Untitled

[trapcard]

she snapped

[honestlyprettychill]

hOLY SHIT BARBIE <3 <3

[craftydruidxo]

Jesus. Who knew Barbie could make me feel literally anything.

[xanddra]

I know I've been stuck in this rut for some time too, but damn, for something marketed to pre-teen girls, that's a lot for anyone to work on.

[yamino]

This was originally going to be a lot longer, but I ran out of steam! I have some thoughts to continue it later if I feel up to it!

-Yamino

P.S. Shoutout to my wife @summerlightning for helping me bounce off ideas and editing the text!

[jinglyjangly]

I dont want bethesda to ever get rid of how fo4 does cutscenes because there is just something special about talking to someone and having a vertibird kill you both in the middle of it

[falloutuniverse]

I snorted

[the-dubstep-strawberry]

I don’t think there’s a better example of the above than this:

[vkm11-deactivated20220316]

Uh excuse me, how can we forget this classic and masterpiece

[keystoneway]

I still like this one

[renelaru]

How about this old gold

[calloutfour]

rebloggin again because it got better

[rudyred34]

The second to last one with the fake cult leader happened to me too! Why does the Brotherhood keep crashing its vertibirds into the amphitheater??

[xanddra]

I'm laughing way too hard at these.

[writing-prompt-s]

Your wife changes her hair color every season and her personality adjusts slightly. You’re secretly only in love with Autumn wife. She just came home sporting her Winter color.

[inkskinned]

it’s my fault. it’s just that when we met it was autumn; her red-orange hair and crackling laughter. there’s a little spooky in her, a lot of play. and what a better time for falling?

i didn’t realize it for the first few years - something shifting, something so subtle. the winter makes us all cold, the summer makes us all a little out of our minds. i just loved her, because she was incredible, and i was the luckiest person alive.

it’s just that i realized that spring came with sudden bursts of cold. it’s just that summer frequently raged in with fire sprouting from her lips. it’s just that winter was the worst of all, her eyes dead. it’s just that autumn loves me different; throws herself into it without the clingy sweat of summer. i used to love that summer girl, you know? i loved how wild she was, the way in summer she took every risk she could. but i carried her home drunk one too many times, cleaned up one too many of the messes she made for no reason than to enjoy the sensation of burning. and winter was worse; the shutdown, the isolation. how she became distant, a blizzard, caught up in her own head, unable to tell me what was wrong and unable to think i actually wanted to listen.

she comes home, her hair bleached white. a dark smile on her lips. the shadowy parts of her are back. they loom like icicles overhead. she kisses me with her body held at a distance, a peck on my cheek that feels like an iceberg. she makes polite conversation and we go to bed early, our bodies untouching. 

it is a lonely season, i think on the ninth day of this. winter is cold. winter is known for the death of things. when i look at her, i see the girl i fell for, inhabited by an alien. she was the first women i loved so much i felt it would kill me. i can’t leave. when i wake her up with my crying, she tells me to shush and go back to sleep. she’s different like this, quiet, doesn’t eat. 

three days later i stare at myself in the mirror. i wonder if it’s me. if the fat on my body or something in my face or the wrinkles and she doesn’t love me. i try prettier lingerie, lean cuisine, i try different hair, more makeup, try harder. it doesn’t work. she looks at me the same; that empty gaze that neither loves nor condemns my actions. 

somewhere in februrary i lose it. we’re fighting again, from car to restaurant to car to home again. we fight about stupid things, small things; i tell her i feel she doesn’t love me, she says i’m not listening. the circle goes around and around, old pain peeling back, new pain unhealing. i sleep on the couch.

i wake up when i hear her crying, white hair around her all messed up. the kind of sobbing that only comes at two in the morning, heavy and thick and hurting. my winter girl. my heart is breaking. she looks up at me like i’m her anchor. “i’m sorry i’m like this,” she says. and i start saying, it’s okay i’m here we’re married, but she just shakes her head and says, “I know this isn’t the real me.”

i hold her cold hand. she stares at the blankets. “i am different in winter,” she whispers, “i know i am and i’m sorry.” she looks at me. “why do you think i dye my hair? cut it off? get rid of the old me?”

i tell her it’s okay. we’re together and it’s okay, and then she whispers, “i’m sorry you married four of me.”

we lay there like that, her head on my chest. she falls asleep. i stare at the ceiling, thinking of the way she sounded when she was crying. how i helped put her in that pain. how i promised in sickness and in health and everything in between.

the next day i spend at the library. there aren’t enough books on how to love someone with seasonal affective disorder so i make my own, notes and pages and little ideas on post-its. and i take a deep breath and make myself a promise.

she comes home to her favorite dinner and we kiss and she’s uneasy but that’s okay. the next day i bring home flowers and the next day she finds little love notes in her pockets. i love her quiet, the way winter demands, understand her sex drive is faltering; spend more time just cuddling. we drink wine and we kiss and some part of her starts relaxing. 

the truth is there is no loving someone out of their mental illness. the truth is that you can love someone in despite of it; love them loud enough to give them an excuse to believe they can make their way out of it.

and i learn. i remember the rebirth of spring, when she starts thawing. we kiss and have picnics in pretty dresses. i remember her joy at little birds and her rain dancing. i fall in love with the flowers in her cheeks and the little bursts of cleaning. i fall in love with summer’s slow walks and milkshakes and shouting to music playing too loud on the speakers. i fall in love with her dancing, with the sunfire energy. and when winter comes; i am ready. i remember that snow used to look pretty. i fall in love with the hearth of her, with the holiday, with the slow smile that spreads across her face so shyly. i fall in love with how she looks in boots and mittens and every day i find another reason to love her the way she deserves - they way i always should have.

she comes home with her white hair and dark smile and a package in her hands. i ask to see what it is and that small shy grin comes creeping out. it’s a sunlamp packed in with medication. she looks at me with those wide eyes and that beautiful winter blush. “i’m trying to get better,” she whispers, “i promise.”

recovery doesn’t look immediate. sometimes it isn’t neat. i can’t say we never fight or that we’re suddenly complete. but each day, that tiny girl’s strength gives me another reason. i love her. i love her while she tames the roller coaster of spring; i love her for reigning in the summer storms; i love her for taking her winter and trying to be warm. it is hard, because everything worth it is hard. she spreads out her autumn leaves; mixes the best parts of her into everything. learns to take winter’s silence for a moment before yelling in summer. learns to take autumn’s spice and give it to spring. we are both learning.

one day she comes home and her hair is different, but it’s a style i don’t know. i kiss it and tell her that she’s beautiful and the inside of me swells like a flood. i’m so glad that she’s mine. every part of her. the whole. i am the luckiest person on earth. and i always have been. but she’s hugging me and saying, “thank you for helping me,” and i can’t explain why i’m crying.

this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.

this is what love looks like in an autumn girl: it is winter and she glows.

[sarahakele]

I’m actually sobbing jesus christ

[whyisthisfrenchguymasturbating]

my heart is aching??? this is gorgeous

[imjustbeingfriendly]

Wow. Worth the read, don’t scroll.

[bannableoffense-deactivated2018]

This is everything.

Everything about how to love.

[mr-prism]

I was not prepared

[mindlevelzero-deactivated202208]

Nor was I.

“this is what love is; not always an emotion but rather your actions. the choices we make when we realize our lives would be empty if the other was absent. this is what love is: letting them grow, helping them find their way in out of the cold. this is what love is: sometimes it takes work to see how the thing you planted together actually grows.”

[hypdom-deactivated20180116]

Honestly, if you scrolled… Go back up and read it.

[clearnutartisan-deactivated2019]

I’ve read this again and again, and it just wrecks me every time.

[writing-prompt-s]

This is beyond beautiful. Thanks for doing this prompt @inkskinned

[steveargyle]

Goodybye, Overwatch Retribution.  Though the Legendary Achievement eluded me at the last moment many times, it was always a great ride.  I’m gonna miss you.

[xanddra]

At least it's a known annual thing now.

Maybe next year you can help carry a fan :p

[writing-prompt-s]

While putting your favorite condiment on a sandwich, you accidentally make a magical occult symbol and summon a demon.

[teawitch]

You silently take two more slices of bread out of the package and make another sandwich. You put it on a plate with a handful of potato chips and hand it to the demon. He takes the sandwich, smiles and vanishes in a puff of demonic smoke. The next day you get that job promotion you were after. There was no contract. No words spoken. You owe nothing. But every now and then, another demon pops in for lunch. Demons don’t often get homemade sandwiches. 

[geeko-sapiens]

Can I keep this going? I’m going to keep this going.

It would be a little annoying, if they weren’t so nice about it. You don’t know what you expected demons to be like, but you certainly didn’t expect them to be nice about it. There’s no demands, no voices like wailing babies, no blood on the walls (well, there was that one time, but Balthazak was very apologetic about the whole thing and cleaned it up right quick). Just the occasional demon stopping by for lunch. In fact, you could almost forget that they weren’t just ordinary people, the way they act. Nice people, too. 

You start talking with them, as time goes on. In the beginning you carefully pick your words so they couldn’t be spun to even imply a contract or reference a soul, but when they seem politely eager to have a normal chat, your words become a bit looser. You even begin gossiping with them - turns out, demons have breakroom gossip just like anyone else. You listened to Rek’ththththtyr’s account of Drokyarix’s torrid affair with Irkilliz, and Ferkiyan didn’t even know what Drory was doing behind his back, poor dear, and you kept quiet and let Ferkiyan cry on your shoulder after Drokyarix finally broke up with him (the shirt was a bit of a loss, demon tears are ruinous to cloth, but Ferkiyan’s a good sort and you couldn’t just turn him away). You even managed to talk him down from going and starting a fight with Irkiliz, who didn’t even know that Drokyarix was in a relationship, and who was almost as horrified as Rek’ththththtyr. 

After that event in particular, you start to get a sort of a reputation as a place where a demon can come to relax, talk, and - of course - get a sandwich. Your sandwich-making skills have really improved since this whole thing began. Your luck seems to have improved too - you’re not sure if you can attribute the whole thing to the sandwiches and the reputation, but you don’t really want to know anyway. 

One day, there’s a bright flash of light from your living room. Nothing unusual in itself - most of the younger demons haven’t quite got the style of their elders, and usually just go for a materialization in a flash of hellfire over your fireplace - except that it’s white instead of the usual red. You look up, and who do you see but an angel looking at you with a spear in his hand. Shrugging, you tell him to sit down and you’ll have a sandwich for him shortly, and meanwhile he can just tell you all about what’s on his mind. This clearly is not at all what he was expecting, but after a moment’s thought, he decides to take you up on your offer and starts talking. Apparently, he’d been dispatched to take care of some demon summoner in the neighborhood, and while he’d evidently got the wrong house the right one shouldn’t be hard to find - have you seen anyone practicing satanic rituals nearby? You laugh, a little, and tell him that you don’t really summon them, they just come on their own. They do like their sandwiches, and they’re quite nice folk. 

The angel’s jaw drops, and you remind him to chew with his mouth closed. 

[just-for-ship]

And I’m going to take this even further. Here we go.

It took a bit of explaining with the first angel to arrive. Telling him about the first accidental summoning and then how the demons just started stopping by around lunch time on your days off. But once he understood what’s been going on (and finished his sandwich) he nodded solemnly and said he would get this all straightened out “upstairs.”

You eventually start getting more angels coming around for lunch. Sometimes they bring a small dessert for you to share after the sandwiches, and the dishes are always magically clean and back in the cupboard when they leave.

You lean that angels don’t have much of their own drama, but they do know all the truths about human tabloid drama and they’re more than willing to dish on what the Kardashians have been up to.

The first time an angel and a demon show up for lunch on the same day is a little tense. You tell them that ALL are welcome for lunch in your house and that you would prefer it to be a no-conflict zone. It takes a while for them to settle, but eventually they grow comfortable enough to start chatting. Which is when you learn that because demons are technically fallen angels, you’ve been having two sides of an estranged family over for lunch regularly.

Soon, you have an angel and a demon at every lunch. Old friends and estranged siblings meeting up to reconnect over a sandwich at your dinning room table. You help the ones who had a falling out reach an understanding, and you get to hear wild stories of what the “old realm” was like.

One day, as you’re pulling out the bread and cheese, a messenger demon appears. You greet him and tell him a sandwich will be ready soon, but he declines. He is here on behalf of Lucifer to ask if it’s alright by you for him to “enter your dwelling so as to meet with his brother Michael over sandwiches.”

A little stunned, you agree. The demon disappears and you prepare three sandwiches, setting them at the table.

When Lucifer (the actual devil!) appears in small puff of smoke, you welcome him and ask what he’d like to drink. As you’re fetching the apple juice, a blinding flash of light comes from the dinning room indicating Michael’s arrival. You grab a second cup and walk back in to find a tense stand off between the brothers. You set down the cups and juice while calmly reminding them that this is a conflict-free zone, and if they are going to fight, please take it to an alternate plane of existence.

They don’t fight. They sit and enjoy the sandwiches and talk about what happened. You learn a lot about why creation started, what the purpose of humanity was and what it’s grown to be. You only have to diffuse two arguments. And at the end when it’s time for them to leave, they hug each other, agreeing to meet up again somewhere else.

In the following weeks you have the usual assortment of demons and angels stopping by. The regulars ask how you’re mom is doing and if your friend is settling in to their new apartment nicely. At some point during each visit though, they ask if it’s true. Did Lucifer and Michael really come for lunch? You tell them yes, but won’t say what was talked about. They’re disappointed, everyone likes the gossip, but they understand. Before they leave, you ask each angel and demon about this idea you have for the summer, what if you had a barbecue on the back patio for everyone who wanted to come? They think it sounds like a fun idea.

[mxrage8]

Yep, I’m picking up, here we go!

Everyone had a lot of fun at the barbecue. There wasn’t much fighting, but some sparks and noises made you grateful your neighbors were either out of town or older/deaf. There was a great three-legged race and a small football game with parties on all sides involved, you’d never fixed so much food before.

Then, two latecomers. Angels and demons alike gasped in shock and parted like the Red Sea (Which, apparently, is a VERY exaggerated story) to let them pass.

You smile warmly and ask what they’d like. Both decline to answer that, looking at each other awkwardly. The demon bows its head to let the angel speak first.

God Himself heard the fun and wanted to come join the barbecue.

You look at the messenger demon, the same one as before, and as you insist that “Oh, you really should stay this time!”, you’re told that Lucifer ALSO wants to come to your barbecue.

You look between the two. You tell them you won’t deny one or the other, but that they must keep in mind that this is a neutral zone and you won’t have their conflicts interfere with the atmosphere.

Both vanish momentarily (after each taking a plate of food). There’s a long, awkward silence.

Lucifer arrives first, flash of fire in the firepit, coming over to get a burger. He doesn’t look… displeased. But he’s not necessarily happy.

There’s a beautiful flash of white light and a rainbow, and then God descends onto your back porch. Your long-dead flowers spring back to life in His presence. Shit, now you actually have to go back to taking care of them.

The two regard each other from across the backyard. There’s still complete silence from the crowd of angels and demons.

You clear your throat. “What do you two want to eat? I have burgers, hot dogs, chicken, and some vegetarian alternatives.”

They slowly look at you. You return each of their gazes. “This is a no-conflict zone. We’re all here to have a good time at a good barbecue.”

More silence. Then, Lucifer dishes himself a burger and goes to prepare it the way he wants. God approaches calmly and looks over your vegetarian palette (Not the best, but it would do in a quick pinch, you found out just yesterday that some of the attendees would be vegetarian), fixing Himself some food as well.

As this goes on, the others begin to relax, and soon, everyone goes back to having a good time. The food is great, desserts brought by your angelic guests really compliment the meals you cooked, nobody starts sacrificing anybody or arguements (except later there’s a massive water gun/water balloon fight that knocked Michael into the fire pit and got ashes all over his bRAND NEW ROBES, DROKYARIX! but everyone laughed it off and carried on), and as you sit on your porch, taking in the sights, you wonder to yourself if you should do this kind of thing more often, and if you would have had this situation any other way.

Nope, you decide, when God hits Lucifer with a water balloon as he’s trying to refill his super soaker, you really wouldn’t have this any other way.

[the-void-is-sapphic]

This is so wholesome

[xanddra]

One of my favorite stories from this blog.

[dasebeleren]

The Loxodon in the Room

Assuming that there’s some corporate red tape preventing the writers from diving into explicit queer representation and that said writers did as much as they were allowed to do, this still sucks. I truly believe that the best intentions were at play here when going as far as allowed with Chandra and Nissa, but ultimately it just gave LGBT players false hope with no impactful followthrough. Is well meaning queerbaiting still queerbaiting? I would say yes. 

And that’s not okay.

I stan @wizardsmagic far more than most because the game means the world to me, but I can’t do it anymore. Not with this issue. The folks at Wizards of the Coast need to figure out if their claims of support and inclusivity are compatible with whatever the higher-ups say they cannot do. You have a lot of great people working on the game. You have a lot of queer people working on the game. Figure it out. Get back to us when you have a recurring, story-relevant, explicitly LGBT planeswalker. If you can’t do that, please don’t make promises you aren’t allowed to keep. No matter how good your intentions are, you’ll just end up breaking thousands of hearts.

[wristmilk]

This is a 13+ game.  Why is the sexuality of the characters appearing in the game at all?  I consider that a problem.  Better start thinking of 18+ avenues to put this material…

[xanddra]

Wow, that's a pretty big hill to be on currently...

[loreleywrites]

Do you think we will see one last banning before this format rotates, or will they leave the Scarab God to run amok until he rotates into obscurity? All I can say, is I hope the next eternal format excludes Kaladesh. I will be sad to see Amonkhet go, but Ixalan and Dominaria seem like a bold move forward.

Brawl isn’t an eternal format. When Kaladesh and Amonkhet rotate out of Standard, they’ll rotate out of Brawl too.

[xanddra]

This is the only reason why I don’t have any interest in Brawl. I get the chance to play Paper MTG about once every 3 months or so due to work, so being pegged into the same restriction as Standard doesn’t make it feasible. Maybe if something changes in the near future, but until then, sad pass.

[writing-prompt-s]

You are in a meeting with God where everyone is discussing about how there is no good left in the world as hell is where everyone is going. As the person who keeps account of everyone’s karmas, you realise you haven’t been keeping record of the good being done in the world.

[captain-trash-cannot-deactivate]

My job was to document good things and bad things. To tally points for judgement day. I was there when a human hit their significant other, or treated a dying person. I kept tally of the big things. After the meeting, I was going over my notes. The lists were scrawled with red. Stealing, murder, rape. The list went on and on. Green marks were a rarity, things like mission trips to give foreign aid, and developing a plan to end world hunger.

I never spent much time on earth. I mostly observed, but I had to understand why everyone had abandoned doing good. So, I took a physical form, and went to observe.

I landed in New York, one of the most red cities on my maps. I had millions of robberies and murders marked for this place. This would be a good place to observe.

First, I went to one of the poorer neighborhoods, where my lists practically soaked in red ink, and sat in a small coffee shop. People came and went, but I did not see anything bad happening. People were just going about their day. This obviously wasn’t the best place to observe. I stood to leave and find a better place when a man burst in the door holding a gun. I could feel a familiar radar ping in my head. Red.

“Everybody on the ground!” He screamed, and while I was immortal, I complied. “Open the register!” He yelled at the cashier. She shakily moved to open it.

It was so faint, I barely noticed it. A less familiar tingle at the base of my skull. Green. How could something good be happening right now? I ignored it. A fluke, surely, and continued watching the man with the gun.

“Shhh. Keep quiet, okay honey?” I turned my head. There was a woman with her arms around a little boy, laying on the ground. “I know you’re scared. But you’re gonna be just fine.”

Green.

Something like this had never popped up in my notes. I dealt in big things, with real impacts. This was faint, barely there, but good nonetheless. A mother consoling her child? That was just normal.

“I wanna go to my new mommies.” The boy whispered, eyes filling with tears. A quick look into his mind found that he was a foster child, and this woman was a social worker, bringing him to meet his new family. They stopped for hot chocolate.

I peeked into the woman, and found red. Stealing when she was young, getting arrested, the list went on. But there, in a little corner of her head, was green. Faint, but it was there. In that small corner I found smiling faces, little kids being taken from bad situations. These were small things, tiny instances that never popped up in my notes. I stopped my analysis when I felt another tingle, and turned to see an older man on the ground, flowers in hand, and eyes shut tight.

He was very red, older ones always were. He was in his fifties, and had been witness to murder, had run over a child while drunk, had been convicted for domestic violence against his husband, arrested numerous times. How could this man have even a shred of green? He disgusted me, human and flawed, he had caused pain.

But still, that little spark of green was there, and I delved into it. Inside, I saw a woman, bound in a wheelchair. She had a baby today, against all odds. He was going to congratulate her. She wasn’t his daughter, or a relative of any kind.

She was the girl he ran over. She survived. A little deeper, and I found him emptying his pockets to pay for her treatment, doing his time for what he had done, going to AA because he knew he had gone too far. He was a horrible man, bathed in red, but he did little things to fix it.

All of my observations had taken a nano-second. I was reeling, trying to understand what I was seeing. And I felt it. So faint I barely felt it, so quiet.

It was him. The shooter. He was glowing a red like few I had seen at his age. He was 20 at the most, but he had done bad things. Bad things, so many, gong back to ten years old. He was a bad man, how could he have even a hint of green?

I was sucked in involuntarily this time. I saw a boy, young and helpless, on the streets. He had nothing, barely a cent. I saw a teenager, and a baby that his girlfriend didn’t want. I saw a young father, single and poor, and doing everything he could to take care of his daughter. I saw hospitals, and a desperate man who couldn’t pay for his dying child. He was doing a bad thing. He was robbing, threatening lives.

Because he had no choice. He was doing a bad thing but it was for a good reason.

I has never thought of it like that. Far away from earth, things were black and white. There was no gray, there was no good reason for bad things. Were humans really this complicated? How could this man, bathed in red, be anything but horrible?

With a flick of my hand, I found myself doing something I didn’t think I ever would. His phone rang. He kept his gun trained on the cashier, and pulled it from his pocket. I knew what the ID said. He answered.

“Hello?” There was a pause, and his eyes widened. He slowly lowered his gun, and I could see the green glow a little brighter. “Who?” The gun dropped, and he glowed a little brighter. “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, and looked at the cashier. “My name is Christian Matthew Young. If you want to report me, that’s the name.” He glowed brighter. “But I have to go. I won’t resist if they arrest me.” He picked up his gun and fled.

An anonymous donor had just payed for his daughter’s treatment. Choosing not to do something bad was not a category on my list.

But it should be.

A walk down the street found tiny bits of green in everyone. Even those who glowed blood red. Tiny things, holding a door, dropping a few bucks in a cup. Why did I never see these things? I had never known that humans we’re so complicated. They did bad things, all of them. But I did not see one person without at least a speck of green. Bad things are always big. But good things can be as small as making amends, saying sorry, dropping a gun.

And when I stopped to look at streets filled with red, and I let all of the good melt together, people brushing past, walking quickly and slowly, if I let all the green of every person combine, it overpowered the red in a way I could never imagine.

They were good. Maybe not individually, but as a race, they were good.

On a hunch, I flew back to the clouds, and I looked at the entire planet. I let myself see the green specks, and what I saw made me realize mistake.

It was overpowering, the planet was bathed in it, glowing brightly. I had just never let myself see it. I had spent eons separating humans and looking at individual acts. But when I let all the good things add up…

The entire planet was green.

[xanddra]

Holy hell, this is amazing.

[xanddra]

Sketch n Skotch Tuesdays

Is this starting this week @steveargyle @katsuryn, or some future time? Haven't seen it on Social Channels yet if it is, but that could be blindness/FB Reach.

[writing-prompt-s]

You were once the most powerful villain. You retired early and are engaged to a minor super hero who isn’t aware of your past. They are about to be killed right before your eyes..but you step in.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

 She asks him why maybe a dozen times before they decide to get married. It’s not hard to figure out where he goes in the little hours of the morning, not hard to follow him to the edges of forests and abandoned towns and deserts, not hard to smell the spandex, blood and sweat that he wears home. He’s always got bags under his eyes and dirt under his nails and the blood that stains their welcome mat is more often his than not.

So she asks him why before they decide to get married because for all her mysteries, she can’t have him be one.

(Hypocrite isn’t the worst name she’s ever been called.)

He hardly looks surprised at the question, lips quirking as his fingers find the condensation on the glass in front of him. He runs his forefinger up the side, the move thoughtlessly seductive, before drawing it away. The water follows, a thin stream of twisting molecules for a long moment before the tension snaps and it forms a circle hovering above the pad of his finger.

“I may not be a Superhero,” he says, “or even a hero. But when I needed someone, when I really needed someone, a superhero was there. It’s an amazing thing to experience. The rescue. The salvation. It’s…indescribable. It makes you thankful in way you didn’t know you could be.” He allows the water to drop to the diner table and gives her a warm, nostalgic smile. “I want everyone to have that, even if it’s just some guy in a mask with a spray of water at his command. I became Zone for that and I’ve never regretted it. Not once. ”

She’s surprised by the moisture gathering at the corners of her eyes. She hasn’t cried in public for years, normally doesn’t even have to worry about the possibility after years of being on guard. That’s what’s special about Gannon; he makes her feel vulnerable and safe all at once. Comforted. Able to exist within herself, at peace.

She reaches past her empty breakfast plate to cover his hand with her hot palm. The smile she returns is new, her most precious treasure and something she’d never think twice about giving him.

He’s the one who helped her find it after all.

Keep reading

[xanddra]

Holy shit!

[steveargyle]

Updates to www.steveargyle.com, including my event calendar, with definitive pre-order opening dates!  Almost like I know what I’m doing!  (Don’t be fooled though, I totally don’t.)

Oh, P.S. GP Seattle pre-orders are open. ;P

[xanddra]

Did something come up with Phoenix, or did that get accidentally on purpose left out?

[xanddra]

Question was answered on stream (twitch.tv/SteveArgyle Tuesday nights at 8 Mountain Time), and it’s because it’s not 100% confirmed with Cascade if he’s coming. It’s closer to 95%, so I’m not concerned, but I may have to hike to Vegas.

[ascendedminionprime]

Spoiler in a question

Am I the only one who thinks that it was a stupid idea for Wizards to…

Keep reading

[xanddra]

I think it may have been previously announced, or at least hinted to. As for the question at hand, Nothing’s changing. Anything that said “target player” now has been changed to “Target Player or Planeswalker”. I think Doom was correct in that nothing’s really changing outside of being able to narrow the laser down if needed. They’ve already been targeting Planeswalkers for a while now, so now it’s more of a laser point where they can say something like “+1: Deal 1 damage to target player, -X: Deal X damage to target Player, Creature, or Planewalker“

[xanddra]

Looks like @sarkhan-volkswagen traded in for a Volvo, or at least will be soon.

[steveargyle]

Updates to www.steveargyle.com, including my event calendar, with definitive pre-order opening dates!  Almost like I know what I’m doing!  (Don’t be fooled though, I totally don’t.)

Oh, P.S. GP Seattle pre-orders are open. ;P

[xanddra]

Did something come up with Phoenix, or did that get accidentally on purpose left out?

[markrosewater]

MaRo, my birthday trivia must have been buried a few times now (it was on the 12th)... Any trivia on the artist Ron Spencer, his relationship with Squirrels (he drew a lot of them back in the days), or the yet-unrevealed schemes of Squirrels in Unstable? Thanks again for everything you're doing : ) 🇫🇷

Magic artists Ron Spencer and Terese Nielsen are brother and sister.

Happy Birthday!

[xanddra]

That's a lot of art in that family.

[long-ago-1234567890]

anyway attack on titan is nazi propaganda and i dont trust ppl who like it, and as a Jew™ and general decent person i have the fucking right to say i hate snk and fans of it on my own blog

[long-ago-1234567890]

also hetalia (i dont feel the need to link a source for that one since it is literally called axis powers hetalia and one of the main characters is a personification of nazi germany)

[princecupcake]

hi there, i hope its okay that i add onto this! i am a korean jew and i think its important to state that attack on titan also glorifies japans history of oppressing korea. the source emma provided also goes further into detail about this if anyone wants to know more

tysm for this post because snk makes me so uncomfortable, and not a lot of people realize what it is

[naradreamscape]

Attack on Titan’s author believes in eugenics and thinks Korean people aren’t even human; I can’t ever understand why someone would want to support the work of a guy like this

[marsfriend]

the post linked in the first part was deleted – here’s an archived version of it

[xanddra]

Wow...