rif off

I was going to make an audio of the professional recording of “Stay With Me” and Ben Platt’s cover playing at the same time, but Ben’s cover is 55 seconds longer than the original because of all his riffing and now I can’t stop laughing because honestly I should’ve expected that

Even comes home to Jonas strumming on his guitar and what sounds like Mahdi beatboxing. He grins as he takes of his shoes and hangs up his jacket. He loves when the boys come over to just hang and jam around for a bit. He’s been picking up the guitar again and he and Jonas have been having fun riffing off and singing off-beat.

He’s just about to announce his presence when he hears it. Isak is rapping. Even stops walking and just stands still in the hallway, listening. The biggest grin appears on his face as he hears Isak getting into it. Unable to wait any longer, he rounds the corner.

Isak is on crouched down, a mic in his one hand, the other moving around on the beat. His eyes are closed like he is concentrating hard on the lyrics. And Even… Even is so gone for this boy.

Magnus is the first to notice him and he smiles widely and waves. Even smiles back but his eyes immediately wander back to Isak who still hasn’t noticed him.

Even is glad his boy hasn’t seen him as that gives him more time to simply watch him, dopey smile plastered on his face.

When Mahdi notices him, his beatboxing falters for a moment, making both Isak and Jonas snap their heads up to Even.

“Even! You’re home!” Isak blushes like he’s caught doing something embarrassing. Even couldn’t disagree more.

“Don’t stop on my account!” he says, crossing the room to peck Isak on the lips before settling down next to Mahdi on the couch.

Isak grins at him, cocks his eyebrow, “E-Box, gimme the beat!”

Even laughs loudly, before starting (and quite spectacularly failing) to beatbox. Mahdi takes pity on him and takes over, Jonas starts the beat up on his guitar again.

Isak winks before closing his eyes and resumes rapping.

Even is in love.


I’ve never seen the anime that this is riffing off of, but this is so great. They did a great job putting Naruto characters into these roles. Tsunade making Jiraiya jump, Madara’s “boo!”, the Akatsuki conga line, the three way dance between Kakashi, Obito and Rin. I had to watch it over and over just to catch all the little details.

riffing off the post about post-apocalyptic women hunting lipstick, I would absolutely love a post-apoc story just about people looking for seemingly ridic/mundane stuff

like that post about the guy with braces looking for a dentist to take them off

a fangirl’s quest to find the author of that one WIP whose final chapter was JUST PAST BETA when the internet went down

i mean someone looking for records or books is almost too reasonable by contrast. but someone picking up a block of cheddar from the ruins of a supermarket with holy-grail tears in their eyes bc OMG THEY CAN HAVE REAL MAC AND CHEESE

and come to think of it, someone hunting for like, dairy cultures to make different types of cheese once they get cows and milking again

a bird watcher out for binoculars, who gets into the deepest zombie territory because they spotted a particular rare birb

and ofc they’re accompanied by a troupe of ppl in full furry gear, since it’s the apocalypse, why tf not

basically i want a whole post-apoc narrative about side quests

I’m holding out for a hero to awaken the Light,
She’s gotta be strong, and she’s gotta be fast, 
     and she’s gotta be fresh from the fight!
(Racing on the Falcon and rising with the heat,
It’s gonna take a Jedi Knight to sweep me off my feet~! )

Riffing off the Disney/fairytale theme once more, because Rey is the hero we all need and I’ve always dreamed of, I’m in love…….. *__* 

also having fun with potential “level-up” Jedi outfits! (I know this is more PT than OT style, but I really like the PT tunics…) I can’t decide between Rey making her own classic lightsaber, or making a dual-bladed saber to complement her quarterstaff… the dual blade was just fun to draw :D


Dave Filoni: “To my mind, I kinda riffed off of Cate Blanchett’s Elizabeth for the performance of Satine and some of the design. I just loved the way she carried herself in that film, and it was a big inspiration for how to do this character because to have a female character that'… I wanted her to stand right there with Obi-Wan Kenobi and be every bit as smart. Stand toe to toe with him and even be a bit wiser perhaps, and I think she does that really nicely.”

stop using ‘[role] coding’ in your transformers fanfiction

listen. i don’t ever want to see anyone talk about ‘x coding’ or 'x programming’ in transformers fanfiction or meta again. that sounds harsh. here’s why

when you say something like “brainstorm is inherently violent because of his MTO coding, he has a constant urge to kill” or “ratchet/first aid is better at surgery and diagnosis because of his medical coding,” you’re doing a number of things

1) you’re straight up accepting the logic of functionism as it’s presented in the text. you know, functionism, the evil oppressive regime we see in flashbacks, the one that megatron fought a revolution against because voiceless millions were being murdered because of their shapes? the one that says you’re nothing but your body and your body wholly defines your worth, identity, and abilities? ’____ coding’ logic is fundamentally the same as functionist logic. it says that your body dictates your being.

2) you’re taking a leap from THAT and going into the logic of REAL WORLD ability and disability by implying that brainstorm, for example, is violent/crazy/[inhuman] for having MTO coding, or ratchet is more intelligent/skillful/useful for having ambulance coding, or a police officer is more protective/powerful for having x coding, or any number of variations on this i’ve seen.

by linking “is a surgeon = is naturally better at surgeon related skills,” or “was put into a combat situation at birth = more naturally violent,” you’re naturalizing these links in ways that people do **in real life** to marginalize disabled people further. people already treat disabled and mentally ill people like those things define who they are entirely lol. this is toxic. this should not go unchecked and that’s why i’m commenting now; it hurts me, as a disabled and mentally ill person.

the most egregious example, obviously, is slave coding. it’s the most blatant case of dehumanizing (for lack of a better word), objectifying, and fetishizing someone’s lack of agency, but at their root, 'coding’ and 'programming’ tropes are all based in the idea that i’s frame/function that is determinant of identity and ability.

besides all that, nothing is just… biology. people have an incredibly complicated relationship to society and social roles and history, so this is just reductive. for example, i don’t think rewind has 'dataslug coding’ that would compel him to compulsively save every scrap of information, but his relationship as a dataslug to history and his personal life would leave him with a particular relationship to his alt mode and abilities that might yield a similar result???

please just think about it for a minute in a way that doesn’t just involve concluding “oh, that must be PART OF HIS ROBOT DNA.” it’s just not necessary in any way and i think you can do better. ‘it’s just for fun’ is a shitty answer when it comes to you riffing off people– people like me– supposedly existing entirely as a function of **society voice** the disorders. so.

if anything here needs clarification or elaboration, lmk.

captainbatbrain  asked:

I think ive read every single thing on this blog i love it so much!! Lol i was hoping i could get some senerios of the phantom thieves + mishima with a gamer s/o and trying to get there attention? Thank you!

I can’t believe you enjoy my blog so much, thank you! <3 This is such a cute and fun request, so I hope you don’t if I make it a little silly lol. Enjoy!


The tapping of game controller buttons wafted throughout Leblanc’s rustic attic like the beat of a drum, with S/O as the fervent instrumentalist, their brows furrowed with a determination and concentration that was to be aspired to, particularly when performing mundane tasks, those of which Akira was currently preoccupied with. He had been fumbling with lockpicks for hours now, and one can only reiterate the same assignment until ennui begins to creep its way into the consciousness, plaguing it like a thick fog. He geared his attention toward the single person whose very presence prevented his sanity from thoroughly dilapidating.

S/O was inhabiting a universe of their own, ignorant and blissfully unaware of their current surroundings. 

“You seem to be having fun.” Akira rested his cheek upon his pal, with his elbow perched on his work-desk. As expected, he received no response, only the incessant sound of tapping buttons permeating his eardrums. His glistening onyx eyes softened at the sight of S/O tensed with such vigor. How adorable they appeared to him… truly, an exemplary target for the myriad of devious antics brewing in his mind. His lips curled in a smirk, the compulsion of teasing them too tempting to refuse.

“S/O…” Akira began, a solemn undertone in his baritone voice, “I need to tell you something.” Their subsequent grunt was likened to a neanderthal, and Akira firmly bit his lower lip to prevent himself from laughing. “I… think I’m pregnant.” He waited for their reaction with bated breath, but all that greeted his ears was another primal sound.

Shot down?! Akira thought, despondence slightly dampening his frivolous mood. Th-this is nothing… I welcome the challenge!

With a resolve that blazed like a wildfire in a parched wood, Akira sauntered to the couch that S/O was seated at and plopped down beside them, snaking his arms around their waist as he nestled his keen chin on their shoulder, his balmy breath fragrant with Arabica. His gaze was plastered on the luminescent TV screen, observing S/O’s gaming ability as he whispered commentary in a low, sensual cadence meant to imply suggestiveness. 

“You like this, don’t you?” Akira couldn’t possibly have anticipated S/O tensing even further; alas, that is precisely what occurred, much to his satisfaction, and although they neglected to reply verbally, their body language had spoken volumes. He proceeded with his mischievous jesting after a pause, “You’re doing so good, babe…" 

S/O was exceedingly conscious of his presence now, their sudden death streak and scathing scarlet cheeks serving as irrefutable evidence. Akira’s lips brushed their ear, his balmy sigh tickling it as his arms subtly constricted their waist, tugging them closer. “Your hands are almost as good as mi-”

In a foray of embarrassment, S/O promptly mashed their lips onto his conniving pair, thereby silencing his coquettish banter and causing his ebony orbs to widen with astonishment. When S/O reared back to survey his expression, an impressive ruby was painted over his once-pallid face, his mouth failing to provide a sufficient retort as it hung open.

This in turn provoked S/O’s cheeks to ignite like candle-flame as they exasperatedly exclaimed, “W-why are you embarrassed?! I guess you can dish it but you can’t it… anyway, what did you need?”

Akira feebly adjusted his glasses in an attempt to recover. “You’re pregnant.”


“I-I mean, I’m pregnant…!”

“That’s no possible! …Wh-who’s the parent?” The couple continued riffing off of one another, both exceptionally dedicated to their roles as they snuggled among their warmth, the video game long forgotten.


“Babe! Wouldja please tell me where my sweater is? I know you were wearin’ it the other day!”

Ryuji had scrutinized every nook and cranny of the bedroom in a flimsy endeavor to reunite with his favorite sweater; however, its existence had regrettably vanished, along with the blonde’s thinning patience as he redundantly called for S/O to no avail.

“Guess I’m not the only thief in this house,” Ryuji muttered, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, his leg bouncing with suppressed frustration. The only solution to this predicament was to confront S/O directly, so he trudged off to commence his search for the notorious sweater burglar. 

By no means was this the first instance of S/O pilfering his wardrobe - and to be fair, he often reciprocated the gesture, as he adored the familiar, pleasant fragrance that stained their clothes; he could only conjecture they felt the same as he - however, Ryuji had to draw the line, as the harsh bite of winter succeeded in permeating the air of the couple’s residence, and he certainly wasn’t about to tolerate it without the comfort of his favorite sweater. 

Ryuji finally found them in the living room, intently engaged in a video game via TV, adorned with… the very sweater he had so thoroughly searched for. “You little…! I knew it.” Ryuji murmured, a trace of vexation in his voice. 

Indeed, S/O seemed to be so devoted to their game that they had neglected to hear Ryuji boisterously speak next to their ear. “Hey, thief. Gimme my sweater back.” He tapped their ear as though it were a microphone. “Helloooo?”

“Quit it, I’m fighting an important boss and I’m so close to killing it,” they responded urgently, not even sparing a glance in his direction.

“Oh, I getcha…” With pure spitefulness driving his forthcoming action, he obstructed the view of the TV with his form, arms crossed as if he were a vitriolic parent. “You ready to pay attention now?”

The prominent flush that now dusted S/O’s cheeks was not the reaction he anticipated, and he stared at them with a questioning expression until they stuttered his name, their sight flitting to various areas of his body. The blonde glanced down and promptly noticed he overlooked the rationality of equipping himself with a shirt; as a result, the protruding muscles of his biceps and abdomen were fully exposed, with a keen V-shape peeking over his sweatpants.

“Oh shit, so that’s why it was so damn freezin’.” He glimpsed at S/O before pointedly reiterating, “I still want my sweater back, though. Give it.”

S/O swallowed the flustered lump in their throat as they broke out into a cold sweat, despite the crisp air around them. “W-wow, you’re so bold today, Ryuji.”

“…What are you thinkin’ in that messed up head of yours?” he sighed, stuffing his hands into his warm pockets once more prior to approaching S/O, bending at the waist to meet their gaze, the duo’s faces mere inches apart. “Are ya gonna give me my sweater, or am I gonna have to take it from ya?”

S/O began fanning their rosy face, their mind now set on teasing him as revenge for his interruption. “O-oh my, you have such a way with words…”

“Ugh, that’s it, I’m just gonna take it.” Ryuji knew better than to take their bait, as he had fallen victim to their shenanigans far too many instances throughout the years, and he had long since grown out of the bashfulness that took precedence at the start of his relationship with S/O. His hands dashed to the back of the sweater, feebly attempting to tug it up as S/O circled their arms around his bare waist, jerking him onto the couch as they cried, “Be gentle!”

“It ain’t like that, dammit…!” Ryuji quickly accepted his fate once S/O had wrapped their legs around his hips and began showering his face with playful kisses, giggling with child-like levity as they did so. 

His body was completely still, compressed against theirs as they embraced him and spoke softly in his ear. “I can see why this is your favorite sweater, it’s warm and cozy, like you… sorry for taking it. You can have it back.”

The embarrassment that Ryuji thought he had rid himself of returned posthaste, heating the majority of his body as he begrudgingly lied, “Th-that ain’t gonna work on me… but I guess you can wear it, I-I’m not really cold anymore.”

“Yeah, you’ve always been pretty hot,” S/O agreed with an inflection of mischief.

“Why am I in love with such a freakin’ weirdo…? Must be cursed or somethin’.”

Despite his words, he uplifted himself to delicately press a kiss onto their forehead before snatching the nearby blanket and covering the two of them with it. The couple shortly dozed off while they whispered sweet nothings, and S/O happening upon the sudden realization that the sought-after sweater was actually theirs.


Yusuke was able to greatly empathize with S/O’s one-track mind as they indulged in their favorite pastime, as he does the same when he’s occupied with painting or sketching. As it so happened, he was actually engaged with painting for hours on end until he had just now concluded it, thus the fault rests partially on him pertaining to S/O’s blatant disregard for his presence as they wholly absorbed themself in their portable game console as a means of distracting themself as the artist worked; their lack of acknowledgment was even more understandable when he had considered the fact that he shooed them away rather dismissively while he was busy.

“S/O, I apologize for keeping you waiting for so long. Shall I begin the movie?”
S/O ignored him almost entirely, save for the subtle pout that danced on their lips as they sunk further into their bean bag; although the couple had been monogamous for almost two years, that endearing pout never failed to stutter his swelling heart. As much as he’d love to admire them and ponder their splendor, he was well aware that he must rectify his earlier insensitivity. Therefore, he silently glided to S/O…

…and plopped right onto their lap.

“H-hey, what are you doing?!”

“Ah, it seems I’ve gotten your attention. To be honest, when Akira had instructed me to do this should I ever anger you, I was rather skeptical at first-”

“Y-Yusuke… your butt is digging into my thigh.” S/O uncomfortably wriggled underneath Yusuke, and he almost toppled off the bean bag chair had S/O not caught him at the last second, discarding their game system in order to do so. “Sorry!”

“Here, I’ll adjust my position a bit for your convenience.”

S/O shook their head in refusal. “It’s okay, I’ll spread my legs a little so you can sit too.”

Yusuke kissed their cheek with a fondness that could rival his adoration for art as snaked his lithe arms around their waist. “Your generosity knows no bounds, kitten.”

“It’s nothing… w-wait, I’m supposed to be ignoring you…!”

Yusuke chuckled triumphantly, his cadence registering in S/O’s ears like a euphoric melody as he explained, “Yes, it seems Akira was correct after all. Although next time I’ll be sure to wear a few more pairs of underwear for your comfort.”

S/O suppressed the loving smile that dared to threaten their lips and mustered their best neutral inflection as they offered, “I think you’ll need a few pillows.”
The artist’s eyes widened at such a far-fetched idea, which was clearly intended to be taken sarcastically. And yet: “H-how innovative…! Yes, I shall strap all the pillows I can find to my rear if I must do this again. Well done, my dear.”

S/O couldn’t take it anymore; how could they possibly maintain a disdainful countenance when their beloved was vastly more precious than all the iridescent gems in the world? They abruptly lurched at him, ensnaring his shoulders with their arms as the duo plummeted on the carpeted floor, with S/O on top of Yusuke, pasting a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. His arms were still wrapped around their waist, and his cheeks were kissed with a rosy-pink hue.


“…I forgive you.”

“No, that will not do, not without a proper apology. I’m sorry for my earlier impudence, and I will strive to be more attentive when you require it.”

“Yeah, me too. Let’s work on it it together, okay?” S/O’s subsequent smile was as brilliantly radiant as the morning sun, and the mirthful wink that followed their final word further twisted the arrow burrowed deep into his love-struck heart. His body moved of its own volition as he placed his palms on both of their cheeks for the purpose of descending their lips to his. After they parted, the couple flushed and averted their gazes as though they had just exchanged their first kiss, although neither of them were in any rush to alter their positions. The only commodity that motivated the two to stir was Sweeney Todd, which was the aforementioned movie Yusuke had borrowed from Haru. 

As such, they spent the duration of the night snuggled on the couch together with a bowl of freshly made popcorn warming their legs, the accompaniment of various musical numbers echoing throughout the living room.


Mishima was so incredibly centralized on his own video games - intermittently diverting his attention toward screenwriting his Phantom Thief of Hearts documentary - naturally, he had no indication that S/O was additionally participating in the activity until he finally emerged from his office, his joints popping like firecrackers from the effort. 

“Jeez, I’m not that old yet,” he murmured dejectedly, his mood already being soured due to the myriad defeats he had suffered while cooperating in a multiplayer online game.

Sometimes being a healer… is worse, he figured, his mind as gloomy as the dark circles shadowed under his bloodshot eyes. Mishima had really rather hoped S/O would be available, as he sought nothing more than the solace of their arms to nullify his ample rage and disappointment; alas, they were comfortably seated on a cushion in front of the TV, fully engrossed in their console game. He wordlessly sulked behind them and plummeted to the carpeted floor, lacing his arms around their waist as he pouted.

“I got my ass handed to me big time. Snipers show absolutely no mercy,” he mumbled to himself, since S/O certainly wasn’t listening. “Hey,” he complained, then promptly sighed. “Fine, ignore me… it doesn’t bother me one bit.”

Not even a minute passed when Mishima commenced rocking side-to-side like a metronome, chanting S/O’s name in a feeble attempt to draw their attention. “S/O, please love me. S/O, I’m an eighteen year old looking for a good time and I like long walks on the beach. S/O. Hey, S/O.” Mishima fragmented his sentences by plastering kisses on their neck, which certainly captured their attention as evidenced by their flustered countenance.

“Yuuki… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Sorry, I just need some comfort right now. Losing twenty-seven matches in a row really emasculates a guy.”

S/O shrugged as they pivoted their head away from him to conceal the playful smirk on their face. “Go take a long walk on the beach and have a good time.”

If it weren’t for his low spirits, Mishima would have laughed with the utmost amusement. “S/O… do you want me to die? Is this my punishment for taking the last yogurt cup you had?”

The entertainment in S/O’s eyes vanished entirely and was replaced by a cold, desolate void as they slowly turned toward their boyfriend. “…That was you?”

The sheer terror Mishima felt in his core nearly provoked the remainder of his spirits to astral project into another plane of existence. “C-crap…! Um, I-I’ll make it up to you, babe, promise.”

S/O narrowed their eyes at him before their emotionless facade shattered, reverting to their former levity as they proclaimed, “It’s okay, I was saving it for you anyway. I’ll get extra next time, in your favorite flavors.”

“…You’re an angel,” he commented softly, his eyes wet with bliss as he nuzzled S/O’s shoulder.

“Yuuki… are you crying?”

“That’s what happens when you look at the sun.”

“…Does that make you my moon?”

Mishima chuckled affectionately, fondly kissing their shoulder as he stated, “Yeah, I guess it does.”

i was just thinking about how much i love the aeneid because like… it’s a brilliant and radical mashup poem and when you look at some of the underlying themes it’s perfect for the modern world, but we’re so far removed from its time that we dont always realize what’s up with it. so let’s just lay out its awesomeness a little bit:

  • vergil is working very closely with the homeric epics and riffing off them
  • people arent sure when the homeric epics were composed or when they took the shape we now have them in, but it was probably approximately 800 years before vergil was writing
  • ok so what kind of world is vergil writing in?
  • augustus caesar had come into power literally like 2 years before vergil started the aeneid, and it seems like he commissioned the aeneid
  • (i’ll point out that augustus definitely wanted to spread messages through these poems but also liked his commissioned poets to keep some artistic integrity and write with their own flair)
  • anyway, augustus had come into power after a period of political turmoil and on-and-off civil warring. romans were hopeful about a strong ruler and the promise of peace but were also anxious about lots of things and were very shaken up from all the war.
  • rome is also going from a republic to a monarchical empire but augustus is trying damn hard not to make it seem that way. and augustus is kind of a god now because thats how imperial cults work
  • so vergil is supposed to write this poem about roman-ness and stuff
  • and what he does is writes in a homeric style, and he writes a story about the founding of his country, the way his country likes to tell it
  • but everything he puts in there - like, he phrases everything in his version of the founding story in ways that make it resonate with readers who are wondering whats up with their nation now
  • at the very beginning, in the first chapter, we get a wonderful speech of hope for the future and national pride, and then we’re told he was just bullshitting, he doesnt believe theres any hope for the future. he proceeds to act weak and indecisive for most of the epic
  • then he goes to carthage. which rome had actually been at war with a hundred years before vergil. we get this image of rome and carthage (aeneas and dido) falling in love, and how similar they are, how they could have joined forces and been happy, but no, he’s supposed to leave (and be destined to fight against her later) because the gods say so
  • next stop is the underworld. aeneas’ father predicts for him all of the wonderful things that the roman people are going to do. including civil war and political scuffles. and augustus’ teenage nephew or something who literally just died. like, isn’t that jarring?? writing a story about the founding of your country and you have the characters talking about your own current events. it’s gotta make you think about whether the ideals, the hopes that went into your country are in line with where it’s at now. i think that’s 100% what vergil’s going for
  • ok then literally half of the book is about a war. a pointless war that kind of happens by accident and kind of by fate. a war between the previous residents and the new residents who are about to join together into a new mestizo nation but first they gotta fight it out, family by marriage has gotta kill each other
  • so is that a way of highlighting the stupid pointlessness of civil war? or is it saying that the romans have been fighting each other and now, thank goodness, is the time to come together and reunite?
  • and it ends - jeez i love the ending - it ends with aeneas killing his main enemy unarmed and he knows it’s wrong and not very virtuous but he sees his enemy wearing the spoils of aeneas’ dead young comrade and he just lets his rage take over and that’s the end, no finale where you get to see how it all turn out. thats it

that got long and none of it is very original and to some degree we cant know what was going on in the minds of the aeneid’s writer and readers, but i guess all im saying is that if you live in america in 2017 and you feel down about the future of democracy and feel that you live in a divided nation and can’t help turning to history and the picture we paint of how the country and the modern world came to be… i think vergil felt the same way, and i think his poem is a lot like modern creative people’s responses to current events.

But Mike Pence...!!!

People asking who would be the “worst” Republican president—Trump or Pence—are as foolish as people asking is racism “worse” from northerners or southerners. It’s a false choice. Anti-blackness destroys black lives no matter WHO it’s coming from, and when you begin thinking that one evil is “more acceptable” than another, just because it’s coming from a “different” person, then you’ve already lost the argument and any moral high ground.

Similarly, the people now saying “But Pence will be worse than Trump” are also mistaken…….it’s almost like they’re incapable of thinking beyond a binary “lesser of two evils” mindset.

Forget the “lesser of two evils” for a moment. Focus on doing as much good as possible, and focus on doing what’s right: Trump very obviously broke the law. Repeatedly. And for that he deserves impeachment, and he needs to be removed from office. Period.

It’s completely unsurprising that many Democrats, so used to fighting from a position of weakness, are actually arguing to keep a Republican POTUS in office—you would never ever ever catch Republicans making up those excuses with Obama or Hillary Clinton, no matter who their VP was. Republicans would not hesitate if the roles were reversed, and they were given an opportunity to impeach a Democratic president caught breaking the law and committing treason.

This is an easy decision. Super easy. Please stop trying to make it into some complex equation.

Just do what’s right.

If we can get Pence after Trump’s impeachment—and it looks like he’s just as culpable in knowingly taking Russian assistance—then we go after him too.

It really is that simple.

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Here’s what I’ve gathered about Mark’s latest mindfuck

1) Each day he’s adding more letters to the screen with the cutouts and as of today I’m pretty sure it’s going to say “Markiplier Died” or “Markiplier Dies”

2) The video seems to show a scrap of a photograph, someone else pointed out that when you look at the video while enhanced you can see a shoulder in the torn edge of the photo, signifying that it’s probably been torn up by somebody intentionally to cut someone out of it.

3) The “security cam” screenshots seem to suggest a FNAF sort of vibe for this project? Also they say “destination little buddy on them” and someone else pointed out he calls Tiny Box Tim his little biscuit so maybe it’s going to be riffing off of that but idk.

So with all of that compounded I feel like this is going to possibly another choose your own adventure??? Except maybe instead of just branching off in a story it’ll be us actually having to solve some type of mystery, like who killed Mark or something along those lines. I’ve seen people speculate that maybe this is the fabled Danger in Fiction 3, but since Daniel passed away and Matt and Ryan no longer really work with Mark I don’t feel like that’s the answer.

PLEASE feel free to add on any additional ideas!

So basically you can’t talk to @mittensmorgul about anything, or it just goes all

And in this case it’s trying to explain, like, the ENTIRE tangled web behind the whole “crypt scenes” thing and why we even call it that when it starts with a thread beginning in 1x22 with John throwing off Azazel to save Dean, and ends up with me yelling at my screen when a tan-coat-wearing brainwashed dude answering to a heaven-like organisation is waving a gun at some random hunter whose only crime is being adorable and loosely romantically connected to Sam, and declaring it Prime Destiel Subtext.

This is the wire tangle in my brain that explains it :P 

Details under the cut with the image above just so you can visualise all the bits of string, I guess, unless you can read my handwriting (on a browser, anyway, you can click the image to get it in a pop out, then right click, view in a new window, and view it in life size, and I used a LARGE sketchbook for it so life size is big ass spaghetti ramblings), in which case you get a prize. 

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anonymous asked:

Oh wow, until you wrote it down couldn't put my finger on it, but Cercei does dislike being touched by anyone she doesn't regard as an extension of herself... A result of Tywin's weird take on sexuality I guess? It's one of the main differences between her and Jaime, I think. He seems to dislike this distance between him and most other human beings, and seems to really enjoy human contact when he gets it (ie Brienne, even when they weren't fond of each other).

It’s kind of hard to separate book and show Cersei here just like it’s always hard, they’re so different. But I will do so! 

Cut for length and references to literary portrayals of mental illness.

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