reblog if you love archive of our own and how they firmly refuse to let censorship have any place on their platform

for some reason i really like it when pangi calls lukey Lucas, idk why. i feel like it’s a off camera thing bcs when he asked him to tie his tie he said lucas instead of lukey. I also just wanna hear Lukey call him Sem more cuz it’s just cute

Reblog if you say "Y'all"

can someone please be proud of me like fuck I’m trying

reblog to let prev know you’re proud of them

So proud!

being black in any art community is such a strange feeling cause you’ll see just blatant racism being expressed in others art and you have to just casually ignore it, for your sake if anything, colorism being something that’s just fundamentally there in every artist and you deal with it cause it’s not worth it in the end to even think of it too hard let alone even mentioning it, it’s definitely something

Hello nonblack reader of this post, I think you ought to share this one so that you and your peers can actively remind yourselves 1) of how your Black peers feel when you tolerate antiblack racism in your art spaces for entertainment and 2) that we notice it, but don't believe it is secure around enough of you to bring it up 🙏🏾

Reblog In 5 seconds for good luck

​this worked last night lets go for round two

I really need some good luck rn

This doesn’t explain why there’s a picture of a goat though.

Reblogging for the goat

really need it let’s go

I have not got my other half of my money yet and I need cash pronto

Please my friend needs a full recover and I need cash

Please help me redeem myself from all my past sins

In which, once upon a time, there was a war amongst the gods: those part of the Golden Temple (so called due to their golden blood), and those part of the Defiled (so called due to their status as gods of the parts of humanity that are so often reviled.) The Golden Temple won after many thousands of years of conflict, but many gods were lost in the conflict; the Defiled were cut down to just one god, its King: Death.

When Lukey was a child, his home village burned down by Death Themselves. He ended up in an orphanage in the city, and that’s where he first met Pangi.

Over a decade later, Lukey still hates his dumb ass. Only one man ever actually tried to adopt him because Pangi would always show up and ruin everything! He’d start throwing rocks or toys, and Lukey would tackle him to the floor, and, by the time they were wrestled apart, any prospective parents were long gone.

And it all went downhill from there.

Sometimes, that one man who tried to adopt Lukey takes him out for lunch at the restaurant Pangi works at. And when that happens…

“Oops!” Pangi laughs, spilling boiling hot soup all over Lukey’s lap.

And Bad just smiles placidly as Lukey screeches and hops to his feet and smashes his complimentary salad into Pangi’s stupid face.

Eventually, Pangi gets dragged back to work, and Lukey sits back down and apologizes and offers to pay the bill.

Bad shakes his head. “Oh, no, it’s fine.”

He sighs, “You little gremlins really haven’t changed at all…”

(He wasn’t allowed to adopt Lukey because he is a worshipper of Death. He tried adopting Pangi instead and was turned away for the same reason. Such is the way of the Realm after the Golden Temple’s win, unfortunately.)

Legend has it that Trickery and Strife were struck down by Lady Architect herself, Death forced to watch as Their closest companions died.

“I heard you stole from the Architect’s temple,” Pangi comments, leaning out his window and hanging his shirts to dry on the wire.

Lukey hums, pulling his own dry laundry into his apartment, neither confirming nor denying; Pangi’s known him long enough to know the truth no matter what he says.

“That’s kind of cool, not gonna lie,” Pangi continues. “It’s a shame they didn’t catch you, though.”

“You just want to see me in handcuffs,” Lukey responds.

He laughs as Pangi, outraged, goes a bright red and slams his window shut.

The very first day Lukey met Pangi was the day Pangi was put into the orphanage. He ended up being put in the same room as Lukey, and, from the very beginning, he looked upset about it.

Once a year on the anniversary of the end of the war, the King of the Realm comes down from his golden castle to visit Lukey’s humble little city and do a PR tour. He comes in a carriage made of solid gold and inlaid with emeralds, drawn by silver mechanical horses crafted by the Smith Father Himself, and he spends half of his tour tracking down every single shrine, monument, or idol to Death and destroying them with his own hands; the other half of his time is spent visiting orphanages and hospitals and collecting their taxes himself, waving his hand grandiosely and laughing kindly and calling in his guards when someone doesn’t have the money.

Lukey moves to stand and run, but Bad’s hand clamps down on his shoulder and holds him down- how strong is he, what the fuck?

Legend has it that Strife died by Trickery’s hands, beheaded by an axe made of pure shadow.

But who even cares about that? The world is too quiet for such stories.

There’s no one to taunt with them.

The day after the King’s visit, Lukey sits in an abandoned, destroyed Temple of Death. Alone.

Bad is gone. He left Lukey there, ruffled his hair, and left, warning him about leaving. Apparently, the Lady Architect has followers scouring the city for him even though he didn’t fucking do anything.

Pangi didn’t do anything! He lost his sword immediately! He got his ass handed to him by a freaking nerd! He-

Three days after the King’s visit, Lukey leaves the temple and goes home. His apartment has been raided, of course, and everything inside has been destroyed or stolen, and his altar to Trickery is gone, but… it’s home, he supposes.

One week after the King’s visit, Lukey breaks into Pangi’s old apartment and kicks over his Strife altar.

“You stupid god,” he spits, grinding the heel of his boot in the painting’s handsome, rugged, stupid face. “What kind of god lets their only worshipper die?”

A dead one, that’s what kind!

Nine long, long days after the King’s visit, there’s a knock at Lukey’s door.

(“He really hasn’t changed, huh?”

“Nope! And neither have you, Pangi.”

“No, but, like, he really hasn’t changed.”

“And I’m sure you’re very happy about that.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?!”)

Legend has it that Trickery took Strife’s head off upon the orders of Lady Architect in a final attempt at survival. His axe was swift, but it granted Him no sympathy; He was executed moments later by Her holy spear, leaving Death alone as the final Defiled God.

There’s an unfamiliar pair of dark glasses over Pangi’s eyes when Lukey comes out of his room.

Death is back in Lukey’s home by sunset.

“So,” he says after gathering both Lukey and Pangi at the dining table, “I want to declare war on the Golden Temple.”

Lukey’s imaginary friend growing up was a man who always smelled of dead flowers. His name was Newt, and he made Lukey pinky-promise to keep him a secret.

And then the village burned down, and Lukey grew up.

But, as Lukey finishes packing and sneaks out of his apartment, he swears he smells dead flowers.

Pestilence is one of the Four Calamities. They’re the bringer of plague and devastation, said to have been a humble human alchemist before creating the world’s first disease and ascending.

Growing up, Lukey was a… weird kid. He called his parents by their first names, he talked more with the village’s animals than the other children, his not-so-imaginary friend may or may not have been the Calamity of Disease.

“They’re going to kill you,” Newt tells him, words soft.

It’s just the two of them in the Temple of Pestilence, sat on the floor in front of a large obsidian of Pestilence holding a flower in one hand and a scythe in the other. The sun is rising outside, casting the temple in a warm pink glow.

Death is at the temple doors the following morning with an uncomfortable-looking Trickery standing behind him with his hands in his pockets and a wispy, shadowy great axe strapped to his back.

Pangi takes Lukey’s hand as they walk, fingers intertwining.

As Bad talks strategy over a bowl of freshly-made beef stew, Pangi picks up his spoon and moves it towards Lukey’s mouth.

“Say ‘ah’,” he teases.

The God of Medicine goes by a few different variations of the same name: the Bone Lord, the Lord of Bones… even the ‘Bone Pope’ to some of Their more creative followers.

Pangi carries Lukey out of the tavern on his back, and he complains the whole time.

Strife, they say, was among the most hated of the gods. Not even Death mourned Them; Their killer alone cried: Trickery held Their corpse close, Their blood soaking the ground and His robes in equal amount.

Even after Trickery’s death, His grip on Strife was so tight that their bodies needed to be cut apart.

“Joy and whimsy may now return to the Realm!” the triumphant Lady Architect declared. “For Strife and Slaughter, the cause of all our conflicts, are dead at last!”

Trickery was burned on the same pyre that once held Slaughter, all the gods of the Realm mourning Him.

Strife was left on the ground until They turned into dust.

In which, once upon a time, there was a war amongst the gods: those part of the Golden Temple (so called due to their golden blood), and those part of the Defiled (so called due to their status as gods of the parts of humanity that are so often reviled.) The Golden Temple won after many thousands of years of conflict, but many gods were lost in the conflict; the Defiled were cut down to just one god, its King: Death.

When Lukey was a child, his home village burned down by Death Themselves. He ended up in an orphanage in the city, and that’s where he first met Pangi.

Over a decade later, Lukey still hates his dumb ass. Only one man ever actually tried to adopt him because Pangi would always show up and ruin everything! He’d start throwing rocks or toys, and Lukey would tackle him to the floor, and, by the time they were wrestled apart, any prospective parents were long gone.

And it all went downhill from there.

Sometimes, that one man who tried to adopt Lukey takes him out for lunch at the restaurant Pangi works at. And when that happens…

“Oops!” Pangi laughs, spilling boiling hot soup all over Lukey’s lap.

And Bad just smiles placidly as Lukey screeches and hops to his feet and smashes his complimentary salad into Pangi’s stupid face.

Eventually, Pangi gets dragged back to work, and Lukey sits back down and apologizes and offers to pay the bill.

Bad shakes his head. “Oh, no, it’s fine.”

He sighs, “You little gremlins really haven’t changed at all…”

(He wasn’t allowed to adopt Lukey because he is a worshipper of Death. He tried adopting Pangi instead and was turned away for the same reason. Such is the way of the Realm after the Golden Temple’s win, unfortunately.)

Legend has it that Trickery and Strife were struck down by Lady Architect herself, Death forced to watch as Their closest companions died.

“I heard you stole from the Architect’s temple,” Pangi comments, leaning out his window and hanging his shirts to dry on the wire.

Lukey hums, pulling his own dry laundry into his apartment, neither confirming nor denying; Pangi’s known him long enough to know the truth no matter what he says.

“That’s kind of cool, not gonna lie,” Pangi continues. “It’s a shame they didn’t catch you, though.”

“You just want to see me in handcuffs,” Lukey responds.

He laughs as Pangi, outraged, goes a bright red and slams his window shut.

The very first day Lukey met Pangi was the day Pangi was put into the orphanage. He ended up being put in the same room as Lukey, and, from the very beginning, he looked upset about it.

Once a year on the anniversary of the end of the war, the King of the Realm comes down from his golden castle to visit Lukey’s humble little city and do a PR tour. He comes in a carriage made of solid gold and inlaid with emeralds, drawn by silver mechanical horses crafted by the Smith Father Himself, and he spends half of his tour tracking down every single shrine, monument, or idol to Death and destroying them with his own hands; the other half of his time is spent visiting orphanages and hospitals and collecting their taxes himself, waving his hand grandiosely and laughing kindly and calling in his guards when someone doesn’t have the money.

Lukey moves to stand and run, but Bad’s hand clamps down on his shoulder and holds him down- how strong is he, what the fuck?

Legend has it that Strife died by Trickery’s hands, beheaded by an axe made of pure shadow.

But who even cares about that? The world is too quiet for such stories.

There’s no one to taunt with them.

The day after the King’s visit, Lukey sits in an abandoned, destroyed Temple of Death. Alone.

Bad is gone. He left Lukey there, ruffled his hair, and left, warning him about leaving. Apparently, the Lady Architect has followers scouring the city for him even though he didn’t fucking do anything.

Pangi didn’t do anything! He lost his sword immediately! He got his ass handed to him by a freaking nerd! He-

Three days after the King’s visit, Lukey leaves the temple and goes home. His apartment has been raided, of course, and everything inside has been destroyed or stolen, and his altar to Trickery is gone, but… it’s home, he supposes.

One week after the King’s visit, Lukey breaks into Pangi’s old apartment and kicks over his Strife altar.

“You stupid god,” he spits, grinding the heel of his boot in the painting’s handsome, rugged, stupid face. “What kind of god lets their only worshipper die?”

A dead one, that’s what kind!

Nine long, long days after the King’s visit, there’s a knock at Lukey’s door.

(“He really hasn’t changed, huh?”

“Nope! And neither have you, Pangi.”

“No, but, like, he really hasn’t changed.”

“And I’m sure you’re very happy about that.”

“…What’s that supposed to mean?!”)

Legend has it that Trickery took Strife’s head off upon the orders of Lady Architect in a final attempt at survival. His axe was swift, but it granted Him no sympathy; He was executed moments later by Her holy spear, leaving Death alone as the final Defiled God.

There’s an unfamiliar pair of dark glasses over Pangi’s eyes when Lukey comes out of his room.

Death is back in Lukey’s home by sunset.

“So,” he says after gathering both Lukey and Pangi at the dining table, “I want to declare war on the Golden Temple.”

Lukey’s imaginary friend growing up was a man who always smelled of dead flowers. His name was Newt, and he made Lukey pinky-promise to keep him a secret.

And then the village burned down, and Lukey grew up.

But, as Lukey finishes packing and sneaks out of his apartment, he swears he smells dead flowers.

Pestilence is one of the Four Calamities. They’re the bringer of plague and devastation, said to have been a humble human alchemist before creating the world’s first disease and ascending.

Growing up, Lukey was a… weird kid. He called his parents by their first names, he talked more with the village’s animals than the other children, his not-so-imaginary friend may or may not have been the Calamity of Disease.

“They’re going to kill you,” Newt tells him, words soft.

It’s just the two of them in the Temple of Pestilence, sat on the floor in front of a large obsidian of Pestilence holding a flower in one hand and a scythe in the other. The sun is rising outside, casting the temple in a warm pink glow.

Death is at the temple doors the following morning with an uncomfortable-looking Trickery standing behind him with his hands in his pockets and a wispy, shadowy great axe strapped to his back.

Pangi takes Lukey’s hand as they walk, fingers intertwining.

well…darn

like to charge reblog to cast financial ruin of the AI industry 🔮

Send me to Mars with party supplies before next august 5th

No guys you don’t understand.

The soil testing equipment on Curiosity makes a buzzing noise and the pitch of the noise changes depending on what part of an experiment Curiosity is performing, this is the way Curiosity sings to itself.

So some of the finest minds currently alive decided to take incredibly expensive important scientific equipment and mess with it until they worked out how to move in just the right way to sing Happy Birthday, then someone made a cake on Curiosity’s birthday and took it into Mission control so that a room full of brilliant scientists and engineers could throw a birthday party for a non-autonomous robot 225 million kilometres away and listen to it sing the first ever song sung on Mars*, which was Happy Birthday.

This isn’t a sad story, this a happy story about the ridiculousness of humans and the way we love things. We built a little robot and called it Curiosity and flung it into the star to go and explore places we can’t get to because it’s name is in our nature and then just because we could, we taught it how to sing.

That’s not sad, that’s awesome.

*this is different from the first song ever played on mars (Reach For The Stars by Will.I.Am) which happened the year before, singing is different from playing

This is humanity

Happy Birthday, Curiousity.

Happy birthday, Curiosity.

I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF

This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.

Then bring me luck

the day after I posted this last time I was notified that I was selected for a really cool mentorship gig and got an unrelated glowing review at work

Hey Potato, cure my -ing cold so I can have a good time while away.

Here's the potato. Make what use of it you will. :)

trans women r literally so cool theu get tits AND a prostate?? i thought only markilpler could do that

i need 2 stop posting after taking my sleep meds jesus christ

hey guys we don't have to rb this post. like we can keep it to ourselves. we can let this post not be rbed.

teleport this bread around

come on spread the word

don't you mean "bread the word"? im funny

Yes you are! 🍞

I ALSO REBLOGGED BREAD !!!

I HAVE DONE NOTHING BUT REBLOG BREAD FOR THREE DAYS