#woe buttons be upon ye

[bradassholemajors]

made a bunch of shitty moodboards for the rocky horror characters w/ buttons from the busy beaver button museum website :•) anyway here’s frank n furter

[an-ev-ent-full-time]

Remade and redesigned Alyssums' model, very proud of this one ^-^ I've figured out shoulders a bit more and now the elbows are just my greatest struggle.

Workin on gettin her into VR Chat but the poly count is a touch higher than I'd like > - > (also updating my unity version appears to have broken something so gotta figure out how to fix that with minimal effort before i can even do test builds lol)

[robotclownindulgence]

Jesus fucking christ how is every third post a fucking blazed one now get the fuck of my dash

[first-full-moon]

i like how the "i'm not interested in this" button (too wordy, long, breaks the flow of the popup) on the 'for you' page was changed to the much better and more succinct

DISMISS

[themostat]

Woe, S1 jmart be upon ye

(ID under the cut)

[ID:

The first image is a digital drawing of Martin Blackwood from the magnus archives. He is visibly flustered, and smiling awkwardly. He is holding two mugs, one in each hand. He is trying to push up his glasses with the mug in his right hand. He is holding the mug in his left hand neutrally. The mug in his left hand has the tag of a teabag hanging out of it, and barely visible text that reads "#1 Archivist". His hair is auburn and wavy/loosely curly, and cut to a medium-short length. He is wearing large round glasses. He has a light skin tone, and visible freckles on his face, neck and hands. He is wearing a white button-up fastened all the way, and a beige cardigan.

The second image is a digital drawing of Jonathan Sims from the magnus archives. He is holding a tape recorder in his left hand, and with his right index finger, is pressing the "record" button. He looks like he's concentrating, or maybe slightly annoyed. His hair is very dark brown with visible grey strands, and is slightly curlier than martin's. His hair is quite short, with a bit of a longer fringe. He has a medium-dark skin tone, and visible facial hair also speckled with grey. He is wearing glasses with oval-shaped frames and glasses chains. He is also wearing a white button-up, with a navy blue tie and a mossy green sweater. His sleeves are cuffed to the elbows.

End ID]

[k-dokja]

Woe, Eli's smut be upon ye.

"I don't think I like that smile on your lips," you cross your arms, arching an eyebrow at Eli. It wouldn't take a genius to know what he has in mind, not when the heat in his eyes is evident.

The smile doesn't fade even in front of your defences, Eli only steps up to you, "I'm just happy to be with you..." He says, stopping mere inches away from invading your space completely. "It's not often that we have the whole house to ourselves, that's all."

"We don't exactly have the house to ourselves," you roll your eyes, taking a step back, "Max and Derrick are downstairs."

"Yeah, but..." Eli traces a knuckle over your cheekbone, his gentle smile curves on one side, "Max and Derrick won't care about what we do."

Unwilling to submit to him just yet, you ask. "And what are we doing, exactly?"

"This and that," his eyes turn soft, his hand cradles the side of your face, "I won't force anything but... it has been weeks and I missed you."

"Whose fault was that?" You sigh, glancing downwards. While it's true that you've forgiven Eli for leaving, the two of you remain awkward regarding your relationship's whereabouts.

You know he wants you, he always does. In a way, you feel the same about him, but that doesn't mean it would be easy to be close to him again. Yet, when he looks at you with those earnest eyes, you struggle with putting up resistance at all.

"I'm sorry," he brushes his thumb over your cheek, "I'll spend however long it takes to make up for what I've done, but if I understand if you don't—"

You silence him with a kiss, closing whatever distance is left between the two of you. He goes rigid with surprise at first, but soon, he meets your touches with his own. Eli deepens the kiss, hungry and desperate to feel more of you.

His free hand squeezes your waist, pulling you closer to him until you can no longer ignore the heat of his desire for you. "I missed you so much," he whispers against your lips, before diving in for another kiss, unable to get enough of you. "it hurts me to leave everyone behind, but it drives me crazy knowing that you might not forgive me for it."

You hum, "Stop talking," you murmur as you fumble with the buttons of his shirt, "If you even think about anything but us, I'll take offence to it."

Eli chuckles, shucking his shirt to the side as soon as you're done unbuttoning it. Before you get the chance to reach his shirt, however, his hands trail down to your thighs and duck under your dress. He gets down on his knees, gazing up at you with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

Your heart would've been warmed by his affection had it not for how his hands distracted you, flushing your skin with arousal. His fingers hook on your panties and drag them down slowly. There is reverence in his touches as he runs his fingers over your smooth skin, marvelling at how soft you feel in his hand.

Without warning, he goes under your dress, tracing kisses on your inner thighs, inching higher and higher until he reaches your core. "I've missed this," he says, voice rough with need. It's the only sign you get before he runs his tongue over your clitoris. You breathe out a soft moan, spreading your legs further for his easy access.

For all of his softness and gentle smiles, Eli eats like a starved man. Hearing the pleasured sounds you make is more than enough to spur him on. He lavishes you with kisses and licks, working his way to bring you over the edge.

"E-Eli..." You shudder from the intense arousal he's bringing you. As the lustful haze clouds over your mind, you don't even get the chance to notice when his fingers begin to tease your sensitive flesh. By the time you are aware of what he's doing, Eli's already massaging your tight entrance.

You don't get so much as a chance to brace yourself before he enters you with two fingers. It's impossible to find something to focus on between his tongue flicking around your clitoris and his fingers inside your warmth, pumping and curling until he finds your g-spot.

A choked moan escapes your lips when he succeeds in his search. You can't see Eli's face like this, but you can feel his smile as he doubles down on his effort to please you. His fingers rub against you until your wetness trails down the back of his hand. Eli hums in contentment, sucking softly on your clitoris. "Come for me, sweetheart."

As if waiting for his command, your orgasm crashes over you as your walls clamp down on him. Eli groans in pleasure, continuing to lick and suck you through your orgasm, wanting deeply to prolong your ecstasy. He waits until the moment after your tremors subside to pull away from you.

His hair is mushed and his eyes glaze over with need when they meet you. Eli licks his lips before getting back on his feet again, staggering a little from staying kneeled. Once he's standing up straight again, Eli wastes no time to pull you in his arms again. He claims your lips without a moment of hesitation, letting you have the taste of you on his tongue.

His tongue caresses yours in a familiar embrace, only letting go once he remembers the necessity of oxygen. His hand reaches up to cup your breast, squeezing the soft weight in his palm. Eli's thumb brushes over your nipple over the layer of clothes, emitting a soft sigh from your lips.

"I don't think that was quite enough," he murmurs, pressing kisses on the side of your jaw until he reaches down the side of your neck, "let me have more."

Eli leaves fervent kisses on your skin, sucking and nibbling until the marks of his love bite mar your complexion. "I want all of you," his hot breath fans against your ears, sending delicious shivers down your spine. "Please."

And like before, you don't find it in you to deny him of anything.

[catadromously]

🔘 (i wish a button for creature facts actually existed !!)

•

Woe, baby Phoronid be upon ye.

The adult form is a sedentary worm, and they have red, iron-based blood like us!

•

[hammerbonk]

OH MY GOD SO I FORGOT VERTIN’S SHIRT BUTTONS IN THE OG IMAGE AND I WAS GOING TO PUT THE FIXED VERSION ON THE OG POST BUT DELETED THE WHOLE THING BY ACCIDENT OH MY GOD. ANYWAY. UM

Woe. Sheeptin be upon ye x2

[sigynsilica]

Conservatives be like "tHey'Re tRyiNg tO dEcOnStrUcT tHe fAmiLy uNiT"

Yes. Exactly. That is exactly my goal in life.

Then they be like "wElL yOu mUsT wAnT tHe wOrLd tO bE fUlL oF siNgLe pAreNtS"

No

You think it's LESS family I want? You have it backwards. It's MORE.

Let me explain.

One of the most integral parts of humanity is community. Humans are pack animals. We do better in groups, physically, mentally, and spiritually. Everything humans have accomplished, they did via teamwork.

This is a leading reason why I'm a socialist, because Capitalism is, by definition, the advancement of the individual over the collective. That's a concept that goes against human nature. Capitalism gives credit to one person for what a team of people did, and allows that one person to decide for themself what portions of the benefits of creating something goes to who. This despite the fact that the creation would not and could not be possible without the whole team of people. Even if one person creates one thing, they could not do it without materials harvested or tools invented or concepts thought of by someone else. Somewhere down the line, someone was pushing the buttons.

It's a very isolationist way of thinking, to claim that a CEO deserves more money for producing a product than the assembly line workers who actually made the thing.

This mindset has then been projected onto basically every single aspect of American life. (I can't speak for other countries because I've never been anywhere else)

People are their own human, and that means they can't ask for help. Collaboration is a myth, and the credit for anything really only goes to the head of the endeavor.

Enter the nuclear family.

One mom, one dad, and an assortment of children. The mom stays home and raises the kiddos and cleans the house and makes sure everyone has clean underwear and also finds time for sanity somewhere, while the dad works his butt off at a crappy corporate hellhole of a job. Add in some fundamental Christianity, because America Is A Christian Nation apparently, and you have pressure to homeschool. This only further enforces the isolation, the individual, the Doing Everything By Yourself as the only way to go.

This is why so many conservatives and fundamentalists like the Duggars so much. Think of it! Twenty homeschooled fundamentalist Baptist children, all raised to believe in God, while the dad does Politics and Mission Stuff at the church and the mom homeschools All of them.

And of course you have friends, right? But woe upon thee if your house isn't spick-and-span or the children are being disruptive when they come over. They can't see your mess. They can't see your imperfections. Nobody actually goes to their neighbors to ask for a cup of sugar. You should buy your own sugar. Jeez.

In this mindset and mentality, if your children are "unruly", that reflects badly on you as a parent. Your children are seen as an extension of yourself, and if you don't have everything in your life put together, you're getting judged by randos in the grocery store, now. If both parents need to work, just send your kid to the local daycare. What's that? You can't afford daycare? Hire a babysitter. What's that? You can't afford a babysitter? Hm. More judgement. Get the kid's granny to watch them or something.

So here's the facts. The more adults a child has in their life who show them support and are a safe environment for the child, the more the child will be likely to succeed in their adult life.

And by that definition, yes. I want to destroy the family unit. I want it gone.

The notion that if the two people who were directly responsible for the child's existence can't adequately provide for their child, that's it's a moral failing on their part? That's bullshit. I want it gone. If you need help raising a child, so does everyone else, and it should be socially okay to reach out to a trusted member of your community for help. It should also be socially okay for someone who you trust to want to care for a child with no financial compensation. Children are delightful.

Taking care of a child is hard work. Someone has to be on call 100% of the time for at least the first ten years of that kid's life.

Of course, in making the decision to have children, a parent should consider their capability of caring for the kid. But it shouldn't be their capability of caring for a kid ALONE. No one should have to raise a child alone.

Every parent should have a full support system to fall back on. Every person, let alone parent, should have a community of people who would be willing to help care for other people in their community, especially vulnerable people in that community, like children.

This is what I mean when I say I do want to destroy the family unit. I don't want any child to have to grow up in an environment where the only people who feel responsible for their safety are their parents.

Of course parents are responsible for a kid's safety, more than any other people on the planet, because the parents were the ones who chose to bring the kid into the world.

But they are not the only ones. They should not be alone. There should be no more talk of "well, your parents ought to teach you how to behave," because children learn from everything and everyone around them. You can't stop that. Not even if you try.

The thing is, parents should not, and cannot be the ultimate authority on life for their kids. My parents tried, while simultaneously insisting they weren't perfect, but if you grow up thinking only two people who are Biblically one person are the only ones who are right about things, you're going to have a lot of unlearning to do, no matter who those people are.

Humans, all of us, have a responsibility to look out for each other. Community is our greatest strength, and it's founded on the principle of all of us in a community having each other's backs.

So no more Two Heterosexual People being an island and a solitary beacon of what a family is supposed to be. A family is a community, and we all look out for each other. We all make sure we're safe and we have what we need to live. And we all teach each other things about how the world is.

[wormshirt]

Really funny how the thirteenth doctor pressed one button and twelve's tardis crashed. The TARDIS really was like I FUCKING HATE YOUUUUUUUU!!!!! YOU SUCKKKK!!! Twelve regenated and the TARDIS had to crash, strand the doctor on earth, and go all the way through time and space and pout on a hill as the ghost monument for centuries or whatever before being like. Okay. .... I'm over it now I gues.... I like you now... Real as fuck actually I'd react like that too if I lost my 6ft old woman butch lesbian wife and she got replaced by some blonde young woman who was 5' 6" on a good day. Like you know what. Get out. Woe, Sheffield be upon ye.

[drpeppertummy]

After all that soup you should make morty try to put on high waisted pants

woe. written response be upon ye

[post-stuffing pants struggle] [very short]

Morty sprawled out on the couch with a sigh, his stomach sloshing with the movement after two bowls of soup. His pants were unzipped and unbuttoned, the fly spread wide over his bulging tummy, but he wasn't concerned about getting it back together. All he was concerned with right now was taking a nap. He felt almost impossibly full, his belly stretched drum-tight with far too much thick, hot potato soup, and it ached a little, but he also felt warm and cozy and sleepy. He yawned and closed his eyes, resting his hands on his round belly.

Morty had almost dozed off when his phone buzzed. He fished it out of his pocket with a weary groan. It was Angela, asking if he wanted to hang out. He yawned again and turned onto his side, his tummy sloshing as its contents shifted. He was half tempted to make up an excuse and get back to his nap--the idea of dragging himself off the couch was far from appealing--but Angela had been busy with work lately and he'd been missing her, so he agreed. As long as it's not gonna turn into a dinner thing, he added, I just ate my weight in soup.

He lay there for a moment, trying to gather the energy to move. Then, finally, he pushed himself upright. It wasn't easy; he felt utterly weighed down by his soup-filled belly, and the sleepiness was hard to fight off. Still, up he got, and he stretched his arms above his head, yawning. A little burp slipped out--it didn't make him feel any less stuffed--and he reached down to button his pants. When he tried to pull the fly together, though, he couldn't. He looked down, bewildered, and the problem was plain: his belly was too big. He tried to suck it in, but it hardly budged; his stomach was pushing out hard against his hands, too tightly packed to compress.

Morty tried a few more times to squeeze the button together, sucking in his belly as much as he could, but it was no use. He was a skinny little thing, and while his snug-fitting pants fit perfectly around his narrow waist ordinarily, they weren't equipped for so much extra volume. He laid down on the couch and tried again, hoping gravity might help, but gravity could no more flatten his distended belly than it could a bowling ball. Finally, he gave up with a heavy sigh.

He remained on the couch for a moment catching his breath, his tummy aching from all the straining and squeezing. He supposed Angela would get a kick out of this. He supposed she'd figure it out, too; it wouldn't be hard to do the math between his round little belly and the looser pants he almost never wore. Whatever. Maybe she'd take pity on him and give him a belly rub. Sighing, he pushed himself off the couch once more and trudged off to get changed.

[nitewrighter]

My favorite superman angst will always be that he can ALWAYS hear thousands of people in need of help at any given time, but he's had to learn to just sit at a park sometimes, tune them out, and feed some fucking ducks. Eat a sandwhich. Sit with lois and watch a show.

How do you think supergirl handles that same problem as she acclimates to earth?

I think for Supergirl it was also coupled with ~teen angst!~

I mean, in my general interpretation, a lot of the immediate sensory overload of super-senses for Kara is kind of... semi-overridden by the fact that Kara herself is still recovering from Kryptonite exposure from Argo City. Like she's in ROUGH SHAPE when she pops out of the cryo-pod because, it's a cryo-pod! It was meant to hit the pause button on something that was killing her! But Kara's super-hearing is kind of more complex--it's not like she's constantly unconsciously picking up on the suffering, for her, she's a fish out of water, and she isn't fully convinced that this place is a good home for her and Kal. While Superman hears the cries of help and sounds of suffering for a planet he loves, Kara's stuck hearing about people's cruelty and pettiness and inability to accept anything different from them on an alien world--and like, that isn't 100% on purpose, it's more of a confirmation bias thing. For Kara it becomes learning to listen to the good people are capable of, listening for kindness. She's pissed off--she's 15 and edgy, but like Clark, she's deeply lonely, and she has to figure out how actually let the grief flow though her so she can make room in herself for new love, for a new home.

Also if we're going with the Kara Danvers route with her, then usually there's kind of a DEO leash on her to keep her from flying after every cry for help--and she's kind of stuck listening to other heroes step in or hearing that these events are part of a broader and more complex situation. Like I feel like Kara's forced into a more immediately collaborative position than Clark ever was, and like, she's kind of like "That's not fucking fair" but it's also more complicated than that because Clark pretty much grew up with these slowly developing powers and then Kara is in this position of growing up without powers and then being like "Woe. Yellow Sun radiation be upon ye."

[thelemonsnek]

Held off on posting this for a while bc I was debating changing some small details in his outfit then I remembered I'm allowed to do what I want and I can just change it later. Woe Jacke be upon ye

Some more info about them! Alloy has mellowed out a lot over the years, having been very energetic as a Jangmo-o, but he's much calmer now. He's exceedingly protective of Jacke and the rest of the team :] Pierce seems very quiet and brooding, but loves to help Jacke create sculptures!! A little renaissance man <3 Skid is VERY opinionated and stubborn, and an absolute beast in battle. He also loves headbutting Jacke, sometimes completely taking him out when Jacke isn't ready for it. Peep is very small and cute and he knows it, and will use that to his advantage to get what he wants. He's quite the little shit!

They were on route to be a decently successful battler, not champion level or anything, but very respectable :) quitting battling was not a decision that Jacke took lightly

Now they have a fun little cart that Alloy helps pull around where they make and sells their creations! He specializes in spinning yarn, crocheting, and jewelry making, though he dabbles in a lot of different stuff!

[Image id: a digitally drawn reference page of Jacke, a pokemon trainer oc. He is a white person with shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, and is wearing a white button down with a red and yellow striped shawl over his shoulders, and a mega stone as a necklace. The matching keystone is embedded into a leather brace on their left arm. Their pants are grey, and they have some Kommo-o scales attached to their hip, almost like armor. Their boots are also styled after Kommo-o, grey with gold and red accents. They stand looking off to the side, holding the strap of their satchel and seeming unimpressed. Off to the side is another drawing of them, with their shirt half off to show off a set of massive scars on their shoulder and chest. They have one hand lifted, almost but not quite touching them, a tired and pained expression on their face. Along the right side of the drawing is their team, a Kommo-o named Alloy, a Bisharp named Pierce, a Wooloo named Skid, and a Cutiefly named Peep.

Finally, is bulletpoint style text talking about Jacke. It reads, "used to be a part of a team researching mega evolution. quit the team + battling when his Kommo-o mega evolved and things went Wrong(TM). independent artist now :) very nice + cheerful around customers, lets the mask fall when he's alone". End id]

[zerothejackal]

My shiny pokémon luck is set to "only whenever it has comedic timing" or something, because it literally has gone like this so far:

my game when I'm trying to shiny hunt Murkrow and Drakloak, and even deerling once:

...

my game when I'm carefully studying every group of pokémon i find or individual in hopes of it being off colored:

...

my game when I'm just wandering around in kitakami trying to find and evolve a white striped basculin:

WOE, SHINY PAWNIARD BE UPON YE

meet my favorite girl and first shiny ever

my game when im just running around the polar biome of the terrarium:

WOE, SHINY PORYGON BE UPON YE

one glitchy boi

my game when I fell off miraidon and into the zero lab cave in area zero because i pressed the + button instead of y button:

WOE, SHINY GIBLE BE UPON YE

i love him, i think he'd bite my knees irl tho

my game when I'm trying to evolve my shiny bisharp into kingambit:

WOE, SHINY BISHARP BE UPON YE

this gal was a surprise

My game when I'm trying to find a charcadet to trade my nephew for one of his armarouge because i'm only missing armarouge for the paldean pokedex:

WOE, SHINY ROCKRUFF BE UPON YE

I think he was a gift for completing the pokedex/silly

[bolton-buried]

Okay. Someone will have a way to make sense of this. Forgive the sloppy editing, but here's the footage from The Bookend.

[[OOC: As always, no real video, but you can have the video description.]]

Video description:

A woman with curly blonde hair is sitting in a room with white-bright fluorescent lighting. She looks like more shawls than woman, and people who have seen HuntingHauntings before would recognize this as Angie. A man, dripping wet in a black trench coat, is applying her makeup, mumbling to himself about how terrible of a room this will be to start in because of how much makeup Angie needs to use.

An older woman's voice comes from off-screen. "I hope you kids don't mind me leaving these books out here? My shelf in the back for Jurgen Leitner's books is covered in cobwebs, I have to put these somewhere."

As she speaks, she walks into frame. Her grey hair hangs loose and she carries a binder and two old-looking books.

Harold starts to reply. "As long as they won't disrupt filming it's-"

Angie cuts him off. "Oh, these would make wonderful props for our episode!"

"Or we could leave the-"

A woman's voice comes from off-screen, recognizable as Charlotte.

"Harold, I pressed one of the buttons on this camera, and now there's a blinking light. Is it going to explode?"

Harold looks up at the running camera, sighs, and walks over to turn it off.

Cut to:

Charlotte stands in front of a bookshelf, hair back in a tight bun and hyper-reflective bag over both shoulders.

"It's running?"

Harold's voice comes from offscreen. "Yes, it's running. Say your spiel."

"Tonight, Angie and I will be investigating the spirits rumored to reside in this library where two murders occurred recently. According to those close to the killer, he was possessed by an ancient evil in the building, and his attempt to plea insanity seems to support the idea. Let's get into it."

Harold speaks from behind the camera after a moment. "The murders were eighteen months ago, Charlotte. That's not exactly recent."

"Oh, you can just fix it in post."

"Not what that means. If you want to change the line, I need a new shot."

Cut to:

A window is open in what looks to be a basement room, letting in the sound of rain. The room is not well-lit, but not for lack of trying.

Angie sits at a table in the center, holding open a book - a large black book that the librarian was holding earlier. It's opened to the middle, and Angie is reading from it.

"Howl ye, woe worth the night! For the night is near, even the night of the Dark is near, a cloudy night, it shall be a time of us..."

As she speaks, the room gets darker and a faint buzzing noise is heard as the lights from Harold's rigs start to go out one by one. The camera footage gets grainy and distorted. Harold shouts.

"Charlotte, get away from my plugs! I don't want to redo any shots down here!"

"I'm standing over here."

"And the eclipse shall come upon-"

The footage cuts out.

Cut to:

Angie is flipping through the binder from earlier at the table in the brightly-lit room. "This Robert Kirk guy has some really interesting..." she murmurs before the camera is turned to Charlotte. She is holding a featureless book with a small brass plate on the cover.

Harold's voice comes from behind the camera.

"Okay, so you're going to - put that book back, you don't need it. We just need you to say the line while you walk towards me along the bookshelf."

"Well, I thought I could be reading it as I speak, just for-"

"Whatever. Just start. I don't want to come back here tomorrow."

Charlotte starts walking towards the camera as Harold walks away. She opens the book before she starts speaking, but freezes after a few words.

"But why did the spirits cause him to... It doesn't matter, I guess."

An emptiness seems to start slipping out of the book, like white ink spilling from the pages and making the world disappear where it touches.

"What the fuck?" The camera starts backing away from the encroaching nothingness, increasing in speed.

"We all barely exist, really. In the grand scheme of it all."

The camera runs into the rain, but the nothingness stops its approach at the first bit of rain on the sidewalk. So Harold stands and records, the video slightly distorted by rain on the lens.

Harold calls out. "Angie, are you?"

"It doesn't matter." Charlotte says, standing in view of the door. "We might as well not even be real."

"You're not real!" Angie shouts, jumping into the frame and tackling Charlotte. "I'm - I'm the only one!"

When Angie tackles Charlotte, they both tumble into the white nothingness that had replaced the ground. The book Charlotte held fell to the ground, closing on the impact, and the world was normal again. Sans the two paranormal investigators.

"What the fuck..." Harold mutters.

Cut to black.

[egginfroggin]

Woe, little guy be upon ye

Chilly gijinka! Little guy, I love him.

Initial sketch

Color sketch!

Profile sketch! (Transcription clockwise, starting from top) "bucket hat (legit) "precious baby" "plops of snow shed" "Round little button nose!" "everything must be ROUND"

He happy!

Whoops.

I've always interpreted his little hat as a bucket, is that just me?

Anyway. Little Guy.

(Program: Krita; time taken: about 1 hour)