#thank you for this 💙

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

have my star necklace in my car when i'm driving and it reminds me everything will be alright, it just takes time 💗

This is such a cozy picture, vibes all around ✨️🧡✡️🍂🍁

[naavispider]

Realizing...

Spider is obviously intrigued by Na'vi culture, mostly music. The boy is passionate about music and has skills in it (with his ukulele and moments of him singing with the Recoms) If I were to guess about his favorite pick about Na'vi culture, it would be the song cord. The song cord holds a deeper meaning in Spider heart, realizing that he has no family to sing his lyrics once his life comes to an end. Each bead, crystal, or charm is created by himself with his own memories instead of others experiencing Spider...

There had been some glimpse where Spider had sung his heart out when he was held captive. Quaritch was the first to notice the boy about his passion for music, but once he found the meaning behind it, it tore his heart. No wonder his vocals sound so depressing when he sang. Quaritch would try his absolute hardest to be a part of his song cord, when is or isn't a good time to add a charm.

A lil something <3

In this scenario Spider ends up having a nightmare about losing everyone he cares about, including Quaritch. The thought of him being completely alone terrified him. Quaritch would immediately get into dad mode comforting his son as to what got him so wound up. After being explained, Quaritch climbs into bed with Spider and ends singing/humming a sweet lullaby. Quaritch had been working something similar to a song cord. Outside from Na'vi culture he wanted to create something meaningful strictly between the two. (Some parents sing/create a lullaby to their kids and sing to them before they go to bed or after a nightmare) Being taught that song cord was sang during funerals for mourning and remembrance, he wanted to sing to his son every night with a different 'cord' meaning. In that moment he knew adding a charm was more than a perfect time.

You can make this into a scenario if you like it's just a thought, but the poor boy deserves everything.

I been waiting a few days to develop some worthwhile thoughts on this one, but your ideas and wording say it all 💙

[jagalart]

Hue 16

[kidovna]

Your art style is aging like fine wine, just getting better with time! I'm so happy your latest post brought back long haired Mike (rip lol) and you draw older byler so well.

I know it's been a long time and some people were haters, but can we bring back older Will with a mustache. I remember seeing your character design with that before and absolutely vibed with your interpretation

i hope you know that you’re my fav, anon. here you go:

[heymrspatel]

hey, have you ever thought about the fact that ian gets the courage to come out to fiona while sitting in his little twin bed? the same little bed he sits on to get ready on the morning of his wedding? to yank his fiance forward? to kiss him and promise him their future? hmm?

[nimudae]

Mwah 💋💖

💕 THANK YOU FOR 300 FOLLOWERS 💕

[Ko-fi]

[commsroom]

sweetheart, baby, darlin', and so on. 💞 (by @jamisonrivv)

[peaceinthestorm]

Théodore Chassériau (1819-1856, French) ~ An Angel Praying in the Garden of Olives, 1840

[Source: artvee.com]

[2aceofspades]

A lil tribute...

Sappy times today waaah :')

I still remember the first time I watched the movie...I can't believe that was 2 years ago. I had to make a lil something to commemorate 💙✨

Here's a lil something from the past just cuz hehe~

Not quite from a year ago but it's fiiine...

If my memory serves me correctly, the first Rise stuffs I ever did was redrawing screenshots of Leo from the movie. How fitting~

(:

[loves2spwge]

they just want to be one...

commissions @jolyonvane did for me where i asked if he could please please please make stan look as desperate and exhausted as he usually does but is being kept together by all his love for his sbf kyle

[moonsart]

And finally, here are the mini-animated parts of the animatic!!

[harmonictechnicality]

It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.

And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.

The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.

Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.

“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.

He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”

“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”

“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.

“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”

He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.

“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”

“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.

Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.

And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.

Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.

Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.

It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.

But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.

He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:

It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-

“Hey, man.” Steve says.

Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”

… Man?

Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”

Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”

He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”

They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.

That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.

“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.

We.

‘We’ve got this.’

Him and Steve.

And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.

So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”

[dilfmobius]

LOKI 2x05 | "Science/Fiction"

[yangjeongin]

6 YEARS WITH STRAY KIDS — #Youtiful6YearsOfSKZ

[safekeeperscosm]

she speaks Ben silly

[keferon]

Picking up from the end of The Blurr Chapter – Swerve has a bad case of survivor's guilt

------------------------------------------------------------

He's been to another planet.  How can he have been to another planet, when he didn't even know it existed? 

Swerve can't stop thinking about it as he wanders aimlessly out of the medibay.

He's been to another planet.  He has been to another planet.  To another planet.

He must have been.  Because he knows Jazz.  And Jazz is real.  And if Jazz is real….

Swerve's spiral of thoughts screech to a halt.  Because if Jazz is real….

The idea alone is enough to send him careening back through the hallways towards where he had abandoned Jazz and Prowl moments earlier.

"JAZZ!"  Swerve shouts as soon as he has eyes on the duo.

"Hey," Jazz says, smiling casually as Swerve skids to a halt in front of him.  "What's the rush?  Where'd you run off to?"

"Never mind that," Swerve says urgently. "Earth, you know where it is?  You're from there?  It's real?"

"Yes.  Earth's real.  My home planet.  I—"

"The Mecha program--" Swerve cuts across whatever Jazz was about to say.  "That was real too?"

"Yes.  I…are you sure I don't know you?"  Jazz asks.

"Blurr," Swerve blurts out, swallowing back the acrid fuel trying to rise up his intake.  "Was there a Blurr associated with the program? Did you know him?"

"Are you kidding me?  Blurr was the program.  Or at least that's what they wanted everyone to believe.  Face plastered on posters and billboards and merchandise.  Fastest man alive, all that.  Everyone on Earth knows of Blurr.  Doubt anyone really knew the man though, if you follow me, not really the friendly type.  Why're you wondering?  And how do you even—"

Swerve doesn't here the rest of Jazz's question.  Doesn't even really see Jazz and Prowl standing in front of him anymore.  Because….

"Oh," he groans.

Oh.

Blurr is real (was real, because he was dying, must be dead by now).

It was all real.

And Swerve left him there, dying.  Did nothing.  He had done nothing but stand there and talk at the man as he was dying.  And then left before Blurr could ask him the question he wanted to know the answer to.  A dying man's last request, not just any man's – Blurr's – last request, and Swerve had ignored him.  Swerve's last words to Blurr, the last words he'd likely ever heard had been that it wasn't real.

And maybe it hadn't been for Swerve, but for Blurr it had been very real.

The man had been dying.  How much must his words have hurt on top of all the injuries Blurr had already sustained?  Even if he hadn't known any better.  Even though Swerve wouldn't have been able to do anything even if he'd tried.  His hand had gone straight through Blurr's when he tried to reach out.

"You know that explains, but doesn't excuse you."

His own words to Blurr echo back across his mind.  He might be able to explain his action or lack thereof, but does it excuse it?  No.

Would he, could he, should he have done something different?  If he had called for a medic earlier?  If he could have stopped Blurr from running into the building that last time?  If he could have somehow pulled the man from the wreckage?  If he had installed more safety measures to Blurr's mech – measures he knew it was lacking in favor of looks and speed?

Or if he hadn't…if he hadn't left Blurr?  Would Blurr have made it back if Swerve had stayed with him?

Because Swerve remembers what Blurr had admitted just before his own words – that he had a hard time remembering.  And he'd seen Blurr's confidence as they worked together – Swerve marking the map and giving directions and Blurr pulling people out.  But without the map, and without Swerve to give directions….

Had Blurr stumbled, lost that confidence on his own?  Had he strayed, unable to remember Swerve's hasty set of directions that he'd so frantically been repeating?  Had that made him just a fraction too slow?

Would Blurr have been fast enough had they stayed together?  Swerve can almost believe he would have been.

But no, the man had to choose that moment to prove that Blurr was every bit the hero he was sold to be, and that Swerve had imagined when he stared at the posters.

Originally, he had hated Blurr for constantly having an entourage at his beck and call.  For constantly demanding people follow him around and help him and never even caring about something as basic as a name.  Had hated when Swindle bailed and Blurr had turned and enlisted him into going back into the building.

But now, now he hates more that Blurr hadn't asked for his help when he needed it.  Hates that the man had left Swerve behind.  Hates that his life had mattered more than Blurr's own – that Swerve's guaranteed survival might have cost Blurr any chance at his.  Hates that he knows now that his going would have cost nothing, that he would have survived regardless.

Fuck.

He was a coward.  He left Blurr.  First to run back into the building alone.  And then to die alone.

Fuck.

Swerve doesn't even know for sure that the man did die.  Has no idea what happened to him.  Because he left.

He needs to know.  Because he owes his memory of the man that much.  Because it turns out that for all he had thought Blurr an aft, he could never completely stop caring about the man.

Swerve squeezes his optics shut, ignoring the prick of coolant at the corners of his lids, and concentrates.  Concentrates harder than anything he's ever concentrated on before.  He's been to Earth.  Had manifested himself on a planet he didn't even know existed.  If he could do it by accident, he ought to be able to do it again intentionally.

Get back to Earth.  Find out what happened to Blurr.  That's all that matters. 

Swerve feels his hand shaking and clenches them into fists.

Get back to Earth.  Find Blurr.  Get back.

He sways slightly, pressure building across his helm.

"…erve…swerve.  Swerve.  SWERVE!"  Jazz's shout breaks through his concentration and Swerve watches as the faint, flickering projection of his human form right in front of him fades back to nothing.

Useless.  All that effort and concentration for something barely tangible that hadn't even managed to reach beyond himself, Jazz, Prowl, and this hallway.  He's never making it back to Earth.  He's never going to know.  He needs to know.  Needs to get back to Earth.

"You alright, Swerve?" Jazz is asking, looking worried.  Swerve wonders how long he's been standing there, silent in front of the others while they have no idea what's been going through his processor.

"You are Swerve, right?" Jazz asks as a follow-up.

"Yes," Swerve says, "Yes, I'm Swerve.  That's how you know me, how I know you.  And I need to get to Earth, now.  It's an emergency.  Please.  Please, Jazz."

-----------------------------------------------------

(Credits: The "You know that explains, but doesn't excuse you." line belongs to Keferon from their writing in the Blurr chapter.)

G O D D A M N ANON. WHO ARE YOU SHARE YOUR GEO LOCATION I JUST NEED TO TALK /J