#and dont wait for answer

[marstectomy]

Translating 3D into 2D is hard so I've been studying his face and I can't help loving the range Nathaniel has. Incoming rant about his design.

Might have been a quirk of the old style or his model maybe being among the cheap ones, but even then, Nathaniel really seems to be one to have a perpetual resting bitch face in the show, along with bombastic side eyes and killer gazes. Very fitting for the quiet, shy, and insecure art kid who sports a notable emo bang and thinks everyone is secretly mocking him.

However when he is happy or excited he REALLY lights up, showing how cute he can be.

I do also think that the new style, as much as it was an improvement, also gave him a major shift in his vibe, becoming almost a different character that looks much, much softer, and rounder. (One could argue this is due him becoming a more happy and open person overall, thanks to finally making better friends with everyone, and meeting Marc). I'm still glad that he still has his killer gazes when it's due, tho!

Differences between both models are subtle, but made a world of difference, specially his nose, much more angular, thin and pointy in the old model, but more round and wide in the new one, and it really changes the way his character is perceived. Overall, it seems like he finally was fed because he looks more meaty in the face. (And he was given freckles, cute!!!)

Ironically, this makes him look younger than his old self! At least to me, now he looks more closer to a pre-teen, whereas the old model def had that teen look to him (the wardrobe change is also highly responsible, as a prep look will always look more mature than overalls with splashes of paint). And again, him looking younger is ironic, considering he seemed to have a growth spurt between season 5 and 6, lol.

Interestingly, refining him to look younger and more cute, makes it so Caprikid, who has a strong presence and frame, looks completely like a different person. (which wasn't the case as much with old Nath and Caprikid)

However, this wasn't a post meant to delve on Caprikid, so I'll stop it here.

As a last fun fact, I like how there is a conscious effort to disguise his identity, as 98% of his freckles get covered when he puts on the mask! (Only a few on his nose are visible)

Here ends my rant about Nathaniel Kurtzberg's design, character that has taken over my brain like a parasite for the last 6 days

[bastardlybonkers]

aw give prowl someone who flutters back

END OF PROWL ARC (pt 1 anyways 😏)

we may now resume our previously scheduled starbee

first prev next

[rhiangalaxy]

It was always going to be like this. (IAC pt.8) ((First/Prev/Next))

[ID: A Scum Villain Comic. Panel one depicts Luo Binghe having been stabbed in the abdomen by Xiu Ya/SJ!Shen Qingqiu. LBH's arms are slightly raised in surprise. It then shows SQQ with an angered expression, his arm slightly swinging down as if retracting his sword and saying "No. I was right! You. Are nothing but a little BEAST." LBH reels back with a shocked and hurt expression at his words as his hands have raised to cover the wound in his abdomen.

Panel two depicts SQQ pushing his other hand outward with a qi blast towards LBH, as his other hand has pulled back with a now bloodied sword. Wtih a determined expression SQQ states "Now go where you belong." To which LBH raising one hand up as if to defend himself in horror replies in a small voice "Wait-" It then cuts to a view of the ends of SQQ's robes and LBH's left hand reaching upwards as he falls backwards into the Endless Abyss.

Panel three shows how LBH's hand/arm is suddenly grabbed by Gongyi Xiao. Chibi!LBH looks up in concerned surprise, saying "Gongyi-?" GYX now reaching down with both arms with a concerned and frightened expression yells "Hold on Shidi!"

The final panel first depicts all characters in a chibi style. A cracking noise is shown that causes GYX to stumble downwards with a surprised expression going "Wh-" before both him and LBH fall into the Abyss. Wtih GYX still holding onto LBH's arm and LBH looking up towards him in horror as bits of rubble from the cliff face fall behind them. End ID]

[zarnzarn]

lamb who kills the one who waits when the time comes to decide, furious and betrayed at being asked to lay down their life after everything they'd done, after-

they kill him, and don't stop to see what happens to the body, carried away by their celebrating followers. They rejoice the whole day, of a final victory against evil, riling each other up to the heights of joy and mania until late in the night.

And then Lamb goes to bed and blows out the lamp and the their decision finally sinks in.

what have they done.

they wake the next day trembling from forgotten nightmares, overheating as they make their way through the day's chores, blank-faced and numb. the call to sermon is waved off in face of a headache, as they try not to think about how much of what they preach no longer is relevant.

the week passes in a haze- they unthinkingly leave offerings in the wooden chest until they rot in the summer noon; call out the rituals in Narinder's language and pretend the power isn't fainter than usual, go on a crusade to get their mind off things- except the last is the worst of it all, because the crown's eye is pale pink, pupil fat with power, instead of the crimson cat-eye that Lamb is used to, and there's no getting away from the fact on how silent it is when no one is watching behind it.

how silent it is because no one is there.

yet somehow worse still is-

"hope you feel better soon, leader!" a younger follower says, tucking a camelia into their wool. they know they've been distant lately, avoiding worries left right and centre. "praise the one! he'll make everything alright."

it's like a hammer to the chest, leaving them breathless and stunned, to realise- they never commissioned a statue of Narinder, after all these years. so stubborn in only leaving the crimson eye scratched around the cult grounds as his symbol until he found an artist worthy of Lamb sharing the image of the god of death, that-

no one else except the lamb knew what narinder looked like. they had no idea whose defeat they'd celebrated.

no one but Lamb remembers their god.

..

it gets harder after that.

Lamb isn't sure how many people have left the cult by the time the Mystic Seller's demand comes through, to save what's left of the Bishops from endless purgatory, before their violent shadows disrupted the fabric of the four realms.

They stare, speechless and disbelieving, at the outrageous ask, before it suddenly sinks in that-

The bishops.

The bishops.

They run through the lands once more with eagerness, sword slashing harder each time, ruthless and relentless in their kills. They reconquer Leshy and Heket brutally, curtly setting out the terms when they are diminished back to mortal and forced to stay in the cult. They agree, and agree to keeping their peace as well when Kallamar and Shamura join them, surrounded by a cult that's flourishing once more, waiting eagerly for a familiar stranger. Lamb tells stories around the fire about The One Who Waits, watches the smiles on their followers' faces reappear, the ones who had fled their anger and depression slowly making their way back to the flock, and the cult grows back to its full potential once more.

And then Lamb runs up the stairs when it's all ready and beautiful and welcoming, beams at the Seller as they wait for their instructions.

The Seller frowns. "Yes?"

Lamb tilts their head, rusted bell on their neck tinkling. It had broken the day after Narinder's defeat, the collar finally fluttering to the ground in tatters like a cloth of eighty years should; but Lamb had repaired and maintained and polished it until it wrapped proud around their neck once again. Their heart is beating in their chest, excitement running through their veins. They'd forgotten how it felt to be on the cusp of going to meet the One Who Waits.

"The last bishop still remains," They laugh, joy spreading through them. "I have to go get him too, yes? For the good of the universe and all."

The Mystic Seller... is silent.

"Narinder was not a Bishop," It says finally. Lamb's smile drops. "The Three-Eyed Cat had completed his ascension when he mastered the resurrection ritual. He was a God."

Lamb's heart drops to their stomach, stumbling like they've taken a hit. "What? So what? Can't I bring him back?"

The Mystic Seller tilts their head. "No."

"What do you mean no?" Lamb's nostrils flare, red crown sparking as they take a step closer. "I brought all those others back, why can't I-"

"They were the pillars of the very order of the world-"

"They were fucking MONSTERS!" Lamb shouts. "And what, death isn't?"

"It is," The Seller says, unaffected by the screaming. "But you are the Bishop of Death now. The cycle has begun again."

Lamb feels like they've taken an arrow to the chest. They stumble forward, and then to their knees. "No," they whimper. "There has- has to be some way to bring him back."

The Mystic Seller stares at them. "You were the one to kill him," They point out, and Lamb feels bile rise in their mouth as their breathing gets faster. "Why would you want him back? A thriving cult, an usurped crown, his spells in your hand-"

"Shut up," Lamb hisses.

"-you have all the power you could ever want, little sheep. Your revenge against the murder of your people."

"He wasn't the one to do it!" They shout up at the Seller, despite the hypocrisy- it had been part of their thoughts when they'd raised the axe again and again and again; the resentment of if it wasn't for you-

"No, no, no, no, no," They whimper, holding onto their biceps and shaking. "Narinder."

It is the first time they have said his name in five years. That realization is what makes the tears finally fall.

Their throat is hoarse when they finish, eyes swollen and blood pooled around them, skin already healing back to perfection where they had clawed through. The Mystic Seller stares at them and sways, silent.

"No," The Lamb finally says, and gets up, determined. Walks past the Seller, to the door behind, leading to the Gateway.

They wonder how they never realized. Or maybe they did, and were just lying to themselves that they didn't.

Lamb reaches the crater, with the rusted chains and wooden crucifixes rising out from the fog around it and comes to a halt.

Narinder is exactly where they left him.

Bones only now. Blackened by all the rituals he performed, he'd told them once; perfectly placed, like he had just fallen.

Lamb still has the ointment they made with their first cult sitting in the back of their cupboard, back when they were naive enough to think it would only take months. Ointment spelled to help grow back the fur on his rotting arms, worn to nothing by a thousand years of pulling at the chains and them tightening on him every time he moved in response.

The skull could be anyone's, now.

Two ribs are broken, where Lamb's axe went through. Straight to the heart.

Lamb exhales and shakily kneels to the ground, lowering himself to Narinder's side, careful to not dislodge a single bone out of place, and molds their body around the skeleton in a perverse mockery of a lover's embrace. Violently, abruptly, they want that, so much it burns- Narinder's arms holding the close one last time. It feels unbearable, to have- to have him lowered to meet Lamb at his level, to have him attainable instead of a towering, unreachable, terrible eldritch horror, and for him to be dead.

Oh, Lamb thinks, shaking as tears form in their eyes. Oh, I loved you. I love you.

"Darling," They choke out, tracing one cheekbone. "My baby. My one. My death. Come back, will you?"

Narinder opens his eyes and shoots them an unimpressed look. Lamb sobs, shoulders heaving, gasping as claws embed themselves in their throat- whole, complete, strong, paw soft as a cloud, faint markings on the fur Lamb never knew he had now drenched with blood.

They laugh, smiling through the tears as they push forward into the claws, flesh ripping and tearing as they push their mouth closer to Narinder's.

"I am sorry," They whisper. Narinder growls. "i love you."

"Traitor-"

"Fuck the crown," Lamb breathes back, moving to straddle Narinder to interrupt him, keeping the weight on their own knees to not damage his healing ribs. His claws are still in their throat, tangled in their stitches. "Fuck the power. Fuck the cult. Fuck religion. I only ever wanted you."

Narinder stills, looking up at them with sharp eyes. Lamb laughs around his beloved's fingers. "I only ever want you. What is life without you, Antim?"

Narinder studies them. Lamb waits, bloodied and grinning, patiently waiting, smitten to have those beautiful trifecta eyes upon them once more.

"I promised you," They whisper. "I promised to break you out of here. Let me, my one. My only one, who has waited so long."

Narinder takes a breath, tilting his chin down and then up. His claws twitch in Lamb's vocal chords, drawing them down closer to him.

Lamb whoops in joy and reaches up to toss the crown to the side, fitting their hooves to the last chain wrapped around Narinder's neck, binding him still to the Gateway, and splinters it into a thousand pieces, never to hold anyone ever again.

"Come," The Lamb whispers finally, moving back and gathering their lover up in their arms, still pressing their mouths together. "Let me take you home, Narinder. Mere jaan. Meri mrityu. My one."

Narinder sighs and buries his face in the crook of Lamb's neck as they start to walk away. "Turn back around, idiot. We cannot leave without the damned crown. And I am picking out the wedding decorations."

"Of course, my love," Lamb coos, and leans in again to kiss their greatest mistake.

[ceruleanwake]

happy gay month to the og problematic fave!!!

[drawingwilsoneveryday]

day 66

[baeshijima]

u know what would be a cool genshin fic idea? isekai/transmigrated reader, but instead of appearing within the general timeline, you come into the genshin world 500 years prior to the start of the storyline in khaenri'ah.

honestly it could be either a little before the cataclysm, giving enough time to delve into some relationship building + explore some world building with characters like dainsleif, traveller's sibling (which would probably be lumine bc i actually do like her as abyss sibling & aether as traveller), and npcs like halfdan (still crying over him to this day ;w;) and possibly the khaenri'ahn royal guards (assuming you either join them or have a good enough relationship with them), OR it could be you appear during the crisis, completely and utterly lost as to why you were brought amidst the chaos and bloodshed as you watch everything you barely knew about this nation crumble before your very eyes.

either route will still result in reader's existential crises and constant "why am i here? just to suffer?" monologues because really, who would be fine after going through that after coming from /our/ world? and not to mention you've had to endure the next 500 years wandering with no real set path because you don't know this world— this era of teyvat or of genshin. you're merely stuck, unable to die, and forced to live a life of uncertainty with no clear direction for you to go to.

despite it all, you've at least been able to see dain during this course. while your meetings pass far too quickly for your lonesome, and his solemn demeanour is something you're yet to be accustomed to after having been with him before the fall of khaenri'ah (assuming it's the route where you appear before the cataclysm), you're glad to see a familiar face every now and then. after the messy departure with the lumine who left for the abyss order, you've come to appreciate his quiet presence more and more each time.

and then you decide it might be time to settle. you soon realise it's difficult to do so when your lifespan has become far more than that of a human's — of a mortal's — and so you find yourself becoming used to staying in one place for a few years before setting off for the next. rinse and repeat. over and over. it's come to a point where you've witnessed the nations undergo various changes each time you visit. you know change is inevitable, and yet your heart stings each time you witness it; a testament to how the world is ever-changing, yet you're stuck in place as a bystander.

one thing you're grateful for, however, are the bonds you've established amid your back-and-forth over the centuries. from archons like zhongli and venti to long-life beings such as neuvillette and the adepti to regular mortals who have showed you kindness as if one of their own... you've grown to cherish those memories, often reminiscing them when the nights get too long and surroundings too quiet. it was difficult at first, and still is, but you've become used to the inevitable change and the passing of those you once knew.

and after 500 years, you find yourself face-to-face with one you haven't seen since before you appeared in this world; the protagonist of this world, and the one you eventually join in hopes of finally finding a means to an end, aether.

little side notes/extras:

from /our/ world, you would probably know the storyline from up to around current (5.0) or maybe a little after the fontaine aq conclusion. it gives a lot to work with, but you definitely won't remember a lot of the lore after so long other than some main events, especially since most of your knowledge is pretty irrelevant for the next 500 years,,,

i think it would be cool if you had an inteyvat on your person as a little homage of khaenri'ah, which may or may not invoke some opinions from certain characters (*cough* aether immediately being reminded of lumine and having an existential crisis *cough*)

post-cataclysm you would go through a, uhm, long phase of helplessness, wondering why you were even brought to this world so far back if you couldn't even make any contributions. it does eventually morph into a resolution to do what you can to help those you come across if it's within your capabilities, but the nightmares and helplessness come back every now and then as a reminder for what you can't do :D yippee :D

honestly i'm on the fence whether you would have a vision or some other type of abilities (think on the similar lines of aether/lumine's and dain's), but i think having some type of purification mechanic would be a must in your arsenal !! would definitely lead to some moments between you and characters like dain or zhongli who suffer from the erosion as you give them a slight reprieve from what rages within and corrodes them

a little self indulgent, but i'd like to think your first /proper/ meeting with zhongli happens during a lantern rite festival, wherein you're admiring the lanterns in the sky after making a wish of your own and he comes up from behind with "they're beautiful, wouldn't you say so?" and !!

also as for love interests, as much as i would love for human/mortal characters, a part of me feels like this story would be better suited for the immortal/long-life characters as love interests?? idk i feel like considering that 500 years is, well, a long time, the bonds you would have with them compared to characters like, say, alhaitham or diluc would be way too different ?? though i would definitely still add them as love interest bc i am a sucker for so many of the human characters ;w; it would also add to the angst and hurt/comfort ahahha...

anyway thank you for reading this massive brain dump of a fic bc i absolutely would put this as a long term project, and if u made it this far then i would like to say that dain solos—

[br1ghtestlight]

i love how touchy all the contestants are in episode 18 <3 it's like they're scared that if they let go they'll never see each other again. and they just got each other back :( which is actually really sad but also like calm down girl...... nobodys taking them from u. you don't need to have each other in a death grip while holding hands at a concert months later

[askthehedgehogs]

*slides Sonic glitter-remover while Shadow isn’t looking*

You owe me.

-😅Anon

Thank you, my sweaty friend. I will give you literally anything you ask for.

[mo-ok]

blues really do just be doing shit huh

[fascinationstreetmp3]

this line really fuels my horrible messy explosive 80s breakup theory i have to say

[1vylili3s]

can we see more of golden cheese cookie beating up burning spice cookie? she's my favorite ancient cookie :D

fight pt. 20

[arcane-gold]

I'm so happy to see you getting close to your goal for your new PC (and Veilguard). I shared your sale w all my friends bc you have some genuinely wonderful art AND it's going to a good cause (romancing hot Dragon Age Babes in your area). Much love, wishing you get all the funds in time <3

THANK YOU SO INCREDIBLY MUCH

AND AN UPDATE: I DID!!!!!

[evilherehotel]

lemon pye

[artuurle]

do you think Mitternacht ever wishes she could remember her first appearing?

Maybe! Though, she might have also wondered if there was something then, she was credited for creating everything, after all! Musta been horribly lonely.

I think she's lot more happy to know she's not alone anymore, especially with King ascending!

[half-bakedboy]

blurb about tommy coming to check up on buck after he gets choked by the crazy person from next week's promo

Tommy has to stamp down his worry before he walks up to Buck’s door. He’d only gotten the short story from a coworker who’d heard from a former partner that a firefighter on the 118 had gotten himself into trouble again. 

Unfortunately, Tommy was immediately certain who that firefighter was. 

When Evan opens the door, there’s a huge smile on his face, and it’s almost enough for Tommy not to poke fun at him. 

Almost. 

“You know, when Hen, Howie, and Eddie warned me about your propensity for getting hurt, I didn’t think it would happen this quickly.” 

“Not you, too,” Evan groans. Tommy lets out a laugh as Evan turns to walk away, leaving the door open behind him. Tommy takes a few quick steps in after him, knocking the door shut behind him while grabbing Evan’s waist with his fingers. “What—”

“C’mere,” Tommy mutters. 

He told himself that he was going to do his best to take it slow with Evan, try not to scare him off with too much too soon, especially when he found out he’d never dated a man before. But he’s so pretty and pouty when he turns around, that Tommy can’t help but kiss him. 

Evan is quick to respond, eagerly and enthusiastically, like a puppy with a new toy that’s turning into his favorite. It makes Tommy’s skin tingle and his heart flutter with pride. He’s always so responsive in his movements, taking each second to let his lips and tongue study while his hands explore the planes of Tommy’s body he’s never experienced before. 

When Tommy pulls away, it’s because Evan winces. Tommy tilts his head and glances down to see where he might hurt. That’s when he sees his fingers pressing against a soft red irritation around Evan’s neck. He feels fire rush through him, an anger he hasn’t felt in months, maybe years at this point, at the thought of someone hurting what’s his. 

He pulls his hand away when he realizes he’s still causing Evan discomfort, but doesn’t stray too far. Evan is looking at him like he wants to say he’s sorry, like it’s his fault someone hurt him, like Tommy is going to run away from it. 

“Evan, what happened?” 

Evan chuckles, rubbing at his raw skin even though it must hurt. 

“You’ll never believe it. This guy, like, couldn’t control his limbs? Hen said it was some form of immediate onset Ataxia or something, but because I put myself too close, he got a hold of my neck. It was honestly so funny cause the rest of the shift, they told everyone I’d been ‘ataxia’d’ which spread like wildfire—all puns intended.” 

Everything he said was so nonchalant. Like, the fact he’d been strangled on the job wasn’t cause for deep concern. Tommy is, in fact, very concerned. 

“Did someone look you over? Tilt your head up,” Tommy requested. 

He placed two fingers under Evan’s chin and began the process for him, crouching down slightly to look for petechiae underneath his chin where most EMTs didn’t think to look. Tommy glares when Evan tries to push him away, and the other man relents almost instantly. 

“Hen already checked me out. And then Chimney. And then Eddie,” Evan reassures. “I feel fine. Mostly embarrassed that I let a patient get the better of me.”

“He didn’t get the better of you,” Tommy argues. “He had a medical crisis that could’ve killed you.”

“But it didn’t, okay?” Evan says sternly. Tommy knows that tone and decides he’s better off dropping the argument and taking care of the obviously shaken man before him. 

“It didn’t, but since I’ve heard that this isn’t your first rodeo, I thought I’d come with your usual comforts.” 

He grabs the bag he’d dropped in his haste to enter the apartment and holds up a movie, some store-bought brownies, an aluminum takeout container of nachos, and a case of his favorite beer. Evan’s face softens like nothing kinder has ever been done for him. It’s a beautiful look, one full of appreciation and fondness that Tommy wants to bring out of him for the rest of his life. 

“Now, the movie is my pick: Blue Thunder. The fact you’ve never seen it is an atrocity that has to be rectified immediately. Over beer, nachos, and brownies, of course.”

“I could kiss you,” Evan says. 

Then, a gleeful look passes over him like he realizes that he can kiss Tommy, so he does. 

(They start the movie much later than either of them intended with soggy nachos and lukewarm beer, but honestly, neither of them would have it any other way.)