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#was listen to the next one
starcurtain · 15 days
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Please someone redraw this with Dr. Ratio and Aventurine because this is the exact vibe they have in my head post-Penacony.
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cubedmango · 11 months
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indian blorbos obtained u know what that means [hits them w desi memes lazer]
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obsob · 1 year
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making and weaving and loving! like we have done for millennia!!
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furiosophie · 6 months
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it's something sinister to love without regard for dear tomorrow
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finnitesimal · 8 months
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get my guy outta there
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kyurochurro · 2 months
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caught a cold yesterday so I rewatched a good old childhood fav of mine, which also included another robot buddy I love! here’s data with wall-e cus why not :D
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canon-gabriel-quotes · 3 months
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COME ON MACHINE, FUCK ME LIKE AN ANIMAL.
Audio source
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heartorbit · 4 months
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THE CUTESITS
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theminecraftbee · 7 months
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There are several things Martyn realizes, all at once, when he opens his eyes:
He is dreaming.
It's one of those in-between dreams, the ones that aren't quite dreams.
He is sitting at a green felted table. It is sitting on a stage. The lighting is dim, and no one is watching, but out of the corner of his eye he can see the stagehands dressed in black, waiting.
He is not the only one sitting at the table. There is a Watcher, draped in purple. There is a Listener, draped in yellow. There is someone he recognizes in a red sweater. There is someone he thinks he should recognize, but can't quite, shuffling a deck of cards.
"Right. What's all this, then," he mutters.
We are playing blackjack, the Listener says.
We are deciding the rules, the Watcher says.
"It's not like we have anything better to do. Honestly, I'm glad you're here. Do you know how boring these guys are?" Grian says, and Martyn decides to quietly file Grian away as a dream-Grian, as opposed to real-life-Grian, so he doesn't go insane and/or stab him when he wakes up. He waits for the almost-familiar dealer to say something. He does not. After another few moments of awkward nonsense dream-silence, Martyn sighs and leans forward on the table.
"Sure, this might as well be happening," Martyn says. "Deal me in. How's the betting work, again?"
"You put your bet on the table. If you beat the dealer, you get to add it to the game," Grian explains. "If you don't beat the dealer, it takes it."
"Yeah, but like, that's abstract, isn't it? What does that mean, exactly, me losing what I bet if I don't beat the dealer," Martyn says.
Grian shrugs. "Don't ask me. To be honest, I'm hardly the storyteller you are."
"Me? Why are you acting like I have any control over these things when you're--"
Are you ready to play?
Martyn shuts up, looks at the Listener, and sighs. "Yeah, sure, I'm ready to play. Why not."
The dealer looks to its left. Grian sighs. "Why are you making me bet first. Again. We should rotate where we're sitting--fine, fine, I know it's an advantage because I'm the worst at this. Uh. Hm. No trading or giving away lives again. Not even as time or something. It makes the dynamics all weird, and I think we could use a nice straightforward death game next time."
(Martyn wants to roll his eyes. Nice and straightforward. Sure.)
The Watcher goes next. I would like there to be deep and wonderful bonds between the players. I would like those bonds to seem unbreakable.
"Coming from you, that's ominous," Martyn says.
Can I not just miss the alliances of the early days? the Watcher says.
"Never left the desert," Grian says, rolls his eyes, and looks at Martyn in commiseration. Martyn just stares back. So sue him, he's a bit more worried about this whole concept than an eye roll and a pithy phrase. Things Watchers want are rarely good.
When the bonds are enforced, they're less interesting, complains the Listener.
Martyn looks over sharply. Hey, wait, he thought--
I didn't say they had to be enforced by rule. I said they had to be deep. Encouraged, as opposed to discouraged.
Just saying. You'll never recapture Third Life.
Martyn swallows. His throat is dry. Weren't the Listeners supposed to be the good guys, here?
Besides, what I want is for each death to be meaningful again. They've felt too meaningless, lately, the Listener continues.
Martyn thinks the dealer raises an eyebrow, but it strikes him he's not exactly sure. Grian snorts. "Meaningful deaths. That's rich for you to say. I mean, I guess they're meaningful sometimes? I don't know, Martyn's the one who understands dramatic sacrifices, I just like killing things."
"Why do you keep on looking at me when you say those things," Martyn says.
"Look, you wouldn't be here if you weren't helping write," Grian says.
"What?" Martyn says.
We're here to play our cards for the story, the Watcher says. Aren't you also one of the authors?
"Me? What? No, I'm--what are you talking about," Martyn says.
Oh, well. I also hope your meaningful deaths make it in, the Watcher says the Listener.
Thanks, even if I disagree on the bonds, the Listener says.
"They hardly ever talk about real, concrete rules they want," complains Grian. "It's easier to understand the consequence if they bring up actual rules. Like boogeyman or no boogeyman."
"We're all just betting on cards!" Martyn says, throwing his hands up. "You're giving me a headache!"
It's your bet.
"Fine!" Martyn says. "Fine! You know what? Screw all of you. I hope this is the last one. I hope we never have to go back to that stupid death game. I hope it's miserable to watch or to listen to or to play and everyone just gives up. How's that for a bet?"
You're no fun.
Is that what you really want?
"Suit yourself," Grian says. "Honestly, if I still had that to bet, I guess I probably would."
"What do you mean, if you still had that to bet?"
"Well, I mean, that's not how blackjack works, is it? I don't just get back my in when I play it."
The dealer nods, and then silently, with a long bony hand, deals the cards.
Grian is dealt the four of diamonds. The Watcher is dealt the nine of spades. The Listener is dealt the five of clubs. Martyn is dealt a jack of spades. The dealer deals itself a seven of hearts. The dealer deals Grian a six of clubs--
"Hey, isn't that supposed to be face-down?" Martyn asks.
"Not here," Grian explains. "They're all face up so we can't touch the cards. So we don't have to. So we can't cheat."
"Who said anything about cheating?" Martyn says.
"Please," Grian says.
The dealer makes a hand motion. Martyn, grumpily, falls silent. He supposes they're playing by casino rules, then. He hasn't been in a casino since--he wouldn't know. Hard to remember anything that isn't this, isn't it? Isn't killing and dying and things out of his control and things very much in his control and, apparently, bizarre dream sequences designed to make him want to strangle Grian.
Anyway. Grian is dealt a six of clubs, giving him ten. The Watcher is given an eight of spades, giving it seventeen. The Listener is dealt a king of hearts, giving it fifteen. Martyn is given a six of clubs, giving him sixteen. The dealer deals its own second card face-down. Martyn stops to try to speak, and then shuts his mouth. Right. Dealer's advantage.
He stares at the numbers.
Grian sighs. "Well, I've got to double down, don't I? Fine. I want the whole 'red lives can kill' thing to be enforced somehow. I don't care how. There's my double down."
The dealer nods.
"Why would you want that," Martyn says blankly.
If we all win, that will be interesting with the bonds, the Watcher says mildly.
Grian shrugs. "I mean, we've enforced red names not befriending green names, but not the murder thing before. Figure we should switch up the game, right?"
"Why?" Martyn says again.
Well, it wouldn't do for it to be boring.
"No, not that. Just... isn't it easier to handle when the rules are laid out properly?"
Martyn throws his hands up, but stops arguing. The dealer gives Grian a face-down card. The dealer moves to the next party at the table.
The Watcher looks over at the dealer and makes a cutting-off motion. I stand.
The dealer moves on. Hit me, the Listener says, and is dealt the queen of diamonds. The Listener gestures to Martyn. It seems I bust. Pity. I suppose there will be no guarantee of meaning, then. Not what I'd prefer.
The dealer looks at Martyn. Martyn looks at the other hands. Martyn pauses.
"Wait, this is like, casino blackjack, yeah? I'm only playing against you, not the whole table?"
"Why would you be playing against us?" Grian says. "Writing's a collaborative process."
Martyn looks entreatingly at the Listener, but the Listener is a little too caught up in the bad hand it has been dealt. Martyn looks entreatingly at the Watcher, but the Watcher just looks somehow confused.
"I was under the impression that, I don't know, you all were adversarial."
Why? All we want is the same thing as you: the story to be told a certain way.
Martyn's not sure if he's furious or just numb.
"Fine. Got a sixteen, don't I? Hit me."
Two of spades.
He's furious. He wants to win against the dealer. He wants to win against everyone. He wants his idea to make it through. He has an eighteen, though. There are only two numbers in the deck that will not bust him, and he's no fool. Hitting on sixteen is a risk enough; if he wants his stupid bet of everything finally ending to make it through, he's got to hold here.
"I hold," he says through gritted teeth.
The dealer silently deals itself another card. A three of hearts. Distantly, Martyn's ears rush. He could have taken that. He could have taken the hit. He could have won. He could have had blackjack, and he doesn't know what the extra payout for blackjack even means in a game like this one, but he could have had it, and he held back, he didn't take the risk, he didn't--
The dealer flips up its cards. Seven, eight, three. Eighteen.
Martyn's heart pounds. A stand-off.
Grian flips up his own card and groans. It's a five of diamonds. "There goes that bet," he mutters.
The dealer makes a sweeping motion around the table. The Watcher smiles, a terrible, terrible thing. Martyn, all at once, realizes that he can't ask again. He can't say 'this is guaranteed to be the last one' again. He backs out of his chair. To the sides, he sees the stagehands change the lighting. A spotlight, on him and the dealer--
"That isn't fair," he says. "It's a tie. I should get my bet back, right? It's a tie!"
THAT IS WHERE WE DIFFER FROM THE HOUSES IN VEGAS, the dealer says, and Martyn's heart stops.
(The voice is familiar. Familiar, but he cannot place it.)
YOU SEE, IN THIS GAME, THERE IS ALWAYS ONE THING THAT HAS AN ADVANTAGE. ONE THING THE STORY IS ALWAYS PLAYING AGAINST. ONE THING, THAT INEVITABLY, AFTER LONG ENOUGH PLAYING, WILL WIN.
There, the dealer looks Martyn in the eyes, and Martyn, all at once, knows exactly what the dealer must be.
AND THAT IS ME.
Martyn stares Death in the eyes.
Then, in a cold sweat, Martyn wakes up.
He does not sleep again for a long time.
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meeeeeks · 1 year
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Why do men even need an authority stat? What do you need to have authority over? Other men?
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severaltuesdays · 10 months
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Me when people fail to realise that Soukoku are called that because they're Double Black. Because they're not two halves of a whole. Because they're two wholes but when they come together they amplify each other because they cover each other weak points and strengthen each others strong points. Because they're both capable by themselves but when they're together they're twice as capable. BECAUSE THEY'RE BOTH COMPETENT WITHOUT THE OTHER RGHABVGHKVAGBHCKVBDGDF
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telesilla · 3 months
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Not gonna go out on this limb on a 25k post, but maybe it’s okay that kids today don’t know as much about using an actual computer as we do/did? Is it useful knowledge? Of course it is. So is using a sewing machine or being able to rebuild your VW with a copy of that one book every VW driver used to have. That’s not the right question—most practical knowledge is useful after all. The question should be “is it relevant to the way people live right now.” “How to Keep Your VW Alive” is a timeless fucking classic; my ex and I kept our copy long after he sold his VW. But I’m not buying a copy now because it won’t exactly help me keep my VW ID4 on the road.
And it’s funny, because I tend to read along with those posts and nod my head, because back in my day we HAD to know all that computer stuff. And then for some reason today, I remembered a conversation my mom and I had with my grandma in the mid 70s when I was a teenager. Grandma made my mom’s wedding dress. She worked at a department store doing alterations on foundation wear, which if you look at 1950s foundation wear, you’ll realize was both necessary and difficult. So she was shocked when I said most of my friends didn’t know their way around a sewing machine. “But how do you make sure your clothes fit?!” Well, Grandma, people don’t wear heavy foundation wear any more and clothes don’t need to be as tailored as they did back in the day—it’s 1975 and the only alterations I need to do is hemming my flares so they just touch the floor when I’m wearing platforms.
Now you can back up and look at the broader picture, the one that says, but your car should be repairable by you as long as you have clear instructions, and you should be able to alter your clothes or make your own, and yes, you should know how to organize the files on the desktop of your laptop. But the fact that for the most part it’s become easier and easier to just not do those things (if they can be done at all) isn’t exactly the fault of Kids Today. And it’s certainly not meeting them where they are or even trying to understand why they feel they don’t need that knowledge if, instead of looking at why they don’t have it and maybe even don’t need it, you just decry their lack of the Deep Wisdom.
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nerdyqueerr · 3 days
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The Amazing Devil truly knocked it out of the park with Fair in terms of love songs i mean its got everything. Domesticity, deep adoration, confessions of love when youre sure no one else can hear, a that's what she said joke, yogurt, genuinely dont think there's a more romantic song on the face of the earth
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emilyinsuits · 3 months
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scintillyyy · 1 day
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an uncomfortable truth is that if batman and all the batkids were kidnapped and it was up to alfred to save only one while all the others would perish, alfred would push the button to save bruce with no hesitation before the villain was even done talking
and even more uncomfortable truth is that bruce would eventually forgive him this
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b-o-e · 1 year
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alone with you Wally Darling x Reader
Warnings: aauugbsn sad wally? fluff!!
although it is not necessary, I highly suggest reading my fics in their recommended order for the best experience! here is the link to all my silly lil wally fics in order. this is #3 :)
You and Wally sneak away for a breath of fresh air, providing the perfect opportunity to try to get your feelings off your chest.
“Would you like to step outside with me, neighbour?” 
It was a Friday night, meaning the residents of the neighbourhood were gathered at Julie’s home for one of your weekly little jamborees.
Perplexed by Wally’s unusual desire to leave a social setting, you eyed him worriedly.
“...Are you feeling ill?” You fret, facing him to provide your full attention, going as far as gently pressing the back of your hand against his forehead. 
“No, ha ha,” he giggled at your concern, “I’d just like to get away for a few moments,” he reassured, taking your hand into his. “Are you alright with that?” he squeezed it, wanting to ensure you wished to come along.
“I don’t mind at all,” you took him up on his offer, glancing down at your hands. A normal occurrence within your… friendship, but it still gives you hopeful butterflies.
“Actually, I was beginning to grow a tad overwhelmed, so I’m quite glad you offered,” you smiled. He returned it with a nod of understanding.
“Good timing, I suppose. Off we go, then,” he hummed, gently pulling you along to the front door, the two of you slipping away unnoticed.
The temperature outside was a little cool for the summer, but it was tolerable. The sky was clear and bright with stars, crickets playing their sounds while muffled chatter came from Julie’s house. 
You walked at a slow, lazy pace next to Wally, sucking in a deep breath of the fresh air.
“So,” you began, your voice soft, “is there really no reason you wanted to get away?” You questioned, looking over at Wally. “You’re not usually one to leave to need a break from people,” you chuckled.
“Everything is okay, right?” 
Wally hummed softly, gently swinging your hands. You had forgotten they were still interlocked.
“I am. Especially with you around, neighbour,” he reassured, giving you another gentle squeeze. “I just wanted to spend more one-on-one time with you,” he added, smiling. 
“Things were getting pretty hectic in there, and you did seem like you maybe needed a break… I assumed it would benefit us both to come out here,”
“Thanks, then,” you murmured, peering down at your feet to try to hide your embarrassment, “I appreciate you looking out for me,” you said. “Do you want to do anything specific, or are you just in a walking mood?”
“Well,” he slowed his pace until he stopped, you doing the same. Your hands wouldn’t have allowed you to go much further, anyways.
“Why don’t we watch the stars?” He suggested.
You stared at him incredulously.
“... Right here?” You giggled. You looked down at the road under your feet, eyes then returning to his.
“Why not?” He grinned. He released his hold on you, plopping right down on the ground and laying back. 
“Join me?” 
You stood there for a moment, staring down at him as he patted the space next to his body. What had gotten into him tonight? You blew out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. Nonetheless, you sat beside him.
You settled down on the ground, your stomach facing up. Your hands served as a pillow under your head, cushioning it from the pavement.
Your lungs filled with the fresh, damp summer air, as you let your eyelids fall shut. Bugs continued to sing their chorus into the night, the muffled sound of distant laughter coming from the bustling house the two of you had just escaped.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Wally’s gentle murmur arose from beside you. 
You reopened your eyes, staring into the endless pool of twinkling stars above you. The crescent moon gleamed its ethereal light, illuminating enough for you to see Wally's soft, curled smile as you turned your head towards him.
"... It is," you mumbled back, studying him. "Sorry to be so straightforward," you apologize in advance, "but you look very pretty in this lighting." Or maybe he was very pretty all the time, but you didn’t quite have the confidence to be that straightforward yet.
He seemed to be taken aback by the sudden compliment though, his pupils dilating as his mouth opened as if to try to say something. It shut, a moment passing, before he tried again.
"... you really are the most," he uttered, his elbow against the ground, hand propping his head up. "I could say the same to you, though, neighbour."
"You're a darling, Darling," you chuckled, cheeks flushing as you managed to tear your eyes away from his intense gaze.
Silence settled between the two of you. There was never a need for constant chatter with him. His presence was enough, as was yours for him. Despite this comfortability you felt around Wally, shy butterflies danced around in your belly as your thoughts drifted.
You were alone with the person you had feelings for, afterall.
As you continued to look above into the beyond, a realization crossed your mind.
"You know, Wally..."
"Hmm?"
"Your eyes remind me of the night sky," you told him, your gaze meeting his. You turned onto your side, propping your head the same way he had his, staring into his dark orbs.
"Such a deep blue... light reflects so beautifully off them, looks just like the stars," you mumbled, hand propping against the ground instead, pushing yourself higher to look down at him. The light hit his eyes better, at this angle.
"They're entrancing,"
"As are you, neighbour," he watched you attentively, trying to read you. "I feel bad for reusing your compliments, but ain’t it ever the truth," he sighed softly, a look of adoration on his features. Your cheeks warmed. 
“You’re absolutely mesmerizing, you pull me in with no effort at all. I’m so incredibly drawn to your beauty, and always wish to have you around,” he continued. Has anyone else spoken such kind words to you?
“In all honesty, the reason why I brought you out here is because sometimes, I just want to be alone with you,” he confessed.
Your cheeks bloomed with heat, eyes widened in surprise. Despite your wishes that he meant it on a deeper level than just friends, that wasn't the case, was it?
He was just being nice.
He was always nice to everyone.
You were looking too deep into it again…
“Neighbour?” He mumbled gently, the feeling of his hand on your cheek pulling you from your trance.
“Oh.”
You hadn’t realized how close you two had become…
You stared at him, and he stared at you.
You weren't sure how long you both stayed quiet, but before you knew it, you were trying to speak at the same time.
“... listen–”
“Can I–”
“Hey!” 
You jolted in surprise with a sharp inhale, Wally's face contorting into one of shock. His hand retracted from your cheek, attention moving to the disturbance. Your torso twisted to see Julie strutting down the way toward you, Frank trying to catch up behind her.
“There you two are!” She beamed. “Come on, we were just about to– what’s wrong with him?”
Your brows furrowed in confusion. Looking next to you, you were met with the sight of Wally laid flat on his back, blankly staring into the sky as if his soul had been sucked out of him.
“You did go on and scare the crud out of them, Julie, so cut him some slack,” Frank scolded, “Can’t anyone take a hint in this town, though?” He complained. Your brows twitched.
“I mean, you couldn't despite all of Eddie’s letters to you?” You deflected with a grin.
“You of all people have no right to– grrr!” Frank stomped his foot in frustration, head spinning. “Never mind that! Julie was quite adamant to come look for you guys for a game we were about to play,” He puffed out a breath, rubbing at his brow. 
“Right!” Julie recalled, taking you by the hands and tugging you up. “Upsy-daisy! Let’s not keep the others waiting! You two did that for long enough already,” she teased, pulling you along. 
“Why were you guys out here, anyways?” she questioned as you glanced over your shoulder at Frank and Wally.
“Uh,” you mumbled, shaking away your thoughts and looking back ahead. “Just came for a breath of fresh air. Lost track of time, I suppose,” you smiled sheepishly at her.
What had Wally been about to say, though?
What had you been about to let yourself say..?
“I was so close…” Wally smiled sadly, sprawled out on the pavement in despair, tears of frustration threatening to escape his eyes.
“I tried to stop her,” Frank released an exasperated sigh, offering his hand to his gloomy friend. “Once she realized you two weren't there, she was persistent on coming to grab you,”
“So close…” Wally repeated, holding his hand up in a pinching gesture for emphasis, barely an inch of space between the tips of his fingers.
“Yeah, yeah. You don’t know how frustrated I am, too. Now, come on,” he rolled his eyes, managing Wally up off the ground and starting towards the house. Though slumped and slow, Wally followed along.
“So close…”
howdyyy! I hope you enjoyed! B)
here is a link to my silly lil wally fics in their recommended order if you would like :) these can also be found on my ao3 B) I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me!
alas, thank you for reading! likes and reblogs are very appreciated, gimme my dopamine!!!
alt title: cockblock julie (/j lol)
Posted Friday, April 28, 2023 at 10:12 AM
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