#old tagging system

[siterlas]

tagged by @programmedradly! hi bb :) <33 sorry it took a while

Rules: shuffle your ON REPEAT playlist and list the first 10 songs and tag 10 5 people

duncan sheik, "the wilderness (prelude)"

oscar peterson, "there's a small hotel"

florence and the machine, "white cliffs of dover"

jars of clay, "flood"

avi kaplan, "the first place i go"

oscar peterson, "you go to my head"

junip, "to the grain"

hozier, "work song"

air, "bathroom girl"

gregory alan isakov, "big black car"

i am tagging those whose usernames begin with a vowel or those whose icons are of something non-sentient

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

cang qiong dragon god shen yuan is probably like so old that time doesn’t have meaning? like he transmigrated into pidw as a dragon and and the system gave him a few missions that functionally amounted to ‘claim this mountain range as your territory and defend it from demons’

sy didn’t realize that he was actually laying the foundation for cang qiong mountain sect before its creation. some terrifying demon demigod (one of the first heavenly demons, maybe?) pursues a band of cultivators to his mountain range, and he protects them. they settle his mountains and start cultivating, and because they’re protected by a literal god (who they call lord canglong, and they name the mountains after him) people want to study there.

so cqms is born, and sy takes a nap. when he wakes up, those cultivators he saved bring another group of cultivators, all named 'wen' to his mountain, and they ask his permission to lead the peaks next. another nap, and he wakes up to the wen generation asking his blessing for the ming generation, so on and so forth up until the qing generation. this time he recognizes names: qingge, qingfang, qingqi. this generation's leader, qingyuan. and the one whose bow is shallow and perfunctory, qingqiu. ofc sy isn't super pressed about standing on ceremony or whatever—he's only experienced like six years in this world, and most of them were spent either establishing the mountain as his territory or helping his little cultivators fight off some world-ending cataclysm or other. but he remembers the scum villain’s name, and he’s not a huge fan of the way sqq’s already proving himself to be an arrogant old shit

just like every other time, after he’s met and blessed this generation of peak lords, shen yuan falls asleep. shit!!! he meant to stay awake this time, but the system putting him to sleep is just too powerful! he’s probably missed luo binghe, damnit!!! what’s the point of transmigrating into this shitty novel if he doesn’t even get to meet the only character worth the pixels it took to type him into existence??

but as soon as he sees that fluffy-haired boy curled up in one of his caves, bruised and weeping and wondering what he’s done to be so universally hated, shen yuan knows. that’s his protagonist, and he’s really too pathetic like this. he’s really just a child. and shen yuan might have been easily annoyed by the concept of kids in his first life, but this isn’t just some whiny kid. this is the protagonist. so he does his best to calm tiny lord luo down.

and at first when lbh realizes it’s the fucking dragon god canglong speaking to him, the poor kid falls on his face kowtowing and apologizing for the intrusion, but lord canglong just…asks him what’s wrong. and then listens. and then he allows binghe to…to touch his hand???? not only that, he pats binghe’s head?? and tells him it isn’t his fault??? that one little head-pat is filled with so much spiritual power that binghe almost passes out, and soon after he recovers, lord canglong sends him back down the mountain with a renewed sense of purpose. lord canglong said binghe wasn’t stupid, wasn’t incompetent, wasn’t a failure, and binghe was determined to prove himself worthy of the sect’s guardian deity’s kindness.

and when luo binghe turns to walk down the mountain back to qing jing peak, that google translate voice pipes up in shen yuan’s ear with an update he hadn’t realized he was waiting for.

[Congratulations! Congratulations! Congratulations! Important things must be said three times! USER_002 has completed the quest {From the Ground Up}! B-points +500 USER_002 has initiated the quest {Master of Masters}! New skill [Shapeshifter] has been unlocked! Would USER_002 like to activate [Shapeshifter] now?]

shen yuan slammed the bright glowing [YES] faster than any quest the system had ever given him. that’s how he learned that he was, in fact, just naked in front of luo binghe, and the [Shapeshifter] skill didn’t come with an auto-clothed setting. thank fuck he’d already sent the protagonist away!

[soosoosoup]

snowzone

[vaimetanyx]

@themolluscasometimes said she wanted a Skinhe plush and now this skin creature lives in her home because I asked 'how much do you want one?' and everything spiraled from there. The most interesting part of all this has been explaining who and what he is to people not in the know - stay insane svsss fandom

[vebokki]

revived to post this

[thebarrows]

put them in a room together and no one will come out alive (●'◡'●)

[starry-kittens]

Some drawings I’ve made!

[the-kestrels-feather]

This debate is proving that we need a maximum age a person wanting to run for president can be and it needs to be like. 55, 60 at the absolute MAX.

EDITING TO ADD: I keep getting people re logging this saying "no make it like 70 or whatever, my (insert family members here) is in their 70s/80s/90s and they function better than these two!" Okay, cool. But I'm suggesting 55-60 as the limit to keep people who function like these two OUT of the White House I do not care if your great grandma is in her 90s and fully functional, I care that these two are going in to their 80s and clearly not, and that there are SO many other politicians who also aren't.

[cometshift]

jesterspace makes me think subspace likes clowns. medkit has coulrophobia

[giddlygoat]

laughter and shared smiles came so easily between them. from where ford lay on his side on the bed, he had the perfect view: a giggling fiddleford sprawled out lazily beside him, absentmindedly twirling a lock of beard with one pinky finger. it was downright adorable - almost like a snapshot from a bygone era - and ford treasured the sight. 

a kind of soberness suddenly washed over fiddleford, and his eyes became wide. “i jus’ remembered,” he said, barely, looking down. ford somewhat fixed his lax position on the bed in the hopes of expressing his undivided attention. 

fiddleford smiled sadly. “you’d pet my back when i laid facin’ you. it relaxed you.” 

ford felt his face get warm, as if he were the same awkward college kid and not 58 years too old for that. “…yes. it did.” he said dumbly. 

“what did i do when i needed to relax?” fiddleford asked, and his cadence was just too casual for a question like that. like it wasn’t all that important. ford felt something sour curl deep within him. 

“you’d… well, i… i’m not sure. you were always anxious about something.” ford wished more than anything that he had any skill at all in saying the right things at the right times. regretfully, all he could be in this moment was honest. “you fidgeted with your hair often. and mine,” he tacked on, suddenly remembering that detail of their nightly rituals. 

“i think it soothes you when you’re stressed. i see you stroke your beard a lot these days.” ford couldn’t help but smile at the endearing little habit. 

“can’t deny it,” fiddleford said, adjusting his head to get more comfortable in the pillows. then he reached out a slender arm, scratching softly in one of ford’s sideburns. the gesture brought that sour curling in ford’s gut back, but it also brought an overwhelming endearment. he stared at the content expression on fiddleford’s smiling face and greedily committed it to memory. 

“why’re you so down in th’ dumps today?” fiddleford asked, his smile not fading but a genuine concern evident in his eyes. 

“you mean more so than usual?” ford joked, meaning it earnestly.

fiddleford pulled himself up on his elbows, incidentally bringing their faces closer together. “i can… i can smell it all over y’ like the stench of death clingin’ to roadkill. nothin’ escapes me.” 

ford frowned. 

“well, ‘cept fer most o’ my memories, i suppose!” fiddleford giggled. ford frowned harder. 

after a beat of silence, fiddleford realized that ford really didn’t intend to respond. he sighed sadly, slowly leaning back against the headboard. “i know bein’ around me is hard fer you, stanferd. i may be ruined but i ain’t so clueless-” 

“no. no, you misunderstand.” ford corrected him immediately, looking quite fierce. “i feel empty without you,” he said clumsily, unable to properly parse his thoughts in time. 

“but ya also feel empty with me, dontcha?” fiddleford looked genuinely pleading for the first time in a while, and ford’s insides curdled at the vivid pain on his face. “i’m not- things’ll never be the way they oughta, and the both of us is just two sorry suckers, right?” 

“i’m sorry-“ 

“don’t.” fiddleford interrupted sternly, and ford worried that he would start shaking from the effort of holding his outstretched finger still. “don’t go apologizin’ again, or i’m gon’ta… i’ll jus’ tear my beard out.” all the conviction left him, and he stared defeatedly somewhere below ford’s eyes. 

“i’m-“ ford swallowed. “i won’t.” 

a long pause. ford internally scrambled for the right thing to say, eager to put fiddleford’s every worry to rest, but he just wasn’t equipped for that. he had no clue where to even start. what in the world was he supposed to be if not sorry? 

“do ya think y’ could be happy with me, th’ way things are?” fiddleford asked it quietly, his normally shrill voice sounding more weary than anything. 

ford’s chest tightened. if there were one thing in this world he could be absolutely sure of, it’s that he could never leave fiddleford’s side again. “yes. i’ve never been more certain of anything.” he said, emphasizing each word in the hopes of conveying his complete and utter seriousness. 

fiddleford sighed, still searching ford’s face. then he offered the smallest smile, the uncertainty slowly trickling away from his heart. “don’t run off.” he said, turning on his side to face ford. 

“i won’t,” ford promised. he reached over and laid a hand on fiddleford’s spiny back, stroking it soothingly. “i won’t.” 

[itscherryterry-again]

rare and sweet as cherry wine

[ovydka]

don't conform.

40×50cm, oil on canvas.

[bmpmp3]

based off this video. i think teto is a union man

[skipblebee]

Svsss is so cool I wish novels were real

[vagun1ka]

The Herta (gynoid herta design)

[ocarinnas]