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#but the idea wouldn't leave my mind
star-losts · 2 years
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may the fourth be with you
this is obi-wan kenobi: a phenomenal pilot who doesn't like to fly. a devastating warrior who'd rather not fight. a negotiator without peer who frankly prefers to sit alone in a quiet cave and meditate.
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mpliego · 1 year
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been thinking about favourable conditions by @sunsafewriting for weeks... so I made something :)
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theminecraftbee · 7 months
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So, here's the thing:
Tango knows that Zedaph is this close to staging an intervention.
He lies against the wiring for Decked Out and stares at the ceiling. He should probably be more concerned about that. Early-season Tango would be concerned about that; a situation getting bad enough that Zedaph, of all people, is ready to stage an intervention is normally a sign it's gotten pretty dang bad. But he's close. He's so close. And it's not like he's worried, not anymore.
He'd been worried, once? Like, he'd been scared, at some point of what the Frozen Citadel was starting to do to him. But now that he's there--
If he's asked, Tango will say it's mutualism, and not elaborate, because if anyone stages enough of an intervention to stop Decked Out from finishing what it's started, he's probably going to scream. He's probably going to always wonder. Worst of all, he won't finish the game on time. So like, so what if it's eating him a little? Or a lot? Or basically completely, given that he's pretty sure the damage is irreversible at this point?
Anyway, it doesn't matter. Start of the season Tango probably would care more, but like, it's mutual. Decked Out gets to eat Tango. Use him as an appropriate game piece. Sometimes as a processor. To do repairs. Whatever. It's important for the whole process. And Tango gets a sick game. Which, for some, sounds like an absurd trade-off, but it's not just the game, okay?
It's not just--
If it were just "I need to let my accidentally very sentient and very large base eat me to finish the game", he might do it? But he wouldn't, like, be actively conspiring to hide the fact that he's starting to be physically incapable of breathing like, normal oxygen and stuff. He wouldn't be conspiring to hide just how literal the shop item allowing you to control the gamemaster is. He wouldn't be trying to hide how close he is to just--being another part of Decked Out. Not being a "Tango" as an individual, but being a part of the machine. Basically a really fancy redstone component.
If it were just "he's really proud and he'd be sad if it took longer", he wouldn't have hung a sheep on the outside of the building to make sure some part of Decked Out knows that Zedaph is its friend, once there isn't a Tango to remind it of that properly. He would have asked Zedaph to actually do that intervention he's planning.
He didn't. He acted like he had several more weeks than he probably did. But it's fine. Decked Out ate the fear, anyway, so he can't feel it, and whatever sense of desire to like, not be redstone component was probably eaten also, and. And.
He's not sure how to describe it in a way that doesn't make him sound insane, but--
It's so close. Decked Out is so close to eating him completely. And that should be terrifying, if that weren't the first thing that got dissolved away, if he hadn't been scared since forever. Maybe, somewhere, there's part of him that is scared. There's a lot of him that knows he should be.
But those moments, the ones he's having more and more, where he forgets he's Tango. Where he forgets he's anything but part of the machine. And he's part of something big, and great, and he has a specific use, and he's aware for all of it but not aware of being himself, and he can feel exactly how he's important to the great machine and he does his job and absolutely everything else fades away entirely and he is the Game Master and even that's not an individual identity it's part of a whole it's part of something beautiful it's part of something so, so alive while not being alive at all and, and then--and then he's not done being eaten yet. And the Tango comes in. The fear, the insecurity, the, the flaws.
And he'd just lie there, and he'd feel it. The almost-just-a-part. The sense of just--being, and not being anyone in particular, but being. The lack of self. He'd feel the voltage from the redstone wires and try to capture it again, and be unable to, not on his own.
Not while he's left as Tango, at least a little bit uneaten.
So. Uh. He told you he didn't know how to describe it without sounding insane. But he'll never forgive himself. Never forgive himself if he doesn't find out what happens when it's done. What it's like to just--be a part of Decked Out and nothing else. What it feels like to give in completely.
Therefore. Zedaph. Intervention. Pretend he's better than he is so Zedaph doesn't do that. It shouldn't be long now. The amount of time he's aware and Tango is--less. The amount of fear is--it's entirely gone now. The amount he thinks "gee beginning of season Tango would say this is a bad plan" is almost zero.
The game is almost ready to open.
If he can just hold out that long, then there won't be anything anyone could do.
They'll be too busy having fun with the game, anyway. With any luck, no one will notice.
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chongoblog · 5 months
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Centuries into the future, we have developed a morally dubious practice of being able to form new timelines from a person's past where you replace the person's psyche for a period of time. Over time, with help of time dilation, people would experience these as commodified experiences alongside video games, casually living through days to weeks to even years of the lives of those in the past, with many bestselling examples of this come from those experiencing historically significant events. It is morally dubious because the argument made is that when controlling a life within a newly created timeline, the people living in that timeline have to deal with the consequences of your actions for the rest of their lives or even, depending on what the person does, their histories.
The story is about a person living in the year 2026. Their friend tells them that they're suddenly from centuries in the future. They're a speedrunner, and they're about to try out a new skip.
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milkywayco · 2 months
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Dabi, burning Shouto: Midoriya: Stop! You can't do that! Dabi: Mom says it's okay
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retr0scum · 2 years
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Rave Blitzwing, just there to maintain order in Cybertron and around Dancitron. Works with Red Alert and Inferno but they don't like each other.
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fiepige · 4 months
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Since we're approaching the holiday season I have a very important question:
If Hobie was to wear a santa hat as Spider-Punk would he wear it like this:
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or like this?
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Or maybe even like this?
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lightninginapuddle · 3 months
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Favorite The Good Place quotes ft. Our Flag Means Death [1/~]
Look, the point is people improve when they get external love and support. How can you hold it against them when they don't?
Michael, 4x08
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polarsirens · 1 year
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i know it might seem silly but your trans rosmund art means so much to me thank you so much for posting!
no it's not silly at all! i'm very happy it resonated, thank you for the kind message <3
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eff-plays · 6 months
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So now that I've figured out why Hira might go for Astarion ... I am now struggling to figure out why Astarion would go for them in the long run. Like, because he's barely his own person at this point, what are his preferences? Ya know? Beyond how they treat him, beyond the obvious, what about them is it that he likes? Ya know? "You were kind and patient and trusted me" is all well and good but that's still 1) related to him and 2) doesn't quite tap into the sense that he also wants them for himself for other reasons aside from wanting more of what they're doing for him. Ya know? Ya fucking know?
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vwritesaus · 2 months
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The drawing room in 102 Cornwall Gardens is perhaps Alastair’s favourite room in the house. Aside from the bedroom, where he spends his mornings counting freckles on Thomas’s cheeks and nose, and listening to his lulling heartbeat in the evenings, it is the one room that lends itself to a life of peaceful leisure: of card games that go well into the night, of tea and sandwiches with family and friends who come to visit, of deep and meaningful discussions laid out upon cushioned sofa corners and warm arms, and of chai lingering on the tongue and on soft lips.       It’s a room decorated in hues of crimson and burgundy and a touch of olive green, with a large Persian rug and a handsome bookshelf in one corner. There are armchairs and sofas in viridian green, tables and chairs of polished walnut wood, and Thomas’s overflowing writing bureau. Alastair has fond memories of watching him hunched over a moleskin journal, chewing on a thumbnail and frantically scribbling with a thoughtful frown gracing his forehead, and will no doubt have many more in the years to come. On the other side, a cabinet reserved for spare weapons sits by the door, housing Alastair’s spears and daggers—for the favoured ones with their beautiful handles have their own special storage space in the bedroom—and Thomas’s swords, as well as some extra seraph blades.       Needless to say, in the grand scheme of things, the drawing room is the perfect space. Alastair wonders what the point of all the other rooms is when he is of the opinion that he can happily spend all of his time in here. Which is precisely what he’s doing right now.       He’s curled in the corner of one of those viridian green sofas, holding a book in between his fingers. His legs are in Thomas’s lap, and a beautiful tartan blanket—a housewarming present from Sophie Lightwood—covers them both. It’s a rather miserable night to be outdoors, the weather cold and windy and on the precipice of some kind of snowstorm, if one has to hazard a guess. But it provides the ideal ambience, complemented with a roaring fire in the grate and the heady scent of cardamom-spiced tea wafting from Royal Doulton china.       Unlike his beloved, Thomas has not joined in with a book of his own. Rather, he is dozing, his neck resting on the back of the sofa and his eyes shut, thick eyelashes casting soft shadows on his cheekbones. His waistcoat lies open, fully unbuttoned, as well as the first couple of buttons on his shirt. How he’s not cold like this, Alastair has yet to understand. Though Thomas has been this way for the past twenty minutes regardless of feeling cold or not, and Alastair would think he’s properly fallen asleep if not for the way his fingers gently stroke Alastair’s legs over the blanket.       Alastair grabs the moment to take in the way the fire’s golden glow splashes over Thomas, highlighting the smattering of freckles on his face and the backs of his hands, the soft dip of his upper lip, and the thick eyebrows that grace his forehead. He’s studied them in great detail this past year, learning how they appear in natural sunlight as it quivers into existence through the bedroom curtains, or under moonlight on a stroll home or on patrol. He’s come to know the lovely and stupid things that come out of Thomas’s mouth, how his brain works and the words he writes, the melodies he hums and the Spanish he mutters when he thinks Alastair’s not listening. He’s an expert on how the rough calluses on Thomas’s hands feel against his skin, in his hair, against his palms and equally callused hands, and on the care behind every touch, every rendition of I love you, and every kiss.       He’s tattooed Thomas Lightwood onto his soul, and even now he thinks just how lucky he is.
continue reading on ao3
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just a quick little thomastair fic i wrote for @drunkonimagination that she insisted i post kajshdasd
i know i'm late to the christmas/end of year holiday celebrations, but here, have a cosy post-canon thomastair oneshot ft. seasonal vibes :>
more fics to come soon, and that's a promise. this year i'm determined to write as much as humanly possible 😤
~
tag list: @alastairstom @thomastaircompassrose @faithfromanewperspective @ferrari-go-vroom-vroom let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from the tag list!!
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five-by-five · 3 months
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one of the 7333787 homelander edit ideas that live in my brain 24/7 finally sees the light of day
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esprei · 2 years
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so bald ingo-
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internetartfreak · 10 months
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enjoy the island :)
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(speedpaint below + reblogs appreciated)
youtube
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minimitchell · 10 months
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Rating: Teen and up
Words: 3433
Tags: Future Fic / Fluff / Boxing / Shameless flirting
Summary: He isn’t present for the sessions unless he’s specifically asked to be, this is Ben’s therapy and his time alone, but the positive changes in Ben do make him wonder what exactly they’re talking about during the sessions. It’s all about wanting to be able to help Ben in those ways as well.
It definitely has nothing to do with the fact that his husband looks quite hot in the gym.
Not at all.
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vitlzd · 1 year
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d’après geefs
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