i know 4 languages and no one can stop me from posting in all of them!! pfp by Bumblie
292 posts
Tofisia - Lon Mi - Tumblr Blog
TGAA characters in disco elysium artstyle!
Less magic schools. More magic universities. Unlearn the simplified models of your secondary education. Discover how to reference scrolls written by a wizard possessed by a different wizard. Identify bias in the voices that whisper from beyond the veil. Have your institution be accused of promoting a Merlinist agenda. Become addicted to energy potions.
”are you a morning person or a night person” babygirl I am barely even a person
absolutely not even gonna attempt full skilltober but i wanted to make prints of some of my favs so this is the perfect time to post these
(it's teaching him the other uses of "hardcore". important knowledge.)
you look great in that frog costume
A fantasy story of a hero on an epic quest to recover a memory that they have lost - the wizard who wiped it out told them that returning the memory is not within their power. The protagonist specifically asked to have the memory removed, and if they want it back, they must quest to the house of another wizard on the opposite side of the realm, who is capable of such things.
Once the protagonist finally completes this quest, and regains the memory, they see that it was a huge mistake. This memory is horrifying, awful, it brings no fulfillment nor solace and offers no answer or explanation that they wouldn't have already had. It is not worth having, not worth remembering. They ask the wizard to take it back, undo the spell they just did. The wizard that returned the memory says that they cannot do that any more than they could unpour water. To have it wiped off, the protagonist must journey back to the first wizard.
It is heavily implied that this isn't the first time this has happened. As a matter of fact it's been happening for quite a while now. The two wizards keep sending this poor motherfucker back and forth across the realm just to annoy each other.
i made a cool thing yesterday! i embroidered some floers on my gf's backpack! it's not yet finished, she will be adding more details to it but i really like how the flowers look so i will share
i think it turned out pretty!
KIM KITSURAGI — The lieutenant’s expression is difficult to place as he ponders the mural.
THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — “TRUE LOVE IS POSSIBLE ONLY IN THE NEXT WORLD— FOR NEW PEOPLE. IT IS TOO LATE FOR US. WREAK HAVOC ON THE MIDDLE CLASS.”
INLAND EMPIRE — Right on.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — What a slogan! So many layers in so few words. Perfectly crafted to grab one’s attention and keep hold of it for long after you’ve passed by. You wish you’d thought of it.
“Truer words were never spoken.”
“What a fuckin’ bummer, am I right?”
“Not bad, but I like the one we painted in Martinaise better.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “You mean, the one *you* painted,” he says pointedly. “I had nothing to do with that.”
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — He did like your mural. He’s just never gonna admit it. He’s too committed to the bit.
THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — The words seem to tower over you as you and your partner take them in. Once again, you can’t help but wonder how the Belles Lettres managed to paint this monstrously massive mural without being seen.
VISUAL CALCULUS — Surely there must have been scaffolding involved, or some kind of machinery.
LOGIC — They were seen. Just not by anyone who would disturb their work, or sell them out to the police. Which, if the results of the vote are anything to go by, would be most of the people of Jamrock.
“What do you think about the part about true love, Kim?”
“What do you think about the part about the middle class, Kim?”
“Did you know there was a vote on whether or not to remove the mural?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “We did hear about it back at 57,” he admits. “It’s rare for your district to organize a vote like that. Or any district, for that matter…”
He frowns slightly, peering up at the embracing couple. “I’ll admit, when I heard about it, I had no idea how *big* this thing was. I’m surprised that they voted to keep it. You must be able to see it for miles…”
CONCEPTUALIZATION — Eight stories loud, painted over the corpse of a failed real estate venture. A reminder, a call to action, and a threat, all rolled into one. Constant and inescapable. Oh, yeah. *This* is good stuff.
EMPATHY — It makes the lieutenant uncomfortable.
CONCEPTUALIZATION — That’s the point.
YOU — “How would you have voted?”
KIM KITSURAGI — “I wouldn’t have,” he says drily. “I didn’t live here.”
“All right, fair enough.” (Drop the subject)
“Cmon, Kim. If you *did* live here, which side would you be on?” (Press him)
KIM KITSURAGI — “I don’t know that it’s about taking sides…” His sentence trails as he considers the mural.
PERCEPTION (Sight) — He glances at you for the briefest of moments, and then away. Almost as if he hadn’t meant to do it.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS [Godly: Success] — You make him uncomfortable in much the same way that the mural does. Representative of truths that he doesn’t know what to make of.
There was a time when he dreamt of things like true love. And heroic deeds, and brilliant discoveries, and aerostatic pilots. A home that belonged to him. A table laden with food and crowded with people. The future and the past were polar opposites in his eyes— one a painful collage of loneliness and ostracization, the other a blank canvas, and all the more beautiful for it. It could be anything.
It did not take long for the present to beat it all out of him. And then he blinked, and he was forty-three and alone, having spent twenty years of his life on stubbornness and spite, trying to prove himself to people who didn’t and still don’t care, at the expense of the people that he should have cared for. And he realized it was too late for him.
YOU — Too late for what…?
EMPATHY — To do or be anything different.
KIM KITSURAGI — “…I don’t know,” he finally says. His voice is level, but quiet. “But I can understand why people wanted it to remain.”
He tears his gaze away from the mural at last and looks at you. “What about you? How did you vote?”
YOU — “I can’t remember.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He grimaces slightly. “Right. Sorry…”
“But I think I would have voted for it to go.”
“But I think I would have voted for it to stay.”
KIM KITSURAGI — “That doesn’t surprise me,” he sighs. “I’m sure the part about wreaking havoc on the middle class especially appealed to you.”
“You know it, comrade.”
“No, it was the part about true love being dead.”
“No, it was the part about new people.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He looks at you strangely. “…Oh? What do you make of it?”
“There’s no such thing as new people. We’re all the same, and we’ll always be the same, walking in the same old circles.”
“Fuck the new people and their new world that we’ll never get to see.”
“I think anyone can become a new person if they try. It’s a call to action.”
“Even if it’s too late for us to be new, I think we can still change. And we can still love each other.”
KIM KITSURAGI — He looks for a moment as if he’s going to say something… and then nothing. His lips purse slightly.
EMPATHY [Formidable: Failure] — It’s hard to say what he thinks of your little thesis. Matters of love are tough on him.
COMPOSURE [Legendary: Success] — But you get the feeling that *something* is happening within the lieutenant. There’s a crack in the dam that’s widening every day, and he knows it. He’s afraid to let it happen, but he’s equally powerless to stop it.
INLAND EMPIRE — You’re afraid, too. You’re both the same brand of coward.
VOLITION — You’re both a lot of things that you don’t have to be. It’s too late to have never been them. But it’s not too late to stop.
ESPIRIT DE CORPS — Stopping is precisely what he’s afraid of. He wonders what of himself will be left if he ceases to be *this.*
That’s selfish. We’re both so selfish.
It would be better if we ceased to be anything at all.
Whatever is left, I’ll still love him.
INLAND EMPIRE — How do you know he *wants* your love?
YOU — I don’t know. But he has it, anyway.
THE NEXT WORLD MURAL — A cold wind rushes past you, sending a chill deep into your bones. Unconsciously, you both step closer to each other. Seeking warmth.
my new and first (almost) finished tatting project! this will be a bracelet. i will be dyeing it green and after that i will add a metal clasp. i used a little modified Flower Bracelet/Bookmark pattern from this website
OMG HOUSE OF LEAVES GOT A NEW POLISH RELEASE. I GET TO FINALLY BUY IT. IT'S HERE, I WILL HOLD IT IN MY HANDS IN A FEW DAYS! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
today, after almost a year, i got my phone fixed. for the last year, the volume button in my phone didn't work, which isn't that much of an issue but makes a very simple action of changing the volume very complicated, not mentioning the fact that there is no other way to take a screenshot from my phone. but as i said, not that bad, it's still a workable phone
but two days ago i got tired of everything in my life being broken and decided to check, how much of a trouble it would be to get it fixed. almost none. 150 zł and an hour later, i have my phone working. it was something so small, bothering me so much, and was that easy to fix. so yeah, maybe some things in this world are worth fixing, maybe it's not even that hard to do
Let's play... Bella or Watson?
While waiting for the next Letters from Watson email to arrive, fancy joining me in a little game of BELLA OR WATSON?
Some of these statements were written by Dr John H Watson about his friend Mr Sherlock Holmes. Some were written by Bella Swan about Edward, the hot teenage vampire from Twilight.
[IMG Silhouettes of Dr Watson and Bella Swan, text reads Watson or Bella]
(This was inspired by a tumblr post, but I'm afraid it's lost to the mists of ancient dash for me by now. Answers are under the cut!]
With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted [REDACTED], and [REDACTED].
glanced sideways at the beautiful [REDACTED], who was [REDACTED], [REDACTED] with long, pale fingers
His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence
I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face just inches from mine.
In the darkness he looked much more normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer the fantastic sparkling creature of our sunlit afternoon.
In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing Watson or Bella?
His face flushed and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter.
An instant later he pulled me back into the blackest corner of the room, and I felt his warning hand upon my lips. The fingers which clutched me were shivering.
It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking.
ANSWERS UNDER THE CUT
Question 1 - Watson
With his long, white, nervous fingers he adjusted the delicate needle, and rolled back his left shirt-cuff.
Question 2 - Bella
I glanced sideways at the beautiful boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers
Question 3 - Watson His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase
Question 4 - Bella His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence
Question 5 - Bella
I turned and he was leaning toward me, his pale, glorious face just inches from mine.
Question 6 - Bella
In the darkness he looked much more normal. Still pale, still dreamlike in his beauty, but no longer the fantastic sparkling creature of our sunlit afternoon
Question 7 - Watson
In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessively lean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp and piercing
Question 8 - Watson
His face flushed and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter.
Question 9 - Watson
An instant later he pulled me back into the blackest corner of the room, and I felt his warning hand upon my lips. The fingers which clutched me were shivering.
Question 10 - Yup, still Watson
It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking.
me when . fictional artificial intelligence
i really like to imagine jerry babysitting for gingi sometimes
[id: drawing of ticket jerry reading a book to gingi's children. he is holding three in his arms and two on his shoulders, with the raccoon baby playing with the chord of his phone head. he's reading the monster at the end of this book. end id]
[id: doodle of phonegingi looking concerned and saying "why are you turning the page? do you want him to fucking die?" end id]
:O
I can't look at pictures of the ocean or foggy cliff sides or old fishing vessels for very long because some ancient instinctual longing rises from deep inside of me and I tend to go crouss eyed awnd fouam at the mought a bit