and felt very uhh shocked upon finding out that he was not)

Malon made things worse, telling him about her aliens theory

What's even FUNNIER is that every time Wild expresses any sort of confusion at magic stuff that he's never seen before, everyone else in the chain acts like it's crazy for him to be weirded out by it

Honestly maybe Wild's the only one with his head on straight, rather than everyone else who are just like 'it's magic bro' like no he's right this is weird

I appreciate this because it's very considerate of the fact that he woke up with no memories not too long ago, so he doesn't have much experience to explain the stuff that's 'normal' for the chain. Plus the explanations he comes up with are funny.

:)

.

Art and comic and adorable character by Jojo @linkeduniverse au :D

[sanjarka]

there is so much more to be said here but peeta's biggest flaw is his strength and kill me if you want but if you really think about it he's an extremely closed of person. and much more than katniss! when do we see him actually opening up to people - the only time he gets taken care of is when he's physically not well and needs help literally. ,,most of my nightmares are about you so i'm okay once i realize you're there” is sure a sweet and romantic quote but i see so much sadness in it. he doesn't want to be a burden. he doesn't know how to be comforted because maybe no one was there to help him after a bad dream when he was a kid - completely unlike katniss's experience. and what about those dreams that aren't about katniss. she retells her nightmares to peeta and he locks them all inside of himself.

[mylittleredgirl]

i can't stop chewing on the MASH time loop situation. my star trek brain will not turn off. there is definitely some kind of temporal anomaly at play, but it's not really a time loop in the traditional sense.

effects carry over from loop to loop. they appear to age. the same wounded soldiers appear on the table three times, but the scars of past surgeries are still there. a character leaves or dies and is gone from the mash forever; their replacement arrives near the end of the war and is still there at the beginning. the dates overlap, yet their presence is sequential. the other characters remember all of them.

how far does this effect extend? if it's summer again at mash, is it summer in tokyo? is it summer in maine? if BJ is in korea two years before he arrived, who's in residency in california, marrying his wife, conceiving his child?

their family trees at home deform—different wives, different children, loved ones alternately dead and alive and never born. those inside are oblivious to what they've lost. hawkeye remembers trapper, but not his sister. what happens in korea persists; the world outside is a fragile suggestion. he tells a soldier that men at the front can't see the whole war, only the other guys dug in with them on their one little hill.

for a deep space nine fan this is irresistible. hawkeye says, wars end, but war is forever. kira asks, if the past has changed, why do i still remember it? sisko never left that ship. time itself is warped by trauma. it is not linear. you exist here. you choose to exist here.

[aroaceleovaldez]

Nico and Percy's dynamic through the series is eternally funny to me, because it's just. like.

Percy's having a constant mental struggle between his fatal flaw of loyalty with a promise he made to Bianca to protect Nico, versus his Big 3 kid desire to maim other Big 3 kids / Poseidon descendant urge to totally maim Nico specifically. He hates Nico so so much. He thinks Nico's annoying and weird at best, and creepy/sketchy when he's older. The only positive thoughts Percy has towards Nico are "He's Bianca's brother and Bianca was my friend and I owe her/He's Hazel's brother and Hazel is my friend and would kill me if I was mean to him," "He's a powerful asset and useful ally (if questionable)," and "He's kinda pathetic and I feel maybe a little bad about it." Percy has multiple occasions throughout the series where he strongly considers - and on one occasionally actually goes through with - throttling Nico.

Meanwhile, Nico is following around Percy like a lost puppy. He explicitly can never bring himself to even dislike anything about Percy no matter how hard he tries. He has a whole bit in BoO where he's mentally going "UGH he's so stupid BUT IT'S ENDEARING HOW DARE HE." He's totally smitten. He's making deals with his dad for Percy. He's making convoluted plans to help Percy stand a chance against Kronos. During the entirety of BoTL it's like he's playing tsundere - "I'm helping NOT PERCY SPECIFICALLY with this quest! Me helping Percy would be SILLY because I DEFINITELY HATE HIM." Then he proceeds to show up to Percy's birthday party to basically ask him on a weird date and spend the entire next book scrambling around trying to help him or protect him or impress him. And Percy could not give less of a shit.

Just. That dynamic is so funny to me. Percy is the founder of the Nico Protection Club in that he's the one they're all protecting Nico from and meanwhile Nico is throwing himself at Percy to the point where the literal god of gay love calls him out on it.

[comicaurora]

tldr I committed to a bit too hard

The slow-dawning sunlight dappled down through dense, rich foliage, scattering golden lace across mossy trunks and grassy hillocks. The light caught on the forest floor in a thousand glassy dewdrops and bent, fisheyed, in globed inversions of the canopy above.

No breeze stirred the forest so early in the morning, but a thin mist gathered in the valley under the warming air. Sunbeams lanced through the fog, pale in the dawn but soon to brighten and intensify. For now, the air was damp and cool and still, and the scent of the night lingered.

Pip bent a pawful of grass to the side and sniffed the air suspiciously.

It was too quiet, too still. And with no wind, she couldn't mark the position of the strange beasts and their odd, dusty, acrid scent that had no place in these woods. It hung low and directionless over the peaceful morning, distant but permeating, like a faraway fire.

She adjusted her backslung blade, wrapped her cloak closer around her and dropped onto all fours, nose pointed straight ahead and whiskers standing at attention. Her dusty green-gray wrap would shield her from all but the most attentive prying eyes, and - she quirked an ear, just to be sure of the silence - most of the forest was still asleep, unlikely to mark her passage.

She managed to stifle a flinch as a sound that wasn't a sound bypassed her ears and rang straight into her head.

Pip? Where'd you go?

She exhaled softly through her nose, the barest expression of frustration she allowed herself.

Scouting, Alder. Go back to sleep.

She set off before he could reply, scurrying silently along the mossy forest floor, tracing a sinuous route through the canopy's shadow to stay out of the slow-brightening sunbeams.

Scouting?!

The thought squeaked with disbelief. She didn't answer it.

Alder never had fewer than three thoughts at a time, and the more agitated he became, the harder they became to sort through. A jumble rang in her skull, a snatch of Eldest told us- and moves like thunder and have to hide, that last one echoing in six different ways with the significance it held in his mind. She concentrated on tracing her silent route, one shadow to the next, and came to a stop under a broad-leafed stalk as Alder's distress built to a crescendo.

If she kept moving, eventually she'd slip out of his range. Wasn't that a tempting thought.

I said go back to sleep, she sent, and with an afterthought of inexpert kindness, added I'm being careful. It'll be fine.

The chattering ground to a halt, and she felt the effort it took him to focus his thoughts down to a single thread. Come back, Pip. We have to stay hidden until they're all gone.

We can't hide if we don't know where they are.

Pip caught the beginning of his protest and shook herself violently, breaking off the connection. It was rude, she knew; closing her mind completely was one of her rarer talents, but unlike her other oddities, this one she wasn't particularly respected for. Her skills as a scout were admired precisely because she had such sharp senses, physical and mental both - some days she could even hear the slow, tangled thoughts of the Long Shadows - but when she didn't want to be disturbed, she could wall herself off from the others as thoroughly as if she'd been on the other side of the forest.

And right now, picking her way between treetrunks and sniffing her way towards the bizarre menagerie that had invaded her forest, the last thing she wanted was to be disturbed.

Her right forepaw sank in unexpectedly soft soil, and she recoiled with a stifled gasp. Her eyes darted across the swath of ground, analyzing its shape - and then she widened her scope, scanning the yards beyond that first strange softness. In a low-lying, hollowed track between two thick-rooted trees, the carpet of grass and flowers were flattened and crushed into a felted mat, mud bubbling through it in irregular patches like sickness in a wound. A wide track had been beaten into the soil by dozens - at least dozens, she amended - of flat-pawed creatures. Their dusty, acrid stink lay heavily over it.

She drew back from the unnaturally soft soil. Even with her diminutive size and weight, there was the risk of getting mired in unexpectedly watery ground, and while rescue was never far away in these woods, she certainly didn't want to weather Alder's overconcern or Eldest Luma's quietly smug passivity. Instead she skirted towards a point where the track narrowed, lashed her tail for a momentary burst in balance, then sprang over the mud and latched onto a tree root on the other side, freshly ripped free from the soil and scored with dozens of thin scars from the claws of the marching creatures. She scurried up and settled at the tree's base, where the gnarled roots tangled into a more-than-sturdy foothold overhanging the morass.

With the newfound advantage of height, she surveyed the terrain. The tracks overlapped one another in a mad scramble, pouring up from the lowland forest and curving up and away.

They moved with surprising organization for such motley creatures. She counted at least four very different sizes of print in the track, some barely longer than her own body (nose to the base of her tail) while some were large enough to crush her underfoot without even noticing.

The tracks were only a few hours old. The swarm must have passed in the early pre-dawn. She strained her memory to try and recall if she'd felt any tremors from down in the sleep-halls of the hollow, but if she were honest with herself, they were too far down and too well-insulated by the soft soil walls to have marked their passage.

She turned her attention to where the trail vanished from sight, curving over and up the slope. The land in that direction was treacherous and, to the mind of her people, best avoided. Gravel slips and rain rivulets ran down between the massive plates of rock that jutted out of the soil, and even though trees and flowers overgrew them, their roots could not be trusted to hold the ground together enough for safe passage of one of her size. Fresh rainfall unearthed and dislodged glassy chips of stone, and the soil turned to mud and slipped between the boulders, exposing treacherous chasms that could swallow an unwary traveler. The shattered earth built up and up until it abruptly skewed and slanted down in a gentle curve, like the ground had been struck with a terrible force and the shattering had rippled out from the center. And in the heart of that broken land, glimpsed fearfully from treetops or the shadow of the stones, lay the stronghold of the Long Shadows.

Once, long redmoons ago, Pip had traveled three days and nights to scale the shattered peaks herself, to see the stronghold with her own eyes (mostly due to a burst of rebellious curiosity after a scolding from Eldest Luma). The works of the Long Shadows could always be distinguished from natural formations or nests - they had a love of smooth things, and the stone they shaped stretched cleanly skyward and bore no footholds beyond the straight, geometric fissures that ran up and through them. So Pip already knew that the stronghold was encircled by a massive shadowcrafted cliff, pale and smooth as ice and taller than trees, and it surrounded the entire stronghold just behind the shattered peaks. Beyond the wall, great columns and cliffs jutted skyward, more smooth handicraft of the Long Shadows. At times they were even spotted outside the walls, tending great swaths of land in the same precise straight lines they shaped their stone. Those tracts bore vast quantities of food in unnatural abundance, some that grew nowhere else in the valley, but the Long Shadows guarded them closely and harshly punished intrusion, and the Eldest three generations before Luma had forbade anyone from entering (or even approaching) their strange geometric works, no matter how lean the winters became.

She debated following the trail. It would inexorably lead her towards the stronghold, but if the creatures were focused solely on the Long Shadows, that was valuable information to bring back to the hollow. No doubt Eldest Luma would be pleased to have yet another reason to avoid the Long Shadows and their works.

A sudden awareness prickled in the small of Pip's back, shivering up into her ears and all the way down to the tip of her tail. Her gray fur bristled and she froze, eyes darting wildly, seeking the source. The feeling had no obvious impetus, but she trusted her tail with her life, and something was happening. Something sourceless, something…

At the base of the root she was balanced on, a sprout punctured the trodden soil and curled upwards, splitting into pairs of pale green leaves. She watched as it climbed to twice her height in less than three beats of her racing heart.

Instinct took over. She scampered up the tree like a shot, finding footholds in the bark with a practiced ease that belied her jolting terror. She plunged into the safety of the leafshadow and clung to a branch, breathing fast and shallow and trying very hard to stay quiet.

Below her, a green carpet spread across the mire as grass and flowers bloomed impossibly fast.

The Weeping Shadow was approaching.

Pip strained her ears and caught the hint of a whisper of movement through the grass, distant and soft but certainly coming closer. It was pointless to cast her eyes towards the darkness - The Weeping Shadow was, in the stories, always swathed in gray, near invisible in the shadow of the canopy, and it passed in many tales without a trace, save for its flowering footsteps as its passage drove the forest to frenzy.

But it never came so close to the stronghold. The Weeping Shadow's domain was the deep and tangled woods, much further into the valley than even the hollow. It haunted the river and the wild places, and its realm was thick with plants of impossible vitality and sweetness - but not even the bravest scout dared its domain, even when hunger was rampant. The fruits of the Weeping Shadow's realm were steeped in an absolute sorrow whose depth defied comprehension, and the slow pulse of its thoughts churned in dark and wrenching misery that could be heard across half the valley. It was too much for the mind to take for long, and scouts that had strayed into its influence took moons to recover from the borrowed grief.

That had been the prickling on Pip's neck. The slow approach of the Weeping Shadow was already casting a pallor on her mind - and it was getting closer.

Pip's thoughts scrambled for her next move. If she stayed hidden, the Weeping Shadow would pass nearer to her than anyone had ever dared. She flattened her ears against her head and focused on the walls around her mind. Could she close herself to it strongly enough to hold out?

A wild fear beat against her ribs. She wanted to stay clinging to this branch forever, but she also wanted to bolt, to sprint the length of the branch and fling herself into open space, trusting the soft soil to cushion her fall - or rather, if she were honest with herself in that moment, heedless of what the fall might do to her. The desperate urge to flee was strong in her people, and here, faced with a terror closer than ever before, it was nigh overwhelming.

But Pip had a third instinct that overruled all others when she allowed it, and it had been slowly growing in her mind ever since she'd slipped from the hollow before the dawn. It was a hunger, of a sort, and one that warred always with fear. The hunger was curiosity, a thrumming urge for exploration and understanding that spurred her on through peril and dark for the promise of clarity on the other side.

The beasts in her forest were descending on the stronghold, and their passage had stirred the Weeping Shadow from its domain. Something was happening - something vast, something perhaps unknowable. But it would certainly stay unknowable if she didn't even try to know it.

And perhaps the Weeping Shadow knew.

Pip had more control than most over the openness of her mind. It alarmed her peers, sometimes, that she could pass among them in silence, unreceptive to their soundless speech. It unnerved them more, for those who knew - from a time when she was more open with her secrets and her strangeness - that she could at times hear the deep thoughts of the Long Shadows, and stranger still, sometimes even catch a shred of their meaning. The idea that the minds of the Long Shadows could in any way compare to the bright, clear thoughts of her people was on the surface laughable, and just under that surface, frightening. Still, she knew it was true. Their minds were dark, slow places, but they contained meaning and knowledge, most beyond the reckoning of her kind.

The mind of the Weeping Shadow was an abyss of grief and sorrow, but if she could attune her senses to it - if she could withstand its pressure - she could, perhaps, glean its purpose in the shattered peaks, and what it knew of the creatures that she pursued.

The underbrush cracked. Pip flattened herself against the branch and peered intently at the sound as the rolling wave of green spread under the tree, blanketing in every direction.

A shape moved in the shadow of the trees, ponderous and slow.

Pip felt her eyes grow hot and stinging, the space behind them heavy with unshed tears. A borrowed bottomless grief encroached on the walls of her mind, lapping at it like a swelling river threatening its banks.

The Weeping Shadow broke from the treeline and stepped forward.

It towered, even from Pip's high vantage point. It was gray and still and almost shapeless in the dim of the canopy, but twin lights glimmered near its summit, pale green like the sprouts boiling at its feet.

Pip's head pounded. The pressure of its presence was terrible. It was vast, yes, but the power of the sorrow within it seemed vaster still - like all the forest around it was desperate to weep, and the Shadow was the only part of it that could, yet it refused to.

The Shadow tilted its head down, and the lights of its eyes vanished in the gloom. But it was not weeping, Pip knew. It was… looking.

Looking at the tracks under its carpet of grass.

Pip gritted her teeth, gripped the branch, and opened her mind.

It was gentler than she had anticipated. The pressure and power was indescribable, but once she stopped trying to push it back, she found it moved her rather like water would - with force, but without pain. It was almost easy to let the thoughts of this vast creature buffet her where they would.

The words in the Weeping Shadow's mind were unknown to her, but she felt a snatch of them repeating over and over again. The words mattered less than the feeling that drove them, and as she focused, she realized that the Weeping Shadow was, in some way, at war with itself; the thoughts were not all in agreement. The repetition smelled of deep, old terror, but its loop was broken over and over again by a different, newer thought - one that Pip herself was intimately familiar with, strong enough that she needed no translation to parse it:

But I can help.

Dimly, in her faraway body, she felt tears pouring from her, hot and desperate from a grief she couldn't fathom. Her claws gripped the bark of the branch. The Weeping Shadow's thoughts, at the moment, were focused on its inner war, but it did nothing to shield Pip from the substrate of its misery. Still, she was onto something. If she could just push through, she might learn what the Weeping Shadow understood of the intruders to their forest.

Pip dug deeper. The Weeping Shadow knew what these creatures were - knew what they intended - believed it could help in some way - but what did it know of them?

Running below the looping dread and the punctuating bursts of hope, Pip glimpsed a glimmering ribbon of understanding wending its way just below the Weeping Shadow's conscious thought. It snaked under the fear, coiled around the thought of help. This had to be the knowledge that had motivated the Weeping Shadow's unheard-of migration. This was the mystery of the creatures answered.

This, perhaps, was Pip's only mistake. As she caught the thread of that understanding, it abruptly yanked against the current and plunged her down, down, down into the icy depth of the Weeping Shadow's truest misery. Its knowledge of these creatures came from the same bone-deep wellspring as the torrent of tears, and Pip screamed aloud as it battered her mind full-force. Alien thoughts crashed against her, unbearably loud; the grinding of bone, the shifting of stone, the pounding of waves greater than any river, the splintering of mighty trees. A twisting, a breaking - a power like a maddened, wild animal, thrashing and uncontrollable, kept in check only by its own terrible exhaustion and grief. She was so, so small, and somehow in the depths of this vastness she was even further diminished, crushed to a single point of light-

And something was watching her.

With a last mighty burst of willpower she released the thought-thread, flung herself away, and tumbled off the branch. It was something of a mercy that she was too stunned to feel the impact, and the carpet of seedlings cushioned her fall.

The first thing she became aware of was her breathing, high and fast and shallow in time with her racing heartbeat, real panic and borrowed sorrow draining away with shocking rapidity. Second, she felt the pain; her head pounding with spent exhaustion, her paws cramped in every joint, her back and shoulders bruised from where the impact of the fall had driven her scabbarded blade against her spine.

The third thing she became aware of was the shadow stretching towards her, claws stretched as long as her whole body, the deep purple of the skies after dusk.

The Weeping Shadow loomed over her, vaster than mountains. Two points of green pierced out from the dark.

She ran.

[formulaonedirection]

Formula 1 as boybands

Early 2000s Backstreet Circuit burst on the scene in 2000 with their infectious hit Britney's In The Wall and charmed the nation. Brought together by the legendary Ron Dennis, critics have been quick to raise the question of how manufactured they are but nobody can deny Backstreet Mania is taking over the new millenium.

2010s As the world witnessed the formation of Formula One Direction, plucked from 5 regular boys with humble beginnings on the popular contest programme Pole Position, who knew in one short year the walls of every teenager would be filled with posters of Charles, Alex, George, Pierre and Lando. But no matter what age you are these boys have made a splash on pop culture unheard of since Backstreet Circuit.

2020s They sing, they dance, they write, they produce, if you haven't heard of Checkered Flag, get ready for their incoming world domination. Headed by leader and main producer Yuki Tsunoda, this supergroup is ready to make boybands cool again with their catchy tunes and impressive choreography.

inspo 1 / 2 / 3

[urban-shade]

i may or may not make this a full iceberg video later but i thought it would be funny to make a pressure iceberg image

[tiredcowboyy]

I can only conclude that the reason arthur was so blind to merlins magic was because he couldnt actually have a coherent thought around him because he was so besotted and distracted by him

[thefirstknife]

Besties, I need help. Especially people who have a lot of reach on twitter.

Two of my friends had their Destiny names forcibly changed at the roughly the same time. Their Destiny names were "bisexual mara sov" and "trans king oryx." They just logged in and got a pop-up saying that for some "crossplay" reasons their names were changed to a default Guardian####. None of them are using crossplay. Both are on Steam only, if that's important.

One of them posted to Bungie forums and got this reply:

Both of my friends suspect that they were mass reported. Obviously falsely. Their names are not breaking any rules and are in fact canonical statements about the characters. They always play together so if some homophobe sees them, they would report both, so it would make sense why this happened to them at the same time, possibly (the other option is that there was a wave of forced name changes happening recently that caught them both, but for all intents and purposes, their names should not be subject to change).

This upset both of my friends quite a lot. It means there's enough homophobes out there falsely reporting their names. It's also upsetting to think that these reports were reviewed and then accepted. I genuinely don't think there was a manual review. If there was, I think everyone would like to know which rules this is breaking and why.

Another friend tried raising this issue on the official Destiny 2 reddit, but his thread was not approved by moderators because of "politics":

Thanks reddit! /s My friend also messaged the moderators, but to no avail.

The only thing that remains is trying to raise this issue with the community managers somehow, but clearly this isn't possible on reddit, so we want to try twitter. Unfortunately with the way twitter works, unless you have the reach, nobody will see it. One other friend literally made a twitter account for this to tag the Destiny 2 Team, but as expected her attempt has zero visibility. These are her two tweets. I'm not sure what would be better; to just boost this existing tweet or to make new tweets tagging Destiny 2 Team, but if anyone knows and thinks they could help, feel free to do either!

I don't expect much to happen, but I would like to at least try bringing some awareness to this because it's quite upsetting if homophobes can just mass report a completely innocent name, while absolutely gross names are allowed and visible every day in the game. It's also not a good look if these mass reports are acted on without review, and they are worse if they were acted on WITH review.

A lot of people have usernames that are about in-game characters; I think a lot of us would like to get some information on why these aren't allowed anymore. Both of my friends have had them for years.

Anyway, if anyone knows something they could do or has the ability to get this visible somehow, it would be appreciated!

[tianhai03]

a leon painting study that turned into a whole page of doodles and notes (ashley and dante are also here)

close up for the painting + the ref below

i really like how this turned out :)

[plutoarttv]

happy asexual awareness week!! here’s some of my ace headcannons with absolutely no justification given for any of them >:3

🖤🩶🤍💜🖤🩶🤍💜🖤🩶🤍💜🖤🩶🤍

🖤🩶🤍💜🖤🩶🤍💜🖤🩶🤍💜🖤🩶🤍

[wife-beam]

a lot of people act like sqq’s main character trait is obliviousness and i could not disagree more

[sewerdraws]

more werecreature scream fortress content...... does this even need a caption

[itwoodbeprefect]

the great thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things. the terrible thing about falling really deep into a new media niche is developing opinions on many new things