#not exactly about d&d

[dungeonmalcontent]

I've been thinking about something a lot lately. That games, all games, feel like a complete waste of time and energy.

But I love games. Not because they're wasteful, but because they're fun. Humans need to play. It is hard coded into us.

But I also hate the idea of wasting time and energy and resources. It is repulsive and it honestly makes me hate myself a little.

But rather than live a horrible, boring, efficient life I play games anyway. But I play horribly complicated and absurdly layered and time consuming games. I play games that take a million steps to do anything interesting or that are absurdly crunchy like D&D because the wasteful feeling takes longer to process that way. I don't feel like I'm wasting time when I'm pouring through rule books and wikis and watching gameplay to learn things. I don't feel wasteful until I hit the end game, and then I have to confront the reality of what I've done; when I have to acknowledge that I've spent 300 hours figuring out how to properly automate and mass produce a hamburger in a Minecraft mod pack or how to lose on purpose on the first turn in a game of M:tG or built my fifth stardew valley farm that is entirely full of big sheds with planter pots and pineapple seeds and perfect retaining soil. And then I feel a little repulsed by what I've done.

Bug the beauty of it is that I can start a new game and do the whole thing over again and have fun for a little while longer.

[krysmcscience]

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:

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.

[0039pf]

can i get a kiss?

and can you make it last forever?

i said i’m ‘bout to go to war

and i don’t know if i’ma see you again

[ruporas]

kiss (ID in alt text)

[elvyn]

doodles some of my favs from One Piece because after two years I'm finally almost up to date with this anime😭

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 322

Danny squints up at the slightly older realms being, even if technically he’s older in human-age. The Chaosling is practically vibrating in place, the massive realms feline peering out from over their shoulder. Huh. So this is his Clockwork-assigned babysitter-cousin? 

He didn’t know how to feel about the whole suit thing, but well, he won’t say no to a good prank. C’mon Cujo, they’re going to the daycare dimension-place!

[szfiction]

This parallel makes me insane actually (and there is something incredibly Lawlu about it to me)

[phoenixkaptain]

I love Luke who is beloved by his students, but I also, at the exact same time, love Luke who is feared by his students.

Master Skywalker whose reputation precedes him. The galaxy as a whole believes that he killed Darth Vader and the Emperor both. The tales say he faced them both, entirely alone, and then got out unscathed.

Master Skywalker who floats through the halls, appearing like a specter, invisible to all but the most proficient at finding Force signatures. He speaks to Jedi of old and meditates unmovingly for hours and his stare pierces through to the soul of whoever receives it.

Sometimes, Master Skywalker vanishes into thin air without a trace. His students either find themselves faced with Leia Organa, a fearful person in her own right, an older student, or some random, wandering Jedi that rumours have claimed to be long dead. Master Skywalker vanishes and reappears without explanation, only offering a smile when asked where he was, his responses always vague.

Master Skywalker who is always fully covered, only one hand remaining bare. Nobody has ever seen him look disheveled. Nobody has ever been able to catch him unaware. Whenever anybody knocks on his door, no matter what time it is, he is always sitting in pristine robes, ready to scare off any troubles that find his students.

Just. Master Skywalker who once faced a black hole and won. Master Skywalker who killed a rancor. Master Skywalker who blew up the first Death Star. The most terrifying man in the galaxy, and he’s only more mysterious the more time one spends around him.

The comedic potential of this scenario is unparalled.

[kitamars]

so i’ve been cooking up a little au :3

[dootznbootz]

I'm happy that the "Helen is of Sparta, not Troy" post is getting seen and people are giving love to her as they should but I'm getting a wee bit frustrated by the Menelaus inclusion with the whole "She was a possession to others and never had a choice".

Yes, Helen is a victim of fate and multiple horrible circumstances. She gets kidnapped by Theseus and Paris. So much blame is being put on her when she really isn't at fault and doesn't have much choice.

A choice she made though? WAS MENELAUS!

The Oath of Tyndareus was all about how "If you want to have a chance of marrying her, you have to swear to respect her and her choice and defend their marriage if it's needed".

If anything, Menelaus was her "prize"! Not the other way around!!! And they are clearly shown caring for one another!!! uyfuygluhyutfugy

[tinukis]

i wrote this mini rant for my priv insta/my friends but god this makes me insane

THESE PANELS HIT SO MUCH HARDER ESPECIALLY KNOWING SANJI'S LIFESTORY NOW 😭😭😭

all he knew in his life back then was how much of a "failure" he was and that his life was practically worthless. everyone he knew and love makes sacrifices for him and he never knows why (or he does, it's just hard for sanji to accept) because he doesnt value himself. but he values others So Much and believes he can repay with his life. growing up he did nothing that's worth his family's- his father's "love" and he only had his mother's kindness who later passed. so the fact that zeff, who raided the ship sanji was on, gave up his own leg and all the leftover food for sanji, who he barely even met, would go this far for a "failure" is beyond his comprehension

AND. luffy later yells at sanji "THATS NOT WHAT HE SAVED YOU FOR" 😭😭😭 THEY JUST MET TOO BUT MY GODDD LUFFY CAN VERY EASILY EMPATHIZE. PLUS HE SAYSBTHIS WHILE THINKING ABOUT THE TIME SHANKS SAVED HIM. LUFFY HIMSELF DEEPLY UNDERSTANDS WHY ZEFF WOULD SAVE SANJI. THEY SAVED THEIR LIVES SO THEY CAN /LIVE/. NOT TO REPAY BY DYING BECAUSE THATS NOT REPAYING ANYTHING. THATS JUST *WASTING* THE SACRIFICE THAT WAS MADE.

edit: ONE MORE THING. the way sanji had important figures of his life starve themselves for him... and both figures value food Greatly...

[mochiwrites]

gentle touch of morning

( a small scarian epic au piece <3 reblogs do more than likes! )

It’s funny. 

Over the twelve long years Scar spent fighting, leading his men into battle, the thought that kept him going was his eventual homecoming. Every waking thought was of his husband and son, and Scar’s reason for living, for breathing, was his family. As he sailed rocky waters, faced monsters and gods alike, lost men after men, Scar wished for nothing more than to be home, to awake with his husband sleeping beside him. 

But as he stands in his home, the one he most intimately knows, Scar feels… wrong. Out of place. He’d woken up early, savoring the sight of Grian’s sleeping face (he could never get tired of it), and felt so restless that staying in bed for any longer seemed impossible. So Scar took to walking around his home. 

He and Grian built this place up, together. The memories are some that Scar looks back on fondly. He could never forget it, no matter how much time he spent away from it. Scar only fears that it has forgotten him. 

Scar takes easy steps, walking and reacquainting himself. He notes the pictures, most of them being of his son. He hardly sees Grian in any of them, perhaps one or two, less than a handful. And the ones that Grian is in, his smile doesn’t light up his face. It makes Scar frown. 

He wanders for a bit, traversing each winding hallway with careful movements. It’s as if he fears the house may collapse at any moment, or some attacker may jump from the shadows, perhaps a god will catch him off guard and finish him off. Not even in his home does he feel the full safety he’s supposed to. These walls feel foreign, unfamiliar. Even if he can picture everything clearly in his mind, knows this place like the back of his hand. Scar still feels like a stranger. 

Eventually, he finds himself in the kitchen. He pauses in the doorway, catching sight of another person. 

His son. 

His little Pitta. 

Well, not as little anymore, as a young boy at fourteen. But to Scar it still feels like he’s just an infant that he could cradle in his arms. Another thing time robbed him of. So many missed moments, opportunities, to watch his son grow. And while Scar knows that there are still many years to come, to see, a piece of him mourns the time he lost.

For a moment, Scar keeps quiet. He watches his son, taking in his dark brown hair and hazel colored eyes. He’s the striking image of both Scar and Grian somehow, even if they aren’t related to him. But Scar loves him all the same; would move mountains to give him whatever he needed. He can’t help but wonder what kind of person his son is, what he likes and dislikes. Does he resent Scar for leaving? Does he consider Scar his father, or a stranger who left a loving husband alone for years on end? He doesn’t want to find out. Not now. 

Scar stands there until he can’t anymore, finding hazel eyes landing on him. He watches the way in which Pitta’s eyes light up, turning all shiny and bright when he notices his father. He turns away from the counter, abandoning the slices of bread he had taken out. He smiles, and gods, does his smile look like Grian’s. “Papa!” Pitta greets, the timbre of his voice cheerful and soft. 

“Hey, Pitta,” Scar returns, heart melting each time he’s reminded that he’s finally returned home. He never thought it would happen, that maybe it’d take him longer, or maybe something would strike him down on the way back. But against all odds, fourteen years, and Scar is home. His son stands in front of him. 

“What’re you doing awake? Is dad up too?” Pitta questions, raising a brow at him. 

“Uh…” Scar blanks, unsure of what to say. It’s not like he’s going to tell the truth, Pitta shouldn’t have to worry about him. Scar has already caused him enough pain, there’s no need to cause more now that he’s actually here. “Gria— your dad’s still asleep,” he stammers. The words feel awkward on his tongue, like they shouldn’t be there. This life of domesticity… he doesn’t know how to go about it. It isn’t just some enemy he can cut down. 

The very thought makes him nauseous. 

“Oh!” Pitta blinks at the response. “Well, that’s… good.” He nods to himself awkwardly, and Scar hides a grimace. 

He… really doesn’t know how to interact with his son. 

There’s this dark curdling of doubt in his mind that begins to creep up, settling over him. He’s afraid. Worried that this is one thing he’ll never overcome. It’s a familiar feeling, an old friend, a once enemy turned begrudging shadow. It’s a feeling he experienced in battle, traversing home, taking his castle back from scoundrels that dare to stain it. But there is a new fear that joins it, overwhelming like a tidal wave. 

Does he even know how to be a father? 

Scar feels his breath sharpen just a tad, skipping a beat and hastening. He can feel hands curling around his throat, beginning to press into his skin. He feels it tightening on him, the grip firm. The pressure starts off as something light, until the fingers of Fear dig deeper with each shakingly quiet breath. It gets stronger and stronger, straining his lungs until he can feel his throat being squeezed, choked. 

“Papa?” Pitta’s voice breaks him from the spiraling thoughts, from the overwhelming fear sneaking in. 

The hands around his neck relax, and the terror recedes, sinking back into the depths of his mind momentarily. He allows himself a moment to breathe, a chance to suck in a soft breath and recenter. His vision clears, and he becomes aware of the way his heartbeat pounds in his ears, loud like a drum. 

He manages a smile, “I’m uh, gonna go check and see if our Sleeping Beauty is awake.” Keeping his eyes trained on his son, Scar tries to maintain his light smile. He takes a few small steps back, slipping into a casual mask. He’s gotten quite good at it over the years of putting on a brave face. “Be right back.”

Pitta watches him, brows creasing in concern as he goes. “Oh… okay,” he answers, sounding resigned as Scar retreats. 

Scar turns around, and brings himself back to the beautiful olive tree where his Grian is fast asleep. The sun shines down on him, cutting through the green leaves. The light spills into their bed, painting a halo in the soft yet sandy blond locks of Grian’s hair. He rests in their bed, eyes shut and face relaxed. His body is curled somewhat, the blanket tucked just over his shoulders. 

Staring at him, taking in the near angelic sight, Scar takes a few breaths to calm himself. He walks over to their bed, sitting down on the edge, right beside Grian. He contents himself with just sitting there, watching the rise and fall of Grian’s chest. It feels a little easier to breathe, with the love of his life right here, peaceful. Scar can almost allow himself to pretend he lives in a world where he never went to war, where he never had to leave his family behind. He can almost allow himself to pretend he was the husband and father he should have been. 

Chest aching and overflowing with doubt and regret, Scar reaches out. Tenderly, Scar brushes some of Grian’s hair away from his face. He ever so softly tangles his fingers in the silky strands as he rhythmically cards through his hair. Scar’s expression softens, chest swelling with love for the man before him. He drags the pads of his fingertips along Grian’s head, feeling the soft locks under his touch. 

He can’t imagine what it was like, doing so much alone for so long. Scar has always believed Grian to be strong, the strongest person he knows. But this? Scar doesn’t think anyone could compare, not even the gods. 

Not in the way it matters, at least. 

His thumb idly strokes Grian’s cheekbone, loving and sweet. “I’d be lost without you, my light,” he murmurs. Because it’s true. Scar would’ve given up a long, long time ago if he didn’t have Grian and Pitta to come home to. Grian is his rock, his eye of the storm, his compass. Scar is caught within Grian’s orbit, forever wrapped up in him. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do for this man. Grian kept their home in one piece. He raised their son. He handled whatever it was that Scar couldn’t in his time away. Grian held out hope for fourteen years that Scar would come back to him. 

Scar owes him everything and more. But most importantly, Scar owes him his love. And by the gods will he offer every last ounce of it, every drop. Scar is a man. No general, and certainly no hero. He is just a man who wants to pour his heart and soul out for his spouse. Scar is just a man in love. 

Beneath his touch, Grian’s face twitches, and he begins to stir. “Mmm… Scar?” he mumbles, still groggy and waking up. 

“Good morning, my love.” Scar smiles at him, brushing away a particular curl of hair before stroking his cheek. “Sleep well?”

“‘ink so, yes. It was warm with you,” Grian answers, leaning into the hand on his cheek. “What’re you awake for?” 

Scar pauses, if only briefly. “Uh, well, y’know. Just admiring my pretty husband while I have the chance,” he answers, which isn’t entirely a lie. 

Grian looks at him with clear suspicion, but doesn’t push. Instead, he sighs quietly as pushes himself to sit up. “You can do that when I’m awake too,” he teases, leaning to press their lips together. Scar is more than happy to sink into it, using the hand on Grian’s cheek to angle his head slightly, deepening it. The kiss is sweet, loving. It’s slow and patient, carrying the patience of fourteen years within it.

When they pull away, Scar rests their foreheads together. “I guess I can, yeah,” he agrees softly. “Mind if I take a few more minutes to admire him?” 

Grian smiles, kissing the corner of his mouth in return. “I suppose.”  Scar simply smiles, and gods is he happy to be home. No amount of fear could ever leave him unhappy to be back with the loves of his life. Never. 

[ruporas]

[ TW: child harm ]

collection of old drabbles

[splootdoolies]

Nightcord at 25:00 headcanons!!

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 317

IMAGINE THIS: Lil baby Damian, bored and being not quite old enough to start learning how to use proper weapons (curse these wooden ones, he wants true steel!) is wandering the base. This is not out of the ordinary, he’s the prince after all. What is out of the ordinary is that his shadow, his Akhi, is not here. 

Technically, he should be napping, but he woke up and neither his mother or his brother- who is quiet but gentle and isn’t a good speaker (mother said it was from a head injury)- is there. Which is how he finds his way to the Pit, which he’s not supposed to be at. Or at least not alone. 

But! His mother and Akhi are there! And- and Akhi is screaming and he’s never heard him scream like that, like he’s in agony- His eyes are green- they were blue, had, had Mother placed him in the Waters- 

And then the pool is bubbling- he should be running away, get assistance or something, he’s five, he shouldn’t be running towards it when everything is screaming to flee. But one moment he’s at the doorway, the next he’s clinging to his akhi as something writhes in the Pit, a mighty bellow echoing even as the Shadows take defensive positions. 

The water cascades, laps at their feet, splashes everywhere as a scaled form rises from the depths, wings like a bloodied sunset spreading as fur bursts into flames. Crimson eyes glare down at them all, pupils slits as they bare down at his Akhi. 

The creature- the dragon- dips its head down, its breath warm as it chuffs at his akhi, wings folding as though it is bowing. His akhi is clinging to Mother, shivering, several scars glowing as they fade and a burst of hair burned white. 

Oh. 

Oh.

@fairy-lights-and-blobs @f4nd0m-fun @hdgnj @radiance1 pspspspsps

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

i’m so mad i googled “there’s an air of faggotry in the catholic church” and this is the first image to come up. what in the 2015

@whatsitcalledfromthingy DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS??