#or I just post 'em when I feel like it

[godofthestupid]

todays photography highlights and later references

[bacchuschucklefuck]

class swap design masterpost for convenience (from top to bottom: bard!riz, cleric!gorgug, sorcerer!kristen, barbarian!fig, artificer!adaine, and rogue!fabian)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what kind of underwear do you think Erik and Charles wear (i'm not asking this to see them half naked) ((please believe me)) (((PLEASE)))

My Personal Belief is charles is a briefs guy while erik's a trunks guy. trunks/briefs kinda couple because i can

and idk just a lil bonus or somethin. as i do.

[ghostbredtt]

sketches doodles useless thingies

sorry guys I'm dead summer finally killed me so baii 😁

[moeblob]

Happy Birthday to Ferdinand von Aegir!

I actually made 33 emotes, affectionately known as Aegirglyphics to some, for my own personal use on discord. However, I figure why not share some of them! They're free to use for discord servers/icons/pfps or whatever. However, my only request is Do NOT use them as subscriber emotes on Twitch. You can make them free follower emotes but you are not to make them locked behind a paywall.

[mossrockpog]

Tbh my main perspective on most qsmp things is just that I'm happy to be here. These concerns with the unlocks to me are just growing pains of a server where people genuinely care and want the experience to be good. The content creators, according to Bagi, are advocating for themselves, and there is communication happening, even if it isn't always the best. I'm just happy and ready to have a good time :)

[chiropteracupola]

And come awa' wi' me...

[wolf-antonia and her uncles - requested by @seaglassandeelgrass]

[skunkes]

ok ok i have another way to word my thots about the movies thus far:

i think Art is pretty iconic design wise. Im not against gory slashers I think we should have more of those and I like that a series so "shocking" is doing so well...its more like.

The franchise establishes pretty immediately that it's not Serious...as mentioned the first movie has a naked woman sawed in half from crotch down so idk how you'd even make it to the 3rd one without knowing How It Is. But with how the first one barely has any plot, and the second one has A Bit More but drags on and on...its like... SO FAR (because I haven't seen the 3rd one) these movies aren't Fun to watch ykwim.

I know Saw isn't a good comparison bc its a different genre within horror but the franchise really is like a telenovela... its so stupid (good) and it has lots to complain about and pick at in the FUN way, like poking fun at peepaw and his warehouses and home depot purchases, going "are you kidding me thats so dumb" at that scene where hoffman manages to be snuck into the station in a body bag to start killing people. Varuous moments of stupid ass dialogue writing. Im not saying it cant be boring or unliked but i think it has a good balance of everything (eyerolling moments, plot, "lighthearted" and humorous moments, intentional or not) even if its not a masterpiece in the writing department.

And that's just within the series, I usually avoid bringing up fandom bc that's obviously a different beast I rarely even touch but its more about how its fandom actually has that foundation to go off of. Like you know enough about peepaw's backstory and such to springboard off of, regardless of it being good or not

Here it's like man there's a hot cool clown, lots of gore, really corny and cornily acted out writing, and its not even FUN? 😭 2 movies (again I haven't made it to the 3rd) and I wouldn't watch them again, not because of the gore but because despite not being serious, reinforced by that very drawn out over the top kill in the second one, it's not even fun... you cant even attach to the silly dialogue because the whole rest of the movie is a drag. Does this make sense? It's like. Everything combined to make it Not Fun. Whereas at least with Saw you can start joking about how someone just wasn't trying hard enough to win peepaw's foundationally silly ass "you tried to kill yourself now you're in the try not to kill yourself" trap.

It's at odds with itself. I've seen like one Halloween movie and can barely even remember it but I know all the jokes about outrunning Michael Myers (and that cat and mouse is also Fun)...theres also like 50 of those movies I KNOW theyre probably also fun to watch and complain about the absurdity... I think the issue here might also be the straightforwardness and point A point B of it all. There's not really much anyone can do against Art, which is fine, some saw traps are literally unwinnable after all. But Terrifier doesn't even give you the chance to, like, boast about how you definitely could have survived the Silence Circle trap because you're not an idiot... it's just not Fun. To me.

I think Art himself is fun and the corny dialogue are fun. I'll even go ahead and say the gore is fun because again like come on the clown literally rips a guys cock off its Absurd... but they seem to be trapped in movie(s) that so far aren't fun

[lesbianrobin]

Seeing as it's Black History Month, I'm gonna take a break from your regularly scheduled girlblogging to be a film nerd and beg every single person reading this post to go and watch Within Our Gates (1920).

Within Our Gates is a feature-length silent film written and directed by black filmmaker Oscar Micheaux and it is a miracle that we have it today. The film was believed to be lost for years until a SINGLE surviving print was found in Spain, translated back into English, and recut to match the original as closely as possible. (This is actually not uncommon in the realm of old film a lot of lost films get found in random closets but ANYWAY.) The film tells the story of Sylvia, a southern schoolteacher who travels up north to raise money to keep her school open. It explores how her life and family have been affected by racism, abuse, and sexual violence, as she falls in love, works to save her school, and grapples with her place as a black woman in the antebellum south. If that's not enough to get you interested, the film is also kinda batshit. There are shootouts! Affairs! Someone gets hit by a car! It's wild and dramatic and incredibly engaging.

You've heard of Birth of a Nation, right? Maybe you've even seen it. That insanely racist piece of film history premiered in 1915. Oftentimes people will defend D.W. Griffith and the film itself as being "a product of its time." Well, Within Our Gates premiered in 1920, and it is a product of its time. It depicts white mob violence against black Americans, and how that violence destroys innocent lives and rips families apart. It is written and directed by a black man. All of its lead actors are black. It is an absolutely heart-wrenching, moving, and intelligent film, produced on a shoestring budget, that explores what it meant not only to be a black American in 1920, but what it meant to be a black woman. Different characters have different approaches to coping with racism and strategies for protecting themselves. It's complicated, and upsetting, and one of the most impactful films I've ever seen.

If you can spare an hour and twenty minutes, if you happen to have access to the film through a streaming service (in addition to being FREE ON YOUTUBE, I believe it's on Amazon Prime, Paramount+, MGM+, and some Hulu plans) or an institution (you may have access to Kanopy or a similar platform via your local library or university), it's worth a watch. Play whatever music you want in the background if your version doesn't have any added! Even if you can't watch it for whatever reason, I'd encourage all of you to look into Oscar Micheaux and the history of "race films," films created outside of the Hollywood studio system by and for black Americans.

Don't buy into the false narrative that the only black representation in historical film was minstrelsy and Griffith-style garbage.

[nerosdayinanime]

feral giyuu beloved

hes gonna fucking kill Shinazugawa

so Sanemi pulls his stab-the-baby bullshit which terrifies Tanjiro, thinking he'd try to open the box next to burn her in the sun. as soon as Giyuu registers his distress all the tension he'd be holding in snaps violently- he lurches forward out of the lineup and lunges at Sanemi with the ferocity of an actual demon. Sabito and everyone else are stunned in place as Giyuu punches him hard enough to send him to the gravel, snatches Nezuko's box from him and leaps back pulling Tanjiro behind him. He stands there posed protectively in front of them, every muscle tensed ready to move as he stares Sanemi down snarling as loud as thunder. Obanai Mitsuri and Tengen are cringing back- Obanai because hes closest aside from Sanemi and can smell the intense sea-salt & pine through his mask, Mitsuri because shes an Omega Prime and the warning growl/threat scent affects her more, and Tengen because the sharp ring of loathing in the growl hurts his head. Sabito's still in the lineup baring his fangs, struggling to keep calm and not make the situation any worse for his partner despite the anxiety of the situation.

"Don't fucking touch them." "I didn't even touch your stupid brat!" "YOU STABBED HER!"

Everyone startles at the implication of that- Sanemi growls and starts berating him for imprinting on a demon, stomping closer, calling him a traitor for attacking him. Giyuu leans forward ready to rip out his throat at a moments notice, not lunging solely because Tanjiro's holding onto the back of his haori pleading for them not to fight. Sabito finally snarls and stands up- Kyojuro Mitsuri & Tengen follow, fully expecting to have to intervene when the three of them start tearing each other to shreds, "SIT!. ALL OF YOU!." He snaps, harshly grabbing Sanemi by the shoulder and shoving him down. Sanemi starts to protest but Sabito leans over him threateningly and grabs his throat, "You stay fucking put. You're already 5 feet down and i suggest you stop digging any further." Sanemi stares back at him, gripping the arm holding his neck, but doesn't do or say anything else, the others hesitantly settle back down. He lets go and straightens up, looking back at the other hashira, "We're going to sit here and wait for Oyakata-sama like civilized people," a pointed look at Sanemi, "Are we agreed upon?." When everyone murmurs in agreement he nods to Giyuu and kneels next to Sanemi, barricading him and the other hashira from Giyuu Tanjiro and Nezuko.

Giyuu finally stops growling and posturing, hesitating for a moment before turning and fretting over the two of them for a bit- they finally sit down when he calms. When Kagaya arrives hes immediately hit with the tension and thick fear-anger-stress scent filling the courtyard and asks what happened. Sanemi opens his mouth- Sabito slaps a hand under his chin and closes it again. Shinobu and Kyojuro pipe up, explaining that they were questioning the boy when Shinazugawa went ahead and stabbed the demon in the box, how Urokodaki stepped up and ...convinced everyone to sit back down. He finally brings out Sakonji's letter and asks everyone else to allow it like he did. Sanemi of course objects and asks to prove the demon's real nature. Giyuu immediately snaps at him to shut the fuck up- he's already done enough stabbing his fucking cub. Kagaya recognizes the gravity of the situation and offers Giyuu to come inside so he can check on her (and maybe possibly also show everyone else shes not so bad-). Giyuu quickly takes up the offer and pulls Tanjiro over with him in the far corner- Sabito follows them to the edge of the engawa and stands guard there between them and the other hashira.

Giyuu sits down in front of her box and gently opens it, little Nezuko crawling out and looking around for a moment. She sees the blood on Tanjiro's face and tries to wipe it off with her sleeve, Giyuu makes pointed eye contact with Sanemi and carefully cleans Tanjiro's face off. Nezuko patiently sits in his lap until he pats her head and inspects the damage to her clothes. The other hashira are talking, arguing maybe- he doesn't care enough to tell. "Shinazugawa, you owe me 5 yen." "The fuck do i owe you for jackass!?" "Thread, for the fucking HOLE you put through her-" "Ah!- Giyuu-san its fine!-"

Eventually its decided they'll let her live for now, "I also offer to take them in to the Butterfly Mansion, if that's okay with Tomioka-san." Giyuu notices the peace-offering look she gives him when she says that. "...I'll allow it.." Tanjiro herds Nezuko back into her box and Giyuu growls at the kakushi who try to pick up Nezuko's box. He puts the box on himself, Tanjiro tries to assure them he can walk on his own and immediately buckles when he puts pressure on his injured leg. Giyuu picks him up and carries the both of them out and to the butterfly mansion while Sabito stays for the rest of the meeting

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[eggs-can-draw]

Toddlers who say slurs

[luck-of-the-drawings]

WWWOOOPS FORGOT I MADE THIS. drew this back at around when the hyperbolic time chamber training arc was just starting. remember that? huh? remember the hamspter??? ohhhhhhhh youll remember the haspter!!!! oh my god yknow what else i remember. williams overwhelming love for christmas. oh my god. spooky zombie boy loves the christmas.. literally the best possible thing for him...

[tenshouining]

[day 3 - coming out] if youre not kissing in the lab are you really partners. . .

[drfrogphd]

Some stream thumbnails I drew recently!!

[solar-halos]

paul isn’t percy’s step father he’s the father that stepped up