#words cannot convey

[greghatecrimes]

House M.D.'s Remy "Thirteen" Hadley & Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn

(5x05 "Lucky Thirteen", 5x10 "Let Them Eat Cake", 4x16 "Wilson's Heart", 5x09 "Last Resort")

[kangelbrittle]

shrimpo and goob headcanons

might aswell turn tis into a hc blog amirite lowk (not lowk) ship them too tw for sh mentions SHRIMPO :: - obsessed (as he should be) with class conciousness - liberal - would regularly yap to goob about politics, goob has no idea what hes talking about - would carry goobs arms on his shoulders - has chronic fatigue - has a ragebook, but always gets a new one every week because he either loses it or gets it full immediately - sh's, goob tries to stop it by hugging his arms tight (it works!!) - stutters when he talks normally so he shouts half the time - also has a slight lisp, sounds like his mouth is full - has had braces before - noms on ice cream sticks - draws on his arm when it itches - growls when he gets angry angry - he cant taste stuff - blurry vision, but refuses to wear his prescription glasses because " I HATE GLASSES!!! " - sensory issues god i love him (hes so me)

GOOB :: - cries when he gets angry - drools - could sleep anywhere (has fallen asleep in a tree once) - loves swings, but cant ride too much because his hands drag on the floor - lowk afraid of heights - since he cant keep his hands up for too long, he lumps over to hide his face in his lap when he gets scared - has snatches multiple cookies from sprout, cosmo, and ginger - peanut allergy - loves cats but is allergic to actual cat fur - lets toodles put random pins in his hair, looks like an idiot princess when he walks out a room with rainbow bows and his hair up like a palm tree - a lil chubby - loses stuff very easily, is very sad when this happens - has no other emotion besides happy, sad, hungry, and :O half the time - burps very VERY loudly and says "excooz me :3" after - also has a lisp, sounds like his mouth is VERY full - shrimpo, astro, dandy, and scraps has tried trimming his nails before, it grew back in like 20 minutes - always poses in pictures like " :P " and peace sign SHRIMPO X GOOB!!!! :: - goob licks shrimpo in his sleep - goob lays on shrimpo in his sleep (is also rolled in a blanket he stole) - shrimpo tries tying up goobs hair - cuteness aggresion goes both ways but goob bites shrimpo when he gets it and shrimpo cups goobs face and stares him in the eyes very scarily - shrimpo got them matching rings but they both lost them in three days ---------- i honestly love these two's dynamic i love it so much gun to my head angryhugs or ragebait? i say pull the fucking trigger

[blmpff]

EARTH PIRAPAT and MIX SAHAPHAP 08.03.24

[lunamothghost]

I wish everyone a 3rd life anniversary (even if I'm a lil late)

[boardedcrow]

belong

[t-u-i-t-c]

"He's fighting... Against himself."

[vaguely-concerned]

returnal did not cure my depression but it did give me a strangely healing new perspective that makes it all a bit easier to bear. that perspective being 'I may be having a rough time right now, but at least I'm not inside the head of returnal protagonist selene vassos'

[aislinceivun]

some ✨Collab Project✨ wips~ UwU

[gilverrwrites]

Do you ever just? Arg? Jason Todd.

Just Jason Todd.

[pink6pony9club]

god george is so wise in this jacket🙏🏻🙏🏻

[xamaxenta]

darling you’re a goddamn miracle 💫

[sincerely-sofie]

One of your trademarks is definitely the flat colors and curved lineart. It gives a “comfy” feel to all your art. Like a kids coloring book.

(referencing this post)

LITERALLY A DREAM OF MINE IS TO PROVIDE COMFORT / COZINESS THROUGH MY ART. I’M BAWLING.

[hermidetta]

there has been, for as long as they've known each other, a series of unspoken rules: to have each other's backs, to lift one another up, and to share in the heartbreaks wrought by the shards of girlhood that left them scarred. a past not so easily escapable for either of them — not with the constant reminders found at their doorsteps and in their reflections. yet, there is some solace, dorothea hopes, in knowing the other is but a door away should those dark and terrible memories awaken.

today will only be marked by good ones, if she has any say in the matter. so, preparations begin at dawn, and only the birds and the occasional knight catch sight of one lone songstress flitting from her room and back, arms full with baskets and rolls of fabric one moment, empty the next. the cycle repeats once more. boxes and trinkets, packages of various shapes and sizes, and to the rare passerby, she offers no explanation beyond a simple smile in greeting.

it's a special day.

there is no booting the girl of the hour from her room when the time comes. once let in, dorothea simply instructs bernadetta (and mr. bearkley) to close their eyes. "it'll be worth it," she promises. "i'll be quick." and so, the transformation begins. festive fabrics — soft sheens of lilacs and baby blues — are draped across the walls. three new stuffed animals are placed on her desk, seated around a small cake decorated with pastel-colored sprigs of flowers. a new mannequin, assembled and shoved into the corner with some effort, is placed next to where that trusty sewing kit is stowed.

finally, she carefully places the last gift in her friend's hands: a thick, leather-bound journal with the following inscription carefully etched into its cover in cursive:

happy birthday to my bern. your stories will take the world by storm one day.

"you can open your eyes now," she says, heart full and nearly bursting. "i decided to bring the party to you. i hope that's okay." dorothea sinks next to her on the bed and gently bumps the other's shoulder with her own. "happy birthday, bern-bear. i may have accidentally scuffed your floorboards... but you'll find it in your heart to forgive me, right?"

⠀ ⚘ birthdaydetta 2k24 ♡ ⠀

here is what he grumbles, already disgruntled by the gender, when they lift his newborn from the glowing mechanism: "a minor crest. i suppose it's better than nothing."

bernadetta cannot remember the last time she had been afforded a birthday party. it is understandable. her mother has toiled away in the capital for as bernadetta can remember, but every year she sends a letter that should, with luck, make it to her daughter within that same week.

her father usually buys himself a gift. a teaset for her twelfth that began all her training. an itchy dress and veil for her sixteenth that obscured her face with tulle because tulle was the socially acceptable alternative to a bag. nobody would want her without a bag.

"at least you're young enough to make up for your face, but even that's got a shelf life. you'd better shape up quick to be a desirable, obedient wife. there's a neighboring duke wants to replace his late one before his fiftieth birthday. you'll meet in a month's time."

(the story goes that this lesser duke saw a bare ankle and died of cardiac arrest. whatever the case, bernadetta had breathed the biggest sigh of relief. but there were more after him, of course. always more. somehow the country had no shortage of men who needed women while those men framed it the other way around.)

bernadetta has never loved herself enough to craft a real future in her head. she fears pain, but little else ought be expected from any sensible human, and in terms of the long term she would much rather vanish. she is unlike dorothea in countless ways—including here—that dorothea would elevate bernadetta in regardless.

all including here. because bernadetta opens her eyes to a future she should have anticipated as a girl, a future she should have believed to be within reach. bernadetta opens her eyes to dorothea. to sweets, to decorations, to gifts. to merriment, as if her having been born was ever worth celebration.

"dorothea..."

dorothea makes her want to believe again. in that moment her voice is tiny, wobbly, and so very afraid. afraid of her parents. afraid of the people who should have sent their wishes first. because what if they try to hurt you? bernadetta had asked dorothea once upon a time. what if they ever tried to harm her best friend now like her first one then?

the first few teardrops splash onto the leather cover, just short of the inscription. she startles and jolts to dab the spot with her sleeve, timid gasp torn from trembling lips.

"i-i'm okay!"  bernadetta blurts out her hasty disclaimer before dorothea can fret too much.  "i'm okay! it's— it's not you. or this. i like all of this. thank you for all of this! it's..."

with all of the care in the world, bernadetta sets aside the journal. she tries not to let her watery gaze catch again on the mannequin, or the cake, or the stuffies before she turns to dorothea and practically tackles her in an embrace.

"i'm happy,"  she weeps into dorothea's shoulder. in a smaller hiccup she echoes the words as if she cannot believe the veracity of them. i'm happy.

is this allowed? she is happy without permission. it is terrifying, monumental and exhilarating all at once—just like what she shares with dorothea.

bernadetta's arms tighten around her. a writer is supposed to weave great words, but what to say that could ever be enough? thank you? i love you? the floorboards aren't mine, anyway? it's always okay, you always make me feel okay?

as they sit together in that small, decorated room, mourning girlhood, celebrating each other, bernadetta only hopes her tight hug could convey all of it and more. to look into her heart and find room for forgiveness would be to cut it open and evict dorothea herself from it.

[fujii-draws]

Dusknoir animatic I’ve been working on and off for the past 2 days :]

[heyaritou]

But no. Nope.

[eli-is-an-idiot]

the first ten seconds of Chant do something to me i love it so much