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sleepy beepy

@roxygobyebye

She/her | 21 | Bi | Ace | Aro | British | I'm tired and Do Not Vibe with this shit |  currently into Destiny 2 | artist/fic writer
Destiny Spooktober Stories 1: Malphur Malpractice

Levi-12 and Constantine-9 don't fight it when Lilith tells them to stay the night instead of going home—staying for dinner (god, that pasta bake was to die for) and sleeping in the nest again are things they won't pass up.

Besides, there is...

Something in her eyes.

Something that tells them not to question when Nai pulls them into the pile of blankets and cushions, something that tells them not to resist when the Warlock coaxes them to synch their cores, purring a lullaby frequency. Something that tells them to wait and sleep well.

Magenta optics watch over them from the balcony. Levi blinks, and they're gone.

He sleeps, safe and warm, and doesn't wonder why.

Shin Malphur leaps across buildings and over roofs, not daring to check behind him.

The Hunter has become the hunted.

He'd waited all day outside the apartment, watching, listening, waiting for them to leave so he could track them to where they lived. But no, the girl just had to have the uncanny knowledge that someone was there, and kept steering the conversation away from the address. And then she didn't let them go.

She'd shooed them out of the dining room, smiling and laughing, sending them to bed. Then she'd turned to the window and locked eyes with him.

He was off like a shot.

And now? She easily kept pace with him, chasing, just out of sight and out of sound, a whisper on the edge of his senses. She was truly a phenomenal Hunter, truly a Young Wolf—!

An Arc staff spears the concrete wall inches from his head. He springs to the left to avoid the searching electricity, scrambling and taken off guard, another Arc staff barely missing his boot.

They keep coming, and he keeps dodging, no choice but to go where she's herding him or be skewered. He dives off the rooftop and into a back alley in the poor judgement that he will loose her in the tight, winding streets, and only hems himself in even more.

Eventually, he's at a dead end. Walls on three sides—too high to clear with a double jump—Arc staffs blocking his way back, sparking an electric field that will surely fry him if he tries to get past them, and just beyond their blue Light, a shadow closes in.

"They aren't your Dredgens anymore, Malphur. You cast them out and we took them in. And you demand them back, now that they are whole and Light again?"

For one so small, so soft, her voice is everywhere, rolling like thunder accompanying her Arc. Thunder in her left hand, lightning in her right. This, she chooses to do, this, he has no choice in.

Shiiiing.

The last thing he sees, before the flashing silver fangs rip into his throat, is a pair of bright, magenta optics, burning like bloody sunset.

i am a firm supporter of changing your name to whatever you want regardless of your gender. if a woman wants to go by matt then matt she shall be. godspeed

me holding a gun to a mushroom: tell me the name of god you fungal piece of shit
mushroom: can you feel your heart burning? can you feel the struggle within? the fear within me is beyond anything your soul can make. you cannot kill me in a way that matters
me cocking the gun, tears streaming down my face: I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED OF YOU

Hey OP? What the FUCK does this mean?

decay exists as an extant form of life

That’s a terrifying answer, have a nice day

the kicker is he was being asked if his work was coming from the approach of man vs. nature aka “THE ENVIRONMENT STRIKES BACK” but no. his literal words were along the lines of “sharks are not very scary if you are never in the water so i had to make them scarier, and now they have legs.”

Junji Ito has the best fucking take on horror, which is ‘wouldn’t that be weird’ and then he draws it into the most terrifying thing possible.

One of his strangest stories is about a cursed type of honey that, when ingested, is guaranteed to be the best thing you’ve ever tasted. But, if you consume it, you have a 25% of being flattened like a pancake by a giant tree demon. Characters eat it, get addicted, and that addiction forces them to risk it over and over again until they eventually get turned into a gory puddle by this ghost tree thing. 

It’s a weird story, but the funny part is that Ito wrote it because he thought it would suck to be a mosquito.

Ollie Schminkey

[Image Transcription of a poem titled "THE FIRST BIRTHDAY HE IS NOT ALIVE":

we all order his favorite drink.

we forget the hole he punched in the door. the hole he shot through the dog. he was so good at making holes, except when it came time to dig one for his body.

there could be bones mixed in with our flour, and we would never even know. we could be eating cookies, and he could be dead inside our mouths.

it feels stupid to be sad when he was mean for so long. he only got nice when he was dying, and i don't know if that counts as becoming a better person.

sometimes, i imagine him watching over me, and i hide.]

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everyone’s comfort characters are either gay, mass murderers, mentally unstable or just straight up dead or all of these

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Idk how, but gw2 managed to create the most attractive female body type to me in the charr. 8 feet tall, four horns, four ears, terrifying, gorgeous, furry, flat-chested. I just want to curl up with my giant cat wife tbh.

Apart from that though, I still genuinely think the charr are the best designed fantasy race ever. They're just kinda mesmerizing to look at.

"One of the ideas that helped sell the charr as a race was they wouldn’t just be dudes with cat heads. When talking about cat people as a concept, that is the mental image that met with the most resistance. I began talking about the charr in terms of being not dudes with cat heads but as chimera-like monsters that joined several animals together, with heavy feline features. I remember a key meeting when I drew a quick sketch of a bipedal cat beast to get the point across, we then began concepting to flesh out the race and really sell the idea – and a charr was born." "It really didn’t make any sense to have boobs on a charr female, particularly with all the effort we took to make her sleek and fierce. We thought they should have no breasts at all or at least hide them under some fluffy fur. Above all else, we needed to be true to the race, of course! There was still some debate, however, so I gave them a choice: either be subtle and downplay the breasts (it wasn’t a point of the race, anyway) or go full-on realistic. Yes, that’s right —none or six!! But really, the armor augmentation required for six boobs would be just as ridiculous, so none it was!" (source) Thanks based anet devs Katy Hargrove and Kristen Perry, for making charr not just dudes with cat heads and for making the feminine character model not a catgirl respectively. Bonus thanks for the entire studio for going "we would have to model armor around 6 boobs? ok let's just not do that then".

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There's no such thing as equitable media representation until we have a lesbian version of the ambiguously gay duo where one of them is short and fat and the other is tall and thin and they're both fucking idiots.

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If you're in the notes proposing an "equivalent" to this trope where neither party is fat, you need to rethink your life.

some of you need to make your bed and have a shower with a soap that smells nice, and then sit in a chair near the window and have tea with milk and read a hardcover book and see how your creative block is after that tbh.

i'm not saying creative block isn't a real or difficult phenomenon. i'm saying creatives have a tendency to neglect themselves physically and emotionally in favor of manic bursts of productivity. a little softness and clean sheets and a bagel will go a long way. make a playlist and light the fancy candle you've been saving for a special occasion. life is a special occasion.

Always a good reminder.

Ghost legends in England: The "Grey Lady" of Weltham Manor has been sighted for six centuries. She's a lady wearing grey. Though Weltham Manor burnt down in 1904, she haunts the ruins, and is said to wail over her fate.

Ghost legends in Japan: The "Nails-Hand Lady" haunts schools in Japan. If you are in a bathroom and hear nails running along the other stall - stay still. The Nails-Hand Lady is coming for you. If you tell her she's beautiful, she'll make you a Nails Hand Lady. If you say she's ugly, she'll kill you, with her nails in her hands. If you say you think all women are beautiful, she'll thank you for respecting women, before killing you, with her nails in her hands.

Ghost legends in America: The old bar in Icetown, Michigan gets cold sometimes, even when it's only -13F outside. This is theorized to be the previous owner, or perhaps the tragic victims of the incident in the early 1900s where the bar exploded and killed like fifty people, whose fates were not reported in any newspaper. Sometimes they lament their fate by tossing over ashtrays