#yes i know its joe

[retrokid616]

OH THANK FUCKING GODS break time

also did F.R.I.D.A eat F.G.C's coin? if so

see y'all in a bit

[automaticcomfort]

so much! for stardust!!!!

[whollyjoly]

@luztoyeweek 2024 day 2 - francis forever by mitski

[witchkittymeow]

Shes finally here!

I'm really proud of those heels idk how I managed to balance her so she stands

Shelf:

I'm running out of space SO fast

[theribbajack]

Just finished G.I. Joe: Renegades for the first time and hoo boy. It's been a long time since I was down this bad for a ship.

Lineart below the cut:

[muadweeb]

TARGARYENS AND KENNEDYS GAEL / ROSEMARY AEMON I / JOE JR DAERON THE YOUNG DRAGON / JFK BAELOR THE BLESSED / BOBBY AEGON V / JFK JR

[berensteinsmonster]

sorry no good posts today, jsut doodles

Ok ramble time (I cannot shut up about my ocs and hcs for characters even if i tried)(oh and click for better quality)

LOOK 👀👀👀👀👀👁👁👀👁👁 at Conner Flask’s design. Look at them. They are so them. literally the character of all time. They’re just so mad-scientists vibes but like within the capacity of a 12 year old. Melvin Sneedly lookin aaah. Their mom (Mrs. Flask) btw, fully supports their pronouns, hopes and dreams, and overall just kinda chill idk (unlike her child, who really cannot stop being the center of attention lmao). She loves her child just as much as she loves science and inventing things. Mrs. Flask is more like cool teacher that would give you bonus points for just being participative and Conner Flask is a straight up menace just stealing your points for their own academic gain. Conner also used the button machine to make their own enby pins :)

Frownie is there. 

Joe is like ???????????? idk he gives me this very specific vibe of just like being stupid but there’s no endearment to it from other people. They just look down on him for like logical reasons, but Joe is just like “:I man what the heck” the entire time. Idk I just feel like he doesn’t like being treated as stupid or claled stupid just cause he drank lighter fluid that one time and liked it a little

SANGUINE SUNDAE ☀🌻🌤🌞 THE EVERYTHING. THE STARSHINE. THE LIGHT AND JOY OF LIFE. her design is based off of Hatsune Miku’s author notes about how she was designing the characters and was originally gonna make Smiley’s hair yellow but scrapped it. I think it’s still a nice concept cause like idk it looks nice on Sanguine (which btw, look up that word) cause to me, Smiley’s mom IS happiness itself. I had originally thought of making her something like Kooky’s (from KND) mom sort of thing where hse’s all business business but like... man. I feel like she likes stay hippy. she keeps it groovy. shes just :) in its purest form and also loves her daughter very much and supports her transitions trans right firkc you

ok Imma be nice to Frownie and talk about her design. Being Smiley’s self-appointed opposite, Frownie takes all the energy she has throughout the day and puts it all into frowning. She hates learning. She hates school. Why would she? Nobody really like, cares about her and she doesn’t care about anybody. She’s got a unibrow deal with it. Her front buttons are literally :( shaped. And her bright cyan dress contrasts against her baby blue skin, this is basically an inverted shade and pallete of Smiley, who has bright yellow skin and dark orange shirt. She also keeps her hair “neater” and “straighter” and even has the same upside down V line to part her bangs. She made herself Smiley’s opposite because everybody wouldn’t stop saying it otherwise and she grew to resent that. Girlie needs some better friends fr 

ok thank you for your time im taking that and putting it in a box and im gonna shake it around every 2 or 3 years to see if its still ticking

[basically-fabulous]

u "don't vote" motherfuckers r stupid as shit

[potter-inthe-tardis]

Im gonna need someone to cast Joe Keery in a period romance asap

[digirainebow]

your love for sage makes Me Very emotional

ooooh then i apologize in advance for how sappy and emotional i'm about to get in my reply to this but, its fine we are both gonna be in an endless cycle of making eachother almost cry and thats just how its gonna be

its like. gosh how do i even put this. i'm gonna sound like some tortured poet in a sec

nss games were the first place i'd heard stories told the way i wanted to tell them. playing and falling in love with the original oxenfree felt like someone was finally finishing my sentences? and in turn, i felt i was finishing theirs. every time i made fan content of any kind--be it art, writing, or just basic appreciation--it always felt like nss weren't just grateful for it, but celebratory of it. i have always been more quiet about their importance to me than i wanted to because i am very anxious about parasocialising and never want to be too much for anyone. but YOU tage YOU have been so vocal, and its been SO inspiring to me.

sage and all the shitters, to me, are the visual representation of this sentence-finishing metaphor i've whipped up. and now that i've finished lost signals, i think that's half of what the game is about in the first place. mutual understanding, between people that create. creators of art, creators of life. it kinda feels like they made this game partially as a thank you to the fans, and the passion we had for the first oxenfree and its ARG. and the fact that you picked up on that and ran with it so far in advance of the game release is so special to me. you identified with it before it was out, and you finished their sentence. you made your own versions of these characters from only the smallest details, and the fact you came so close to being spot on with them is so fucking cool, but i think their differences are what made them even more special for the nss team! i think they are beyond thrilled that people understand their art the way you do, and that people like us want to make our own art because of their art! i think the end of tape 6 really showed that specifically, i think that's why it was the last one <3

i hope that made sense, and i hope you're okay with me publishing this especially since we aren't even really friends yet, i just! its important, you're important! and the lead up to this game wouldn't have been the same without you and your excitement and your art so, yeah. thank you :') thank you, for sage. SAGE 4EVER

[rigginsstreet]

one thing about me is i will be balls deep in a fandom actively hating on an actor i post a lot about, thus creating great confusion amongst people following me for that specific content

[unvexes]

watching ani for the first time and i genuinely do not understand ppl hating it,,, it’s so silly.

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[bloodyke]

next person to bring up project 2025 to fearmonger support for genocide joe is getting blown up i cannot stand you bitches

[randomjreader]

What I would give to get an insight from Joe and Bash about what it was like to film the uncomfortable Ben and Charlie scenes, in particular the scene at the end of episode 1 (you know which one). I want to know purely because it's such an uncomfortable scene, and they are both such good friends, I want to know the process of prepping for the scene with the intimacy coordinator, how they made each other more comfortable, the feelings they were feeling. I just think it's interesting to think about what goes behind the scenes for tough scenes like that.

[jademight]

Happy birthday to the best Hulk adaption <3