The Haunted House, dir. Buster Keaton & Eddie Cline, 1921.
the full film is up on youtube if you want to watch this Halloween! 🎃
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

izzy's playlists!

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Show & Tell
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taylor price
hello vonnie
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Stranger Things

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
$LAYYYTER

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KIROKAZE
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Three Goblin Art

Discoholic 🪩
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@milynya
The Haunted House, dir. Buster Keaton & Eddie Cline, 1921.
the full film is up on youtube if you want to watch this Halloween! 🎃
kiiiiiss
I got permission to draw @eedlitamm’s wonderful idea of Lord of the rings characters as Disney style animals, which are listed and described in this post, please go and check it out it’s amazing✨✨✨
Thanks again @eedlitamm for letting me know me draw your wonderful idea! I might do all characters in a different post later on! This was so so fun!!!
Different Stories Resonate with Different People
I will always reblog this.
I once spent three hours scouring the internet to find this comic again, I will not let that be repeated.
What the flock?! such smart names!
Science should let more cartoonists name things. That how we got the thagomizer and the Rube Goldberg machines. Anyways! SHERLOCK CROWMES!!!!!
Check out my stuff!
✧Read Namesake✧ ✧Read Crow Time✧ ✧Store✧ ✧Patreon✧
Do you hear the people sing?
*.*
Fingolfin’s Challenge - 14 year redraw edition
This drawing, and this moment, mean so much to me. I first drew this scene 14 years ago, and when I uncovered the old drawing a few months ago, I knew I had to redraw it. Old drawing and close ups are under the cut:
who put all these dramatic bitches in the same room
So I’m obsessed with the idea that Dragon Age very clearly established that the elven religion is something reconstructed. That the tales and mythology are fragmented and oftentimes just wrong. I love that from the beginning, you were never meant to take anything at face value—nothing was sacred, not even the gods themselves. You were always supposed to question everything you’ve been told about these religious figures, and Inquisition just brought all of that into sharper focus. It wasn’t a sudden twist, it was the culmination of a slow unraveling. There’s this constant undercurrent of digging through the ruins of a broken culture, piecing together a puzzle with half the pieces burned or deliberately hidden.
And what makes it even more fascinating is how that mirrors how religious stories form in the real world. Mythologies evolve in layers—oral traditions get reshaped, gods get rebranded, stories shift based on who holds power. The “truth” gets filtered through so many lenses: politics, translation errors, cultural shifts. And Dragon Age leans into that messiness. It understands that belief isn’t built on facts—it’s built on stories that feel true, even when they’re not. And even when they are, they’re incomplete.
What’s wild, though, is that Dragon Age goes one step further than real life: it actually lets you meet the mythological figures. In the real world, you never get that. You can’t just ask Odin or Osiris what really happened. But in Dragon Age, even when you do meet them, you still don’t get the full truth. Because Solas has his own perspective, his own regrets, his own justifications and he’s not an objective narrator. He’s biased. He’s emotional. He wants to be understood, but he also wants to be right. So even when you’re getting the “truth” straight from the source, you’re still left questioning it. That’s such a powerful narrative move because it reinforces that theme of uncertainty. That history is never clean. That even gods are unreliable witnesses.
And now Veilguard is pushing this idea even further. It doesn’t just deconstruct the mythology, it confronts it head-on. The elven gods were real, in the sense that they existed, had power, shaped the world. But the way the Dalish revere them? That’s a myth. And both the characters and the players have to wrestle with that. There’s this moment of reckoning: the figures you thought you knew, the lore you trusted, even the stories the earlier Dragon Age games told you, they weren’t lies, exactly, but they weren’t the full picture either. And that’s commentary on storytelling itself. Even in a game—where you assume you’re seeing the “canon,” the definitive version—it reminds you that you’re still only getting a perspective. That video games, like history, can withhold, mislead, or simply evolve over time.
The combined version
So sorry i dont dare to upload higher res coz internet's behaviour these days always make me nervous. But: enjoy🤩
This high school drumline’s incredible performance included only drumstick
Impressive
My thoughts as I watched:
“Heh, that’s cute.”
“Okay, that’s cool.”
“Dude.”
*reblogs*
Anne Hathaway as Fantine my beloved ❤️
Dear golden boy, whose love language is physical touch
Dear beloved partner, who tends to keep his distance
// cn server spoilers, new big event pv
sorry, posting the full pv here because the theme song is SO DAMN GOOD
IT'S SUCH A BANGER??? AND APPARENTLY IT WAS THE BOYS' CN VAs SINGING HERE??? IM OBSESSED
WE!! ARE !!CONNECTED!!!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️
Added the promised second part y’all!
@oidingus, hope you don't mind, I just had to.
~~~
The first thing Jayce is aware of is the inconfoundable feeling of Viktor. Next to him, around him, intertwined atom for atom.
Anything else would be secondary.
When the rest of reality coalesces back into something his brain can process and quantify, his senses come back online like circuits, lighting up one by one and instantaneously.
Touch, hearing, sight, smell. Viktor, solid in his arms, still wrapped in the soft blanket Jayce had draped over his new body, his arms around Jayce's shoulders, hands clenched in the fabric of his coat. Viktor, breathing quick and quiet next to his ear. Viktor, the pale curve of one mole-dotted shoulder peeking from his covering, and his hair gleaming under sunlight, long and fading into that pale color, like sweetmilk poured into coffee. Viktor, clutched so close in his hands, Jayce can taste the faint ozone crackle of the Arcane lingering on his skin.
Viktor, his honey eyes looking at Jayce, wide, disbelieving, alive.
"Jayce," he says, in his soft voice. The slight stretch of the 'A', cradled tenderly. The silky softness of the 'C', sibilant, always - somehow - sensual, even when Viktor was calling his name for the fourth time from across the lab at three in the morning.
Jayce has Viktor in his arms and they are alive.
"It worked," Jayce whispers, and his hands are already cradling Viktor's face. A laugh bursts out of him from some place he thought had been buried in a gulch forgotten by the apocalypse. "IT WORKED!"