#which like... is probably a sign

[egophiliac]

do you have youtube channel?

technically yes, but I just use it to host unlisted videos for embedding, so there's nothing, like, public on it. :') sorry! I basically don't post anywhere except here and occasionally on pixiv (in case it's not obvious, I suck at social media).

[art-is-kayos]

Everlasting A5

[starrysharks]

winter assassin outfit

[blueskittlesart]

*sigh* thoughts on Nintendo's botw/totk timeline shenanigans and tomfoolery?

tbh. my maybe-unpopular opinion is that the timeline is only important when a game's place on the timeline seriously informs the way their narrative progresses. the problem is that before botw we almost NEVER got games where it didn't matter. it matters for skyward sword because it's the beginning, and it matters for tp/ww/alttp (and their respective sequels) because the choices the hero of time makes explicitly inform the narrative of those games in one way or another. it matters which timeline we're in for those games because these cycles we're seeing are close enough to oot's cycle that they're still feeling the effects of his choices. botw, however, takes place at minimum 10 thousand years after oot, so its place on the timeline actually functionally means nothing. botw is completely divorced from the hero of time & his story, so what he does is a nonissue in the context of botw link and zelda's story. thus, which timeline botw happens in is a nonissue. honestly I kind of liked the idea that it happened in all of them. i think there's a cool idea of inevitability that can be played with there. but the point is that the timeline exists to enhance and fill in the lore of games that need it, and botw/totk don't really need it because the devs finally realized they could make a game without the hero of time in it.

[voltaic-resonance]

:)

[wraithsoutlaws]

shit aint so bad.

[serpentface]

Brakul Red-Dog was a decidedly handsome man, though soft featured and fishbelly pale in complexion. He was tall and thickly muscled, with a heavyset wrestler’s build that spoke to years of bodily conflict between hard labor and good eating. His hair was a striking orange-blonde, which he always kept shorn close to the scalp. His brows, beard and mustache were darker in color, bushy but well-trimmed and fastidiously maintained. He always spoke slowly and with great care, less for Wardi being his second language and more for the gap between his front teeth that would whistle, rather embarrassingly, were he not careful. He was born of the Hill Tribes, specifically a clan of farmers and cattle drivers on the north side of the Erubin river valley. If Brakul's hair and accent wasn't enough, his tattooing made these heathen origins abundantly clear. Trailing down beneath each deep brown eye was a vertical line bordered with four dots apiece. His upper arms were braced with alternating banded patterns of lines, dots, and square whorls. Most eye-catching was on the left of his broad chest, where a figure of a dog seemed to bound majestically over his nipple.  Brakul would often be seized by a nostalgic melancholy in drunkenness and set about explaining his markings to his Wardi compatriots, tracing over his skin and identifying each point in his slow, deep voice. His arms and face, apparently, contained exhaustive detail about his family tree; fathers and grandfathers and brothers and brothers-in-law and uncles and great-uncles and second cousins and so on. The nuances of how some circles and rectangles could do so always eluded Janeys.  The dog was fresher, the ink black where the rest faded blue-gray, and its meaning simpler. It was a bit of a bitter joke, a nod to his war name ‘Red-Dog’. Apparently, his people would tattoo the symbol of their clan's name over the heart upon final initiations into manhood. Brakul never got the chance, given he’d left his brothers, wife, and child for foreign causes and a foreign lad, and as such had been thoroughly disowned. The dog was the only name he had left. Janeys knew of people who oh-so-creatively derided Brakul as ‘Haidamane’s dog’ and chinmachen based on this. These were, of course, absolute fucking morons. Anyone with half a brain and the barest observational skill would know the man was completely and utterly ganmachen, ox-faced by both temperament and birthsign. Hardy in nature, placid and quiet under most circumstances, stubborn to a fault, and dangerous when pressed.  It was Janeys who was born under the dog stars, though this he kept secret, implying himself to be his dear Faiza’s twin when asked. The two of them looked much alike after all, and were born just over a year apart. It took only this small, harmless exaggeration to claim her far more auspicious birthsign as his own, which was well worth the risks of dishonesty. Janeys had enough problems - and more than enough scathing epithets - without the addition of ‘bitch-faced’ to his good name, thank you very much.

Janeys' POV introducing Brakul Red-Dog, himself, and (loosely) the Wardi zodiac system

[realbeefman]

stacy is sooo interesting because she's in love with house but knows that they will never ever be able to have a healthy, stable, sane relationship because they're too similar so. she finds house-lite instead and marries him and. essentially moves on with her life! and is successful in this because she's a moderately well-adjusted person!

wilson, in contrast, never manages to escape the inevitable, in spite of his best efforts to find a house-lite of his very own, because he's an absolute fucking freak and ends up glued to house to the bitter. bitter end

[sacchiri]

Hellsing 2002 calendar illustration.

Ein wunderliche und erschröckliche Hystori von einem großen Wüttrich genant Dracole wayda Der do so ganz unkristenliche marrter hat angelegt die mensche, als mit spissen als auch die leut zu Tod geslyffen

A wondrous and frightening story about a great berserk called Dracula the voivode who inflicted such unchristian tortures such as with stakes and also dragged people to death

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[leathfaic]

No one can stop me from giving Soap a problem with standing to close to high up windows after Chicago. Being that helpless and close to being thrown out surpasses all the shit in Las Almas for him. Keeps haunting his dreams and he wakes with the sensation of falling.

When he's on a mission it's usually fine as long as the adrenaline keeps going and he has a gun in his hands. The moment its all clear, weapons down search for intel he moves back into the room as far as possible, hands shaking.

No one but Ghost understands what his deal is. But Ghost who is more intimate with the signs of ptsd than any living man should be is always ready to move himself between Johnny and the next window if at all possible.

[screechingfromthevoid]

The cape wrapping was too much for me I have to leave

[kyouka-supremacy]

I think we should just bring back Wungo Wednesday and start a fandom collective anime rewatch

[moomeecore]

horrible, stupid country

[widowshill]

— And do you or do you not have difficulty remembering such simple instructions? — Only during thunderstorms, sir.

THE SOUND OF MUSIC (1965) / DARK SHADOWS (1966)

[protagonist-art]

"Uh- I'm Arnold. Bennett. It's profoundly difficult to get your lifes works and studies accepted if your name isn't... yes, oh! Are you a fan of moths, sir?"

NEW RDR2 OC!! a reclusive, clumsy entomologist and bug collector; cooped up in his study of uniformed clutter