#this ending is rad actually

[iono---zone]

matching akitouya moodboards

[thyfleshc0nsumed]

There was so much black ice on that roof. Also like I had to climb a like 25 foot ladder. I'm like the most out of shape person ever to exist. Shout out to me for not dying in an incredibly embarrassing way

[tetedurfarm]

hey

[devilsskettle]

dinner in america is such a “take what you want from it and leave the rest” movie for me because i do think it’s very cute and i can buy into some of the wish fulfillment nature of the story but admittedly there are some parts that really don’t work for me, there are some parts that fall a little flat either in terms of the characters or humor, and the pacing is a bit of a challenge tbh. but it’s unbelievable what the human brain can overcome by virtue of simply Just Liking That Guy

[antoncrane]

Thinking about a FO4 synth MODUS AU.

[giddlygoat]

eight hours | the stanley parable fic 

[ 2527 words • fluff, could be seen as ship or platonic • oneshot; may be continued ] 

stanley’s tired. he just wants to get a good night’s sleep. the narrator eventually obliges, even if he doesn’t fully understand stanley’s desire to lay unconscious for eight hours. 

…

“stanley, what in the world are you doing?” 

usually, the narrator could wait patiently for stanley to leave his office before beginning their new run. he would use this short period as a sort of mental refresher, preparing himself for the adventure ahead and taking a moment of quiet to himself. stanley always left eventually, often in moments, but something was holding them up. he had seemingly crawled under his desk with his back to the corner in a curled up position that could only be so comfortable. 

“are you feeling unwell? you’ve been laying there for nearly half an hour now.” the narrator recognized the similarities between stanley’s display and general human tendencies regarding sleep, although he had not seen him asleep very often at all. he knew for a fact that stanley didn’t even require sleep. 

stanley only shifted slightly, adjusting the arm folded under his head. he made no effort to explain himself, or address the narrator at all, for that matter. 

“well, as long as you’ve not contracted some sort of deadly virus or something, i suppose i can’t stop you from sleeping my precious time away.” 

stanley’s face crinkled up just slightly, just for a second. the narrator felt a small zip of amusement through him. “yes, i suppose i should leave you to it. not like we have anything better to be doing right now… like exploring the surprise i made for you.” 

stanley did not perk up as the narrator had expected. that was strange; he was certain telling people that there’s a surprise to look forward to was supposed to be a sure way of getting their attention. 

“i said,” the narrator cleared his throat for emphasis. “you’ll miss your special surprise.” 

stanley burrowed his head deeper in his arms, as if that could block out the disembodied voice. 

the narrator sighed in exasperation. “come on, stanley, work with me here. is the mystery not enticing enough for you? what about i drop hints, or we play a game of hot and cold?” 

stanley did not move. at this point, the narrator knew very well that stanley would not be able to ignore him enough to fall asleep, and he deduced that his protagonist was simply ‘playing dead’ in the hopes that the narrator would get bored and flit off as if he had better things to be doing. 

the narrator almost chuckled at the notion. he would not break that easily. 

“look, stanley - i will be straight with you. i’m not going to stop pestering you until you leave that office. i really do have a surprise for you, something new - i really think you’ll love it! but you’re going to have to move in order to actually enjoy it.” a small prick of anxiety made itself known within the narrator. even when stanley didn’t cooperate, he would always move eventually. there had never been a time that the narrator was unable to motivate stanley to move eventually, either by persuasion, reverse psychology, or brute force annoyance. 

yes, he was sure of it. stanley had never stopped moving for more than an hour or so, and even on this rare occasion, it was with some purpose or goal in mind. something in the narrator’s subconscious urged him to reassure this thought thoroughly. 

stanley sighed, sluggishly rolling his head so that an eye emerged from his pillow of arms. he blinked slowly at nothing. 

“erm… please?” it felt awfully silly to say, and the narrator decided right then that he didn’t particularly enjoy it. 

however, it seemed to convince stanley. he sighed, crawled out from under his desk and stretched out, using his chair for balance. 

“yes! i promise you will not-“ 

[i want to sleep.] stanley signed. he had an air of determination about him. though, the narrator wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen him without that hard-headed aura. 

“sleep? why on earth would you desire to exercise the most boring of human functions?” 

stanley paused for a moment to consider whether or not this even counted as ‘earth’ before deciding that topic was a can of worms he wasn’t ready to open. he also decided that pointing out that sleep could actually be fun and fascinating among a dozen other pleasant side effects probably wouldn’t be useful, considering who he was talking to. 

so instead, he signed [i’m tired.]

the narrator scoffed. “no, you’re not. that’s physically impossible; i didn’t even code natural fatigue into you to begin with.” 

stanley grimaced. he wasn’t sure how to respond to that, especially not with the newfound bitter taste in his mouth. 

“if you’re just bored of the content so far, then i just offered you a solution. the surprise, remember?” 

stanley ground his teeth slowly, weighing his options. the narrator was not understanding him. this was a kind of bone deep, all-consuming exhaustion that had been due for a long, long time. his body didn’t have to ache for his mind to feel like a wet paper bag stuck to a parking lot. he was simply at his limit. 

but, he also didn’t have a lot of options. 

[if i come with you, will you let me sleep afterwards?] stanley was unsure of how to explain himself. despite the justification for anger in his situation, he felt nervous more than anything. he was desperate - he’d take what he could get. 

“sure, you can take a nap after you see the surprise.” 

stanley pinched the bridge of his nose. [no. i mean a deep sleep.] 

there was a very loud, very brief moment of silence. “…for how long?” 

stanley almost laughed. if he hadn’t already been dealing with this crap for so long, he might not have believed that he was bargaining the number of hours he got to sleep with some ignorant prick in the ceiling. 

[a night’s sleep. like eight hours.]

the narrator whistled, and stanley swore he heard the gentle shift of a rolling chair on the floor. “eight hours? that’s quite a lot, stanley. i’m not sure if i can swing that.” 

stanley made no effort to hide the obvious irritation on his face. [yes you can. you’ve swung harder for much less.] 

“well, what am i supposed to do for eight hours? i don’t exactly have a surplus of protagonists laying around at my disposable. i assure you, if i did, i would have given up on you ages ago.” 

[thanks.] stanley rolled his eyes. 

“gratitude is not the appropriate response here, stanley. that was a dig at your insufferable nature and reckless attitude.” 

stanley might have signed something in response if his hands weren’t busy holding his head. he drug them down his face, groaning in frustration. [please, let’s just get this over with.] 

“wonderful!” the narrator clapped. “right this way, stanley.” a familiar yellow arrow appeared on the floor before stanley, snaking through a newly opened door. the smile in his voice was back. stanley wished he had something to smile about too. 

“you won’t regret this. i made this just for you, you know.” the narrator continued to hype up the surprise stanley tried not to get his hopes up about. knowing the narrator, it was probably something underwhelming and useless, like another mostly infinite hole or a new closet. 

stanley followed the adventure line in no hurry. he allowed himself to fantasize about something beautiful and gratifying. the narrator occasionally rattled on about all the effort that went into this spectacular mystery gift, and how brilliant it was, and how ecstatic stanley would be upon seeing it. 

stanley imagined a stretching, open field surrounded by a horizon of trees and distant green hills. wind tickled his ears and sunshine kissed his face as he walked in the direction of his choice. no limits, no rules, no voice. 

the sluggish pace he progressed at did not escape the narrator’s notice. it either meant he was simply savoring every delicious moment of suspense or he wasn’t excited about his surprise, and something inclined the narrator to believe it was the latter. 

yes, upon closer inspection, stanley didn’t look happy at all. it then struck the narrator quite suddenly that stanley’s claims of tiredness from earlier were starkly evident on his features. he really did look exhausted. 

the narrator contemplated his surprise. perhaps the new closet he had cooked up would not please stanley as he had previously hoped. he knew stanley loved closets - there was no doubt about it, but he just didn’t seem to be in a closet exploring kind of mood. 

well, they were only paces from their destination now. the narrator had to act fast. 

“erm, hold on, stanley.” 

before stanley rose a brick wall, haphazardly slapped in last second. stanley took a step back, scratching his head. 

“let’s see… hold on, i just have to make a few minor adjustments. i realized my design wasn’t quite perfect and i really should present you with only the best.” the narrator hummed absentmindedly as he hastily constructed a new room in the closet’s place, digging through assets and arranging everything just so. 

stanley yawned slowly, unaffected. 

“right… there we go! sorry about that, right this way.” the narrator lowered the brick wall once more, and stanley followed the adventure line down to the end of a forgettable hallway. the door at the end was a deep green. stanley had to admit, the new splash of color was easy on the eyes. 

“well, what are you waiting for? go on,” the narrator urged stanley inside, anxious to see his reaction. stanley sighed, mentally preparing himself for disappointment. he twisted the knob and stepped inside. 

“oh, isn’t it just beautiful?” the narrator said dreamily. 

stanley had to pick his jaw off the floor. it… really was beautiful. he found himself in an expansive greenhouse surrounded by big leafy plants and frosted glass panes on every side. the floor was laid with swirling patterns in red brick and white stones. 

what caught stanley’s eye the most, however, was the enormous bed in the center of the greenhouse. a circular sheer curtain shrouded the bed in a hazy green. stanley was moving towards it before he could think.

“look, i’ve thought about what you said, and i think perhaps… i haven’t been the most accommodating. let me make it up to you.” the sheer curtain rolled back before stanley’s eyes, and he realized the comforter was fashioned to look like a lush moss carpet. he reached out and pet the fluffy surface, unable to believe what he was seeing. it felt marvelous. 

“you can have eight hours in here. oh, and i almost forgot-“ stanley only realized it had been silent when suddenly the sound of rain on the roof swelled around him. he looked at the foggy windows to see the color of the sky had darkened to a pleasant dusty purple. 

“there we go! perfect sleeping conditions. now, wasn’t that surprise worth it?” the narrator waited for stanley to move. he just stayed there frozen, his hand in the shaggy fluff of the comforter. 

“…stanley?” this was unusual. something about the situation inspired a prick of anxiety within the narrator. 

but sure enough, stanley’s taut shoulders softened, his hand retracting from the blanket. he looked around the greenhouse slowly, letting his eyes snag on every little detail among the abundant plant life.

had the narrator really created all of this just for him? just for this occasion? stanley gulped, inhaling deeply. the air felt richer and damper. his eyes stung. 

he didn’t bother signing. he unbuckled his belt, pushing off his slacks, and unbuttoned his shirt enough to pull it over his head and throw it unceremoniously to the floor. then he dove under the covers, eagerly wrapping himself up in the heavenly softness of the comforter. 

the narrator sputtered quietly at the sudden display, clearing his throat. he supposed that was a yes. “well, i suppose i should leave you to it, now.” he said rather awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed. 

stanley’s eyes washed over the ceiling, watching the rain patter and roll on the glass above him. he finally worked up the determination to pull his arms out from under the covers once more in order to sign. [what are you going to do?] he asked out of curiosity more than anything. 

the narrator hadn’t expected stanley to say anything after all. to be perfectly honest, he didn’t have a clue. and in the vein of honestly, he didn’t particularly want to leave. he had just put this place together; it would only make sense to stay and admire it. just a bit longer. 

[are you there?] stanley signed after a moment. the narrator realized he had not responded. “ah, yes, of course. uhm… i was actually just contemplating that. i think i rather like this place, and i’m not particularly anxious to leave yet - if that’s quite alright with you.” 

a small smile grew on stanley’s face. the narrator studied it closely. [it’s very nice. thank you.] as if to prove his point, stanley gathered up the bunched up comforter in his arms and snuggled beneath it. the narrator studied this closely as well. stanley looked so… content. he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to feel about that. 

“you’re very welcome, stanley.” he smiled despite himself. maybe stanley would finally understand that the narrator had his best interest in mind after this. yes, surely he would take a lesson from this.

somehow, watching stanley burrow into the cozy cocoon of his blanket made the narrator feel inclined to keep those sentiments to himself for now. 

several moments passed by, and stanley’s eyes had closed, the rise and fall of his chest slowing. the narrator had to admit, the sound of the rain was quite relaxing. he knew if stanley wasn’t asleep by now it was only a matter of time, and then it would be eight hours of nothing. 

perhaps the narrator would leave at some point to work on new areas or flesh out his story. but until then, he found that he wasn’t bored. quite the opposite, really. watching stanley sleep was fascinating. seeing him at peace was a rare thing. 

maybe the narrator had been too harsh on him. what good is a protagonist who’s sick of his own story? the narrator toyed with the idea of allowing stanley to visit this place regularly. it could be good for morale, and give the narrator ample time to perfect his new ideas. yes, he would certainly consider it. 

until then, stanley was fast asleep, and the narrator suddenly had no one to talk to. he’d never understood the appeal of sleep, as it just eats up valuable time, but seeing stanley in this state inspired curiosity in the narrator. it looked cozy. he found himself wondering what that might feel like. 

these thoughts would zip through the narrator’s mind as he flitted around his maps, making improvements to his plots here and there. eight hours would pass slowly and quietly, and the narrator found that his pondering kept the inherit bore of it all at bay. 

[anonyhun]

I think in destressing, I am learning to be free. Free to be cringe...

[13thpythagoras]

realizing today...my hair is a fractal for my whole body

it's exactly as curly as i am curvy...lol

why do my 20 hairs that fall out weekly sometimes form an erotic abstract self portrait??

[relicsongmel]

Alright I figured since I ramble about them so much it's time I made a post talking all about my two darling girls!!! As some of you already know, these are my two (pseudo) self-insert characters; their primary canon is based around the events of Pokemon Black and White and their sequels.

images made using Picrew and Love Nikki (with the latter having the closest I could get to their canon outfits)

Sylvia Goldwood

Gender: female (she/her)

Orientation: pan(demi)romantic demisexual

Birthday: March 10th

Height: 5'8

Hair color: light blonde

Eye color: aqua

Color scheme: light blues, whites, and silvers/grays with occasional darker blues, yellows, greens, and purples

Ethnicity: Unovan (Martha her mother is from Icirrus City, Roger her father is from Driftveil City)

Interests: music (singing, piano, flute, composition), theater, gardening/botany, baking, poetry, dancing, swimming, boating, foreign languages

Fashion is romantic and feminine with frequent floral elements

Born in Nuvema Town and lived her whole life there

Her father was a musician and aspiring composer who died a little over a year after she was born. Her mother is a florist

Inherited Roger's love of music despite never knowing him. Dedicates herself wholly to the musical arts and shows an exceptional level of skill for her age, but develops burnout as a result of her perfectionist nature and harsh self-criticism born from the pressure she felt to succeed. Leaves on a Pokemon journey for a change of pace and to search for the mythical Pokemon Meloetta in hopes of rekindling her inspiration.

Personality: ambiverted, imaginative, deceptively slow to trust, selfless to a fault

Notable Pokemon: Samurott, Cinccino, shiny Gardevoir

Denise Hitoki

Gender: female (she/her)

Orientation: biromantic demisexual

Birthday: September 10th

Height: 5'4

Hair color: blonde

Eye color: dark gray

Color scheme: greens, browns, and other neutral tones with occasional blues and yellows

Ethnicity: half Unovan, half Johtonian (Jennifer her mother is from Icirrus City, Ryuji her father is from Goldenrod City)

Interests: reading, video games/anime, drawing, writing, playing guitar/songwriting, tree climbing, mythology, history

Fashion is minimalist and practical, avoiding unnecessary flourishes

Born in Ecruteak City and lived there with both parents; moved to Aspertia City with her mother at about 13 years old

Both parents are top-class Pokemon breeders who spent their teens and early twenties competing in competitions worldwide; after their marriage her mother starts a business selling various Pokemon care products. Her father assists her but tends to work from home so he can focus on taking care of Denise

Her parents' marriage grows unstable and her father abandons the family when Denise is 10. She and her mother have wildly different responses to this, which becomes a source of conflict as Dena becomes frustrated with her mother's state of denial and Jen is incredibly ill-equipped to deal with her daughter's grief on top of her own while now facing the challenges of being a single mother. Denise has a long depressive period before she leaves on a Pokemon journey to escape her home life and possibly find her father.

Personality: introverted, blunt, logical, fiercely loyal to her loved ones

Notable Pokemon: Ninetales, Glaceon, Zoroark

Other facts about the girls:

Martha and Jen are sisters, making Sylvia and Denise cousins. They are two years apart in age (with Sylvia as the older of the two) and each leaves on her respective journey at 18 years old.

Sylvia started as a Bleach OC and used to be named Lilybell, while Denise was created for an unfinished lineup of characters representing musical keys (she was D minor, hence her name). Both are drastically different characters now than how I envisioned them at the time of their conception.

Sylvia's tag [#little songbird] is a nickname Roger used for her when he was still alive.

Denise's tag [#forest for the tree] is in reference to her last name, which means "solitary tree." It symbolizes her tendency to isolate herself due to recurring abandonment issues as a result of her father's disappearance, even though trees usually thrive in community by nourishing each other through interconnected root systems. However, after letting go of her fears and allowing others into her life (finding her "forest" so to speak), she becomes a source of shelter, strength, and comfort for those around her.

Sylvia can be shortened to Syl and Denise to Dena (pronounced "DEE-nuh"); they have a few other nicknames but those are the most common ones.

The descriptions in this post pertain to the main timeline; that is, Sylvia and Denise's adventures across Unova and a few other regions they travel to with the background details exactly as described above. Several other AUs exist, most notably two PLA AUs (one for each of them), Denise's Paldea AU in which she and her mother move there instead of Unova, and a few different Sylvia AUs in which her confrontation with Team Plasma plays out slightly differently. In addition to these, I occasionally put my girls in the universes of other franchises (Bleach, Stardew Valley and Ace Attorney to name a few), but many details there are far less consistent considering the characters weren't created with those universes in mind. As such I generally don't like to discuss them as much, but they are very fun nonetheless and often help me recontextualize how I view their canon storyline.

And that's the overview! Thank you to anyone who's read this far—my lovely ladies mean the absolute world to me and I hope you found their backgrounds interesting <3

[giantkillerjack]

Ya know. I spent most of my life with horrible painful soul-crushing social anxiety.

And after about 25 years of continuous hard work, suddenly, people started pointing out - to my utter bafflement - that I had, in fact, achieved my lifelong dream of being charismatic. I'm 29 now; I feel comfortable in most social situations, and it is a very rare person whom I cannot make laugh.

I am, undoubtedly, finally, charismatic.

But do you know what I found?

I found that now that I have an understanding of which social rules serve which functions -- Now that I have an understanding of just how much damage my awkwardness was doing to people, well,

I found that, actually, my awkwardness never really hurt anyone at all. People were just judgmental dicks to me about it.

Now that I have the skill-level to (most of the time) creatively vocalize what is in my head as soon as I think it and without fear, I can confirm once and for all what I had always suspected:

I was worth talking to when I was quiet.

I was worth talking to when I was awkward, and when the words in my head took time and patience to hear, and when most of my jokes didn't land. I was worth talking to the whole time.

So I just... I hope that if you've ever wondered whether you are worth communicating with, the answer is yes. Absolutely yes. Each of us has a soul worth sharing - and if you and I were talking, I would happily wait for you to speak (or communicate in other ways) without condescending, and I would never shame you for that harmless awkwardness that so many people feel the need to violently stomp out.

You are worth talking to. You just are. And you deserve people who will speak to you with kindness, with patience, and with the basic immutable respect owed to all people.

(I talk about this with some frequency, both on tumblr and in real life. At some point, maybe I'll gather all my thoughts on the matter into one post. At some point, I wrote about my personal experience trying to build my social skill. But I felt the need to say at least a little bit tonight after seeing this other lovely post, and I'm glad I did. It will happen again.)

[knifesxedge]

mfw i am chad (party girl normie) but i have psychological issues (trapped in the body of the world’s most unwell autistic faggot not-cute freakthing) so i’m stuck here with you virgins (i stay at home drawing and going to starbucks instead of uhhhhhhhhh having a social life)

[junietuesday]

POV

ask game here if anyone still wants to send some in!

from the same wip as this snippet of mine, some sentimental revalink pining:

Link stared out at the horizon, acutely aware of Revali reclining on the stone wall next to him. When the wind blew just right, the primary feathers on Revali’s wing brushed slightly against his wrist. Link sat stiff; as long as neither of them acknowledged it, they could bask in this a little longer.

So of course, Revali had to break the silence. He never quite could sit with silence. “Link,” he started, an edge of…something tentative creeping in on his voice—

Link pulled his hand away. Lifted it up to brush a lock of hair behind his ear, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded. “It’s late,” he managed, and stood. Revali was watching him, a wide-eyed, cracked-open look on his face that made Link want to throw himself back down at Revali’s knees.

But he couldn’t. Whatever this was (Link knew what it was, what he wanted it to be), it couldn’t happen. Link had a role to play. A destiny to fulfill, a world to save, an existence laid out for him by the goddesses that didn’t include…any distractions.

Link swallowed. Revali was still looking at him, eyes locked on Link’s face in a way that almost seemed desperate. But all Link could force out was, “They’ll be serving dinner.”

At that, Revali huffed. A little of his usual sharp affect returned to his expression. “How just like you, to be preoccupied with dinner.” Yet the halting quality to his voice remained. Link felt guilty; but it wasn’t as if he had any other options. “Do you ever think about anything but food?”

Link was struck by the urge to laugh. If only Revali knew the half of it…

“Sometimes,” was all Link said, and watched the way the sunset seemed to set Revali’s dark feathers alight.

[slightlytoastedbagel]

Good morning Vivid Bad Squad it seems like something has happened

[puppmeo]

I dont think Matt Smith's / The Eleventh's Doctor is the most interesting or cool but he does scare the absolute shit out of me so i think that counts for something

[stardustvanfleet]

hi my loves my gresties 🩷 the twins have really had it out for me this week and i am actively dying. but i love all of y’all sm !!!!

[softgothbabe]

Are you a talkative person with your mutuals?

Not really, unfortunately 😅🥺 Just like in my real life, I am shittttt at building/maintaining friendships. I suck at responding to messages, even if they're time-sensitive. I often respond to someone twice and then they don't hear from me again for weeks, if at all. I am almost never the first person to reach out. I kinda suck as a mutual/friend.