#and I could tie up the back

[bread-of-death]

Ngl I kinda wanna get the Obi-Wan mullet

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: violence mention / death mention / ]

Will never stop thinking about how Leo, all alone in an endless void and being beaten again and again and again by the only other living thing around, still finds comfort in that space. The situation he was in was completely hopeless, and in any other circumstances he would not have escaped, at least not fast enough to save him from permanent (or even fatal) damage, be it physical or mental.

And yet, despite the bleakness of his situation, despite the agony and helplessness, all he needs is one glance at a crumbled photograph, one glance to remember his family, and that’s enough of a reason for him to smile.

Maybe that’s why his powers center around manipulating space - because no matter how much space is between them, no matter how dire his own situation may be, just the thought of his family, alive and okay, is enough to give Leo hope.

[childrenofthesun77]

There is something about mahiru and touma hating each others guts while also being father and son that is extremely funny to me and I can't really explain why.

Like, re-reading the C3 arc with the knowledge that they are related and that touma knows that mahiru is his son makes me laugh at this moment

because touma is literally his dad, nobody knows that he's mahiru's dad and in perfect absent father fashion the spell turns him invisible.

[gamebunny-advance]

Goat (Sketch)

So, I'm probs not gonna do anything too special for the anniversary this year. I just didn't plan for it.

But, I did recently make this sketch for a personal project I'm working on. Will I finish it? Who knows. Y'all should know better than to expect me to finish anything I start.

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

-

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

[thelemonsnek]

Zaps Ingo with the crochet beam. His ass is counting stitches now

[image id: the first image is a digitally colored sketchpage featuring Warden Ingo. At the top of the first image is a fully colored and shaded scene, depicting Ingo crocheting outside of his hut. Mountains fade off into the distance, and the entire drawing is tinted purple. Beneath this are a number of sketches, some colored and some not. The majority of these are headshots from various angles, all of them with a blue scarf wrapped around his neck in different ways. The final design has the scarf wrapped underneath his collar, and tied in the back.

The second image is a two panel comic of Rei and Ingo. Rei approaches Ingo, who is sitting crocheting, saying "hiya Warden Ingo!" Ingo smiles, saying "hello, Rei." In the second panel, Rei looks down at Ingo's crocheting, smiling widely in surprise. "Wow! I had no idea you knew how to knit :)" he says. Ingo stares at Rei with a peeved look on his face. A nuclear explosion is pasted next to him. End id]

And bonus speedpaint! No, I'm not at all peeved by how much the quality got borked, why do you ask?

[video id: a speedpaint of the first drawing, with the mountain scene and the headshots. End id]

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Juno still has the Ruby7 with him. JUNO STILL HAS THE RUBY7 WITH HIM

THE RUBY7 CAN SENSE EMOTIONS OMG WAIT HEAR ME OUT- either:

A) the Ruby7 will sense Slip Jackson is sad, unbearably sad in his 15-20 year coma, and this will add into Peter's rage (not understanding what Juno's talking about the Ruby7 sensing sadness or whatever, not understanding why Slip does feel sad), and having to let go of Slip's dream. Or alternatively

B) the Ruby7 will sense nothing. Effectively brain dead, just a machine pumping his blood working his heart and lungs. Slip Jackson isn't alive, hasn't been alive for a while, and cannot be alive. Peter's rage (he was promised Slip's freedom in exchange for his services, he's worked two decades of his thirty years and for what?), letting go of the dream, etc etc.

[mars-ipan]

some postgame doodles for pride month

[strawberrycamel]

ninjago seabound hurts. so much. what the fuck

[seagreenstardust]

The way Izuku never would have asked for or required an apology from Katsuki vs the way hearing Katsuki apologize for mistreating him is what allowed Izuku to give in and rest

[bubblesandpages]

So on the topic of Claire's nearly fatal allergy oversight, isn't there a direct parallel with that in how Carmy, Richie, Sydney, hell, all of the kitchens, servers, and chefs we see over the course of the show treat allergies, and how meticulous they are with finding alternatives for each element in a dish?

[espurr-roba]

kairi as an ephemer descendant. is this anything.

[flamestar126]

Game Night with Douglas

Click for better quality

What happens after Douglas leaves for a second

rambling about their outfit in tags

[quietwingsinthesky]

Sam & Dean are mutually insane about each other but NOT in the same way. because if sam tells dean they aren’t brothers, dean gets possessive and will do anything to fix that, but if dean tells sam they aren’t brothers, sam zero hesitation goes I Am Going To Kill Myself In Front Of You. and i think that’s beautiful.

[rush-the-stars]

something i think about a lot is how like. a lot of kinks within fic are no longer the character study they used to be. like its Just There. and therefore makes it weirdly….plain? or removed from the reason it was originally maybe taboo or NOT vanilla?

not to be like “back in my day…” but i’ve been in fandom spaces for like 10 or so years now? and i felt like awhile ago, you’d read a fic with a specific kink and it’d be like 60k+ and largely it was a study on the character(s) and why and how they’d have this kink. maybe if they denied it or were embarrassed or how they even can become comfortable with it. what circumstances would give them this desire.

the fic itself sometimes felt more like someone’s thesis on why these characters would have sex like this. but it kinda amped everything up? it gave it context and build up and conflict.

not to say its bad or that writers can’t also do the same in shorter fic. but ig i feel like now its mostly just. like the kink is Just There. and there’s not a huge justification for it—not that there always has to be!

this isn’t hate to anyone or anything in particular its more just me musing. ig sometimes i miss the days when character study type fics were very popular.

[dennisboobs]

god hole is a fundamental dennis scene but not because of the way everyone else uses it