#that sounded pretentious im so sorry

[airbrushfather]

@paz-45 asked so here are my 5 ee tattoos lmao (warning for me just rambling absolute shit under the cut)

my first ever tattoo - jon's handwriting and a wild wave because i love violent sun so much. looking back the handwriting tattoo isn't something i'd do today but it's what got me started on getting tats at all and i had a very positive experience (both w getting it and w asking jon for the writing lmao)

the teeth are not related, for the record. writing is about 6 months healed in this pic and almost 18 months healed now. also i know no one asked but since i love talking about tattoos - this is on the outside of my forearm and the pain was about a 3/10. super easy placement if you want somewhere to put a first tattoo that won't kill you off immediately.

classic lil gth hand. i always forget i have this because it's on the back of my arm (hence the bad photo too, say hello to my ear) but i do rlly love it, my artist did a very good job. it's about 5 months healed in this pic and just under 18 months healed now. this is on the back of my upper arm, the pain was probably a 4/10. a little spicy towards the inside but nowhere near the worst, certainly less painful than the inside of the bicep for instance. i also never find colour that bad (lines are worse imo) but i know some people do, so i guess if you came to this post looking for genuine tattoo advice, take that into consideration

these eyes are, technically, ee related - and please excuse this horrible photo, they're really hard to get a pic of! but me and my artist designed them together based on put me together's bridge - 'is it the darkest night/or is that dawn in your eyes?' it's a very important song to me and i love these tattoos, especially the dawn one with all the little details. it actually looks a little better now it's healed, it's settled into itself a lot more. they're super fresh in this pic (less than a month each, i got them within about a week of each other) and about a year healed now

pain wise this is a rough placement. the bottom one especially was one of my most painful tattoos - probably an 8/10. it proved i could never tattoo my actual knee because i genuinely had a terrible time of it. though weirdly the top one was really easy, probably a 6/10

i find this one incredibly hard to photograph bc of the way it wraps but my favourite line from final form (i stole the idea from someone in atb but it's one of my favourite sentiments, as in, this is my first body so i will make mistakes, and it is my last body so i will look after it). i broke one of my only tattoo rules for this too, which was No Words. i doubt i'll get any more words after this bc i don't think they'd really fit very well w the rest of mine, but i thought this was a really nice way to cuff my patchwork arm.

it's about 6 months healed in this video (from today). pain was probably another 8/10, wrist is a very spicy placement but not the worst one by any stretch. the outside (first body) was easier than the inside (last body) and it was definitely tolerable, tbh it was almost more annoying to heal than it was to get

i do have plans for more ee related tattoos (i want to get one from each album, so i have arc and rdf left to conquer) but atm i can't get anything because i have serious trust issies w new tattooists (and i love my artists who i know already) and my shop is currently 200 miles away. i'll probably get one in summertime if i have the money. i really like that for the most part they're not super obvious what they are, even the hand isn't bam in your face this is album artwork unless you're in the know. no hate to those kind of tattoos (ive seen some sick tattoos of the whole gth cover or at least the entire guy) it's just not my kind of thing, i like to be mysterious.

sorry for talking so much, but getting tattoos is my only personality trait. i could and would literally speak about it all day. consider this your formal piece of danny's tattoo advice. none of these are my most painful placements and none were my most painful tattoos, but everybody is different so if you genuinely do want this advice, take it with a grain of salt. and if anyone wants more of my advice/further tattoo tours, feel free to ask (idk why you'd want advice from me but i have probably about 40 tattoos at this point and i want to talk about it. because i'm boring and inufferable. i'm A Tattoo Person. this is my coming out </3)

cheers for looking x

[sentate]

SENTATE - The Sunset Collection

Blending beach days with date nights; The Sunset Collection is fresh set of romantic dresses that can be kept casual for the day or glammed up for the evening. Whether its a cheeky sheer mini dress or a showstopping silk gown, your sims are guaranteed to be sizzling by sunset!

This 8 item set comes in my 30 swatch colour palette plus 15 new print swatches.

8 Items Total / 30 Plain Swatches (+15 prints)

DOWNLOAD - Free on Patreon

MORE DOWNLOADS  |  TERMS OF USE  |  LINK TREE

[altcvnningham]

waning moon

helen park x madam shell

summary: helen park sees the cracks in her lover's façade. (inspired by @mickstart and their amazing post on perhaps the most underrated ship of all time??) read on ao3

tags/cw: nsfw, wlw, angst, pre-cw, betrayal (but vaguely unspecified), light choking, younger woman/older woman, age gap, references to coercion, vague references to abuse of authority, so much bird imagery, doomed sapphics wc: 1.1k

a/n: i literally read @mickstart's park x shell (shellen???) post and got possessed, blacked out for an hour and wrote this. i have 0 memory of how i got here or what this means and though it isn't like 100% what the post was talking about it DID inspire me to spill out this ramble ab a character who has 0 canon appearances outside of dialogue. sorry for pretentious purple prose and rough editing!! it's 12am forgive me

She doesn’t know when she sees the change, but it slips in slow and sweet, like a paling knife glinting in the moonlight. How sand sifts to the bottom of an hourglass, she too feels just as suffocated under the weight of borrowed time.

Yet Shell’s eyes are paler still even in the dark, the waning moon of this interminable night, one that feels to Helen Park like the bookend of something. An answer, unspoken, but as implicit as though it had been there all along, a truth she’d known deep down but refused to acknowledge. And why would she? How could she? It had been three long years since Shell took her under her wing, her pretty little bird, three years that had changed everything. Irreparably. Even now as Park finds the pieces of it all scattered and frayed with Shell’s silent betrayal, she sees the beauty in each and every one, too besotted with the finer details to bear looking at the bigger picture.

Shell is lying.

She knows, more certain than she has ever been of anything in her life. As the older woman climbs languid atop her narrow hips, smothered in perfume bergamot and liquorice, plum coloured lips close over her own in a lazy mimicry of a kiss. Helen parts open her mouth, as she had her legs countless times, like a good little protégé, showing her madam just what she’s learned. All for her. Tongue hot as she kisses back with hooded, half-open eyes, curling around Shell’s like a proclamation. I know what you are. I know what you’re doing.

(And do you know, how powerless I am to stop you? As if I’d even try?)

And Shell knows it too. In the dark of this Parisian hotel room, blinds drawn to cast away the world’s prying eyes, she can see it on the girl’s face plain as day. Sweet Helen is a pretty thing, much too clever for her own good, but wears her heart on her sleeve, with eyes as big and shiny as a doe’s- and now hunting season had come for her sweet girl, and how wide they had looked at Shell upon her return, hands smothered in blood. Blood that she hadn’t bothered to scrub, knowing Helen had likely smelled it coppery on the air when she’d walked in. Her fingers are still tinged pink with it, even as she traipses them up the girl’s waist, cupping the plush undersides of her breasts.

That is to say, Helen isn’t the best at hiding her expressions. It’s what Shell had loved about her. The shrill gasps when Shell would come up behind her, grasping her waist in lieu of a polite excuse me; the way she’d avert her eyes shyly when she’d caught hers across a room, crowded, empty; how she’d been so young when Shell had met her, blushing like a schoolgirl at the mere whisper of praise; and how when Shell had asked her but a month later if she’d ever been touched before- properly, darling girl, like a lover might- Helen had flushed red and bright as a virgin. Perhaps she had been, too proud to admit it. For a girl who is as sharp as a knife and twice as lethal, Shell had held in her hands a mourning dove, cooing softly in her palm, willing to piece together its nest there. Right there. With her.

Now, not so much. Her songbird doesn’t sing as she used to, her eyes parsing through the fog she’d been happy to let Shell pull over them. Helen sees her for what she is now, and they both know it.

It isn’t a strange thing, what she’s doing. Not at all irregular. It’s a gesture Shell had exercised over her innumerable times before, a kind of sordid foreplay, staking her claim over her. Shell’s hands lay flat upon Helen’s sternum, her heart thrumming steady but beating violent as a war drum; the older woman smiles- how well she’s taught her. Calm, girl, slow breaths. Don’t let them see you falter. Don’t let them feel you shiver. Don’t let them hear you breathe. In the face of fear, Helen had grown around herself flesh of stone, unyielding. That doesn’t change, not even around Shell.

But this isn’t a test. This isn’t one of her many lectures, her teachings. Very rarely does Madam Shell separate work from pleasure, seeing the two overlap rather conveniently; but for Helen she had all the time in the world. Perhaps not after tonight, given what they both know now. But pleasure is a special thing she keeps locked in a drawer for Helen to pry open and play in, rifle curious fingers through until they snag on something that piques her interest.

And yet it always ends the same way. Like this. The older woman atop her, faraway look in her eye, warbled smile on her lips. Hands around neck.

Her fingers slide slow, deft, thumb parted to curl her hand around the pale column of Helen’s throat. And she can do nothing but be still for her mentor, her lover, holding her breath in wide-eyed submission, a devotion that spoke beyond words, beyond meaning. A kind of reverence she knows only Shell would understand, a stillness like prey clutched within a lioness’ maw. Playing dead, prettily.

Shell’s eyes fix upon her, steel grey boring into vivid green, alight with something akin to amusement; in the daytime, Helen mistakes the glint for adoration, something like love, when she’s drunk enough on Shell’s affections to believe it.

Now, in the waning moon of their last night together- as they are, as they could have been, if only she didn’t know what she knows at the very pit of her being is true- she recognises the errant flicker for what it is. Kindling. A struck match, willing to burn it all down, even if it means taking sweet Helen with her. Her mourning dove. Cast to the fire like everything else. For a terrifying moment, Park isn’t even sure she’d much mind it at all. Ashes to ashes, as they say.

And as Shell squeezes her hand soft and gentle around her favourite girl’s neck, Helen surrenders her head against the pillow, spilling back with a moan shrill like a song. It’s the last time she knows she’ll ever sing for her again, so she makes sure it’s a good one.

[craske]

REVERT?!?

REVEEERTTTT?????

I am LOOKING

OH GOD I DON'T KNOW HOW TO PROPERLY AAK I JUST KNOW I NEED TO KNOW MORE OF THIS STUPID WET BEAST OF A CLOWN ON THIS AU

oh you know how it is

when theres this almost overwhelming power seeping into your mind, changing and breaking and folding it. maybe it makes your worst come out to the broad light, maybe something happens to you and its enough to shift something in you. and this power can be the amplifier.

then youre put in a containment, with nothing but your own mind as company, and things just keep reverbing and amplifying and changing even more

then youre free, and suddenly all of that noise is gone. its silent, but at first even painful, like constant ringing in your ears after constant bombardment with noise

i think suddenly having your mind stripped of something this impactful could be a trigger for a change. and maybe now that most of it is gone, you can think more clearly. reverting fully is impossible, too many things changed permanently both externally and internally. but some things can come back, even if partially. maybe enjoying something you abandoned long ago? or accepting the past happened and maybe its time to move on

not that the last part could be that easy but hey, who knows

[liquidstar]

The agony of wanting a good gyro but there not being any good Greek places nearby

[usercelestial]

the writers... are more sophisticated... the writers of 911... tim minear... is sophisticated. one time a woman threw her own shit out of a window and got stuck hanging out of the side of the building. but this is a sophisticated show. clearly.

[lostlavenderer]

my curse is that I'm the most fluent with a british accent. It's closer to the accent I speak in my native language so I just stumble over my words way less but girl when I tell you I go for american so often anyway cuz I don't wanna sound like I'm posh on purpose.......... The brits got to me but by god am I resisting

[lesbianboyfriend]

i think there’s two types of bad theatre: the first is theatre that’s afraid of itself and the second is theatre that is unabashedly what it is in a way that just happens to be bad. the first kind is always going to be the worst of the two….there’s something they tell you in almost any beginning acting class that’s basically that the person who doesn’t commit to a choice is always going to look sillier than someone who commits to a ridiculous choice. if you see a show full of people who are embarrassed to be doing what they’re doing or afraid to commit fully to a role it’s never going to be good….this also goes for quippy self-conscious fourth wall breaking. whereas sometimes you see a piece of bad theatre where you might be like this is utterly ridiculous or ill-crafted or whatever but you can tell that everyone who’s in it is In It and that’s the kind of bad theatre that for me is always brimming with potential…i walk out of those shows excited and yearning to be on a stage because they remind me of what theatre can be!!! even if it’s bad!! it’s fun!!! it’s honest!!!! it’s communal!!!! i love you bad theatre!!! but not you Bad Theatre

[quicktimeeventfull]

imo the best way to write pretty much anything is via absences — you need to give the reader enough scaffolding to guide them through your world, but if you want something to really hit often the best thing to do is step back.

the joy of reading i think is the ability to put yourself into the work. one of the most common writing mistakes is to micromanage the reader’s experience, especially at important moments, when it feels you have to get everything just right and describe things in perfect detail. but really this usually imposes distance between the reader and the work. you don’t know what terror feels like to them or what a comfortable room looks like; they come with their own associations and expectations and if you want them to really breathe into your work its generally best to let them do that.

a good rule of thumb is to describe only what is unique and unexpected and let them add in the rest. tell them that a character has stark white hair and smiles at people he despises but let them fill in the details about exactly what such an expression would look like u know. it’s really, really hard to learn how to do this & how much detail to provide because it’s not static, it’s going to change based on the tone you want and the character and the nature of the work but it’s also really what makes a story feel real, i think.

[wizardmp3]

"philosophy is pretentious" love? my best friend love is pretentious? platos symposium opens to talk about love amd hes one of the big three socratic philosophers. what is love by haddaway is pretentious? baby dont hurt me, dont hurt me no more?

[yellowocaballero]

I just finished your New Wave fic. I’m convinced everything your write is gold. I loved your TMA fics, with the most heartbreaking demon AU imaginable and the hilarity of Fahrenheit 101. I loved your moon knight fics, starting with Steven talking to animals on the reg at work to the system growing closer with a focus on Jake, i- there’s- it’s sooo much packed into it. When I’m on burnout, of art or writing (maybe life in general at times) I revisit your work and am thrown back into a creative headspace.

You are my favorite writer, you cram so much meaning and thought into your work and it shows. The characters are dumbasses and say the most ridiculous shit and turn around the next chapter and say the most thought provoking thing, and I don’t get whiplash from it because these characters just work! They just do, and I… am very much off track!

Anyways I just got into Batman and reading your fic is fueling that flame! I can’t wait to see what you have in store next, and I shall now stalk your blog for writing tips! I hope you have a nice day broski 💙

Thank you!! This is so sweet thank you so much! This ask is so nice!

Trust me, if there's meaning then it's because I get obsessive over these fics and I massively overthink them. I honestly wish I was better at making simpler, more elegant stories. I feel like nothing I do is truly going to be good until I can find that simplicity.

"Dipshit who says stupid stuff and then turns around and spouts ridiculous philosophy" is just how I talk. But I habitually approach my life from a standpoint of finding humor in everything, if only to soften the blow. I was once told that it's really hard to tell when I'm joking, because everything I say is always half-joking and always half-serious. I feel like that's pretty evident from my narration too...

As for writing advice...um, I was just speaking about this with somebody. When you're plotting a story, the first thing I like to figure out is what I'm trying to say. Everything else should be built around that. The joy of writing is that I think we all have something we want to say, or something we want people to know, or that we have an aspect of ourselves and our lives that we want to express. Most of the time, trying to convey those things verbally just results in a frustrating approximation of your true feelings. I find that when I manage a successful story, the depth and scale of what I'm trying to impart is fully understood and felt. It's rewarding. I think if people aren't understood on some level, by somebody, they kind of die.

Thanks for the sweet ask!!

[demobatman]

How long was it before your art got noticed online?

this sounds so bad but the first piece of art i ever posted got like 58k notes so. but its really fucking bad to be fair, and then my stranger things text post art blew up too so i kind of have the power of the tumblr in the palm of my hand

[munch-mumbles]

see my problem is i need to be more vocal so people can get to know me better and maybe actually want to befriend me but i also need to stop talking so much so i dont irritate people and make them want to avoid me

[bunny-heels]

ive talked about this so many times and im so sorry to bring it up again but i absolutely despise how youtubers approach and handle scary topics because its clear how many of them are actually just giant babies.

like, as an example: whenever i get recommended videos like "top # horrifying artists" or "the story of the most brutal movie", my tradition is to OPEN the video, but NOT watch it, then to skim through it to find out what the thing is theyre claiming is so bad, then i'll go look for it myself to see if its actually as scary as theyre gonna TRY to make it out to be, only to find out its literally the most kindergarten baby ghost story shit ive ever seen

i just got recommended a video about controversial banned horror games and really the only one that deserved to be on that list of genuinely scary games was Devotion, but it IS genuinely a horrifying game, the story is so fucked, and it has an actual interesting reason for it getting banned in another country [it had an easter egg that made fun of Kim Jong Un]

and then the rest of the list is soooo fucking boring. "this one horror game got BANNED" ok why "it was banned for being violent and scary" in what country "[names country that's known to ban games with violence and blood and gore]" ok what was the game

"left 4 dead 2"

like sorry that im being mean but if youre trying to make a scary video out of LEFT 4 DEAD 2 getting banned in a country that NORMALLY BANS THOSE TYPES OF GAMES cause their laws SUCK then you are just so fucking stupid. this isnt 1999 anymore, youre not a grandpa who just read an article about DOOM being the most brutal game out there. go watch the 2008 version of Martrys and play The Cat Lady and then maybe you'll be a big enough boy to talk about scary shit

[transcarcinization]

i read life of pi for the first time when i was 11? 12? wayyy too young to understand it fully. but i think it was the first book i had been exposed to that was like. trying to do something more interesting than most books for children are.... i read the whole thing in one sitting it changed me forever

[toytulini]

idk. picky eater rights. im coming to your events and turning my picky bitch nose up at your fancy ass desserts you spent a bajillion hours working over in the kitchen and asking if i can find like a basic ass brownie with no extra flairs or ingredients or steps or whatever the fuck. cry about it. stop trying to feed me