#must go faster

[malenjoyer]

WE'RE SO BACK

[essektheylyss]

Honestly the fact that they fit three distinct combats on top of plenty of character and story progression into the episode before 11pm was a really strong argument out of the gate for Daggerheart as a system for streaming. That was super neat, not gonna lie.

[asthedeathoflight]

Ajax in Leave The Bronx Alive going from panicking that the doors aren't closing to mocking the Turnbull ACs literally the moment they close is soooo important to me. Yeah they are fucking slowpokes babygirl. Everyone forget about how you just thought you were gonna die fifteen seconds ago.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Someone should make an analysis of Amphibia's geography for fanfic writing purposes and by someone I mean Oh god please let there be something out there so I won't be tempted to procastinate on studying for my finals working on a detailed world map for a fantasy Disney show about talking frogs and polyamorous lesbian divorce when the writers themselves probably didn't think much about it beyond what would be funny in each individual episode

[thegreatyin]

this nemesis ambition started out a little slow but I am getting closer to finding that bastard who killed my wife, and I’ll not rest a minute now that im far closer to on his trail

sorry got in character for a second

Anyways fun ambition so far very fucked up though

congratulations on joining the murder club anon!!!! depending on who you ask the name refers to either people who have murdered or people who have witnessed murder. usually both. actually extremely often both. it's a swell time you'll feel right at home (don't mind our collective skyglass knife collection in the back)

[martyrbat]

perpetual mourning – batman black and white (1996) #1

[ID: a black and white panel sequence of Bruce Wayne as Batman investigating a murder. He performed an examination of the victim's body and found DNA evidence to convict her killer and then performed an autopsy to examine her stomach contents — which led him to a little 24/7 diner. He walks in, disrupting the cozy scene with his presence.

Bruce internally reflects, ‘People think i'm a knight. A savior. But in truth, I'm only a vessel to hold the memories of those who've passed on. Those who've no shell left to store them. They must think I revel in my victories. It must seem like I never lose a fight. I lose plenty. The ones I couldn't get to. The ones I couldn't save in time. Those are the ones I carry around inside of me. Those are the ones I'll mourn forever.’

He shows the only waitress a photo of the victim's face and asks, “Excuse me. Do any of you know this woman?” The waitress gasps and holds her hand to her head in shocked distress. She stammers, “That's Chelsea, she comes in here all the time. Sits in the same booth, the same time, reads the same book... um, what was the title...? She, uh, left here only a couple of... Why do you... Oh, god. No. Dear girl...”

Back at the morgue, Bruce solemnly gazes down at the woman as she lays in an unzipped body bag. He thinks, ‘Luckily, you hadn't digested your last meal, Chelsea. There're only a few places in the neighborhood where you were found that serve blueberry pie at this hour of the morning.’ He carefully zips the body bag entirely. The identification label states she was a thirty year old caucasian female. The name ‘Jane Doe’ has been scribbled out to now be replaced with ‘Chelsea Rain’. Bruce continues to ruminate, ‘You only have your thoughts and dreams ahead of you. You're someone. You mean something. I'll remember. You're within me now. Forever.’ END ID]

[7lizardsinacoat]

so yeah i guess i am painting ruth next so here flats and color chunking in and testing

edit: why is this getting notes

edit edit: yall this isnt the finished painting it was just a color and shape test ill have the finished paintint out likely either tomorrow or the next day depending

[ewanmcgregorforcemasc]

How could I feel normal when Nicky Wire wrote "My former friend who's now undercover/ He's gone, I'm no deserter" about Richey Edwards

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

From a previous poll it has been decided that Lan Wangji can cook, but the real question is....Can He Grill?

[musubiki]

Been thinking about Marshall and Lime, and im not sure if perhaps you havent already mentioned it:

Does being a white or black canvas doesnt make them part of a magic community by default/at birth?? (Putting aside the special force smth of m34, and any witches and guilds and etc.)

thats a good question!!! its a bit of a gray area (ba dum ts 🥁), in my head i always considered "being a member of the magic community" as having something that makes you like. not a normal human. like having some kind of magic or being a spirit/monster/cryptid/etc!!

for black and white canvases, theres nothing inherently special about them besides the level of their magic resistance..,,everyone has some level of resistance, they are just the most extreme levels, but i dont think having it is considered any kind of special magic power or sets you too far apart from other humans!!

for a black canvas its being a part of a guild/the m-34th is what makes you part of the magic community!! the m-34th has nothing inherently magic but since they involve themselves so much in police-ing the magic community they are by and large considered a part of it

for a white canvas its actually incredibly hard to get involved with the magic community i feel... mostly for this reason: a lot of the community hides behind some kind of masking spell-- witches use the mob spell, the merchant uses...something, sulluvan only appears to those who he wants to, but all of it has its roots in "using magic to conceal yourself from the world," and the less resistance you have the less you're able to break from that!! essentially, a white canvas is the most magic-gullible type LOL!! contrast this to a black canvas where you couldnt use a masking spell around them if you tried your best, theyd see right through it

im actually not sure how marshall even ends up being part of the m-34th and gets involved anyway...his pipeline into the magic community must have been someone directly pulling him in and getting him straight to the m-34th because theres no way he couldve gotten in organically the way lime did, he would just be going about his merry way...

[giddydelphiresearcher]

Scalpel and gel working, along with guidelines for both incisions and excisions! With this there's now 4 tools, so my next step will be to implement the tool wheel for smoother tool switching. Also, the scalpel's collision detection can skip over things if you move it too fast. Gotta fix that tomorrow.

[emberglowfox]

me and my friends play this fun game where i go i think i can finish three comic pages in a day and they attempt to lasso and tie me down like an escaped farm animal

[venomgender]

physically holding myself back from 🤓☝️ ummm achtualy-ing posts on here that i know are jokes #WorldsStrongestSoldier

[b0mblover]

Greed makes me sick. 

By: J

Woo fucking hoo, gotta love projection! (this was 100% self indulgent, idk how well it actually works with jiro but! Oh fucking well! At least im getting smth done ig) 

Cw; Selfharm, Suicide Ideation, Jiro generally being unhealthy, awful writing

Once again; sorry for your eyes, goodluck

Jiro laid in his bed, glancing at the clock on his phone every so often, around 21:34. Mindlessly scrolling through some of his friends' accounts, he never wanted to admit it, but he does in a way enjoy ‘stalking’ his friends, “friends” being mostly of people he's never met or talked to a day in his life, but that's never really mattered to him. 

Usually it's just to catch up on everything, ‘oh they finally got married’ etc. boring stuff, but why the hell not. 

But other times like today, it made him want to throw up. He was happy for them, sure, but there was a disgusting jealousy spreading throughout his chest, traveling down his esophagus, down to his stomach, and setting there. He’s felt it before, the first few times it happened, he thought he literally had to throw up, resulting in him essentially purging to get the feeling out; it didn't ever work. He gave up on trying, it usually went away on its own, just how long would it take was the question. Minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. It was all a possibility. The longer he felt it, the worse it became. He’d liked to say that it started off slowly, but it never did. Usually the first thing he jumped to was ‘I'll never be like them, no matter how hard I try, so what's the point in living?’ He wished he could say it was irrational, but it just wasn't. He knew due to one reason or another, he couldn't be like them, no matter how hard he tried, no matter for how long he never gave up. He would always fail. He wished he could also say that he had no desires, that would be a lie too. Seeing people do what you've wanted to do for years of your life, that you never came close to doing, so easily, it hurt. It hurt. It hurt. It. Hurt. and he wished he could say it didn't. He wished something so very mundane didn't hurt. He hated jealousy, he hated greed, perhaps that's why it hurt so much more. Because he was a hypocrite. It's not like he wished that they weren't able to do that, he just wanted to be able to do it too.  

Jealousy, is an odd word. People always assume that if you are jealous- that you wish ill on whoever you’re jealous of. But that couldn't be further from what he felt. Sometimes, it was tiring to constantly work and work for something others have so easily, that you'll never get. Why does life deal such shitty hands to people who care? Or is it the other way? Shitty hands in life make you care? Either way, it still made him sick.  

Somedays, he got off easy, he knew it's not their fault, sometimes motivated by a ‘you'll get there someday, you just have to keep trying’. Days like this though, that wasn't the case. Trying is pointless, not that he just feels like it, but it is. No amount of trying or wishing will ever work. Shitty hand remember? So if he couldn't do what he wanted, what was the point in living? Maybe he was crazy, fucking insane even, no one talks about this sort of thing, there's probably a reason, right?  

He sat up on his mattress, took a look at his phone, then tossed it across the room. He would’ve thrown it, but he didn't see a point in breaking the phone or wall if he was angry. He wasn't even angry either, just like there was a hole in his chest where his heart should be, and that hole was filled with bile.  

He looked down and stared at his hands, disgusting. Failure. He was a failure. He had good grades, sure, but it really didn't mean anything. Grades are just numbers, and numbers that didn't matter to him. If When he gets older, he's probably not going to be sitting on his deathbed thinking about how he got a 100% on a math quiz. But this?  

He stood up and walked over to his ‘desk’, clean for 4 months at the simple request of a friend. It's not like she’d know or find out if he did it. Well, unless he couldn't keep his mouth shut as usual. Even if she did find out, would she care? Would she even remember what was said? Ha. Maybe she’d tell him how pathetic he was, unable to go past a small styro, he is really pathetic, so it’d be fitting.  

Even if she somehow did ‘care’ as much as she said, wouldn't it be tiresome? That was one of the main reasons he stopped in the first place, taking care of people, even if you love them can be tiresome. So she was bound to get tired and bored of it. She’d probably grow to not care, part of him wanted that.  

He admittedly fantasizes thinks about what would've happened if he hadn't stopped, more than he should. 

Maybe she’d grow annoyed of his break/melt downs, maybe she'd make fun of him instead, he couldn't really blame her either way. Part of him wanted her to grow bored of him, but the other selfish part, hated the idea. Even now, he considered reaching out “You don't have to suffer alone, I’m always here, you’ll never annoy me.” but..  

He appreciated it, but it probably wasn't meant for something like this. What was the point? It wasn't like he was gonna kill himself, no matter how badly he wanted to. Sure, it wasn't a necessarily ‘healthy’ coping mechanism, but. It's not like he could do much damage anyways right? This was just like scratching himself when he was pissed off, not healthy, but what could anyone do? It didn't really hurt, so what would be the point in taking it away?  

Without caring enough to think it through, he picked up the blade, and sliced through the mid of his forearm. It stung. More than usual, but who even cares. He spun his chair around, then sat down. He brought the blade to his arm again- he really was pathetic, wasn't he? Slice- even if someone for some reason cared- slice- it's not like they should, he was pathetic and needy- slice- maybe some people in this world are supposed to die? Or suffer at least- slice- but, he didn't really want anyone else to suffer. If he met someone just as himself, would he hate them too? Or would he take pity? Slice- He smiled. His arm felt weak. Hand shaky. No one was coming to save him. No one knew of what he’d done. No matter what, he’s always alone. He deserved it.  

He stared at his arm for a few minutes, the deepest he’s ever cut, after not even 5 minutes, it looks pathetic again. God he's stupid. What if she somehow does find out? She wouldn't outwardly say how pathetic he is, she wasn't that type of person. She’d probably show some sort of concern. Fuck. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck FUCK. She’ll probably show some sort of care, attention. He didn't want that. Great. Now it looks like he did it all just for attention! Fucking wonderful.  

He glanced at his phone that had been lazily thrown on the floor, part wishing someone messaged, anyone, but dreading having to respond. No matter how much he loved them, responding right after this thing, he always seemed off, too off. 

He took a breath, trying to collect what little of himself was left. He should get something to drink. Yeah, that’ll probably make him feel at least a bit more level-headed.  

But there again, he is a waste of space, failure, etc. he’s heard most of the names by now mostly from himself but that didn't matter, does he really deserve something as simple as drinking? Even basic things do cost money, even if just a few cents. Why waste it on himself? But his throat is so dry still,,  

He walked out of his bedroom, hitting his face on the door, forgetting it was very muchly locked, precaution. He wanted to lash out, take every bit of anger out on it but then…. Nothing. Numbness. He didn't even have a good reason to feel angry. It was his fault anyways. He took a deep breath, unlocked the door, and walked out.  

Walking to the kitchen, slower than usual, he started to wonder again with how he was going to hide his awful wonderful misdeed. Makeup worked.. Well honestly for him it worked awfully. Nothing ever seemed to match in all lighting, plus that was only really an option for scars, tactile cuts didn't really improve much when paired with a powder or creme (?? sorry idk), plus it could run the risk of infection. Right? He's never seen anything warning against it so maybe not? But putting something that has chemicals like that into a cut, it didn't seem correct. Considering what minuscule things could cause infection. Not that he'd mind getting infected and slowly, painfully dying. He just didn't like the look generally.  

What could he do then? Wear a jacket like normal, sure, but she always finds out somehow. Gods know how, not him, but somehow. He could bandage it sure, but that ran the risk of even more questions, it wasn't exactly news that he didn't care about proper ‘aftercare’ like that. Sure, not properly covering it, cleaning the blade etc. could cause infection, but.. Well. He didn't have any excuses, he was just biased in some ungodly way that he never noticed right until that very moment! (Large cough. H e l p.) 

Grabbing a random cup, he decided to just tough it out like usual. Try to not show his arm in any setting but not be weird about it, try to act normaler than usual, sure it’ll suck, but it's between that and in his mind, ‘looking like an attention seeker’. He poured out what wasn't even 1/4th of a cup of water into the cup. His throat was just dry, it's not like he'd die from dehydration any time soon. Sure, he's human, doesn't that mean he just needs the absolute minimal amount of care? Hell, this couldn't even be considered minimal! He has a roof over his head, water, food, there's so much more he could go without, gods he's selfish huh? He sat down his empty glass beside the sink, very quietly laughing under his breath, pathetic, wasn’t it? He’s so selfish, he has it well, yet he acts like he has nothing! What more could he ask for in life? Stability? What a joke. He should really be more grateful. 

He stared at the glass glass beside him, staring into his distorted reflection. Well, at least there was always a way to fix it all. In the back of his mind, he was always running though, listing off methods, quickest, easiest, cheapest, messiest, etc. No matter how hard he tried, he’d never figured out the ‘perfect suicide’ in his own eyes. 

Though, recently, a method stuck his eye. Nitrogen gas. He’d heard it takes one out quickly, but makes them struggle and suffer beforehand. Perfect for himself. No time to back out because of how quickly it takes you, pain before death, he’d never wanted a peaceful one. It was near perfect. But one of the main issues was managing to get any. Or get around any in general. (little did Jiro know; he was only a few letters off from his actual suicide; that being Nitroglycerin!)  

But, he doubted it was realistic, for reasons already stated, so he was stuck with whatever other incredibly fucked method he inevitably decides on. It's not like he probably will anytime soon either, no matter how much he wants to. He walked back to his room, flopping down as soon as he was close enough for at least his face to hit the mattress. Thud totally comfortable.  

He stood up once again, actually closing his door this time. Then sitting on the bed properly, right, shit, his phone. No, no one probably texted, they're all busy. What can only be described as a mantra he mentally spoke, trying his best to not get his hopes up and what left of his heart shattered, even if he was always deep-down hoping, begging for any sort of message.  

He walked around to the far wall, and picked up his phone, quickly turning it around, anticipation and tension always left more room for disappointment. He seen the messaging app icon and- no one. A stupid update reminder. He’d rather’ve seen absolutely nothing than that. But whatever, they're busy, she's busy. He reminded himself, trying to subside the constant idea that they all fucking loath him for everything that he's ever done. But it's probably true though right? Of course it is. They all hate him. No matter how close, they all do. He’ll never change, will he? Why even bother at this point, he loved talking to them all sure, but why do they bother to talk to him? Pity? Perhaps. A disgusting feeling crept back up into his stomach and esophagus, it unknowingly had disappeared some minutes ago. Not like it mattered now. He tossed his phone to the side of his bed, on the ground, not bothering to charge it. It's not like anyone will message anyways. He's an idiot, everytime, everyday, why does he still feel such anticipation anyways? The answer didn't matter. He was tired. He didn't want to sleep, he hadn't gotten anything done, hell he was bored. But he had no energy to do anything. Just because of some stupid post. Sensitive. Weak. Pathetic. Why was he even still here? He's just dead weight to everyone he meets. What is the point. 

He laid there, he didn't know for how long, it didn't matter, he heard a door shut, they're back. He couldn't talk to them or face them like this. No. He’ll fake sleeping, maybe he’ll fall asleep in the process, that'd be nice, or if he never woke up, both seem ideal to him. 

He laid on his stomach, right arm obscuring his face, left in a weak fist. It was a default ‘I swear I'm asleep’ pose, shockingly comfortable too!  

Staring at the back of his eyelids, repeating bright colours and vague shapes started appearing, in a way it always felt a bit soothing, it was always there for him.  

Even when he wasn't there for himself. 

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[evature]

Seeing my friends all be like, theres someone i really like (romantically) in my life atm im so happy and i wanna share it w you!, WHICH IS SO SWEET BC I LOVE THAT THEY ARE EXPERIENCING LOVE BUt when is it my turn :(