Tumgik
#it's unexpected here.
someonesomewheredown · 5 months
Text
Hey so. What did he mean by this.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
[Image ID: A set of screenshots from the game Dialtown that show a conversation with God/The Local Hobo. God is depicted as a white man wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and loose black pants tied with a black and white striped belt. Instead of a human head, he has a beige tv displaying a picture of a fluffy white dog holding a waffle in its mouth. Instead of the normal city backdrop, the background has gone dark, leaving only God's sprites and the dialogue visible.
The dialogue reads:
"I didn't say any of this yesterday, and maybe this is just the rum talking, but I want you to know that I see you."
"The others might not, but I do."
"...I see you."
For the last line of dialogue, the two options given for the player to respond with are "...Huh?" and "...Thank you?" /.End ID]
36 notes · View notes
devilart2199-aibi · 2 months
Text
Fishy Business 🐟
Tumblr media
2K notes · View notes
undertalethingems · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Unexpected Guests Chapter Ten, Act Two: Page 14
First / Previous / Next
Gaster offers his counterargument, and a counterattack--and this time lands a hit....
That panel with Alphys protecting Frisk is a moment I've looked forward to drawing for a very long time! Her having electricity magic isn't entirely headcanon--she uses it to block one of Flowey's attacks when he captures everyone--but it's something I don't see used nearly often enough and it was fun to bring in :>
I'll try to have the next update done for Mar. 28th! Keep an eye out!
Wingdings translation under the cut:
Panel 2: "NO. I CANNOT YIELD."
1K notes · View notes
maomango-doodle · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
"And I hope you die, I hope we both die."
(Lyrics : No children by The Mountain Goats)
1K notes · View notes
mobius-m-mobius · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
LOKI APPRECIATION WEEK 2023 | for @dailyloki Day 7 : Creation with a color or free choice: Lokius in Season Two (insp)
539 notes · View notes
hisbucky · 5 months
Text
Bobby: Buck and I went ice skating today. Eddie: ...Did he fall down? Bobby: A lot. It was like watching Bambi. Eddie: Do you have pictures? Bobby, rolls eyes: I'm not an amateur, Diaz. Trade you for pics of him with Christopher? Eddie, considering: Deal. We just went to the zoo yesterday, so I've got a lot of new ones.
489 notes · View notes
hajihiko · 11 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Trust and belief and trust and belief and trust and belief and-
1K notes · View notes
sweet-potato-42 · 3 months
Text
WOOO BOTH MINECRAFT AND INTERNATIONAL CATEGORIES FOR STREAMER AWARDS ARE FULLY JUST QSMP CCS
minecraft is: tubbo, foolish, quacktiy and tina
international is: quackity, cellbit, etoiles and rivers
international is one CC for each QSMP language, balanced as it should be
262 notes · View notes
petrovna-zamo · 10 months
Text
Did you do it like bad on purpose?
594 notes · View notes
kay-jaye · 2 months
Text
aziraphale is pretty sure attempting to sneak a demon into heaven is a bad idea.
forget the fact that he’s the supreme archangel. forget the fact that the second coming is not going at all according to plan—his plan…the ineffable plan? forget the fact that he and crowley haven’t had a moment alone that wasn’t interrupted by muriel or maggie or nina or a legion of demons or the end of the world.
forget the fact that crowley hasn’t taken those wretched sunglasses off since…
it’s definitely a bad idea.
crowley is wearing a cream-colored suit over one of those turtlenecks with a gold version of his usual scarf, saying something about heavenly bees, but whatever joke he’s trying to make falls flat because all aziraphale can think is, i could appoint you to be an angel, you could come back to heaven, and isn’t that the pinnacle of cruel irony?
he understands why the disguise is necessary; it’s the not-so-subtle rub-in-the-face from a bitter demon squeezing his heart into a fist. it’s the prick of unease in the back of his mind that something isn’t quite right, the floor is at an odd angle, that book belongs on a different shelf. at the same time, it’s the you’re gorgeous he’s longed to return since before the beginning, sitting behind clenched teeth every day for 6,000 years. and it’s the realization that this was not what he imagined at all.
“this the one?” crowley asks, flipping through a file laid out on michael’s desk. “supreme archangel, and they’re still keeping secrets from you, huh?”
aziraphale would appreciate it if crowley would refrain from certain reminders. “yes, that’s it.” he looks around the pillar he’s taken to leaning against, waiting for the inevitable repercussion of being caught in the act. his suit is newer, sharper, grayer, but at this rate, all the worrying his thumbs have been doing to the fabric of the jacket is bound to have him looking his normal self. he supposes crowley sees something similarly foreign whenever he looks at him.
“wait, these are—”
“i know.”
crowley’s frown deepens as he rummages through the papers and documents and photos that aziraphale spent so long staring at, debating if coming back to beg crowley for help was worth the knife wounding his pride, and whether crowley would simply twist it instead and tell him to fuck off.
(he did, at first.)
too many things on the tip of his tongue—another apology, a frustrated yell, the heavy memory of crowley.
“you were right,” he settles with a sigh.
the demon pauses, considers him, then closes the vanilla folder, dragging the projected holograms back into the file. aziraphale braces for an “i told you so” or the self-deprecating laughter that’s made an increased appearance in wake of his leaving. the damn sunglasses render his expression unreadable, a book aziraphale regarded himself as an expert on, but now he isn’t so sure he’d ever gotten the words right to begin with.
then crowley is smiling at him. no sneer, no malice. crowley’s smile is small, two parts sad and muted expectations, and aziraphale feels like he’s being offered something important, more than a title, more than a job, more than the opportunity to fix the unfixable, though he certainly tried, and he’ll be damned before he lets it go. it’s still angry, but it’s so much realer than anything aziraphale has felt up here for months, and aziraphale knows. he knows they need to talk, and even if they’re just as irreparable as heaven and the whole system, he knows which one he’ll be devoted to mending.
“can i get that in dance form?”
and suddenly aziraphale knows what it is to soar without wings.
he doesn’t get the chance to respond before michael’s approaching voice sends him into a panic. aziraphale hopes the click of heels on white porcelain tile will drown out the sound of their own shuffling as he lunges for crowley, who just manages to grab the file they came for, and pulls him around the pillar.
there aren’t many good hiding places in heaven. why would there be? it’s supposed to reflect truth and dispel lies. the good thing about being an archangel, however, is the ability to alter heaven’s layout, although minutely. you want a desk? there. you want to lengthen the hallway from uriel’s office to yours? done. you want a slightly darker corridor leading into the wall a few feet to the left of michael’s desk? aziraphale does.
he almost shushes crowley’s quiet yelp of surprise when he frantically presses the demon into the alcove out of sight, and aziraphale feels the punched-out exhale more than he actually hears it.
it’s deja vu. they’re back in tadfield manor except crowley’s holding a folder containing plans for judgment day trapped between them, and aziraphale’s the one with his hands clutching lapels like they might leave with another stinging don’t bother. the moment is dangerously loaded because fuck, aziraphale has no idea where crowley’s sunglasses got thrown in his haste, and crowley’s looking at him, really looking at him, without dark lenses to hide the way his eyes flicker down or the split-second fear that flashes across them.
aziraphale is crushing their chests together, and crowley is caving under him, and jesus isn’t here yet, but there wouldn’t have been room for him anyway.
“angel,” crowley breathes, and aziraphale knows it’s a slip of the tongue because crowley hasn’t called him that since they last parted ways.
aziraphale’s mind is a constant loop of yellow, yellow, yellow, and it takes every ounce of remaining self-control in his body not to lean forward and do what he should’ve done months ago. he doesn’t have quite enough left to pull back though, so he’s stuck on the verge of never knowing how to ask for what he wants, always too good at backtracking for their own safety, afraid to do it now because he really thought last time was the last time, and he doesn’t know if crowley can take another rejection.
aziraphale doesn’t know if he can either.
any sound of michael has disappeared.
aziraphale reckons this is the part where he’s supposed to say something like, “i’m not nice. nice is a four-letter word.” aziraphale reckons crowley might even agree with him. he doesn’t feel nice; all these millennia of you go too fast for me, crowley, and i don’t even like you.
their noses bump as crowley shifts his head. “aziraphale,” he says. it makes the angel want to cry. “‘s alright.”
so crowley’s catching the bullet this time, and that’s all it takes for aziraphale’s grip to loosen. he steps back—all too familiar a motion—and watches the demon smooth himself out.
“crowley, i—”
“nah,” he interrupts, waving the file in his hands. “talk later, remember?”
aziraphale relaxes, wonders what miracle gave him this and who performed it, wonders which stars aligned and whether crowley knew about them. the angel nods.
neither speaks again until the elevator doors are closing and the angel disguise has fallen away.
crowley, in all of his too-tight pants and infinite patience, doesn’t even look at aziraphale when he says, “dance later, too.”
137 notes · View notes
zu-is-here · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media
Innocent sailor Edmond Dantes, betrayed by his friends, is imprisoned. After 14 years, he manages to escape with a new name, look, status of a wealthy count — and thirst for revenge.
Tumblr media
For the atmosphere~ ♪( ´▽`)
Nightmare & Dream by jokublog
Killer by rahafwabas / rahaf-wabas / rahofy-sketch
Horror from horrortalecomic by sour-apple-studios
1K notes · View notes
undertalethingems · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Unexpected Guests Chapter Ten, Act Two: Page 10
First / Previous / Next
3-on-1 would normally be quite an unfair fight, but so far, Gaster's proven to be more than capable of taking what's been dealt... but the battle's far from over and our heroes still have plenty of fighting spirit!
The long fight continues next time, coming Jan. 11th!
2K notes · View notes
kadextra · 8 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
there’s some cinematic parallels going on here
200 notes · View notes
joron1a-stardustlor · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Trevor stop touching Derek challenge (impossible)
112 notes · View notes
lavaflowe · 1 year
Text
428 notes · View notes
quatregats · 1 month
Text
Also I realize that the answer is probably just reading enough period sources but as a linguist I really do need to pick Patrick O'Brian's brain about where in the world he got his different speech patterns from
56 notes · View notes