#lots of words on here
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moonpie016 · 3 months ago
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(Literally made and finished this, idk what sleep is. Buut Imma post this before I forget yet another anniversary. Or do nothing for one.)
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I tried my best to reference attacks mostly, I didn't want to add too much to it. Though I was initially going to add some of the bosses heads in the background, but decided that'd be too timely. But yeah. Huh it's 9 years old now. Though I still remember knowing Undertale in 2016, don't remember how I knew of it. (Other than UT characters appearing in other videos with no knowledge of who those characters were.) Then drawing Undertale characters after probably watching someone play it.
Then some years later, after watching countless videos of theories, fanart, comic dubs... especially those comic dubs, getting into a Sans AU rabbit hole for several years. And then actually playing the game, (only finished a Neutral run). Oh yeah and then Deltarune happened. But it's not that time yet. Now it's chill.
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Speaking of drawings.
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Y'know, it's ok. And technically this all was disguised as a REMAKE! >:D Wahhahahahahaha!!!
But uh yeah cool game and cool art to celebrate it. Idk if I'll do one for Deltarune when the time comes.
Well anyways, before this becomes another ramble (it already has).
I hope you enjoy this. Now this has me in the mood to once again redraw old art. And there's one in particular I haven't caught up with in a while.
*Crawls away to sleep.*
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krysmcscience · 4 months ago
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I have some questions about karaoke night, Alex Hirsch. Very Important Questions. Which I will happily scream at a poor hapless baby triangle who can have no answers for me, and possibly also does not have object permanence yet.
Follow-up that is I guess suggestive, but let's be real here, Bill's a fucking triangle:
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Dude slipped right into his birthday suit, lmao
this is so stupid :D
Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, this brilliant individual knows what's up - Bill is absolutely way more of a monsterfucker than Ford could or ever will be, full stop.
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lucabyte · 23 days ago
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something about marine biology and benefits
bonus:
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gallusgalluss · 21 days ago
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CHIMERA: Creature of ART
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 16 days ago
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Out of sight, out of - wait.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#granny wen#a-yuan#It's always fascinating how colours translate from the page to the screen.#It would probably surprise a lot of people to see what some of these comics actually look like in physical form.#My lighter colours takes about 3-4 washes before it shows up on scan which means it tends to ripple the page.#And my yellows and oranges are drastically different colours when scanned compared to the ink colour.#There's about 20 or so comics where everyone's hair is purple - because it scanned in the exact same colour as my light grey.#Wait my book is right here in front of me so I can...yeah...Comics 57-77 were indeed purple.#This is all to say - is it not fascinating how what we see is often not the full truth of what the subject truly is?#Is it not fascinating to open another episode that reminds us that despite everyone's claims they could totally spot the evil YLLZ-#-The man walks around among them for months as no more than a man haggling for deals like the rest.#It's almost as if he's just a person. It's almost as if none of us - no matter what we do are really anything more than just a person.#Your good acts will be overtaken by how other's interpret you in negative light.#Just as easily are people willing to forgive crueler actions if they hold you in high esteem.#But what's real? Is the page I hold the real version of this comic? Is it the one you look at?#Is the man known as Wuxian the most himself when he is alone or on the battlefield?#Perhaps he is and has always been a scared orphan boy lost in the market.#I think there is no good answer to any of these questions.#But I do know that panic rising in WWX as he frantically looks for A-yuan was for more than one boy.#To be human is to have layers around a delicate center. We only really grow around our wounds from childhood.#In other words; Donkey from Shrek would also probably call Wei Wuxian an onion. I'll see myself out now.
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vaguely-concerned · 1 month ago
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on the one hand I think inner demons could stand to have a bit more romanced rook specific content, but on the other hand the underlying in-built implication that 'yours is the one true voice of comfort and safety in my inner world' is a sentiment and intimacy so way beyond the romantic or the platonic or any secret third thing you could care to name that it makes me lose my entire poor little mind a bit. it's so big and fundamental — near-existential — that in that exact moment at least the distinctions kind of seem irrelevant.
all the people lucanis' mind conjures up along the way are relationships he has that are unavoidably mixed and fraught in some ways even when they're also full of love (they are fraught BECAUSE they're full of love) — the good in them inseparable from things that hurt him at the same time. (it's about: the basic disorganized attachment patterns this poor guy is dragging around with him. careful with those, they're dellamorte heirlooms. what you love also inevitably hurts you and you won't be allowed to have one without the other, you have to surrender parts of your soul to hold on to what little you have left: this is the story up until now.) and the idea that rook isn't that to him — that beneath the fear of wanting them when romanced (which is more its own separate thing because within this psychology, actively wanting something and not just clinging on for dear life to even a meager status quo lest you lose it is in itself dangerous bordering on catastrophic), this is a relationship where there isn't resentment, or guilt, or shame, or dread, or rage, or self-hate, or any of the other emotions that keep him paralyzed, unable to move this way or that. no debts, nothing owed of yourself and your soul's substance except what you can freely and safely and happily give. love and freedom don't coexist — but, I mean, you're almost starting to make me think........... unless...👀👀👀. the unconditional and undramatic 'you are here and I am here with you, you can be exactly how you are right now with me and it's safe for us both even though you're afraid it won't be, I'm not going anywhere' acceptance rook shows him here that he returns to them in the big romance scene, when it's rook who needs it. the way he's just. standing there in the center of it all, like a child desperately helplessly waiting to be found, hiding in the place he hopes you'll know to look first. (rook does know. it's one of the first things they say in there.)
in short the most important room in his little mind palace for the romance is the very first room — the one where rook isn't. where, in fact, rook cannot be, because they disprove the entire structure of the place with their existence and presence in his life. with everyone else he's putting words in their mouths about what they think of him, and rook is the one who actually gets to come in to speak their own words to him — and have him listen. ('he'll listen to you, he always listens to you', 'your voice is a comfort'.) of course rook isn't present anywhere else in there — at the risk of stating the obvious to a tedious degree, they aren't one of the locks, they're bringing the key. in the very finest 'the messenger and the message' sort of way.
#dragon age#dragon age: the veilguard#dragon age: the veilguard spoilers#dragon age spoilers#lucanis dellamorte#rook x lucanis#rookanis#dragon age meta#rook is his first brush with actual safe attachment. and to me and because of who I am as a person#nothing could be more romantically devastating or impactful fhdsjkfhs that's literally the unreachable wistful dream the pie in the sky#the garrus romance echoes too. some of the same stuff going on under the hood here#you know who else he's sneakily like too actually? iron bull. the 'no matter where I turn I'll hurt someone I love' and dissociation stuff#there's that whole line about 'walking close to the edge or whatever'#which is masterful as a diversion b/c what this romance is really about is feeling truly safe with someone#in a sort of weirdly realistic way that makes it struggle with the conventions of video game romance but sure is Doing something!#and I unwittingly made a rook who also is on that specific arc so it's working out just devastating for me thanks for asking#the part in andrea gibson's 'prism' that's like. there is no shelter in the womb it's where you learn the cord that feeds you#could at any moment wrap around your neck. I think that's the initial understanding of love here. which is not good. if you think about it.#I don't think I really write these kinds of posts btw I just black out for a while and when I wake up from the trance I too#get to read what the fuck I've been thinking about finally. corralling that raging electric storm#that keeps overtaking my neurons at regular intervals and translating it into if not sense then certainly words. lots of words#no one is ever more surprised than me to find out what i'm thinking and feeling
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archivebottles · 11 months ago
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"You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself now."
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theladyem · 5 months ago
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Opened up Journal 3 to get ideas of words to type for the website/ compare and contrast the vibe to the perspective gained with the Book of Bill and uh
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Interesting verb choice there, Sixer
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gin-juice-tonic · 1 year ago
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He's actually pretty worried about you, Ford
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wanologic · 5 months ago
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Danny wakes up. It feels different now that he’s older. Now that he’s both more and less than he was. He starts mornings out floaty, his edges indistinct, bleeding into his surroundings. He’s hyper-aware of the tentative strings connecting him to life, the blood pumping sluggishly through his veins, the breath expanding the lungs within his chest. 
He yawns. A stretch.
His brain feels like an old computer booting up, each process coming online in a slow, methodical order. Neurons firing, electric pulses traveling up and down the webbed network of sinew tangled through his skeleton. He feels the pressure of atmosphere on his skin, the floor under his feet.
It’s weird. Not uncomfortable, just strange. It’s been years, but it’s never been easy to come to terms with the new awareness of his physicality, the control he could exert over its expression and shape. What once was instinctual, settled, now flows through his fingers like water, rising and falling with the rhythm of his chest. He would say that he’s just tired, that he’s never been a morning person, but the simmer of dawn and the infinite thrumming energy beneath his skin beg to differ.
He makes his way to the bathroom. He might have walked, but probably not, he can’t be sure. It doesn’t matter. There are only friends here. He’s safe. Home.
The routine of the morning is grounding. Always the same. Jazz says it should help. That it can all become instinctual again, through enough repetition. Danny isn’t so sure.
He takes his time putting together his outfit, picking accessories and being mindful of the way it all fits against him. His body might be a projection, something just to the left of real, but clothes are normal, socks, rings, a watch. He can feel normal like this. 
Another stretch. 
He wants to scream.
He makes his way down to the shared living space. He’s grateful that he’s not crammed into a tiny apartment with strangers, that he’s allowed both the time and space to be what he is. Sam’s parents may not be the most accommodating, but this is worth every glare and snide, underhanded comment he’s had to put up with for the better part of the past decade.
He knows what comes next, but his stomach rolls in his gut. He should have something solid, go through the remaining motions of self-care, even if it’s a bowl of cereal and a piece of fruit. 
He grimaces and grabs a less-than-pleasant nutritional shake from the fridge. They’re supposed to be back up, an addition-to rather than in-replacement-of, but it’s early and he can’t bring himself to care. He finds himself on the roof, with the chilled bite of the morning and the chalky pseudo-chocolate flavor of his breakfast on his tongue.
He longs to shed this husk, to leave the weight of his flesh behind and see what the sunrise looks like from ten thousand feet. But it’s a Tuesday and he has an 8am. He wants equally to be the college student he is, to sit with his peers and bring numbers to their algorithmic conclusions—to describe the world around him in a way that makes sense, in a way that’s objectively true. One day he might even be able to describe what happened to him in a neat little equation. 
He breathes in and out, feeling heavy in his body. This is nice too, he supposes. He shuts his eyes and feels the brunt of the morning sun peek over the neighboring apartment complex. When he hears his friends shuffling about in their own morning fugue states, he sinks back inside. 
Tucker just about jumps out of his skin when he turns around, eyes half closed, to see Danny dressed and ready, silent, and much too close behind him.
Laughter peels through the house as Danny is chased through the halls and somehow he feels human.
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ewwww-what · 6 months ago
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Welcome to the party :)
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elfcollector · 4 months ago
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DRAGON AGE: ORIGINS (2009) — developed by bioware.
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bambiraptorx · 1 year ago
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Recently I found a list I made several months ago of Big Mama words that she uses in canon, so I thought I'd share it. (Note: this is not complete and the notes on meaning/use are limited by what I guessed from context.)
Biddily-boo: auction, bidding
Bimbally bugs: no particularly new meaning, her way of saying bugs
Contrapulation: complex object, contraption
Crackadoo: mess, disturbance
Dimbally door: no particularly new meaning, her way of saying door
Fantumptuous: very good, fabulous, amazing
Fizzy-winkle: mess, chaos
Fuggy-doodles: thieves
Hollydoo: apparently a sort of limb
Malutacious monsters: positive apparently
Meddle-doos: meddlers, irritants
Oh, giggily-pin: exclamation
Scramulent: good, pleasing (occasionally used sarcastically)
Scrumbulent: good, pleasing
Silly-billy: silly
Skanktonious: stinky, repulsive
Tissle-tassle: problem, possibly a little issue that gets bigger
Thrashy-diddle: fight
And I organized them alphabetically because it was fun. If anyone has more, feel free to add!
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astrowarr · 13 days ago
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“How d’you care so little?” Joel fumes, eyes ablaze as he paces around the shattered glass and splintered wood of his car. It's pretty well decimated, and he's been growling and frothing about it in Gem's ear for an hour now. 
She prods testily at the soft, upturned earth carefully covering their pitfall. “It's not that I don't care,” she huffs, jumping back when the dirt crumbles a little under the toe of her boot. She glances up at Joel, who is practically shaking with rage. He can't keep his eyes off the dumb car. “You know, you really could've fixed it by now.”
Beat of silence. Then, pouting and everything, he grumbles feebly, “Shut up, Gem.” 
There's no heat behind it. If anything, her words seemed to have knocked the wind from his sails of war; he's slumped against the car now, arms crossed as he glares to the side dramatically. God, he sure does put on a show, she thinks with an overwhelming wave of affection. 
It's not that Gem doesn't care. But she can't get this feeling from the four mangrove walls of her stupid barn. She can't even get it from winning. So they can burn down everything she owns, take every last life she has to spare. In the end, none of that is tangible. None of that is what matters. This is a game, and games are meant to be played. That’s what counts for her. Why should she take issue if the universe works as it was so lovingly intended to? 
All she wants to leave behind is a trail of blood and ruin as she puts up a fight. She wants to leave her mark on this world and all the people it holds. She wants to make it hurt, once she's allowed to. She wants to play the game well, exactly how she was made to play it. She cares about that. 
Gem cares, too, about the love she dredges up along the way. She thinks of her hands set to the backdrop of a blood-caked cloak, of long brown hair curling over her fingers as they dig in tight. She thinks of the sharp edge of her sword pressed against pale skin, and the thud of knees hitting the ground. All of that meant something. It still does, she believes, in certain ways. 
“I care,” she says, feeling oddly self-conscious. Maybe it's because she knows Joel now: he can't stop caring. It explodes from every pore in his body, an inescapable curse. It's been his undoing, or so she's heard; he's easy to anger, but if you ask her, he's mostly just… easy to love.
It’s this fact that has her saying quietly, “Just… I gotta pick and choose, you know?”
She's not like Joel. There's only so much room in Gem's chest, and it's permanently occupied with a bleeding, open wound. It takes up a lot of her as she skirts around it, giving its raw, frayed edges a wide berth. Joel has an infected hole in his heart too, but his preferred method of dealing with it is tearing it wider with his bare hands.
“Yeah,” Joel drawls absently, scratching his cheek. “Never been quite good at that, I reckon.”
Gem gets that. It must be hard, holding everything so tight that it rips you apart. The thought of losing that much agency has a venomous, stinging feeling crawling down the center of her back. But… 
“You're doing it right now,” she points out, gesturing vaguely at his poor car. “You could've gone on a rampage, if you wanted.”
He scoffs. “Trust me, I wanted."
“You didn't though.”
Joel blinks. “Guess I didn't.” The answer is simple, but leaden with something that has branches so complex, it nearly consumes his words entirely. Gem can't name the something; she lacks the history she'd need to do so. Even so, his face is remarkably… light? That's a word for it. Maybe he's finally cut the infection from his own wound.
She hums in lieu of response, turning her gaze back to the trap. Whatever is draped over Joel's mind, she hopes it doesn't render him too docile. The game stops for nothing, and it deserves to be played to its fullest, Gem thinks, no matter what's left standing come judgement day. 
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kangals · 13 days ago
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FLUFFY GUY HAS MADE HIS FIRST ORBIT OF THE SUN! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KEPLER! 🎉🔭💫
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invinciblerodent · 6 months ago
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This is going to be very ranty and disjointed, probably borderline incomprehensible post, but with the "return" of Dragon Age Discourse (and really, did it ever go anywhere?) and me repeatedly seeing the complaints and dismissals of DA:I as a "chosen one"-type of a narrative, I just.... I keep finding myself thinking about the relationship of truth and lies within the game.
Throughout the course of DA:I, the idea of a malleable, flexible personal identity, and a painful confrontation with an uncomfortable truth replacing a soothing falsehood, follows pretty much every character throughout their respective arcs.
There are some more obvious ones, Solas, Blackwall, The Iron Bull, their identities and deceptions (of both those around them and themselves) are clearly front and center in the stories told about them, but this theme of deception (both of the self- and the outside world) is clearly present in the stories of the others as well.
Like, for example, ones that come immediately to mind are stories like that of Cullen, who presents an image of a composed and disciplined military man, a commander- all to hide the desperate and traumatized addict that he sees himself as.
Dorian grappled with the expectations of presenting the image of the perfect heir to his father's legacy, the prideful scion of his house, his entire life (he even introduces himself as the result of "careful breeding", like one might speak about a prized horse)- all while knowing that his family would rather see him lobotomized and obedient, than anything even just resembling his vibrant and passionate self.
Cassandra calls herself a Seeker of Truth, and takes pride in that identity- only to learn that in reality, she has been made a liar, a keeper of secrets, without her knowledge or consent, and it is up to her to either uproot the entire organization and painfully cut out the abscess it is to build it back from the ground up into something respectable, or let the information she had revealed sit, and continue to fester.
And this theme continues and reframes itself in, among others, things like Sera's own inner conflict between her elven heritage and her human upbringing, or in Cole being caught in this unconscionable space in-between human and spirit, between person and concept, etc.
The Inquisitor isn't exempt from this either.
I feel like this is where the core of the many misunderstandings of this plot come from, why so many people continue to believe that Inquisition is a "chosen one" or "divinely appointed" type of story, because I think many might just... not realize, that the protagonist's identity is also malleable, and what they are told in the setup/first act of the game is not necessarily the truth.
The tale of the Inquisitor is the exact opposite of that of a "chosen one" story: it's an examination and reflection of the trope, in that it is the story of an assumption that all wrongly believe to be the truth, and thrust upon you, even if you protest. The very point is that no matter who you choose to say that you are, you will be known as the Herald of a prophet you don't even necessarily believe in, and then that belief will be proven wrong, leaving you to cope with either a devastating disappointment if you believed it, or a bitter kind of vindication if you didn't.
There's a moment just after Here Lies the Abyss (when you learn of the lie you've been fed your entire journey in the game) that I don't often see mentioned, but I think it's one of the most emotionally impactful character moments, if you are playing an Andrastian Inquisitor who had actually believed themselves chosen (which I realize is a rather unpopular pick, lol): it's when Ser Ruth, a Grey Warden, realizes what she had done and is horrified by her own deeds, and turns herself in asking to be tried for the murder of another of her order. As far as she is concerned, she had spilled blood for power, and regardless of whether she was acting of her own volition at the time, whether she had agency in the moment, is irrelevant to her: she seeks no absolution, but willingly submits to any punishment you see fit.
And only if you play as an Inquisitor who, through prior dialogue choices, had established themselves as a devout Andrastian, can you offer her forgiveness, for a deed that was objectively not her fault- not really.
You can, in Andraste's name, forgive her- even though you, at that point, know that you have no real right to do so. That you're not Andraste's Herald, that Andraste may or may not even exist, and that you can't grant anyone "divine forgiveness", because you, yourself, don't have a drop of divinity within you. You know that you were no more than an unlucky idiot who stumbled their way into meddling with forces beyond their ken.
You know you're a fraud. You know. The game forces you to realize, as it slowly drip-drip-drips the memories knocked loose by the blast back into your head, that what all have been telling you that you are up to this point, is false. And yet, you can still choose to keep up the lie, and tell this woman who stands in front of you with blood on her hands and tears in her eyes, that you, with authority you don't have, grant her forgiveness for a crime that wasn't hers to commit.
Because it's the right thing to do. Because to lie to Ser Ruth is far kinder than anything else you could possibly do to her, short of refusing to make a decision altogether.
There are any number of criticisms of this game that I can accept (I may or may not agree depending on what it is, but I'm from the school of thought that any interpretation can be equally valid as long as there's text that supports it, and no text that contradicts it), but I will always continue to uphold that the Inquisitor is absolutely not- and never was a "chosen one".
They're just as small, and sad, and lost, as all the other protagonists- the only difference is that they didn't need to fight for their mantle, because instead of a symbol of honor, it acted as a straitjacket.
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