#what is a blue waffles

[karnpuffs]

I love the design of Eedy's kitchen with its tiny cramped dining area, dim lighting, yellowed walls, old discolored plastic and 70s decor, and that Eedy seems to be hoarding food for the end of the world in every corner.

I mean look at it, look at all this cereal ahaha

hey wait

is that

is that a waffle iron?? integrated into the stove?

all this time Syril has been eating gross cereal with too much blue milk, when he could have been eating delicious waffles???

why is it open? it's only in this scene, in all the others it's closed. did Eedy make waffles and Syril still ate cereal? did she make some for herself? I can't even imagine Eedy consuming anything other than black unsweetened caf.

I want to see what Karn waffles look like... :[

[mlobsters]

severance s1e8 what's for dinner?

man, what is going on at waffle house these days

[otaku553]

Thinking oc thoughts

[hannahssimblr]

And so, begins an intense drive for work like I have never experienced. Perhaps work is the wrong word, as not much about creating art feels that way. Never before with ordinary, academically focussed work have I adopted this kind of extraordinary discipline to the point that I simply get through the motions of the ins and outs of my ordinary days, looking forward to the moment that I can lock myself away in my bedroom and draw for the evenings and into the night.

I draw everything in sight. I study fabric; the crinkle of the duvet, the crease in my pillows and the piles of discarded clothing on my bedroom floor. I draw the curtains from ten positions, then ten more. I study the exacting edges of man made objects. The hard, smooth ceramic of the mugs I should have brought back to the kitchen days ago, the individual keys of my laptop, a tastefully arranged stack of books from dad’s library that he surely won’t notice are missing unless he has a sudden urge to read about the battle of the bulge or Haguenau for the thousandth time. 

Mostly I study myself, my own anatomy, feet, legs, arms and fingers and all of the weird little bits of me that move about beneath the skin. I fill pages and pages this way, so many that I run out of paper and start drawing in between all of the drawings I’ve already done, overlapping like the work of an obsessed madman. Maybe I am. 

Have I eaten today? 

Often I pull up a mirror and study my own face in different ways. I pull different expressions or control the lighting so that I can create soft, diffused light in the early morning, or cast angular shadows over my cheek with the artificial glow of a desk light when the sun sets and the room around me is black like spilled ink. 

At school when I lay my work on the table for Miss O’Reilly I’m embarrassed by how many drawings of my own likeness cram the bursting pages of my sketchbooks. They look like the journals of a raving egomaniac to me, but to her it resembles art. She tells me that I show a lot of real promise, and that I have more to learn. I agree with her, and spend lunchtime in the library.

Art and science, it seems, go hand in hand. Hunched in a dark corner where nobody can see how uncool I have become, I pore over anatomy diagrams and look at muscles and tendons and bones. I learn what everything is called and the shape it makes when the skin is pulled taut over it. 

When it is curved on one side, it’s straight on the other, I observe, as I draw my finger down the length of an illustrated thigh on page sixty four of Biology Plus for Leaving Cert, trying not to think about how this is probably the closest I’ve come to intimacy with another human being in months, and as someone as uncontrollably and constantly horny as I am it’s becoming difficult to ignore. Maybe I should text Tara Neary and ask if she’ll help me study biology…

No.

I hastily skip over the pages about reproduction and start reading about something called the Cephalic vein instead. Sexy. 

I even log into the library computers and watch disgusting medical videos of dissections which make me feel so ill that I think I might lose my lunch, but they are informative as much as they make me feel like I am displaying psychopathic behaviour and worry that I am on a slippery slope towards becoming one of those people that murders cats and rabbits just so that he can cut them up and peer at their insides. What’s next? Robbing graves?

“Look up blue waffle next.”

I jump, and spin around to Jen who is leaning over my shoulder, and I quickly close all windows from the Video Atlas of Human Anatomy website. “And that’s fucking sick, whatever that is.” 

“Jesus, Jen, you scared me.”

“Only because I caught you looking at something you shouldn’t.” 

“It’s just biology,” I grumble, and she pinches my arm before pulling up a seat and slumping into it, “I didn’t think I’d find you here of all places. The elusive Jude Turner.”

“Is that what they call me now?”

“I’m afraid so. But honestly I thought you were doing something way more interesting with all your alone time these days.”

“I’m studying.”

“Do you know how to study?”

“Clearly.” 

She sighs, “Well can you give it a rest? I miss you. We don’t hang out enough lately.”

“It’s not because I hate you or something…”

“I know, you’re busy, busy, busy, drawing all the time. Ugh. I get it. Is this how you’re going to be all summer too? Down on the beach in Wexford drawing scabby seagulls?”

“If you wanted to hang out you could always come over to my house and let me draw you again, as long as you won’t move around so much this time.”

“I can’t not move!” She says in outrage, and as the librarian promptly shushes her she lowers the volume, “It’s so boring just to sit there and do nothing, I can’t think of anything worse. Oh no wait, I can, it’s hanging out with Michelle and Evan without you there to laugh at them with me. And now that it’s getting warmer and the days are longer I just want to be outside, but my only options are to sit in the park and watch them kiss or go for a sad walk all on my own, Judie,” she takes my hands, “Please, give it a rest. Down the pencils, I’m begging you.”

“I just really like learning about this.”

“Yes, but can you like it six days a week instead of seven? Can you give me a day? A measly day for old Jenny?”

“I see you Tuesdays still,” I point out, though I know that grilling her with maths questions while she groans in despair into her pillow isn’t exactly her definition of fun, but can’t she see that this is important to me? I can’t forgo my Ivy duties or rugby, so I must forgo my social evenings instead. Something's got to give, and now it has, and for the good of my future I have stopped texting everyone back. 

“We’re having a bonfire night at the weekend, will you come?”

“Who is?”

“Me and my friends.”

“The emos.”

“Yeah, the emos. What other friends do I have? Now that it’s finally semi-warm-ish we thought we’d have a fun night up by the beach and just sit around and chat by the fire. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Well, yeah,” I admit reluctantly. “I do like a bonfire.”

“Of course you do, my little arsonist. So come. It’ll be good for you to get out and do something. You’re an extrovert, you’re not meant to be so cooped up.”

I begin to protest that I don’t feel cooped up, even, astoundingly, when I’m at home with my family. I feel alive and free in my artistic pursuits since I’ve unlocked this new exciting part of myself. I’m capable of focussing on something, doesn’t Jen understand how significant that is? But then again,  maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s abnormal not to socialise with other teenagers for three weeks in a row. 

“Alright, I’ll come then.”

“That’s more like it,” Jen ruffles my hair, no doubt getting it all out of place, but it’s fine, I’ll fix it later in the mirror when I’m back drawing my nose or my chin for the umpteenth time. “We’ll have a lovely time! I’m excited now!”

“Yeah, don’t get too excited, I feel like the librarian might have something to say about that.”

Jen peers around to see the daggers being shot her way, “Okay, fine. I’ll leave you alone.”

“You promise?”

“Yes! Look, I’m going!” She untangles her legs from the chair and does a whole show of sneaking away as quietly as humanly possible while watching the librarian with performative caution, “Hey,” She hisses from the door, just when I had started to believe she was truly gone, “Don't forget to look up blue waffle. Trust me.”

“Get out of here!”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[hoshidensha]

After Reimi's gone, who will you see in the Ghost Boy's Alley...?

Now I can share the piece I did for the JJBA Chronology Zine!! Of course I had to do something with my three favourite boys and a whole lotta angst~ Thank you for letting me join this project, it's been an absolute honour ♥

[sakura2arashi]

It's strange re-watching Dead Like Me after 20 years. There were so many lessons about life and growing up that I remember learning, but now I realize they never really sunk in. Bryan Fuller gives great life advice through Rube, who is a great father figure for George. Rube takes an interest in George's afterlife and actively involves himself in contrast to George's father, who divorces himself from his family life and eventually actually divorces George's mom.

Roxy's also a great mom stand-in/contrast for Joy. They're both aloof and seemingly hostile with their constant criticism to George, but Roxy takes the time to help and advise her when necessary. Roxy knows when to get involved and support George whereas Joy is seemingly afraid to do the same. Fortunately, Joy seems to learn from her mistakes with George and tries harder to connect with Reggie.

Betty, Mason, and Daisy are all siblings without being a surrogate for George's relationship with Reggie. Betty was instrumental in demonstrating to George that she had to take an active part in her own life. Betty was a role model who encouraged her to try new things.

Mason is a loveable screwup who grows throughout the show. At first he demonstrates how not to live the afterlife and makes poor decisions. In this way, he's allowing George to learn without having to make the mistakes herself. He's also very protective of George (and Daisy) and supports her even when the other reapers give her a hard time (often because she needs to learn a lesson).

Daisy is terrible when she's first introduced, but she later calms down and seems to become genuinely concerned about George after they move into a house together. Their relationship mirrors George and Reggie's with Daisy acting as George in this relationship, and had George lived, I think the sisters would have eventually acted the same way. Regardless, Daisy-as-an-older-sister demonstrates a different kind of self-confidence that I'm glad George doesn't adopt.

[somesmartsmarties]

Wdym this isn’t what happened in episode 16 of Trollhunters 🤨

[bueris]

promo posts for any site stress me out a little like. what do I like??? I don't know?? yeah I've got three million interests but christ alive if I can name any you better take me out back and out me down because that is NOT ME!!!

[krysmcscience]

Saw this prompt for incorrect OC quotes and couldn't resist with a bunch of my Breach goobers. Some of them would absolutely say these things word for word in canon if I gave them half the chance to, though. XD

They're in order of when they showed up in person - Qīng, Ghost, Red, Marisol, Shio, Cam, Daruk, Tawoos, and Alondra - as well as some important honorable mentions who have only been mentioned or gotten dialogue - Star, Blake, and Creation.

Star's design is a slight spoiler, I suppose, but it doesn't reveal if they're human or impostor, so it's all good. Creation's "design" also isn't a spoiler at all, because They can look however They want, LOL. As for Shio...some of you who have seen the body horror I've done of them may be wondering why they look so normal here, but I promise there are Reasons. :3c

In other news, will I be making a liar out of Shio in an upcoming Breach canon divergence? ..........Maybe~ >:3c

[letheldosage]

????? tell me why I had a dream last night that the new tkdb story was about the PC having an STI and revolved around her being able to open up and seek help

[freakoutgirl]

Down with community labels (they're annoying as hell)

[ebitenpura]

oh I need to talk about this samurai flick I was watching on the plane called Iwane Sword of Serenity. badass name right? you expect the main guy to have an equally badass sword style, like musashi's ten rings or something that plays with the concept of eternity and emptiness.

except no. 2 minutes in and it's revealed his true nickname is "catnap" Iwane and his style is described as a "lazy cat sleeping" while he obliterates dudes because he doesn't strike back right away and looks completely at ease. and then it follows that up with a cat meowing sound and the image of an adorable brown and white cat flopping over on tatami.

anyways it's rated 6.4/10 on imdb but that single introduction instantly boosted it to 10/10 in my heart

[warden-wolfxe]

hold on if i'm doing an all origins worldstate then i need a blue hawke don't i…

[fishvoid]

* ♪ ↷ Malachi is going to throw up. He's curled helpless on the floor of a massive, old-ass tour bus he just failed to steal, stomach cramping, struggling to breathe, wheezing & shaking uncontrollably because what the FUCK is a CHESTERLOO, & it's probably not even that funny but here come the tears of laughter & agony. What the fuck is he doing—"I'm getting out of here"? Because maybe the rest of the world isn't a shit-hole? Fucking hilarious. Fucking pathetic, but hilarious.

* ♪ ↷ Ah... God. He doesn't believe in ɢᴏᴅ. Fucking...hell. Maybe he's in hell. & he deserves it but that's too much thinking, & he turns away from the thought like a man turning from a mugging. Thinks of ᴄʜᴇꜱᴛᴇʀʟᴏᴏ instead & snorts—& now there's snot, great.

* ♪ ↷ The laughter is winding down, if only because he can't physically handle it any longer. His body hurts. Maybe he groans or maybe it's because he's crying; a touch lights on his shoulder as if someone is gently pressing a rock against him, & he twitches in surprise. It's...oddly grounding. Or maybe it's the weirdness of the situation. Very weird to think that one of them would be trying to comfort him. He could probably keep lying here for as long as he wants (as long as they'd let him) but he'd rather get it over with.

* ♪ ↷ Slowly, painfully, he uncurls enough to look at what's touching him. It's the smallest...robot, he guesses? Who somehow crept up the bus stairs without him noticing. Then again, he was probably laughing hard enough to shake the bus. For a robot, it's sure good at moving lightly & seeming like it has emotions. They can definitely act like they care about each other, too. & their bus. That he tried to run them over with. He wants to look away—which is ridiculous—which is exactly why he forces himself to stare into glowing blue eyes, golden bronze face plates arranged in a small smile.

* ♪ ↷ "There. That's a ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ better, right?"

* ♪ ↷ It's a tone so warm & genuine & it is comforting, ᴅᴀᴍɴ ɪᴛ, shit—Malachi's eyes burn & he has to look away, gaze dropping to...a fish? Yeah, that's a fish. Fish in a robot. The burn is joined by a stabbing in his ribs as he huffs the last of the laughter he can muster, remembering Nessie in the bathtub. Then he remembers Nessie floating in the bath bubbles & everything is terrible again, & he closes his eyes & lets his head thump to the floor.

* ♪ ↷ "...I have to get out of here." He hardly recognizes his own confession, raw & half a whisper. "I can't...I can't stay here."

* ♪ ↷ Nothing. Then: "ᴡᴇ-ᴇʟʟ...how about you come ᴡɪᴛʜ us?"

* ♪ ↷ "Oh, now that's just—" It sounds like steam hissing, a sighing sound, & the smooth tones of the tallest robot suddenly world-weary. "Jon, we can't take him with us, that's—well, for one, that's ᴋɪᴅɴᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ. Secondly, I'm sure there's somebody looking—"

* ♪ ↷ "I'm not going back." Malachi's eyes fly open to glare at the silver robot, words vicious in his mouth; resenting the ridiculous offer that had hope stupidly flaring in the back of his brain, he shifts his glare to the fish-harboring robot. "You can't make me do shit."

* ♪ ↷ "Hᴇʏ ɴᴏᴡ, bucka-a-a—buckaroo," butts in the robot he almost knocked the socks off, & whose previous slightly comical air has, for the first time, vanished. "Let's, uh, let's get this sh-shootin' ꜱᴛʀᴀɪɢʜᴛ: OBviously—y somethin's g-got ya hurtin', a-an' it ain't ɴ-ɴ-ɴᴏɴᴇ'a our ʙᴇᴇꜱwax, but—uh, but we know hurtin'. Ya ᴅ-don't gotta t-t—ᴛᴇʟʟ us nothin'. But keep talk—talk—ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɴ'uh ta our b-baby brother that-a-way, an' them's—them's ꜰꜰꜰFIGHTIN' words⸺yuh huh?"

* ♪ ↷ Seemingly drained by the effort of long speech, the robot slumps further into the grip of the silver one, who doesn't seem to have anything else to add; just gives a supportive squeeze to the chatty bot. Together they gaze levelly, determinedly & without a hint of animosity at Malachi. The guy who tried to steal their bus & run them over. Who looks at the "baby brother." Who is...pouting. Very convincingly. & still has a hand—just the fingertips, really—on his shoulder. Not pushy, not scared. Just there. Like a patch of sunlight.

* ♪ ↷ Thrown off once again by these mechanical beings, Malachi finds himself at a loss. He's always been willing to fight, regardless of want—has ʜᴀᴅ to be, a reflex. But now, here, there's nobody who wants to fight. & he's tired. Psychological whiplash is the cherry on top of the past year that sends it all avalanching down.

* ♪ ↷ Malachi gives up.

[hyrulesfav]

lance and javier made their own language i think. id also like to think that one night they got really high and were like "what if we got something really dumb tattooed on us in that language" and then they go out the the equivalent of claires to get "prepare for trouble / and make it double / meowth! that's right" tattoos, but they somehow dragged blue into it so whenever they get back to the hangar they're met with an angry mom (bonnet, robe, and all) allura who's about to tear into them before being met with the most gibberish tattoo against blue's wrist

[kittenscookie]

And this is why I like it so much. Because Telemachus seems to want to prove himself to SUICIDAL levels and Percy who's been there done that would basically snap his fingers in front of his face and be like "Babe, honey, look at me. You don't need to put yourself in horrible life-threatening scenarios to prove your worth, doing your best in the day to day is enough"

Crossover Crackship

Percy Jackson x Epic!Telemachus

Specifically because of the DRAMA it would create

Poseidon & Odysseus: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Percy & Telemachus: But father I love him 🥺!

I don't give a shit if it's stupid it's my crackship and I like it