#third post today sorry

[iamthedamndonutdrawcat]

reunion after an order mission

[araneapeixes]

rare bg3 Tav moment coming from me to you with a doodle assortment. with a goth gf cameo of course

[starscream-is-my-wife]

Ok I understand why sparkling ocs are so popular designing one is addicting

Alt forms/ adult designs under the cut

So when he's littler he can be a Nissan atla, they're pretty cute, but reaching adulthood he'd be a Nissan big thumb, and getting a mod to have a trailer too.

Optimus only has a flat bed so Im doing the old reliable transformer design of putting stuff u don't know how to fit into the back. If he diddnt have a trailer, the bed sides could just be a part of his legs but he modded to have wings so he can get used to the weight distribution easier.

Big thumbs are 12 feet tall, G1 Optimus is a Freightliner making him also 12 feet, and G1 Ratchet is a Nissan cherry vanette, which are almost 6 feet (5"10 to be exact)

I thought that the big thumb would be a bit smaller then Optimus but damn, Ratchet is gonna have to deal with 2 giant trucks.

[kyxuu]

we're just two slow dancers, last ones out.

[yardsards]

i needed to express a sentiment in the creative stylings of @dunmeshiminimumwage

[rosestarchild]

whenever i see posts like "X character should be allowed to say fuck" i think of miss honey, she's number 1 character to me who should be allowed to say fuck and all other curse words she wants. it so happens that she's trapped in a children's story and so she'll never say them. i also think she should be allowed to have a gun and shoot people in the face, but that's another story.

[skelekins]

Inspired by this video

[incesthemes]

i am genuinely obsessed with how gordon stole the keys to the impala in bloodlust, because he simply had no logical support for that action. even eavesdropping on sam and dean's argument he could hear dean defending him, taking his side, and before that point too gordon's ideology was definitely winning over sam's. gordon taking the keys, then, displays a paranoia that really won't even fully actualize itself until croatoan.

because taking the keys means that gordon believes dean will side with sam. within the context of this episode that is exactly what happens, when gordon reveals he killed his sister and dean decides Fuck That, but on a larger scale it predicts how the rest of the season will go, too. at this point in the season dean is still caught between two ideologies, and he doesn't make his choice until croatoan, when his abstract duty vs sam conflict becomes real and he can no longer ponder it and must instead act. gordon knows who dean will side with before even dean knows himself—because dean spends the entire first half of the season desperately clinging to john (to his duty), trying to shove down his devotion to sam so that he can prepare himself to carry out his obligations and kill his brother.

and gordon alone knows what a futile effort it all is. he recognizes dean's devotion because he's an allegory for duty and so he understands too intimately all the ways dean is failing: duty or sam, gordon or sam, fate or sam. and gordon took the keys so that destiny can play out even when dean inevitably fails—so that they're too late to stop gordon, and so that they're too late to stop fate.

[oros-ash3s]

★・⸝⸝﹒₊˚﹕ ╰・꒰ఎ Noroi ໒꒱ . 𓂅 ⋆.˚﹒₊˚ ★

Noroi are borne from pure evil, the culmination of decay and death, of negative thoughts and emotions. There isn’t much information recorded on how they came to be, or when their creation even took place, but, for as long as the world has known, they have existed, bringing sorrow and grief to whoever’s path they cross, and slowly ravaging the world as we know it. Regular Noroi, as we know them, are sometimes referred to as ghouls, especially in areas of the world where their existence isn’t as well-known, or believed.

There are two classifications of these demons, with important distinctions that set them apart from their predecessors:

First, there are Fiends, once humans, but turned by a Noroi in a horrifying process which rotted their brain, morphing them into what is almost a zombie-like state, dependent on the Noroi that was responsible for their Turning. Fiends are more animalistic than a regular Noroi, and easily manipulated by stronger demons. They don’t seem to have minds of their own, and remember practically nothing from their previous life. Because of their mindless nature, Fiends tend to cause most destruction in towns, as they have no care for themselves, or others, and weaker ones will do anything to feed upon the emotions and souls of humans. Most of the Noroi Hunters at the Division deal with these types, especially because they take much less Cursed Essence than other Noroi.

The others are called Mala (Plural: Malus). These are born from humans who were once one of the Koîkhlos, before they were corrupted and changed into a demon. These Noroi seem to have retained quite a bit of their memories from their past life, especially during their time as a Koîkhlos, but not with their sanity intact. They are not able to differentiate from right or wrong, and appear to almost be in what is a manic state, high on the power that the magic has given them. More intelligent creatures, they are most well-known for dealing with the Koîkhlos themselves, usually resulting in absorbing what little of their soul they have left, and absorbing it.

It is noted that there is absolutely no cure to this state. The Noroi seem to work as some sort of parasitic disease, so to go back from being turned is nearly impossible. The only mercy for these creatures is death — as the alternative is allowing these beings to become such a monstrous beast that it will be completely unrecognizable from its past self. The only choice is to put down these demons like the leeches they are, or watch the earth as we know it crumble away into a lifeless, barren wasteland.

The Division must prevail.

[raineandsky]

#98

“And lo! Here approaches my best knight,” the king announces to the jester as the knight squeezes through the door. The poor jester looks thankful to see her as he hurries out of the king’s gaze. “Come, show me your skill.”

The knight throws a few carefully angled swings for the king. He watches with a delighted expression, but she can see the soullessness in his eyes. Her stomach flips uncertainly.

“You are an excellent swordsman, knight,” he says flatly. “Now, tell me, why should I allow you to stay within my walls?”

The jester averts his gaze awkwardly. Is she about to get fired? “… Because I’m an excellent swordsman and your best knight,” she tries, and the king huffs in his telltale way of saying WRONG.

“Perhaps that was on me for being unspecific.” He picks up a wine glass from the golden table next to his throne, swirling it idly. “I hear you liaise with dragons.”

The knight’s attempt to keep her expression neutral fails miserably. The king watches with keen interest as her eyes widen and her mouth moves in an abysmal attempt to form some sort of defence. She’s acutely aware of the jester watching curiously too—whatever she says next will be the castle’s gossip for the next month. Maybe two if nothing of interest happens before then.

Well shit. Might as well fall into treason headfirst.

She reaches a hand into the front of her breastplate, earning a soft squeak from something inside. The king leans forward on his throne. The jester peers as close as he dares.

Her hand comes back with a short purple string laced around her fingers. Or she does at first glance, and closer inspection reveals her ribbon to be a tiny dragon, yawning and digging tiny claws into her fingers.

The king roars so loud the dragon startles. The knight and the jester don’t fare much better. “Beast!” he howls.

“Beast! Beast! Beast! Beast!” the room echoes back to them.

“You bring this creature within my walls?” he demands. “You slander my name—my rule—with your disregard to my kindness for you?”

“She’s harmless!” the knight cries over him. The dragon isn’t a fan of the racket, and is making a great effort to slip up her sleeve. “She looks after my finances.”

“Disgusting beast,” the king spits.

“The dragon,” the jester says quietly, valiantly ignoring the way the king’s stare snaps to him, “is your accountant?”

The knight fishes a coin from her pouch, gently tapping the dragon with its edge. Its gaze snaps to her gold, its past endeavour with her sleeve forgotten as it grapples for her coin. It twists its body around it excitedly, gnawing at the edge like a toddler, a quiet hum emitting from it as it does.

“That noise it is making,” the king shrieks, “it is going to attack!”

“No!” the knight shouts over him. “It’s like a cat—she’s purring. It means she’s happy.”

“Dragons do not purr,” the king retorts, but the dragon is undeniably making a noise that sounds remarkably like purring. The jester takes a cautious step closer.

The knight tucks her finger under her chin, giving it a hearty scratch. The dragon’s humming gets louder, her eyes closing blissfully at the touch.

“How does it… work?” the jester asks. The knight offers him a smile that she hopes conveys how grateful she is for his interest in the face of the king’s disgust.

“She takes my coins—my salary, my earnings, anything.” The knight adjusts her hand so the dragon sits more comfortably in her palm. She doesn’t seem to mind, too busy clamping her jaw around the gold to notice. “She keeps a hoard no one but her can find. I earned her trust, and whenever I need money she gives it to me.”

“She is a thief,” the king spits, but the rage is losing momentum in the face of such a cute little thing. The knight doesn’t miss how she’s suddenly not an ‘it’.

“I give her all the money she has. She’s just better at keeping money than most humans,” the knight says with a grin, “because she doesn’t spend it all in a tavern.”

The jester snorts. The king raises his eyebrows. Silence falls for a moment as they all watch the dragon get comfortable in the knight’s hand, her tiny body choking her coin, a claw wrapped around her thumb as she nestles in and closes her eyes.

The jester lets out a short “aww,” that’s louder than he probably intended.

“Tsch,” the king says. He leans back in his throne like he’s lost interest. “A beast is a beast. I am most displeased you were disloyal to my word, knight.”

“I apologise, your majesty,” the knight says. It’s all she can say, really. “I will fix things.”

“You… may keep the thing,” the king continues after a moment of intense deliberation. The knight attempts to not to look too surprised. The jester doesn’t even try. “But it is your accountant and nothing more. If I discover it torching my palace I will execute both it and you.”

“Accounting is what she’s best at, your majesty,” the knight says brightly. “You’ll never have to see her again.”

The king nods shortly, though his gaze is traitorously locked onto the purple ball in her hand. “I would not be adverse, knight,” the king says slowly, like he doesn’t quite want to, “if you felt it right to study. We did not know dragons purr, or like coin.”

“Your majesty?”

“Gather your resources and come back to me with knowledge of the beasts.” He waves a hand dismissively. “I will reconsider your treasonous actions if you can prove that your creature poses no threat to my rule or my people.”

A lot of questions are rattling through her brain. “Your majesty, what do—”

“That is all. Jester!” The king turns his attention away from her and back to the jester as he takes centrestage, looking a lot less stressed than before. He gives her a subtle nod and the lightest smile—a small gesture between the servants of the castle, a simple well done.

The knight leaves the hall with the king’s uproaring laughter following her. The dragon stays curled in her hand, and she runs her thumb over it carefully, the dragon’s body warm and prickly to the touch.

A knight to a scholar in one conversation. She doesn’t even know how to write.

[tiny-tf-faces]

Hello! An update on the babies!

Their feathers are coming in and they are starting to be more vocal. We've started holding them to get them used to human touch and they all passed their most important milestone: shitting on a human

One of them has a slightly malformed leg due to uneven bedding... We brought him to the vet and now he's wearing "tape pants" to correct the position. The vet told us to put him in a cup so he stays upright

He is NOT happy about it lol. He tries to escape often, but if everything goes well on next tuesday we can remove everything. We call him fancypants, I think we will keep him :> Anyway, that's all for now! Kisses

!!!

Such good little borbs! Is one of the blue ones going om nom nom on sibling in the first pic?

Glad to hear the little ones are being taught the right way to perceive humans - as chairs. What do baby birds feel like? Are they soft?

It's a tragedy that fancypants has already been imprisoned at such a young age. My best wishes for birb recovery!

Thank you for keeping me updated on these little guys! They're always the highlight of my day :)

[raytorosaurus]

online fandom discourse is soul-draining and pointless and cringe and productive to precisely nobody etc but also every now and then i check out the blogs that hate me and think well at least im repelling the right people. like.

[coridallasmultipass]

GET SCRUNCHT!!

[raointean]

RoP Celebration - Week 6

Minor Characters/OCs/Rairpairs

Now, I know what you're thinking. Arondir isn't a minor character and DEFINITELY isn't part of a rarepair (in cannon). Instead, I'm putting him in the oc category, since he's an original creation of the show. (Disclaimer, this is about 100% headcanon lol)

What we know

Arondir is a Silvan elf, whose people did not follow the valar even partway to Valinor.

Was born and raised in Beleriand (according to tolkiengateway. I think he could have been born in Middle Earth and moved to Beleriand as a child, but for the sake of this post, we'll roll with it)

Was born in the first age or before

Worked as a grower (farmer? I'm assuming?) before becoming a soldier, likely during the War of Wrath

In short, we don't know a lot about him... so I'm going to make it up!

Arondir's family is originally from the Ered Alwed (Mountains of Prosperity)

It was a beautiful land with rolling hills and flowing rivers, not far from the Sea

The land was also sheltered on three sides by mountains

They got bored soon enough, however, being the only intelligent life in the area

Arondir had parents, an elder sister, three elder brothers, a grandfather, an aunt, two uncles, and a handful of cousins who went west

They decided to travel west to more populated places and eventually wound up in Doriath

They settle down as farmers growing fruits and ninniachloth flowers (his sister, however, makes her way into Menegroth and gets a reputation as an excellent caregiver. She is eventually given the privilege of caring for King Dior's children)

This is the world Arondir is born into, just before the start of the first age; peace, plenty, a loving family, flourishing orchards, lush berry fields, and forest clearings full of crystalline flowers

That world is destroyed when Arondir is around 550 years old (young, though fully grown, for an elf)

The kinslayers come and sack Menegroth and destroy the surrounding residences and farms

Arondir's sister is killed defending her charges

His father and grandfather are killed defending the farm

His uncles, aunt, and cousins attempt to flee and are never seen again

Two of his brothers were serving a mandatory stint in Dior's guard and are lost in the chaos

His third brother, coming across the ruins of their home, challenges the Feanorians, and loses

Arondir hides

He has never been one for violence; as a boy, he always made someone else kill the chickens when it came time for dinner

And so, like a coward he hides

He survives

He joins the other survivors on their long march to the Havens of Sirion and makes his home beside the riverbank

Children begin to call him "strawberry man" because he grows them in the rocky soil near his hut and gives them out to any passing little one

He tills the soil, works the fields, makes friends with his fellow refugees, and for a while, Arondir starts to believe he can have peace in this little corner of the world

The war continues brewing in the north, but if he keeps to himself and keeps his head facing the earth, it cannot reach him

It cannot reach him... until it does

The kinslayers come again, not even 40 years after their first assault, to claim what is "theirs"

But Arondir does not hide this time

They have taken enough from him already

This time, he fights

Once again, he survives

Once again, his people are scattered

Once again, they have lost their ruler (on wings of flight, this time, instead of death)

Unlike in the past, however, Arondir does not wait around for the enemy to come to him

Instead, he finds the nearest camp of High-King Gil-Galad's host and volunteers himself as a soldier

@the-southlands

[sejarcus-archive]

This blog should have been sejarcusandstrabo-archive, for how much I talk about that man. This is my formal apology to the Strabo dislikers on here, I just really can’t help it guys, I’m sorry

[luna-the-shark4254]

Feeing like everything is directed at you is NOT fun. 0/10 would not recommend. Gonna crash out over this later.