#this is my 2nd draft

[sephrotting]

Errorink except it starts out as Geno and ___

Geno finds ___ in the antivoid and drags him with him. Even when he starts loosing it. Even when he lashes out.

Geno then goes completely still and transforms into Error. Looses his memories and leaves ___.

Ink then gets his paint. Makes his custom own au, gets proper vials. You know his origin story.

Then they meet again but in their new selves. Ink remembers both Geno and Error. And while Error may not be able to remember him (and acts quite erratically) Ink doesnt really know why, but he decides to hang out with him anyway. He is kind towards Error and Error doesn’t understand it. Ink doesnt care if he doesn’t remember, but Error feels like he’s forgetting something important.

Tragically, Error might never remember. And Ink will keep being kind to him anyway.

[temeyes]

studies

[martyrbat]

i need everyone to understand bruces actions are always going to stem from his neverending guilt complex and unwavering love for people AND his dedication to be the most annoying cunt in any room

[bixels]

The idea that uni protesters are "elitist ivy-league rich kids larping as revolutionaries" on Twitter and Reddit and even here is so fucking funny to me if you actually know anything about the student bodies at these unis. Take it from someone who's going to one of the biggest private unis in the US, 80% of the peers I know are either from the suburbs or an apartment somewhere in America, children of immigrants, or here on a student visa. I've heard about one-percenter students, but I've never met one in person. Like, don't get me wrong, the institution as a whole is still very privileged and white. I've talked with friends and classmates about feeling weird or dissonant being here and coming from such a different background. But in my art program, I see BIPOC, disabled, queer, lower-income students and faculty trying to deconstruct and tear that down and make space every day. So to take a cursory glance at a crowd of student protesters in coalitions that are led by BIPOC & 1st/2nd-gen immigrant students and HQ'd in ethnic housings and student organizations and say, "ah. children of the elite." Get real.

[captaindelafere]

Mike Faist as Art Donaldson CHALLENGERS (2024), dir. Luca Guadagnino

[monarchisms]

people who rant about how apollo aceattorney has so many backstories (outside of memes/jokes and stuff) would not survive being a professor layton fan, trust

[pastelaspirations]

Controversial opinion; Error should have lost because the bit of him coming 2nd place for three freaking years in a row would have been comedy gold.

O h w e e e l l, I love you, Error. Congrats on finally winning, ya handsome lad. I drew a crap post comic where Ink expresses the same sentiment that I do lmao

Transcript just in case my handwriting is awful to read

Error: FINALLY, people see my ✧˖°.greatness.°˖✧ Ink: Yay! I'm so happy for you! <3 Ink: Although... I was kind of hoping you'd lose- Error: WHAT?! Ink: Just- It would have been really funny if you came 2nd place 3 years in a row, wouldn't it? Error: .... Error: You're dead to me Ink: I'm sorry! I just thought it'd be funny-

[endwersed]

WIP Whenever

Tagged in by my spectacular moots: @dear-massacre @demonicfaerie @patolemus @seaweed-water 🥰

I'm still currently working on the edits for chapter 11 of the poets are right - so here's a li'l snippet from that.

-

“I’m not going anywhere,” Derek defies. “Not until we have the chance to really talk.”

“Not fucking happening,” Stiles snaps. “Just tell me what you want so we can get this over with. I’ve got shit to do, man.”

At that, Derek quirks a lone eyebrow. He makes a point of twisting his neck, of swinging his head around, his eyes sweeping all the way across the mostly empty diner. His mouth hosts the most irritating fucking smirk that Stiles has ever seen as he finally turns back to Stiles.

“Yes,” he says, entirely deadpan. “You seem very busy.”

With a grinding of his teeth, Stiles shoves the pad and pen back into his pants. The plastic menu wobbles in his grip as he snatches it back from the table, pressing it against his chest as his scowl twists deeper in the face of Derek’s bemused expression.

“You’re getting what you’re fucking given,” he bites out, “and then you’re getting the fuck out. Got it?”

Derek does not react to that; not instantly, at least. His head stays tilted as he looks at Stiles, peers at him, appraises him, even, and moments of silence pass between them before he begins to lean back against the booth, slow and unhurried, in absolutely no clear rush as he spreads his arms out wide on either side of himself. He lifts an ankle to cross over one knee and tips his chin up, giving Stiles full view of his light, intense eyes under the brim of his cap.

The light continues to flicker above. It illuminates Derek’s face, older now and more gorgeous than even when Stiles knew it so well. Stiles bites at the inside of his cheek and forces himself to meet Derek’s eye.

“I’m a customer,” Derek says calmly.

“And we can refuse service to anyone we want.” Stiles throws a harsh arm out behind him, gesturing barely in the direction of the sign hanging crookedly on the wall behind the counter. “Just try me, jackass.”

Infuriatingly, Derek does not seem in any way affected by Stiles’ sharp words, his tall and sturdy defences. If anything, it seems to just tug at the corners of Derek’s mouth, curving them up into a smile, into a smirk, seems to set something bold in the dark flash of his eyes.

“Do you want to cause a scene, Stiles?” he asks, voice low and husky. “Because I don’t. I just want a nice meal – and a chance to talk.”

A beat passes Stiles by. His mouth purses further into his agitation, his outright anger. He skates the menu across his chest, its plastic catching on the creased fabric of his shirt, until he can tuck it beneath his arm, cool against the bare skin of his bicep. He puts his shoulders back and tilts his head up and narrows his eyes down at Derek with as much open disdain as he can pull together.

“You can get yourself a meal,” he says flatly. “But I can’t promise that anything – or anyone – will be nice.”

Derek flashes a smile with all of his teeth.

“You’ve never been nice to me,” he replies. “But I like it that way. Remember?”

Stiles does not bother to respond to that asinine fucking blast from the past with anything other than a sharp, harsh, thinly veiled cuss under his breath. He fights down the desire to clock Derek in the stupidly strong jaw he passed on to their son, and spins on the ball of his foot to stomp quickly back to the counter.

Random buttons of the computer screen jam beneath his fingers as he carelessly dials in an entirely mismatched order of bullshit. Good. His barely edible meal can serve as a punishment for coming here in the first place.

The couple, over in their booth, sharing the same side of the bench, now, are still working through the final half of their slice of pie, freaking somehow. Underneath their table, their feet are all tangled up, calves rubbing up and down against shins. Stiles feels even more disgusted by them and their obvious, irritating happiness than he was even before Derek showed up.

He remains stubbornly behind the counter as the cooks get to work on Derek’s meal. His back faces pointedly out towards the diner, out towards Derek, his eyes locked down on literally anything other than that asshole. He can feel Derek’s gaze on him still, though. Can feel it burning between his shoulder blades, scorching against the red back of his neck, drilling into the whole entire length of him.

Still, he does not move. He does not turn around. He won’t give Derek that satisfaction, that victory.

It isn’t long at all before Derek’s order is up, sliding over the pass and into Stiles’ waiting hand. Not a hint of professional pride washes over Stiles as he lets his thumb slide over the edge of the plate, into the food mounded in the middle. His footsteps sound heavy in his roaring ears as he marches his way quickly back over to Derek’s table.

“Here,” he says, a careless clatter as he drops the food in front of Derek. “Eat, and then leave.”

Derek pauses to tilt his soft smile up at Stiles.

“It looks good,” he tells him, which is a total fucking lie, and serves only to rile Stiles up even further. “Thank you, Stiles.”

The go fuck yourself, Derek is on the tip of his tongue, gearing up to spit out, to land heavily on the table, maybe in Derek’s food, if Stiles can get the aim right. It never manages to make it out, though, before the bell above the diner door tinkles once again, a familiar voice ringing into the room.

“Stiles!” the person calls out. “I was hoping you’d be here, sweetheart.”

-

No pressure tags: @dear-massacre @demonicfaerie @eevylynn @hedwig221b @hellameyers

@lucky-bishop @patolemus @seaweed-water @violetfairydust ❤️

[kokomalls]

AU where Lena meets Shin instead of Rei - part 2 (part 1 here)

the first day Lena was found

the next few days after that

the day before Lena gets picked up by the Republic

[ikjun]

I'm begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans, that's my man.

NOH SANGCHEOL + GOH JEONGWOO 백설공주에게 죽음을: BLACK OUT (2024)

[imagionationstation]

I love how we both see this scene and have two entirely different takeaways on what is worthy of screenshotting/sharing-

Me: WET CAT, SOAKED DOG, MISERABLE CHINCHILLA 😭

You: Hahaha, look at the sporadic jellyfish <3

[bridgeportbritt]

Happy New Year!

Wishing everyone a happy and healthy new year! This has been quite the year for me! Ending with the birth of my son on December 7th! Life has been crazy lately but extremely rewarding! Starting to get the hang of things which allowed me to work on this little project today! It's late in the day but I'm still proud to have done something! A new year's celebration with our couple of the moment - Ella and Eric! Let's see how 2025 treats me and them, shall we?

[a-titty-ninja]

you've seen her with cute noodle arms

now get ready for

whatever the FUCK this is.

[catocappuccino]

A pointless tumblr post titled

"Assigning furby colours (specifically 1st gen) to Murder Drones characters without giving any explaination for my choices" part 1

Uzi - juicy grape

N - labrador

V - banana peel

J - bumblebee

Cyn - angel

🔥🔥🔥If you enjoyed this post leave a like and follow for more PEAK content like this🔥🔥🔥

/j

[candyunicornsateme]

I think having Kyle's trust would be a big deal to Kenny, but remembering he is one of the most unlucky fuckers in the world would also make it stressful as hell lol

[humanmorph]

The robot didn’t want to wear the hat: and that’s fine. All you can do is try. All you can do is hack the machine that prints the hats and go skipping through it’s kaleidoscopic innards. It’s a wave of a hand. It’s no time wasted, if there’s such a thing as wasted time. They said that if you kept being late to class there’d be consequences, but you could access the registration computer from the rooftop of C block and look down at the campus and be exactly as late as you wanted. You could be terrifically late. It’s a blink of an eye. And this is SO easy! The machine that prints the hats is easy, some squat little AI inside turning and looking at you, bleary-eyed. Goodbye! The security cameras all over this casino? Trivial. You can see a man about to spill his coffee. He’s spilled his coffee. Down in custodial a pink LED clicks on. This is a casino? They store money here? But what would you spend the money on? So, the rent’s due, but what are they going to do about that? Evict you?  These are magic tricks. This is sleight of hand. Small fry don’t get to see the real stuff. Once you made it to class on time and there was a box on your desk and right between then and the end of the period you spent 6 months in the dream of a dream of some glacial, oily thing. You rearranged planets in the sky between your thumb and index finger. The ocean in the shape of a ring.  Click your fingers. It’s cameras. Scrub through the footage. Pay attention, as much as you can. It’s just a job: and that’s fine. Hack the machine that prints the hats. Do what you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life. 

This week on COUNTER/Weight 0.4: New Perspectives In the event of a crisis, remain calm!