#this frustrates me somewhat

[ericas-spop-blog]

Chosen

=======

[critter-wizard]

ep 43 had me tearing up in a fucking shopping centre ‼️‼️

b+w alt version that I truly couldn't decide if I liked it more . Also I included a lot of thoughts in the tags but they're somewhat incoherent<3

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Got an itch to play Sunless Sea again and it's always such an odd experience because. Like.

I know this game. Any other game, the level if knowledge and research I have put into this would make me a confident fucking master. And yet.

I can be reading text I've read dozens of times before and i still feel...not clueless, but absolutely off the mark. It all feels so familiar and yet I've never seen a victory condition. I've at least started pretty much every storyline but I'll still see something new each time I sink some time into it. I have a fucking JOURNAL of TRADE ROUTES and REQUIRED ITEMS and somehow that's only mildly helpful

That and the fact Fallen London's lore is so fucking batshit and honestly kind of hard to research (thr wiki's are frustratingly structured for me and the browser game is just. A bit inaccessible for me) means I can have a pretty solid understanding of what's going on in each port and what each faction is about and still ZERO FUCKING GRASP ON LITERALLY ANY PLOT

[grunklefordpines]

Are you alright, Stanford? I was told all about what happened. Bill is no longer possessing me, thankfully. Are you okay, are you hurt?

@stanfordssiren

I am fine.

—Are you okay?

I’ve been told that you’ve reverted back to your—flesh diet—What made you change so suddenly? And so soon?

[th3e-m4ng0]

dialogue so good i can Just Hear the character speak . cadence and everything

[paingoes]

Cuckoo Egg

(continued from here)

(Content: institutionalized slavery, military content, minor character death, fear, begging, lot of crying, blood)

tags: @echo-goes-mmm @sowhumpshaped @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @teachunks @4th-dimensional-writer

======================

She leaves it there, too. She disappears again. It bleeds continuously onto the table, staining the sleeves of his uniform. He has to keep it perfectly still to stop the pain from reigniting. He sobs dryly.

The door opens again. Nicolette slinks in. She’s carrying a glass full of clear liquid. He tries to apologize again, to beg. She quiets him.

“It’s just water,” she says. With his hands bound, she has to bring the glass to his lips for him to drink. He flinches, fully convinced she will break it off in her mouth. But her hands are careful.

“If you lose a lot of blood, you get thirsty,” She explains, “And you’ve been crying a lot.”

He drinks the whole thing. She pulls the glass back, placing it on the table.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Cillian says weakly. This time, she does a worse job masking her surprise.

“You’re welcome,” she says slowly, “Are you ready to talk now?”

He tries not to cry again, to immediately lose whatever hydration he just gained.

“I told you,” he whines.

 She makes a small noise at the back of her throat, “Unfortunately, I don’t have another knife.”

“Wait-“

She plucks the knife out from the table, through the layer of flesh. It hurts just as bad going out. The blood pours with renewed force. Cillian screams. 

She doesn’t get back up on the table this time. It’s too soiled now. She doesn’t want the layers of accumulated blood to strain her clothes. Cillian recoils as she presses the knife flat against his uniform, wiping his own blood on the fabric. The metal catches the gleam.

“Please stop,” he gasps. 

“I’d like to.” Nicolette is right beside him, leaning on the same side of the table that he’s chained up on. All the blood has shocked him. All the terror.

“I’m trying,” he says quietly, going into a kind of trance, “I’m trying, please. I’m trying to be good.”

“Do it, then. I’ll let you rest after. Give me something.”

“I don’t know,” he practically yells. His voice breaks, “I am domestic. I’ve never been in a warzone before. I don’t know anything.”

She holds the knife to his throat. He sobs, barely flinching.

“I don’t want to die over this. It was just supposed to be a day trip. I’m sorry. It wasn’t my choice.”

“What do you mean?” The knife moves down a little, more to the collar than the jugular. It digs into his chest, not quite breaking the skin, but still thorny and painful.

“I don’t-“ he blinks back tears, cutting himself off. It’s so hard to speak now. The pressure in his throat has grown so immense.

Nicolette cuts him, unexpectedly. He jumps in pain and shock, forcing the dagger along a longer trail. It cut through the clothes, along his chest. Its shallow, but it bleeds heavily. His hands clench up reflexively. The muscles tensing triggers pain within the new wound. 

“Stop,” he pleads. She withdraws the knife. He wants the pain stop now, not just the interrogation. But the cuts still throb and burn. There’s nothing anyone can do for that. It takes him a minute to catch his breath. A moment too long and Nicolette presses the knife to the other side of his chest.

“I was only here as a punishment,” he chokes out. His face burns. It’s such a deep instinct for him to try and evade it. The shame cuts through him. 

“I’m sorry,” he manages, “I don’t- I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not a soldier. I’m not. It was just to punish me. I’m sorry.”

He can hardly see her through his tears, “You don’t believe me.”

Without moving the knife from its spot on his chest, she traces her hand around the bare skin of his neck. He winces, expecting her to tighten the grasp. She doesn’t. She’s looking for something.

“No dog tag. Cillian, what’s your full name?”

“I don’t have one.”

The knife enters, just a little.

“I don’t, I swear. They didn’t give me one.” He rushes the words out.

“I don’t- I don’t know,” his face burns, again, deeper, “My master.”

He hates how the word feels in his mouth, but it gets her to take the knife out. 

“No name on the uniform, either. All the others had one.”

He cringes as she realizes she is talking about the dead bodies of the soldiers he’d come with. He wonders where they’re keeping them now.

Nicolette slides off the table, turning back towards the door. Cillian can’t see her expression though the tears. Even if he could, it wouldn’t tell him much.

============

She returns quicker than he expected, but it still feels like hours have gone by. Cillian had calmed down a little, just enough to stop crying. Her sudden reappearance dashed his progress. She was trailed by two men. 

“Please don’t, please, please,” Cillian panicked, his imagination already running wild.

“Tell them what you told me,” her voice is more urgent now, almost beseeching, “Why you were in the desert.”

“I don’t know!” Cillian’s voice rose in frustration, his anger only slightly subdued by the blood loss.

“No. You, specifically. You know. Tell them.” She insisted.

If his hands were free, he’d have brought them to his face, in spite of the way the blood would smear. He wants to hide.

“They sent me on the mission as a punishment. I didn’t come by choice. I’m not a soldier.” His breathing is heavy and uneven. It makes his voice pitch.

Nicolette exchanges a look with the men she brought with her. They eye the wounds he’s been given. Without any words sharped between them, they all turn to leave. Cillian collapses back in the seat, too exhausted to live.

They return shortly after and without Nicolette. There is not much in terms of discussion, but one wraps a piece of cloth around his hand and another on his elbow, stopping the blood flow and cutting off circulation. It’s a little late for that. The cuffs are undone from the table, but not removed from his wrists.

“Where are we going?” Cillian says weakly

“Infirmary. There’s been a mistake,” The man says, not exactly looking at him. It doesn’t matter. Cillian can’t even hold his head up.

=======

They find the brand quickly. Cillian had forgotten it was even there, it was the last thing on his mind. He had put a lot of effort into pretending it didn’t exist. In this instance, it saves him.

Their tone changes immediately. It is not one of apology or of outrage, but of hushed guilt. They can’t even look him in the eye. Still, he counts himself lucky just to have been left alone. The cuffs come off. They strip the bloodied uniform from his back so they can treat the shallow chest wounds. The medics there wrap his hand in a cloth bandaid. They do not seem to be in any hurry to get him a new shirt, but some of the desert heat seeps through the walls and it’s not at all unpleasant. The bed is so soft. He sits on the edge of it, still party curled in on himself. He rubs at the flesh where the metal bit him. His skin is still stained a bit pink.

He doesn’t hear it when Nicolette returns. She seems to maintain some barrier between herself and Cillian the entire time. She crosses her arms over the top of his headboard and rests her chin on top of them. Cillian jumps, scooting closer to the foot of the bed.

“Does it hurt, Cillian?” She says in the same emotionless voice. He cringes a little.

“No, ma’am,” He answers fearfully. It was true, though. The shot they gave him made his whole body numb. There’s a strange tingling feeling where the pain should be.

“Don’t call me that. I don’t like it anymore.” Her eyes are so wide. Cillian doesn’t respond.

“You are very upset with me,” She observes.

“I told you,” he hisses. He can’t hold it in. He wants to apologize for it immediately, but to his surprise, she speaks first.

“You told me what anyone in your position would say.” She readjusts herself, pulling one hand free to brush her hair back, “All the others had stories just like it.”

He shakes his head. She keeps going.

“You have to understand, Cillian. There’s nothing we find more despicable than an evil coward. Someone who can inflict pain onto others but can’t take it themselves. You’d be surprised how often we see it among the ranks. It needs to be stomped out.”

“But I didn’t do that.” Cillian says and feels as if he’s right back in the cell.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She still doesn’t blink, but her lips press into a thin line. 

The apology snaps him out of it. He’s not any less angry, but he is less afraid. He wants to cry again.

“My hand is never going to heal.” He clutches the cloth tightly. He might as well get her while he has her, before she can change her mind.

“It will,” Nicolette insists. She holds up her own palm. A jagged scar runs down the center of it.

“One of the most sensitive parts of the body, you know,” She speaks without feeling.

Cillian shivers. He did know.

“Are you going to let me go now?” He asks quietly. The room feels colder.

“Go where?” She tilts her head in that familiar motion, smooth and uncanny. 

He blinks. Back to his master, of course. Where else would he go? Nicolette eyes the brand, a deep purple against his tan skin.

“I don’t think so, Cillian,” She shakes her head, closes her eyes.

“I think we should find you new clothes.”

[ilovedthestars]

i have. too many things to do.

[linktube]

i think its some of damiens responsiblity to think what kinda relationship he cultivaded with his fans. and why is centering his need for explaning, defending and further protecting his self/image is his knee jerk reaction. unless you do those things a social media break is just another way of image management. plus it wont feel better when you come back and you are still centering your image which causes you too act defensive/childish. you cant support things thru acts of fear and nervousness and not expact them to crumble! i know people joked abour his virtue signalling in the past, and they are jokes, but its a curious thing people notice that around him enough to point that out. i hope he can actually look into that part of himself with a more honest critical lense.also these twitch stream where he wants this magicaly ''positive'' enviroment where people can ''escape'' is just unrealistic at best. this is a livestream where people rush on each other to talk to you. its by nature feeding into these things im afraidi positivity is not the warm blanket you think it is, its more of a trap lol

[motleyfam]

PLEASE COULD WE MAYBE GET LIKE A VIBE OF WHAT THE NEXT INSTALLMENT OF SETTLE OUR BONES IS GOING TO BE ABOUT NO PRESSURE JUST CURIOUS

The vibe is it’s kicking my ass 😂

[transingthoseformers]

Why do people not like rid2015? Cause it's really hard to find stuff about sideswipe ( my baby ❤️)

I wouldn't say I don't like it, but I definitely see the flaws such as

It somehow being more pro-cop propaganda than rescue bots where they're literal cops and firefighters and stuff, this is honestly my main criticism of rid15 and I've talked about it before

he lore being a bit different than tfp even though it's supposed to be a direct sequel, and at times the lore gets messy

The animation style being not what people expected

I can see issues regarding tone because while it's more lighthearted than tfp it suddenly shifts in s4, I can see why people thoroughly expected it to be more like tfp when in actuality it's for a younger targeted audience

Some of the main characters are pretty divergent from other iterations of them, such as Grimlock

It just didn't click with a lot of people, especially previous tfp fans.

Probably other stuff too

There's probably more, but I'm going to share the reasons why I personally find it interesting

Sheer bias, I grew up with rid15 with scattered bits of it I watched on cable and it being one of the three transformers shows on Netflix.

I feel like it gets super creative with the Decepticons, with some very cool design elements like frequently utilizing biolights and playing with optic colors a lot (two of the best ways to win me over sfdsdf)

in my opinion the rid15 decepticons are better than the rid15 autobots. There's characters who beforehand were relatively obscure and now got a second chance in a far more popular medium, like Crazybolt and Thunderhoof.

Not to mention entirely new characters like Vertebreak, Nightra, and Zizza. And Vertebreak again. I like Vertebreak

Some of the lore (especially regarding the colony worlds, beastformers, and in general the decepticons) is interesting, even if some of it diverges some from tfp

[cleradinel]

maybe bylers can be forgiven for the overall sentiment (far from being everyone’s though) of indifference or dislike towards steve/eddie/steddie when everyone and their mother started pretending eddie spent the whole season gay pinning in gay despair when will byers is right there and steddie was the talk of the town when the byler storyline has been happening for 4 whole seasons and steve was put at the very top of the gay ally pedestal when jon has been the most supportive brother since the beggining. maybe, just maybe it was okay for will byers lovers & byler lovers to be a little pissed. everyone and their mother is a dramatic way of me saying, maybe the actual mlm love story in the show being overshadowed by a wildly spread headcanon rubbed us the wrong way and maybe it’s okay to feel like that, even just a tiny bit, or a whole lot.

[straightlightyagami]

actually i oppose bigotry because i think people are equal and cruelty and causing suffering to others should be avoided (and bigotry and reactionary ideology is used to divide people from uniting against capitalism etc), not because the privileged groups are Bad and should be oppressed and hated instead and the more oppressed you are the more correct you are about everything. it seems that many people in "social justice" spaces have very different reasoning and i am not a fan of it. you do you tho

[suddencolds]

~

[accirax]

if you don't understand the options, Odd Nation Cartoons just released auditions for Disventure Camp Season 4, with an original cast! while the names may be fake, the character profiles and lines are theoretically real. bios below the cut.

i think i need a line of text here to get the cut to work. hello.

[tanasha-not-yet]

'ohhhhh i wanna do a finished rendered drawing of him so bad like that one fish shitpost itll be so detailed and rendered and smooth'

*proceeds to make a pseudolineart using 14 colors in summary*

[outsideyourhousewithaknife]

You HAVE to love the moment after your phone dies and you are left hunched over the screen, your eyes deprived of the blue light to which they have grown accustomed, your mind deprived of the distraction from the horrors of your reality, to behold your own image (reverse Narcissus) in all its double-chinned, acne-scarred, chocolate-stained and cheeto-dusted glory, and horrified by who you have become, and you are full of guilt and (remorse) exhaustion, and you are (entirely, devastatingly) alone, and you blink, and you get up, and you (cry) (look in the mirror?) go plug in your phone and get some more cheetos

No, really, you have to love it. It's the law.