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#someday maybe lmao
cybervom1t · 3 months
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photobooth is so fun y'all omg <3
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deeva-arud · 24 days
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So, about that one AU that's been marinating in my mind for years
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mobius-m-mobius · 2 months
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OWEN WILSON as MOBIUS M. MOBIUS in LOKI (2021 - )
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that-g3-artist · 11 months
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A few facts to consider:
Zonai are canonically said to have been considered gods when they first descended from the skies
In Zelda lore there are 3 golden goddesses said to have descended from the heavens, created the world, then disappeared
Zonai know what draconification does, and the side-effects, meaning it has to have happened before
There are three dragons in BOTW named after and associated with the 3 golden goddesses
that is all
alt vers below the cut
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not as atmospheric but you can see the colors a bit better
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royalarchivist · 2 months
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Mike: If someone drink this love potion, it becomes... in love.
Pac: In love!
Fit: I can't drink it right now- I'm trying. I'm tryin' to chug it!
Mike: Because you are already in love with someone, Fit.
Fit: Oh, maybe. You might be right.
[They all laugh]
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jerreeeeeee · 2 years
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people so often interpret sazed as taako’s ex, which like, to each their own obviously, nothing wrong with that, but i think its so so much more interesting to interpret him as taako’s apprentice instead. and like all we have to go on is that he really looked up to taako who sort of taught him how to cook. “thought taako hung the moon and stars” or something like that iirc. which brings so much more depth to taako’s relationship with angus if sazed was to taako then what angus is to taako now, someone who idolized him and saw him as a mentor.
it puts some of the conversations taako’s had with angus into really interesting context. like the fact that the first person taako’s (ever?) told about what happened at glamour springs (which he didnt know at the time, but was sazed’s fault) is angus. does he tell angus because he doesn’t want him to be betrayed (like he assumes sazed was, since he ran away)? or because he doesn’t want angus learning from someone so clearly unfit to be a mentor (both since he was unfit to be sazed’s, because he was dismissive to him, and because he believes himself to be a murderer)? he teaches angus magic and cooking. when he implies that angus might become as or more skilled than him he jokes about striking him down. which is exactly what he did to sazed when he wanted equal share.
but taako redeems himself with angus. he mistreats angus in the beginning, bullying him and dismissing him and generally being a dick, but as angus becomes taako’s apprentice, he’s more open and a little nicer. still “open” and “nice” in his own way, but definitely more than he was before. learning from his mistake, letting angus in and being encouraging and honest in the way he wasn’t with sazed.
idk. i think it’s so interesting and so rarely explored
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yourwagonisaflame · 6 months
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never watching nightmare time and then watching npmd is so funny like. who are these fucked up wiggly knock offs
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violinist-rachel · 7 months
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Pick me up!
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caorl · 7 months
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coping with orv sadness by treating everyone to mcdonalds + bonus
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softpine · 5 months
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i found this little book at the dollar store where each page is a different journal prompt (stuff like "describe a moment you were unequivocally happy") and instead of answering them myself like a normal person i've been picking one of my characters in my mind, flipping to a random page, and answering the question from their POV without any erasing and i'm not allowed to think about anything for longer than 5 seconds. it's really fun i recommend 👍🏻
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itsc · 1 month
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teaspoon got pissed that bear laid down near her. dodnt even touch her she just hates to see him!!!
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just absolutely incensed!!!!! (she is growling in both those pics just above)
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crintsiewintsey · 7 months
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straight up
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skelerangart · 21 days
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took a break from stardew art to sketch everyone's favorite twink
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Books of 2024: THE MESSAGE by K.A. Applegate, adapted by Chris Grine.
The original ANIMORPHS books were a hugely formative influence on....My Entire Life, Writerly and Otherwise, so I've been collecting the graphic novels as they come out, too!
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buffyspeak · 7 months
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lexie grey + hairstyles
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painted-bees · 1 year
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[edit: this is a bit outdated, now! You can read the full narrative of these events over here!]
The water between the Discovery Islands, off the coast of British Columbia, is perhaps the sleepiest, most uneventful little corner of the entire Pacific Ocean. It’s a perfect little cradle for the marine life that abundantly lives there. And so, when something peculiar does occur within the tranquil archipelago, it is never to be dismissed.
Which is why, when an enormous bubble that rose up from the depths between Vancouver Island and Quadra Island went wholly unreported, locals were easily persuaded into believing that their memories of the sudden tidal swel--which swallowed their shorelines in the middle of the night and claimed no victims--was a phenomenon of mass delusion.
With little to nothing in the way of consequence following that strange night, it was easy to fall back onto the knowledge that things such as tsunamis simply cannot occur in isolation among the dense cluster of quiet little islands. Magritte and Rafael, however, were not so unchanged by the events that took place.
Magritte remembers how the icey bite of the water numbed her oyster-torn palms. She remembers imagining the finger of a monkey paw curling when she finally got to see the dorsal fins of the orcas that everyone but her had been so fortunate to spot from the Smelt Bay shoreline. They were close enough to touch, but she could not bring up her arms. She remembers singing, in poorly ragged notes, to Orion who remained aloof and uncaring among the rest of the stars in the sky.
Whether Magritte’s memories of being swept out to sea that night are real or hallucinatory in nature, life in their little island cottage was never quite the same afterwards. Magritte had spent the following week in bed, recovering from a fever–and all the while, Rafael would frequently hear her calling his name in a hoarse, tired voice from the yard outside. Her silhouette could, for fleeting moments, be seen breaking up the moonlit boughs of the evergreen forest bordering the property. And, she would sing…a ragged, slightly nonsense song which sounded as though it had been composed as a futile weapon against a fading consciousness.
It should have been unnerving. In fact, it could have been wholly upsetting. Though it sounded perfectly like her, Magritte was not out there beckoning him. She was upstairs resting, safe and cozy. Still, the doppelganger called and crooned. It met Rafael’s consciousness not as an ill omen, but as a wandering curiosity. His name met him as an inquiry, the ragged singing as an attempt at conversation. He responded by leaving an offering of tea and cookies at the foot of the porch steps leading into the side yard, where thought he had occasionally caught a glimpse of her inconsistent contours against the foliage of the forest.
He didn’t wholly believe that the phantom Magritte outside actually existed. In the mornings, the mug of tea would be tipped over, and the cookies taken away by the local wildlife. But, that empty plate was encouragement enough for him to keep up the little ritual, at least until Magritte–the real Magritte–was back on her feet. And indeed, once Magritte had returned to her energetic self, the shadow of her that lurked by the treeline every night prior…fell silent and unseen. 
Until Magritte invited it inside.
It did not speak, but held them with a swallowing gaze. So slender, so gentle mannered. It had approached Magritte with an armful of fish; an apology. Magritte invited it in, and Rafael prepared a late dinner for the three of them.
 It became the new evening ritual; it would arrive at the cottage with a fresh haul from the sea, Magritte would invite it inside, Rafael would make dinner from whatever it had brought them. Each night, its appearance changed little by little into something less vaguely otherworldly. Or, perhaps, they were simply growing more familiar. It taught them the song that Magritte had sung to Orion (she had, herself, forgotten the lyrical genius of her delirium), and they recomposed it into a jovial, drunken shanty together. They introduced their peculiar houseguest to mp3s, fleece-lined sweaters, and strawberry rhubarb ice cream, and in exchange, it brought them uniquely shaped shells and foraged trinkets from the bay.
These nightly visitations continued until, at last, it–she adopted a name she had heard and liked; Cortes.
And, she stayed that night until morning, and until the morning after that, and the morning after that, and…so forth.
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