#I could go into detail with all the tags

[nearlyalmostdead]

Dear whump community,

I have just finished watching LA’s finest 2x07 and 2x08 and I am honestly shocked that the whump community hasn’t discovered this show yet because I think 2x08 is the best whumpy episode I’ve ever watched and everyone should go and watch it right now

[fumifooms]

That. That screentone on Chilchuck’s chest in the low open collar. Is Chilchuck having chest hair canon Kui. Kui? Gripping my knee

[lestatlioncunt]

James Fitzjames + Caravaggio's Entombment, David with the Head of Goliath, Penitent Magdalene, The Incredulity of Saint Thomas, Death of the Virgin, Bacchus

[medi-bee]

isat pokemon au, my liege?

my rambling in tags

[yea-baiyi]

YALL. everyone go watch story of kunning palace i swear it’s worth it im still riding an insane high after i finished it last night.

it’s a very good solid drama for 30 episodes kinda slow burn but well written with good characters and decent plots.

and then in the last 8 episodes, the guy’s sidekick tells him “maybe you should show her how you really feel. show her the real you” and he proceeds to go batshit feral insane. which after watching her pine after and then reject the most morally upright guy ever it fucking WORKS ON HER because she is ALSO insane!!

after that it’s just 8 episodes of him being sloppy desperate for her and begging her to give him an answer while she’s just there buffering because she has to readjust her whole worldview with this news that he’s liked her all along?? she went out to meet her former crush and when she got home he sat her down and made her eat a dinner he made. that was drowning in vinegar. because if he had to drink vinegar then SO SHOULD SHE. and after she doesn’t eat much at dinner he plops down a tray of her favourite cake. that he had given her before earlier in the drama. announces that he made it with his own hands. and she’s like :0 “you made it for me even back then?? but back then we were only….” and he’s immediately like “only? only what? what were we back then? what about now? is it different now? what are we?” and she’s just like .

[junesprince]

just take this

[tanushakyrano]

day 10 of kapril! butch lesbian kayo is a concept I hold close to my heart <3

(+ the lineart bc it has vibes)

[tardxsblues]

Well, you know what, Doctor? This time, the human race is saving you.

[br1ghtestlight]

there needs to be a study on why bob's burgers fans are so obsessed with writing about the belcher kids dying of a horrific illness or accident and in so much detail. like to an extent I understand wanting to explore darker themes with these characters but there's SO MUCH of it omg I have never been in a fandom this obsessed with angst before

[syncopatedid]

The way Suguru keeps poking at his forehead just before he turned to the dark side is significant far as religious themes in jjk go, as it's where the "third eye" (associated with spiritual enlightenment and religious visions) is usually depicted to be. His "third eye" was awakened and he was finally able to see the truth and light at the end of his tunnel, a way out of his endless struggle. And having attained that enlightenment, leaves mankind to burn while he seeks to get closer to god by becoming one himself.

[faehrnem]

In a different timeline, where Faehrnem never comes to be as the Bold Tree follows in his older sister's footsteps by setting aside his own wants and dreams to instead begrudgingly take on his role as an avatar.

[skitskatdacat63]

“Amore et Timore” - King Fernando I “El Animoso”

[danwhobrowses]

Well fellow Callowmoores, it's almost 2024 and that will potentially be the year we see endgame of Campaign 3 - given how we've returned to the Bloody Bridge and likely intend to throw down on Ruidus and fight Predathos (somehow). Nevertheless, we're about halfway through our three week wait for another episode and since we're on the verge of intense and emotionally-charged battles ahead there'll probably be little time for romantic activity - little does not mean none, mind you - during it. Last time we had a wait like this I did a post on some underrated Callowmoore moments from the Shard Incident episodes, but since others have already wonderfully dissected the recent Feywild episodes' romantic moments I'm afraid I don't have much else to add to that. I do, however, have a bunch of mental scenarios that didn't come to be, or have yet to come to be in different contexts to how I previously thought them up. So I thought; it's the new year, why not indulge the artists and fanfic writers who can do a better job than I can with it?

So if you like some of these things, treat it as a free prompt; draw, write, flourish however you see fit, and have a Happy New Year!

If you kept reading after that awesome, I was a little worried the main thing would be a tldr situation, and still could be I didn't expect the bullets to be as long...they were actually even longer at first so not sorry but also sorry? I guess. But anyway, we know what you're here for so let's go.

Note: The scenarios were devised to keep me from suffering crippling doubt and mental shutdown between episodes so mostly they'll be fluffy and comfort-oriented than angsty.

As mentioned before, Fearne pickpocketing the Ashton doll Laudna made to practice talking to Ashton, building up to it or luring Ashton over. Ashton's awareness of the pickpocketing can grow too or they could simply allow it from the get-go "I let her take whatever she wants."

Dancing, low-hanging fruit maybe but always good for chaos, awkwardness, wingman activity, and high energy, but I'm talking folk dancing like in Titanic not ballroom dancing, that's not their or the Feywild's style

"I'll be the judge of that." specifically for when Ashton feels they're unlovable or doesn't deserve to be loved. There's also "Then I guess I'm crazy." and "You've always deserved it."

Pickpocketing one another has been their game, but I can't deny that the thought of Ashton making something for Fearne was highly appealing too, I had them make a bracelet from melted down jewelry and gems they had on them (plus a compartment with an Oleander seed and some water from the Feywild in it), imperfectly made but sturdy and still pretty. Bonus for Ashton reverse pickpocketing it onto her.

"You've always been perfect to me" is another one I mentioned before, I usually have Ashton say it (and sometimes post-Fearne taking the shard reiterate that Fearne keeps becoming more perfect in their eyes) but it can go either way.

Sleeping beside each other's a common one. Not even sexually, often it's for comfort, soothing pain/nightmares or reassuring each other, and - if Fearne hasn't disappeared beforehand leaving Ashton waking up feeling a comforting presence missing - usually not wanting to get out of bed the following morning.

Similar to the above is short rests in close quarters, a specific one is Ashton using their primordial earth powers to pull up a discrete wall for the group to hide behind and rest a little, melding into the actual wall to offer a polymorphed Fearne (a small fire lizard usually, sticking on Orym and Ashton's heads) more space so she can rest too, albeit very snugly and pressed against them - easy opening for kisses under the jawline btw.

Metaphorical but Ashton's reassurance of "You could never hurt me" regarding Fearne's primordial fire was used a bit, plus it aligns with the recent "I'll take my fire damage now" when they hugged Fearne.

Fearne being open to Ashton about her fears of being the dark version of herself, bonus quote "I don't know that person, she's not you, never will be, you're better."

Fearne pulling the Uno Reverse "The shard hurt, but knowing you were there made it hurt much less." and/or "Thank you for saving me."

Also similar to the one above are conversations post-Fearne taking the shard exploring newfound empathy for each other's (albeit more extreme) positions at Whitestone; Fearne experiencing the intensity of the shard's fire, and Ashton experiencing the dread of seeing Fearne in pain from it and being afraid to lose her.

"Whatever happens, promise you'll come back to me" is a pertinent one for the current setting too.

What is that? 1, 2...12! One for each month, there's of course more, some are simple low-hanging fruit or more detailed (no seriously I trimmed a lot of these bullet points down in detail) but for the sake of length we'll stop here. Once again, Happy New Year my fellow Critters and Callowmoores!

[sonknuxadow]

[obeymeow]

nightbringer lesson 14 FUCKED ME UP in several ways but primarily I've spent the last 48 hours making myself sad over the solomon backstory we got. specifically I have, for no reason, latched onto that one chapter in the Kids event where baby solomon cried because he felt so guilty over being responsible for that spell. and that just feels a touch more depressing in context

[mordremrose]

I’m just gonna write a little thing! A little thought for Bloom, nothing too intense, just so I don’t forget it!

1000 words later? Whoops

Writing below the cut, major spoilers for the end of Heart of Thorns and implied End of Dragons spoilers but nothing explicit from EoD :]

Bloom

“Kill me, Commander.” Trahearne could hear his own voice tremble, as horror overtook his dear friend’s face. Around them all, their friends— Rytlock, Caithe, Canach, Marjory, Braham— were exhausted. Worn thin by the fight against the jungle dragon, both physical and within the Dream.

“What? No! Mordremoth is dead. We destroyed its mind from the inside.” The commander protested, their fingers curled around the hilt of Caladbolg.

“But I still hear its voice.” Trahearne looked down at his hands, twisted and blighted as they were. His body was not his— he was corrupted. It was only cruel fate that he had kept his mind this long. Or perhaps something more sinister.

“Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige… a terrible seed, planted deep in my mind.”

Trahearne’s hands curled into fist, as he took a deep steadying breath.

“You must kill me, Commander, before that seed grows. Before… before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.”

He reached out now, hands on his friend’s shoulders. The tears streaming down their face broke his heart. He did not want this. He didn’t want to hurt them, to see them suffer so.

Trahearne wished there was another way.

“What is left of me can’t survive on its own, my friend.” He croaked, and felt the Commander tremble beneath his hands. Were they always so small?

“Strike now or—“

Against his will, a rage rose up. A sick bile that boiled in his stomach and burned through his chest as his mind lurched.

Through his mouth, Mordremoth spoke.

“I am the future! I am this world! You cannot destroy me!” The dragon roared, hands tightening around the commander.

“Run while you can!” It took everything he had left to force his fingers to uncurl, to release the commander even as the dragon wanted to tear them to shreds to be remade anew.

Caladbolg flashed in the corner of his eye.

“No!” The commander yelled. Strike true my friend! Trahearne wanted to yell. But he couldn’t, and his mind went dark.

There was no great explosion. There was no dying scream.

If you asked those present what happened, none of them gave any concrete answer.

Canach hesitated to answer, but would confirm that Mordremoth was no longer hounding his mind, or any of the sylvari.

All Rytlock would say was that the confrontation wasn’t pretty.

Caithe mourned Trahearne, in her quiet and melancholic manner, and asked not to push the matter further.

Braham would scowl, shake his head, and shove his way past, unwilling or perhaps unable to describe that final blow.

Marjory Delaqua, normally so elegant and clever with her words, who could see the twists of a plot before anyone else— when she was asked, she could only shake her head and reply ‘I don’t know’.

The Commander didn’t answer at all, because no one was able to find them to ask.

Eventually, researchers at the newly established lab of Rata Novus confirmed what the entire world held its breath to hear.

Mordremoth was dead. He had to be, to explain the slow steady trickle of magic escaping the jungle, supposedly as the dragon… decayed wasn’t the right word, but it conveyed the idea well enough. It was a slow death, they said, not quite the explosive reaction from Zhaitan, who had gorged itself on magic before its death, but a gradual decay. It changed things, about magic, about how the people of Tyria and the soon to be established Dragon’s Watch understood the flow of magic around and through the Elder Dragons. But it was dead.

It had to be.

He woke up. His body ached, as it always did, as he woke. A consequence of being too bigsmall. He stirred slowly, limbs stretching out and tail dragging behind. He had buried himself beneath massive vines this time, the weight of them both familiar and restricting. These conflicting sensations, the constant disagreement with himself… it was the only thing he could rely on. Even his name escaped his memory, although he could hear whispers of it on the edges of his mind.

Traherdremaneth.

It didn’t matter, really.

He moved slowly, not truly wanting to rise, but knowing he must.

He was something in between, and there was no stillness for him. No place of his own.

His one companion, if you could call it that, would be upon him soon. A dogged purserer, both a thorn in his side and a trusted ally, trailed behind him. For a time he thought they left him— and the feelings that had wrought left him stationary in a deep cave for nearly a week before they had reappeared.

He didn’t want them close, he knew that much, but they were one of the few things he had, a consistency. He couldn’t see them well, not with the distance between them, but he could always make out the broken blade at their hip. The one that made the scar across his chest ache.

He wondered what would happen if he let them get closer. Would they strike? Would they know him?

They were his enemyfriend. What would they make of him? Caution kept him at a distance from them.

The longer he was awake, the more memories he could half-remember.

The Orrian landscape stretches out before him and it reeks of his sibling, twisting beneath the dirt. The undead don’t notice him, not yet, and he can take a moment to look closer at the coral. It was neither alive nor dead. Not unlike himself and yet so different to him or anything he had ever encountered before.

He missed his siblings, their quiet talks among the then empty roots, among safe coils with their constant presence around him. They were too distant to feel or simply gone now and it unnerved him. This was wrong. Perhaps they could help him make it right.

There was one other thing, other than his sort-of companion and his unsteady roiling mind, that remained constant. And this was the true constant. A steady beacon, that he could not see or hear, but simply felt in a way that he could not describe. A magnetic sort of pull that had him orbiting closer and closer.

It drew him in, out of the depths and dark underbelly of the jungle and the cave systems, towards the strange golden stones, the elegant walls meant to keep out creatures that wished to destroy the beacon. He was not welcome there, not yet, even though he meant no harm. He just needed to be closer.

He didn’t know how he knew that. He just knew it.