#or well technically both

[avemstella]

So yes I have been losing my mind over the Interlude Teaser. So many thoughts, but I'm going to focus on one in particular, My New Favorite Theory.

Istaroth just is Venti.

Not a child, not a fragment, not some other relation, just is Venti. We know he has transformation powers, he used them to take his dead friend's form. Basically, he just lied to us about being a singular wind spirit. Not sure if the nameless bard knew or not, but I'd like to imagine Venti just took the form of a wind spirit to get away from all the shades stuff. And then they befriend the bard and co, get caught up in the rebellion, and when their friend dies, they take his form.

And along the way, they start to really enjoy being Barbatos, being Venti. Slowly but surely, Mondstadt stops worshiping time and only worships the wind. Yes occasionally they have to meet up with the other shades as Istaroth, and it's a miserable sad time, but then when she gets to be Venti, just a little guy, he is having a great time (for the most part).

... I see you 🏳️‍⚧️

Genshin would never do a proper trans version of this, but one can dream. But even beyond that, soooooo much drama potential. Maybe during the cataclysm Tsaritsa found out that Venti was secretly upper management and got suuuuuuppper pissed hence their falling out. Istaroth as Time is probably the cause of Errosion, which effects even his fellow gods. They probably did some nasty things for the Heavenly Principles. The traveler asking about the Unknown God, and Venti going "yeah definitely don't know her, she's definitely not my sister (?) or something noooooooo"

Also during the teaser Istaroth is like, "does Asmoday need to be here... maybe she swapped sides, let's stop talking about her...." There's the theory that the Asmoday was sealed away, and Venti probably has some kind of sealing magic... (also the sustainer is dying from that one line that was translated kind of wrong so most don't know that lol). Ista what did u dooooooo. Or they are on the same side, and she's covering for her, that is also a possibility. But Istaroth being a little traitor stabbing her sister(?) in the back is funnier to me.

But yes, back to specifically Venti being Istaroth, here's a fun piece of evidence. While the webtoon is dubiously canon, I still find this fun:

Oh hello there three suspicious figures. The other three shades perhaps... god Venti being the rebellious runaway sibling is sooooooooo compelling to me. Absolutely miserable as a Shade, as Istaroth, but finds joy in humanity and fights to protect their freedom. AHHHHH the best of boys.

[pokimoko]

Asexual bird? Please

How about two asexual birds?

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID in ALT] I've made posts before about Talia/Dick co-parenting Damian moments (will never happen but let me dream) and this came to me in a vision. Took me ages to finish for some reason 😭 and then even longer to post

[puddleofpins]

Clinical Trial literally has EVERYTHING I like/fw

• neurodivergent, minimum-wage job having, NONBINARY mc

• yandere man love interest that absolutely fucking adores them

• accurate depictions of neurodiversity and nonbinary experiences

spoilers below for more

• they do cute fucking domestic shit together

• infodumping from both parties, especially about art history and bugs

• …….the shrine

• yandere love interest kills someone who hurt mc

• yandere love interest affirms mc’s gender even though they’re out to like barely anyone (there’s also this whole dialogue where he and mc get on the topic of angels and how they shouldn’t look like people and should instead be hard to behold by the human eye and then in the good ending he says “just like an actual angel” because mc accepts him and his feelings) (also the whole part at the end where he deduces their gender from all of these things he’s noticed. HE!!! SEES!!!! THEM!!!!!!)

AAAAUGHGUHGHG ITS SO GOODDDDDDDD

[livecrow]

Gundog!Soap's errand gets derailed when he catches your scent.

A retriever "retrieves" a plump bird.

Shifter/Hybrid Dark!Soap x fat reader

(cw: kidnapping)

Soap’s popping down to the shops.

He just needs to pick up an ingredient for dinner last minute. Ghost isn’t home yet, so he’s off the lead. Unsupervised. Normally, they’d get the messages together, but he only needs one thing. He could manage it. It wouldn’t be more than a wink.

But as he mills about, he can’t help feeling off.

Like he really is a dumb dog wandering around without his owner, his lead might as well be dragging on the floor behind him, collecting lint and stray bread ties—

It’s turning into one of those days where he feels far more mutt than man. 

Without Ghost’s firm hand grounding him, the place is a cacophony of input. Too many smells, too many sounds, too many colors, too much movement—all melding together into a murky emulsion of stimulus under the glaring LEDs. 

He squints down the vast row of isles for longer than he’ll admit.

Eeigit.

He should have written a note.

Thought he could have remembered one bleedy thing. Ye dinnae need a list for one thing—

Feeling frustrated and dafty, he resigns himself to traipsing down each aisle and hoping something jogs his memory. Pride wouldn’t let him call up Lt. He’d never hear the end of it. He’s a birddog for chrissake, proper braw at findin’ things—when he knows what he’s fuckin’ looking for. 

Least he can skip the sundries. He knows that much. Soap’s more than happy to avoid the detergent aisle. Stuff is bowfin. Stings his nose, makes his heid ache.

Lot of good his heid was anyway, feeling fuzzy, like it was packed with cotton. Might as well be. Nothin’ else between his ears. Certainly not the one fuckin' thing he pulled on his gutties and left the house for—

He let's loose an irritated huff and it's probably a bit too close to a growl than is wise.

Soap's trying to make good time, but he's a solid four isles in and hasn't had any luck. Eventually, he finds himself staring down a sea of tins. Fruit and veg, beans, and the sort. His eyes scanned the labels, but even readin' was a real Herculean task when he's feeling so out of sorts.

The canine part of him can't be convinced deciphering rows of little lines and squiggles is a proper use of his time. Especially when he could be usin' his nose instead.

Some wee bairn has starts greetin’ a few aise down.

—Green beans, peas, sliced carrots, corn, diced potatoes. Nae, that wasn't it—

....who in their right mind buys tinned tatties?

A passing trolley is making an awful racket. Discordant shrill squeaks and clunks of a stuck wheel scraped against his ear drums.

—It’s definitely not the asparagus—shites mingin’, and that’s fresh. Wouldnae faff about with a recipe that called for that. Cannae think how foul tinned would be… 

Soap sighs in exasperation. As he goes to abandon this aisle, he steps back to turn and bumps into something.

Soft. Soft, soft, softness presses into his hip—

The kind of softness that cradles, that molds around him. Softer than any of his toys. Soft an’ cozy as his own bed, maybe—nae, softer. His bed didn't have the same give, the same wobble. It was a softness that sent a literal shiver up his spine, saliva pooling in his mouth. That smell—

Not something, someone then.

An incidental collision, a bird had been trying to slip by him just as he stepped backwards.

The touch was there and gone in a second but he was mournful for its absence. The scent lingered at least, soothed the whine that crawled into his throat. There was no artifice to it, no acrid chemical edges that came with any fragrance found in a bottle.

You had actually managed to catch him off guard. The shiver that rattled through him began with a slight jolt of surprise at the two of your union. He must have been more out of it than he thought, he hadn't even noticed anyone else in the aisle. He'll never get used to being startled, but he wouldn’t hold that against you.

“Oh, sorry,” you muttered apologetically as you stepped back, embarrassment coloring your face. The contact clearly ruffled your feathers a bit.

Soap’s mouth shuts with an audible click, he hadn’t realized his lips were parted. He hurriedly swallows a completely unadvisable pant in your direction.

“Nae bother, hen,” he blinks. Finally finding his human voice, responding like he's supposed to when he's out and about on two legs. It’s a little breathier, a beat later than he should have responded, lower too. There's a rasp there that chafes the very air. 

...Maybe his head wasn't packed with cotton.

Maybe it was your soft, downy feathers that was muddling him up, making itself a sweet little nest in his cranium—

The bird sends him a polite, restrained smile as it scurries off.

His world narrowed, like he was watching through a spyglass. Or was it a scope? Regardless, everything else but you dissolved into blur, even his peripheral was swallowed up. Framed you in a vignette. Every tiny aspect of the minute interaction seared painlessly into his mind.

A pretty, fat partridge.

Wandering too close.

Game like that, ambling by all round and plump, right under his snout? Feathers close enough they almost tickle his nose—

It's instinct, ya ken?

Mind, for a dog that retrieves quarry, it’s in his nature. Cannae help it anymore than the shade of his coat. So, is it the dog's fault then, when he lunges? Snatches the bird up, into his warm mouth? Firm and soft all at once. The delicate control from a pup that can cradle a raw egg without fracturing the shell. When he brings it back to his master, tail waggin’ as he’s done a hundred other times?

Nae. Noone’d blame him.

He can already practically feel the pantomime thumping of your frantic heartbeat in his mouth—echoing his own excited pulse. 

Soap’s keen eyes never left his prey, even as your back was foolishly to him. His hind paws were already ahead of his brain, he followed, trailing at a distance. Stalking.

Thing should know better, he might have been a wolf. You’d have waddled straight into it's gaping maw, mistake the canines for stalactites and his tongue for a cozy spot to lay your little head.

But no, he’s no wolf. He’s safe. Won't take a bite out of you. He's a good boy— 

Good dog.

Bird dog. A Gordon Setter, Si says.

A jack of all trades, proficient at tracking, pointing, and retrieving. A soft-mouth breed. That’s very important. Most dogs cannae do what he can. Pick up a bird without pricking it. Ghost has been working with him, trainin’ him up. Helping him be more patient, learn new tricks.

Your scent—it was so hard to describe, but he luxuriated in it, nose twitching. It was warm, but not torrid. Sweet, but not cloying. Rich, but not heavy—

Familiar, somehow. Like a childhood lovey. Cheek-worn and supple as a lamb's ear. 

He’s struck by a piercing déjà vu.

It should have confounded Soap—but it didn’t. It just was. The strange mix of familiarity and unfamiliarity that shouldn’t normally coexist. He didn’t know you, nae. But it felt like he should. Maybe he’d seen you in a dream? Some sticky remnant from a past life? Nothing else could explain the strength of the reaction that gripped him by the scruff. Commanded him to “fetch”.

...He’s doin’ so well. Being so, so careful—game’s normally still, after all. Not wriggling about anymore. Is much more effort to control his grip on a bird thas tryin' to fly away.

Thing squealing like a squeaky-toy doesn’t help, zaps somethin' in his brain, even though he’s hardly pressing. Ghost will look at you an’ see there’s no teeth marks on you. He’s being good. Knows better. Not even a tiny nibble. 

Soap's so pleased.

Only wish he'd had his tail out, so he could articulate his excitement properly.

He’ll take you home and keep you. Rest a heavy paw on you when he wants you to stay put. Carry you round the house with him. Share his food with you. Show you his other toys. Only roughhouse gently, like he would a puppy. Bat you around a bit. Paw at you real gentle like. This soft, living squeaky-toy that he can nap with. Even let you nest in his own bed, tucked under his chin. He’d only ever mouth at you gently, you'd learn you wouldn’t have to fear his teeth. He’d rasp his tongue over you, help you preen yer pretty feathers.

He ached to sigh happily against you, rut his face against you. Wanted all the rest of his sighs to be against you, pressed into your skin. Nose at your crown, in your soft neck, on your squishy belly. He’s curious where on you that scent would be the strongest.

Ghost will be so proud when he sees, when he proudly lays you at his boots—

You'll like his owner. He'll pet you real nice. Ghost always knows the right spot, even before you do. Thoughtful.

So thoughtful that he won't even mind that he'll have to sort something else out for dinner.

[rodentlegalteam]

While I do think using the four sword causes some bad physical/mental side effects, I ultimately think that the biggest drawback ends up being that none of Four’s colours ever do what he wants unless it’s a life or death situation. Four has a lot of work so he decides to spilt to get everything done on time. It does not go well.

Red and Blue both run on emotions so they immediately get distracted by whatever’s more interesting and leave. Red might eventually get back on track (if he remembers) but there’s still a 50/50 chance that he goes “oh but I don’t wanna do that now.. hope the others do it for me! <3”. Blue’s better at remembering but if the conditions for doing The Task are slightly Off it’s going to make him want to rip his own hair out so he just calls it quits. Green and Vio are more likely to actually get stuff done but the second someone asks Green for a favour he’s gone. He’ll end up spending the entire day running around delivering pastries or something cause people keep asking him for things and hes incapable of refusing. Vio will spend thirty minutes coming up with some sort of convoluted loophole to avoid The Task before disappearing into the woods for the next three days. He could’ve completed The Task in those same thirty minutes but he just didn’t feel like doing it in the moment. Four eventually reforms and literally nothing had been done. The real reason he keeps the four sword a secret from the chain is because he’s embarrassed about the fact that all the colours are literally so fucking stupid on their own

[bark-barkley]

Buck and Sean Eddie?

Ryan Guzman as Sean Asa | Step Up Revolution (2012)

Oliver Stark as Evan Buckley | 9-1-1, Episode 4x05 - Buck Begins

[callizinc]

Thinking otherwise thoughts today.

[dailynakaharachuuya]

Skktober day 23: Clingy

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 259

You know, going back in time, they thought it would be easy. Stop the end of the world by preventing the Being from well, coming into being. It should be easy to take them out, one death to prevent an untold amount of them. What could a child do?

Well. 

They really should have remembered that with a child usually comes their parent as well. And erm, said parent doesn’t seem to appreciate their logic. In fact, they are… getting their ass kicked. By a civilian. A feral civilian who apparently is very protective of said child-who-ends-up-destroying-the-world. 

They might need assistance…

[knockknockitsnickels]

I think this is one of my favorite lines from the Wraith route because of (imo) how much the meaning changes depending on if you got there via Spectre or Nightmare. For Spectre, it honestly strikes me as a genuine question. Why are you doing this to her? If you're on the Spectre route, you presumably already know the Narrator can't really be trusted, since you had to reject his reward to get here. What are you hoping to gain from continuing to hurt her? For Nightmare, it honestly just makes me sad. As the Shifting Mound describes her, "She desires only companionship, but the only thing she knows is how to hurt." This line feels like a plea from someone who genuinely doesn't understand why you keep rejecting her. She wants to be with you, but she just can't understand how to do that in a way which doesn't hurt you.

[mikatoonist]

‘In case I don’t see ya… good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight,’ 🏕🍁

Total Drama but; The Truman Show 📺

[logicpng]

i swear i am normal about him

[buttercupshands]

idk what happened but this just appeared in my head and I had to draw this

alllll of the silly guys, but in the pre-silly state and also resting

[2129888]

gay little earring abe is the last thing i drew before my computer killed itself idk what that means... too much cunt for my cpu to handle maybe

[siide-4-my-sliide]

A (Visual) Guide to the Constructicons (made by me)

(Aka… my findings to help you differentiate them physically when all you see is still the green blob)