#and thus... no bones...

[trek-tracks]

My theory on how it went down

[to-be-a-dreamer]

I’ve been reading the Grishaverse books/watching the Netflix show for the first time over the past couple weeks or so and I just have to say that I think it's so funny whenever Kaz gets snarky about Inej's proverbs or Matthias's religious talk or Jesper’s Jesperisms or anyone else being even slightly philosophical or theatrical or whatever because Kaz Brekker is the most dramatic bitch in all of Kerch. Like. I'm pretty sure this kid graduated top of his class from the School of Dramatic One-Liners with a double major in "Commit to the Aesthetic" and "Writing Epic Love Poetry Whilst Maintaining the Bad Guy Reputation". Dude wanted to impress a girl and wasn’t sure if getting the whole ass king of Ravka to find her long-lost parents was enough so he bought an entire warship from his friend who absolutely would have just Given It To Him but noooooo Mr. Protecting-My-Investment over here had to pay a fair price otherwise it doesn’t count.

The only, and I mean the ONLY reason I don't say he's the most dramatic bitch in the entire Grishaverse is because Nikolai Lantsov exists and that man once wore his entire army uniform under his jacket to go volcra hunting in the Shadow Fold on the off chance he would get to make a dramatic reveal at the end. He put a spring-loaded curtain in front of the weapons rack on his personal ship just in case he had guests he wanted to show off for. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did the dramatic flourish every time he opened those curtains for literally no one but himself. I also wouldn’t be surprised if he made that set up after he had guests he wanted to show off for. That curtain either went up two hours before he used it or it was the first thing he built on that ship there is no in between.

I need copious amounts of Expo markers, PowerPoint slides, and glitter to figure out which one of them takes the title it is CLOSE.

[erandraws]

Hi @netflix thank you for stealing my art concept. I love you and I love Shadow and Bone, but please do better!!❤️

Also fyi, I know that they have seen this because it was reposted on the official Shadow and Bone Instagram story back in 2021

[electrozeistyking]

Hi, guys!!! Here's my first post of 2024, being this cool drawing I did of my take on Eldritch Uzi (that I either call SolverUzi or the funny bone centipede)!

It took about seven hours and thirty-three minutes to completely finish (according to Procreate, anyway), and is simply titled… well, "SolverUzi."

Here's the flats as a bonus.

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

pirate-Eclipse and sea monster reader,, parts 4-7 uwu

Previous: here Final: here

[fried-oignon]

Do toons have bones though? Lore enthusiasts please weigh in

[birdsong-warriors]

Brick may seem to have a bit of a double standard here when it comes to labels, but they don't consider "halfhouser" (half housecat) to be a bad thing, much less an insult. But "half-cat" is too far into icky and demeaning and invalidating territory; they are very much not cool with that, and they're eager to call it out.

On another note: the escaped prisoner is Stonefur.

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Part 1: Friend and Family

See up to thirty pages ahead, with timelapses, on Patreon! Deputy and Leader tiers are temporarily 33 pages ahead due to a double update! :D

Backgrounds, brushes, and other assets for sale on my Ko-Fi!

[esmiara]

What do you mean Chuuya's official character song (Darkness My Sorrow) indirectly refers a few times to Dazai and tells he holds the key to the bird cage that is his world. Wha- why is official content always the gayest and gives the most amazing symbolism??

[harrowedsoup]

I think Harrow should be able to give herself some fangs or some bone horns or something cool. 200 kids died so she could be the best necromancer ever - she should use that to do cool body modifications.

OR at least give Gideon some horns. She seems like a woman that would love some, if only so she can make rack related jokes as much as possible.

[sunshinediaz]

snippet sunday 🍇

i got very sad after i shared my snippet for fuck it friday so i deleted it but i'm fine now, lmao, and anyway, have a lil-big snippet of a holiday fic i'm working on <3

“So, you’re telling me,” Ravi starts in, all wide-eyed and giggly like he’s been given a secret he can’t wait to share, “that you’ve never kissed anyone under a mistletoe? Ever?”  Eddie shakes his head. “Nope,” he replies, shrugs, and adds a few extra spoonfuls of sugar to Buck’s coffee before sliding it his way. “Sorry, pal. It’s kind of hard to get in the Christmas spirit when it’s eighty degrees in December.”  “It gets colder than that,” Buck says, frowning. He pulls the stool out next to him, patting the seat as an invitation. “Texas?”  “Mhm.” Eddie sits next to Buck and leans back, sipping his coffee. “My parents never really bought into the overproduction of the holiday season, and Shannon and I couldn’t afford to buy decorations for the house we were renting. I wasn’t there most of the time, anyway.”  Shannon decorated as much as she could, borrowing things from her mother and Eddie’s abuelo. It was more for Christopher than her; she always preferred Halloween to Christmas, and Eddie only grew to enjoy the holidays when he was there to witness his son breaking into his presents for the first time after Shannon left.  After, putting up mistletoes was never a priority because he had nobody to kiss. Christopher learned to cut out snowflakes with construction paper and craft scissors, and Eddie hung dozens up all around the tiny house wherever his son pointed. Along with ten strands of multicolored lights and a cheap tree from a secondhand store, the house looked straight out of a Hallmark movie.  The Christmas before Shannon died—hilariously, the only Christmas the two of them spent together with their son—was more for her and Christopher than Eddie. Kissing Shannon under a mistletoe was the last thing on his mind.  “That’s sad, man.”  Eddie hums. “It’s fine. I didn’t missing out on anything special or formative.” He sprawls out, knocking his knee into Buck’s beneath the island to grab his attention. “Besides, aren’t mistletoes poisonous?” 

tagged by @daffi-990, @wikiangela, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @disasterbuckdiaz, @monsterrae1, and @exhuastedpigeon 🫶🏼

tagging @callmenewbie, @jeeyuns, @spagheddiediaz, @wildlife4life, @thewolvesof1998, @theotherbuckley, @watchyourbuck, @evanbegins, @try-set-me-on-fire, @devirnis, @fortheloveofbuddie, @giddyupbuck, @ladydorian05, and @loserdiaz if any of you wanna share today 💖

[zishuge]

Today I gave myself feels thinking about Fang Duobing, Di Feisheng, and Hulijing moving on and aging in a world without Li Lianhua. A world where Li Lianhua isn't there — but then again, he is there, in Lianhualou, and in the townspeople who flock to it, bearing gifts for the miracle doctor who once saved a life, fixed a roof, exposed a conman, comforted a child. Young Fang Duobing used to want to know every little detail about his hero, Li Xiangyi. Now Fang Duobing wants to know every detail about his beloved friend, Li Lianhua. The years pass and fewer people come. But if they remember him, Li Lianhua lives on.

(long post, half meta, half fic, bittersweet)

They travel together, with Hulijing, in Lianhualou. Fang Duobing has nothing better to do, so he takes up detective work again. Di Feisheng has nothing better to do, so he comes along. Everywhere they go, they look for Li Lianhua. And in their journeys, it seems like everywhere they go, someone is talking about Li Xiangyi. Li Xiangyi, who had always been something of a legend, but ever since his reappearance and subsequent (re)disappearance, has seemingly been elevated into something approaching godhood.

you should've seen him, people say, floating across the rooftops in red, cold and beautiful, like an avenging hero out of some novel. wasn't he dead? no — of course he wasn't, li xiangyi would never have been so easily killed. but it was bicha poison, i heard nobody could survive bicha poison. yes, he was definitely dead, and came back to life through dark magic. no, he'd been alive the whole time, just held captive by di feisheng. he tried to kill his shixiong ten years ago and failed, and came back to finish the job. no, his shixiong tried to kill the emperor and li xiangyi came to stop him. the emperor? impossible. yes — don't you know, li xiangyi is the emperor's long-lost son?

All of it only amuses Di Feisheng, but it irks Fang Duobing. The same Fang Duobing, who, when he was younger, would've hungered for every little detail about Li Xiangyi and begged to hear more, now finds it maddening to listen to these strangers talk about him as if they knew him. The world might have known Li Xiangyi, but it had never known Li Lianhua.

Li Lianhua, who could wield Shaoshi like it was a natural extension of his arm, but regularly cut his fingers clumsily slicing radishes and onions. Li Lianhua, who would invariably try to shrug off an attack of bicha poison, but yelped and jumped back from hot oil splatters in the kitchen like a child. Li Lianhua, who frowned when a passing carriage splashed mud onto his robes, but knelt carelessly into the dirt and grass to play with Hulijing.

None of them knew any of that.

But as Fang Duobing and Di Feisheng continue their travels, they begin to encounter other people as well. People who come running when they see Lianhualou in the distance tottering their way. People who come bearing gifts — a woman looking for the shenyi who had helped her with her back pain and also exposed the con artist who had tried to trick her daughter into marriage. A young man coming to thank the doctor who had given his father herbs for stress while uncovering the corrupt official who had falsely accused him of theft. An elderly couple looking for the young man who had helped them thatch their roof before a rainstorm and had given them some medicinal cream before he left. (One middle-aged man with a club, looking for the wangba quack doctor who had exposed his infidelity to his wife — he had left after one look at Di Feisheng, standing silently in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest and dao strapped across his back.) People who greet Hulijing like an old friend.

Fang Duobing listens eagerly to every story they tell him, and in return, he tells them about his brilliant, kind, exasperating friend. Di Feisheng rolls his eyes every time, but Fang Duobing notices he never walks away either. They don't talk about it. But it’s as if Li Lianhua returns, however briefly, during those visits; in those moments, Fang Duobing can almost see him standing there, bending down to pet Hulijing alongside these old friends as she grins her little doggy grin and wags her tail. She escorts their guests to the door, and sits in the doorway after they leave, looking out at the world as though waiting. He doesn't ask if Di Feisheng can see him too. They sit and share wine after these visits, and eat the fruit that the visitors bring, until Di Feisheng can stand the heavy silence no longer and pushes Fang Duobing outside to spar. Hulijing follows faithfully, as always.

(fang duobing had brought home a puppy, once. he can't remember where he found it, but he remembers that he had held it in his lap in his wheelchair, eager to show it to his uncle before taking it home to his mother. his uncle had glared, and told him that dogs were only useful to guard the house, and tianji manor already had guards, human ones, and that fang duobing would do better to focus on his swordplay rather than waste time on such useless and frivolous things. he had taken the puppy away and fang duobing had never seen it again. it wasn't until those blurry months as he rode across the countryside looking for li lianhua, hulijing trotting along ever so loyally at his side, that he realized this was just another way that shan gudao and li xiangyi were opposites.)

The years pass, and there are fewer and fewer people who come. One day Fang Duobing wakes up with the unbearable realization that he is now older than Li Lianhua had ever been, would ever be, and is unable to get out of bed for a good half a shichen. Di Feisheng leaves him be.

The years pass, and Di Feisheng grows older too. There are lines on his face, snowy white beginning to thread through his jet-black hair. Fang Duobing wants very much to tease him about it, but the words catch in his throat when he looks too closely at the signs of time on Di Feisheng's face. What a precious and altogether rare thing it is, to age.

The years pass, and Hulijing grows older too. Fang Duobing finds that more and more often, Hulijing can no longer keep up with him when he goes riding. He stops going riding. She gets cold more easily now too, and more and more often Fang Duobing wakes in the morning with Hulijing curled up under the covers next to him, her wet nose shoved into his armpit. He holds her close and thinks about Li Lianhua shivering in his arms.

--------------------

It's been nearly a year since their last visitor, but today there is an old man. He comes in the morning, bringing a basket of plums. A long time ago, he says, a young man who lived here saved my life. I had been poisoned, he says, by my son who wanted my money and my lands. The doctors said there was no cure. But then the young man came and performed a miracle. He saved my life. He saved my life.

Fang Duobing knows it was no miracle that saved him. He asks for the old man's hand and it is given readily, albeit bemusedly. He presses his fingers to the inside of the man's wrist, and is greeted with a whisper-faint, gentle thrum of yangzhouman — a soft hello from a much-beloved friend. You fool, he thinks dazedly, caught somewhere between overwhelmed that here is someone, inside whom a piece of Li Lianhua lives on, and so bitterly angry. What had it cost? Some hours, days, weeks? He doesn't let himself think of what another week might have afforded them in those wild final days, in their desperate search for a cure. Fang Duobing gives the old man back his hand and blinks back the sting of tears. He cannot talk about Li Lianhua today. He apologizes and tells him that the man he is looking for is traveling and won't be back for a few days, but that Fang-mou will pass on the message. Before he leaves, the man leans down to rub at Hulijing's ear. My old friend, he says, like me, you, too, are truly old now.

After the man leaves, Fang Duobing folds himself into a sit on the floor of Lianhualou and gathers Hulijing into his arms. Gently — her joints are stiff now, and he can't haul her around, can't roughhouse with her the way he used to. Di Feisheng comes down the stairs from where he had been listening; he stands behind Fang Duobing and places a warm, steady hand on his shoulder. At the edge of his vision, near the door, Fang Duobing can see the hazy hem of green robes. If he looks up, he wonders brokenly, what would he see? The face of a man forever frozen in youth? Or a face lined with age, snowy white beginning to thread through jet-black hair? He suddenly finds that he cannot bear to find out.

Fang Duobing knows. He knows that the myth and the outlandish rumors about proud, arrogant, beautiful Li Xiangyi will never die. But he also knows that one day, there will be no one else who comes to Lianhualou; no one left who remembers gentle, sly, infuriating Li Lianhua. One day, the old man will pass on and the piece of Li Lianhua that he carries with him will fade as well. And one day… Fang Duobing presses his forehead against the soft fur of Hulijing's neck where it has gone white and thin with age. He closes his eyes and breathes.

--------------------

Years and years and years later, Fang Duobing is awakened from where he has fallen into a light doze reading in his chair by a soft knock on the door. There is a woman standing outside, holding a small basket of pears. I think I remember this building, she says. I must've only been six years old, but I had run off and lost my parents. I fell down in the street and skinned my knees. A kind gege helped me and gave me a piece of candy. He said he would walk me home but I said I didn't know whether I should tell him where I lived. He laughed and asked if it would help if I knew where he lived. He pointed to the most fantastical and wild house I had ever seen. I think it was this place. Xiansheng, does he live here? Who was he? Do you know him?

Fang Duobing smiles and invites her inside. On the bed, the small white dog that Di Feisheng has named, ridiculously, Baigujing, raises her head and thumps her tail a few times in hello. Di Feisheng looks up from where he is writing a letter at the table. Fang Duobing leads the woman over and waves at her to sit down. He sits across from her, ignoring Di Feisheng's eyeroll, and offers her a piece of candy. He always keeps candy around. Fang Duobing smiles once more and says, if you'd like to know — there is so much I would like to tell you.

[bonescaps]

[angelmush]

we r moved !

[emimii]

bai he the silly!! i wanna see her again let her be friends w all the others…

[dootplusone]

(OG post has Reblogs turned off. You can find it here!)

(OG post has Reblogs turned off. You can find it here!)

(If the OP would prefer this post not link back to the OG post or is otherwise is not okay w/ this post in reference to theirs, please let me know in some form so I can delete/edit it as needed.)

Thinking. Abt this but with Bones. Like. Post-Tholian Web? Post-Mirror Mirror?

For AOS, could be after Into Darkness and/or Beyond.

A Bones who's just. So anxious. So stressed. So overwhelmed that it starts taking a toll on his health. Maybe he doesn't even realise - or maybe he does and tries his best to push through it until it knocks him on his ass. Kind of in the vein of "You don't actually know how tired you are until you stop. And then you just physically cannot start again." It becomes his new baseline, a problem that just brews and storms in the distance.

And he just carries on. And keeps going and going and going until one day he realises that 'Oh fuck, I'm not okay' and has about 5 seconds of warning before he straight up collapses, doesn't matter if it's on the bridge, in the madbay, on a planet - he's going down. (Maybe a repeat of Tholian Web where he just straight up faints into Spock's arms? Full whammy, why not)

Maybe it's a high-tension situation getting resolved that does it. The pure relief of it reminds him of how tired he is. How tired he's been for a while. His body sees that momentary rest and goes "More of that, please. And I'm not asking."

And he's so rendered by it that he doesn't grumble about being coddled like he normally would when he wakes up. He knows not to fuck with the medbay staff - they're just as firm as he is on recovery, and that's not by accident - and he knows that Spock and Kirk will be hovering, because they see any problem as something they, too, should shoulder the burden of.

...And because they're some of the most protective people in the damned universe. And that goes for pretty much all the people on board the Enterprise.

In some scenarios, it's just a case of letting his body and mind rest properly. In others, there's a lot more recovery involved than anyone initially expects. Luckily for him, he has a found family who are determined to be there with him at every step. It just takes a couple reminders, every once in a while.

[strongestpotion]

the more media i consume, the more i realize i have a type (tortured man with dark hair, sopping wet, drenched in blood, fighting tooth and nail with death/life/morality/mortality, probably in religious turmoil, bonus points if he is monstrous in form but divine in spirit, even more points if it's the other way around)