Zuninona - Untitled

love my pumpkin

scary my pumpkin

Keep scrolling, there's nothing fishy going on here

— Sylvia Plath

graphic design is my passion

snippets of my presentation for english club. yes i stayed all night for this. yes i fell into the spiral. and yes i had been talking for at least 40 minutes. i don't know if it was worth it. but i like to look at these from time to time.

i would like to propose a new accessibility feature for movies where every time a brown-haired white man comes on screen they tell me which one he is

hey. so.

if your in the reverse 1999 fandom and don't know what's going on,

the current main writer got outed as a woman hating, lesbophobic person who is the reason the game has been going downhill like it has, with its more racist patches and less of a sapphic lean.

woman and poc are the main focus of the game, as the game shows the oppressed by them, using the idea of arcanists being oppressed as a way to show how woman and poc really are

the fact that bluepoch hired someone like that is despicable and many are protesting by a boycott.

if you haven't already,

DONT BUT ANYTHING FROM THIS PATCH. THERE IS A GLOBAL AND CN PROTEST GOING ON.

if you want the game devs to listen, we NEED to protest. more of the drama is on twitter, so please if you have twitter, help support the movement but spreading the word

you ever think about how kaeya is everything crepus wanted diluc to be.

this makes me soooo sick bc imagine being diluc. your entire childhood you strived to make your father proud and rise to his expectations and you DO, you get a vision at 10, become a cavalry captain at 14 (we should talk about that actually, what in the child soldier—) and everything is great. but then your dad dies and your entire world falls apart in just one day and you leave everything you know behind on a pointless quest for revenge. you come back years later and everything is the same but so, so different.

and then there's your little brother. undoubtedly capable, but never truly showing what he can do. he's cunning and strategic and always five steps ahead of everyone else, but timid, usually letting you or jean do the talking. he prefers sticking to the shadows (your shadow, specifically—), working behind the scenes. that's how you remember him.

but you come back and there he is. a stranger wearing your best friends face (not your best friend, not anymore, not after—). he's still the same, capable and cunning and smart and strategic, still working behind the scenes, but he's so, so different. gone are the gentle, shy smiles, the timid personality, the preference for sticking to somebody's shadow (there's no shadow to hide in, anymore—).

instead, he's outgoing and confident and there's a near-constant cocky smirk on his face and you don't know who you're looking at. to the people, he's the beloved cavalry captain. the acting grand masters right-hand man, a talented swordsman and vision-wielder. the "top candidate for grandson-in-law" if the word on the street is to be believed. he's reliable and witty and kind, always offering aid when he can. he doesn't look down on anyone, friendly even towards the most unusual visitors.

the model knight, one could say.

he walks into your tavern one night, orders his usual (a death after noon, your father's favourite, of all things, is he joking) and you watch as he chats up the most random people there. all charming smiles and suave words and you have to blink a few times as he absentmindedly twirls his wine glass. your mind is playing tricks on you, you know it, they have zero similarities in physical appearance, but for a second you could swear—

he looks just like your father.

(there's this little girl that follows him around sometimes. well. really, he's following her around, with the way she always runs ahead. she's energetic and chatty and you can't help but notice the pyro vision shining from her backpack (mocking you—) as kaeya looks at her with pure, unfathomable fondness, like she's the only thing that matters in the world.

the first time you hear her calling for his attention, you pause, for just a second. you've seen them around enough to be familiar with the duo, but that. that's a first. an excited voice sounds from somewhere over your shoulder, "big brother kaeya! look, look!" and you take a moment before glancing over. the little girl is crouching on the sidewalk, pointing at something on the ground and staring up at keaya with big, curious eyes. kaeya's there, leaning over her with a gentle smile and a soft, soft look in his eyes—. you turn away.

you can't quite catch kaeya's response, with him having a lot more control over his volume than an enthusiastic child, but his quiet chuckle and following, affectionate tone still register in your mind.

"looks like he's a model older brother, too.")

Writing a novel when you imagine all you stories in film format is hard because there’s really no written equivalent of “lens flare” or “slow motion montage backed by Gregorian choir”

Am I really that bed💔😢