#open? idk.

[clonerightsagenda]

I was rambling on the issue of museums and human remains and how certain populations are more likely to have their bodies put on display to be gawked at and then went "well I guess the Pompeii casts were of Europeans. there are bones in there right?" and Googled it to make sure, at which point I confirmed that yes there are bones in there, but more interestingly DNA testing revealed that a cast of an adult holding a child everyone assumed was a mother and child were, in fact, a man and a kid entirely unrelated to him. Honestly that's more moving to me. Maybe they were connected in a way other than blood, but maybe a stranger saw a child when the world was ending and thought the one thing he could do was hold them.

[misskittyhart]

No where is home.

The red skies bled their crimson glow across the dark city skyline. The distant sounds of screams, howls, laughter, and gunfire was always a constant sound track. Noisy, cacophonous, almost deafening to the point of numbing the senses. It was always like this. Sinners causing troubles. Violence, theft, murder and so much more. It ran through the streets rampant like a plague.

No one was down here because they were good. Of course this place was the devil’s playground. Cursed, gnarled, twisted like briar brambles in the darkest part of the wood. There she walked, the little red headed fox. Keeping a steady, brisk pace. Her tail flicked, ears high, perked and listening. Always on alert, ready to fight if need be.

Being a petite, pretty little thing often brought danger with it. It was a common occurrence that she would have to defend herself. There was a large twelve inch hunting knife on her thigh, that would deter anyone from trying to mess with her.

It was another lonely, quiet night for her. She had just finished her shift singing at the Black Dahlia. Getting on that stage reminded her of her hay day in the 1920s singing in New Orleans at the Silver Magnolia. Those golden days seemed so far away now. She made it to her apartment building, and quickly made it inside.

No one would greet her. No friends to call. No lover to hold her. She spent a solitary, and painfully lonely after life. It still felt the knife was buried deep into her breast. Twisted. Pain hurting her so badly. It was one of those nights. One of the ones that stung like salt into the open wounds in her heart.

The door opened with a little creaking sound as she went inside her home. Her little box that held her current life. So often she moved around. The fear her abusive ex husband would find her, was a looming shadow. That’s why she lived this life of solitary pain. Afraid if she found a glimmer of happiness with someone, then they would be in danger of being harmed by the man who ended her life.

Kitty moved to the kitchen. Pulling down a bottle of whiskey from one of the shelves, she poured three fingers. She knocked it back feeling the sharp sting in her throat as it warmed its way into her body. Her eyes closed. Not enough, she needed more tonight.

She took the bottle, and crystal glass to the living room. Sitting on the plush green couch she flicked the tv on. Vox’s face flickering across it as he was hosting another late night show. He was a fascinating man to her. A showman. She always liked people in entertainment, they were like stars. Bright, warm and inviting.

She drank more whiskey. Until her vision began to blur. Then her cheeks felt wet. Delicate, clawed finger tips touched her face lightly. She sniffled. She wasn’t sure when she started to cry, but it came over her like a tidal wave. Drowning. Pain tearing through the shreds of her briar wrapped heart. She was sobbing. Curled up on her plush velvet couch, her fluffy fox ears pinned back, tail tucked. She clung to a pillow, sobbing into it. Seeking the comfort of touch, needing to be held. It had been decades since she let any one in. Then she ran. Scared.

Her throat felt raw as the lump settled there. She sobbed, til her small body trembled. That voice from the tv was the only company in her apartment.

She was so horridly alone.

Drowning in whiskey.

[emberglowfox]

birds of a feather

[arielluva]

midsummer’s night dream redraw/study/whatever but its utenanthy

original reference under cut

[vinestaff]

for what it's worth, i was telling the truth when I said I enjoyed working with you

[melmov]

I cast: curse of the eldest (can’t ask for help)

[wheatormeat]

If there's anything I've felt about ace attorney since playing through the original trilogy, it's how cheated I've felt about the fandom interpretation of it. Y'all were so caught up with your gay boys and your Miles Edgeworths I didn't realize how much of this game was about WOMEN. THE CORE OF ACE ATTORNEY IS IN ITS FEMALE CHARACTERS. From Mia jumpstarting Phoenix and guiding him throughout the whole trilogy even after her death, her presence being the primary connecter of Phoenix and Maya, Maya and Godot, heck even Dahlia and Iris and the whole lot of them. From Franziska's earnest faith and consolation of Miles Edgeworth, even begrudgingly, pulling him out the trauma of his childhood with the face to face confrontation of a bullet wound in the same spot as the man who killed his father. Lana and Ema dragging Phoenix back into the thing he does best. Lana and Ema who's tragic story lies in a pair of sisters ruined by the heinous law system and their unconditional love for each other. Dahlia and Iris with a different version of sisterly tragedy, struggling through generational trauma in separate settings and support systems. The matter of the Fey tradition looming over the entire narrative and all the legal and social terror that comes with it. CAN WE TALK ABOUT THE ACE ATTORNEY WOMEN.

[ronanlynchbf]

tshirt that says NO LIVE ORGANISM CAN CONTINUE FOR LONG TO EXIST SANELY UNDER CONDITIONS OF ABSOLUTE REALITY

[bixels]

I watched Starship Troopers tonight.

[snowangeldotmp3]

btw i feel like this shouldn't have to be said but the reason that agatha hates rio is because agatha didn't get to say goodbye to nicky. rio couldn't offer her any more time. and, in rio's mind, nicky going peacefully in his sleep (and even telling him to turn around and kiss agatha goodbye!!) is the one grace rio feels she can give agatha. nicky doesn't suffer. he doesn't fight. he just...goes. he goes on a walk with his mother and kisses his mama goodbye. but agatha doesn't get to say goodbye!!! she doesn't get those final moments with him!! she wakes up and he's already gone.

[mochasucculent]

Was looking at refs and since Viktor has two different leg braces I was wondering, do we think he wears them simultaneously?? The refs don't perfectly line up perspective-wise so it's hard to tell but parts of the one he wears during the Hexcore scenes look like they could maybe line up with the brace that he wears over his clothes, but also some parts really don't and look like they'd be super uncomfy. Also HOW does he take these on and off. Experts weigh in

[linkerbell]

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[foolsocracy]

he should've been at the club

[attleboy]

more sharp-toothed pomni shenanigans... this time, with weirdly specific projection [packaging... my sworn enemy]

[flieslikeamoron]

standout opening ceremony moments

the celebration of the menage a trois

the heavy metal french revolution

these giant heads

the BMXers in these little outfits and wigs

[lokh]

note: i mean do you leave the oven door open, not whether you leave it turned on