#anyway i hope you guys like this!! :D

[snarkspawn]

based ofc on this

[wienners]

"dude its not that embarassing to rewatch some creepypasta stuff you liked as a teenager" the character i imprinted on like a baby duck at 16 was a demon from new jersey that acts like the humanization of every offspring song and canonically listens to scissor sisters. His favorite color is purple and his favorite pokemon is Gengar. He leaves people notes with emojis on them. He acts like a beetlejuice scare actor at halloween horror nights. His catchphrase is "feeling sassy?" Hes (allegedly) worked with every war criminal throughout history and been every serial killer. even the gay ones. he ate a baby. his animal motif is a rabbit. hes kind of based off donnie darko. he talks to his cats in a baby voice. he wears a white fedora that makes every video he wears it in feel dated by like 7 years. hes 5'3. he hacked a girls tumblr blog. he added a laugh track over a video of him killing people. he named a chainsaw rex. he torments people by playing frank sinatra at them. his name comes from an animal collective song. theres a canon blog entry where he makes the speakers blare rob zombie before he enters a room, then holds a guy at gunpoint to describe what he did to to him while "making sure to leave in all the cool parts". Hes like ten tumblr sexymen traits rolled into one. Sometimes his voice gets distorted and it makes him sound like Bill Ciphers first year on HRT. For some fucking reason i associate the song Cake By The Ocean with him. I firmly believe that if everymanhybrid didn't require a masters degree in creepypasta autism to comprehend, he would've caused more teenage stabbings than the slenderman incident and more kin war tumblr scenarios than nagito komaeda.

[kwillow]

Old Wounds

So excited to finally post this comic collab between @chocodile and I! She did the initial thumbnails and colors and provided the evil wizard rabbit, and I did the script, sketch and lines and provided the pathetic prettyboy unicorn.

Old Wounds is a look into the alliance between Duke Hyden and Lord de Luxe, an alliance that winds up being a mere ploy for Hyden’s experimentation with unicorn blood and leaves Ambroys feeling rather drained (and often unconscious on Hyden’s floor). It takes place towards the end of their “friendship”, after there’s some serious bad blood between the two - bad blood that sustains a centuries-long grudge.

(Well - I say “bad blood,” but Hyden seems to think the blood is juuuust fine.)

[sneez]

digital study of a scene from the film eerie tales/unheimliche geschichten (1919) :-)

[crescentfool]

happy mochizuki monday, have a little doodle i made based on a convention i went to this past weekend :)

[fromtheseventhhell]

"It's normal for siblings to fight" Okay well it's not normal to be extremely classist and look down on your sister for being non-conforming. Or to go to the woman who ordered the death of your pet to tell her about your father's plans, when he specifically warned you against doing so, because you want to marry the boy you saw attack your sister and her friend (contributing partially to said father's death and your sister being unable to escape on the ship he chartered). Or to think of your sibling as unsatisfactory in comparison to another when you believe her to be dead. I notice that none of the "Sansa and Arya are going to reunite and instantly have no issues" crowd ever acknowledge any of this, which makes it seem like they don't actually believe what they say about their relationship being normal and easily reconciled. People wanting them to have no issues simply because they're siblings is another example of how fandom likes to flatten complex characters and relationships. They get reduced to being bickering siblings when their conflict runs deeper than that. If the author is telling you that they have "deep issues" to work out [X], I don't understand being so adamant about ignoring said issues. I also get the sense it's about ignoring the capacity for a certain character to be flawed, but that isn't going to change the fact that her "slip of the tongue" is very likely to be revealed and a source of further conflict 🤷🏾‍♀️

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

Have you really done the right thing?

[whereismyhat5678]

Wanted to doodle with some gray colors. Like make em’ feel dark- and I did this when I made the background grey since I thought it’d fit 🤷‍♀️

Peppino’s that are frustrated, I think the palette works well :] Also really like the white tank and hat how I turned them a nice grayish brownish cream color(?) I think it looks nice

[borkb11]

you should draw some sollux!

Him

And a bonus doodle bc i wanted to draw him in some pants i saw someone wearing outside

[honeystarcamper]

Shunsuke Yoshino Tumblr Layouts . . . req by anon !! + stills & other icons under cut

f2u! credit appreciated but not needed :D

and don't forget your daily click!

[happy-hermit]

Part Two of White Hair Scar fic !!! This man is going through it <3

Part One

@stiffyck

--------

He’s lucky he doesn’t run into anyone on the way back to the Swaggon, because when he climbs into his bedroom and glances at the mirror, the first thing he sees is white. More than there was before. Way more. 

The entire front section of his hair is now a stark, unnatural white. Scar stands in front of the mirror and slowly takes his hat off. It won’t help, anymore. He’ll have to find a new way to hide. 

What is this? His mind works frantically behind a layer of numb acceptance. Why is this happening? Why is it happening again? 

It’s like his hair has given up on holding a color. It’s almost as if his body is forcing him to have some outward sign of his internal struggles, which isn’t fair; not when he’s trying so hard to keep it hidden. Tears prick at his eyes, but he stubbornly blinks them away, exhaling shakily and looking up at the ceiling. There’s a cobweb in the corner. He’s been away for too long. It feels like he hasn’t really come back at all. 

(Would that really be so bad? If he’d stayed gone? If he’d stayed there? No one has seen him since they’d gotten back. No one has come looking for him. No one cares if he’s here or not.)

The faint echo of the harsh words drifts through his mind, and he closes his eyes tightly, breaths coming faster. The phantom burn wounds spread across his body start to sting. It’s like he’s burning all over again, dying and dying and dying—

The mirror cracks as he turns it around so its reflective surface is facing the wall, and his hand is shaking where it now rests against the back of it. He’s lost the battle against the tears in his eyes, but at least now he doesn’t have to see it. And he’s alone. So no one else has to see it, either.

(No one would want to. No one should have to. He is not allowed to be sad, or angry, or lonely. He is only allowed to be happy, to be quiet. To be alone.)

The floorboards creak as he collapses down next to his bed, painful sobs wracking his body even as he tries so hard to stop them, even as he holds his trembling hands against his mouth, as if it would do anything — as if his hands could ever be anything but clumsy and unsteady and useless. 

The sun outside has set, and the lanterns in the room are burning bright. Scar can see his reflection in the window. He gets the honor of watching in real time as another section of hair turns white, bleeding slowly from his roots to the ends. He whines high in his throat, heart dancing to an offbeat drumline in his chest, and he squeezes his eyes shut so hard that it hurts. His knees pull up to his chest and he hugs them tightly, pretending that it’s someone else holding him close, pretending that someone cares enough to comfort him, pretending that he is someone who deserves it.

Scar is on the floor in a room that doesn’t feel like his, in a world that feels wholly separate from him, and he falls asleep holding his own hand.

—-------

In his dreams, he is standing alone in a vast expanse of darkness, and someone is speaking to him. 

(You are trapped here) says the voice, gleeful and cruel. Mocking. (This will not change, and you will not change. You don’t know how, do you?)

“Who are you?” Scar demands shakily, and his voice echoes in the infinite space around him. “Where am I?”

(You could be anywhere) says the voice, and the inky blackness surrounding him ripples and changes and suddenly he is standing in the desert, cactus growing in a ring around him. (You could be here.)

No. Scar lets out a strangled gasp and stumbles backwards, sand grabbing at his ankles, blood dripping into his eyes, and he is tripping and falling and landing—

On a mountain. His wizard hat base is rising into the sky above him, and the wind is howling, and even his breath has left him. His vision is blurry. He cannot think. Please.

(You could be here) the voice continues, endlessly amused, and the world fades back into darkness. (You could be anywhere. But you can only be yourself. And you will always—) Scar gets the impression that the voice has gotten closer. (— be alone.)

“Who are you?” Scar asks again, broken and quiet. 

The voice chuckles, and the hair on the back of Scar’s neck stands up. (Don’t you know?)

It's right behind him—

Scar whirls around and comes face to face with— Red eyes. Horrific burns. Black cloak. White hair. 

His distorted mirror image grins at him, cruel and unforgiving. (You never were that bright, were you?)

—-----------

Scar wakes up screaming.

His breath rattles in and out of his lungs at unhealthy speeds as he scrambles into a sitting position, eyes wide and darting around the room. He’s shaking so hard that the bedframe is rattling quietly against the wall. The only thing he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears. 

It was just a dream. Only a dream. Scar closes his eyes and counts to ten, making a conscious effort to slow his breathing. When he opens them again, he is at least less likely to pass out.

He had moved to his bed at some point in the night, but now his covers are strewn about the floor due to his frantic movements. The sun is bright outside his window, and he knows without checking that it’s nearing midday. His head hurts. There are dried tear tracks on his cheeks. He is still shaking.

He gets out of bed anyway, sitting on the edge for a few moments before finally finding the courage to stand. He staggers over to the big chest against his wall and kneels down beside it, flinging it open and digging through it with trembling hands. Finally, he finds what he was looking for, and pulls it out onto his lap. 

A worn green cloak, hooded and heavy. Just another one of those items of clothing that he keeps for just-in-case purposes. It’ll come in handy, now. It’s perfect for hiding. He doesn’t have to look to know that his hair has gotten worse.

The cloak falls over his shoulders, a comforting weight, and some of the tension drains out of him. He’s only just woken up, but he’s tired. He is tired in a way that he doesn’t think can be fixed.

I need to go away, the thought appears unbidden in his brain, a quiet certainty. No one can leave him, if he leaves first. I need to build somewhere else.

It wouldn’t be for long, or for good. It would just be… a place to go. Just in case. Somewhere out of the way. 

He starts making a list of materials he’ll need for his new base in his head as he walks toward the door, already workshopping different themes and ideas. He pulls his hood firmly over his head and reaches for the doorknob, puts his hand on it, and he— freezes.

What if someone’s out there? His mouth goes dry, his hands going clammy. His heart speeds up, just a little. What if they want something?

Scar shakes his head forcefully and turns the knob. Stop being stupid, stop being scared.

He walks through Boatem with a few empty shulkers in his inventory, one hand on his hood to keep it down and the other twisted into the front of his shirt as he struggles to fight off his nerves. There are a few gray clouds hanging over the horizon, but they are far away, and the sun is shining. He wonders where he should go. Where would be far enough. 

He equips his elytra absentmindedly, just finishing when distant movement catches his eyes, and he turns, heart in his throat.

Grian and Mumbo are sitting on top of Treesa, and Scar has to squint to see what he thinks is a picnic. They’re eating lunch together. It is simple, and casual, and such a small thing, and Scar aches.

Mumbo spots him and raises his hand in a wave. Grian turns and does the same. Scar hesitates, mind running a mile a minute, his heart skipping stones across a violent ocean in his chest, and then he waves back. His hand shakes, and he drops it quickly, continuing his walk.

For just a moment, he considers turning back. He considers going over there. He considers throwing his entire plan out the window and begging them to let him stay. 

Instead, he pulls rockets out of his inventory. 

(Rule number one. Don’t go where he’s not invited.)

Scar picks a random direction, and he flies.

[teecupangel]

Just a little weird but would it be fun for Desmond to be a demi god or something and he does not know.

In the past ofcourse

It would be so easy to give that child the power of our artifacts and let him do as he pleases in any time that we have decided on but…

Shall we make it more interesting?

We shall let that child believe he is still human and will not place any markings upon him to show his change of status.

(Shall we let him have a blackened arm still or shall we also give him false relief?)

We will not upgrade his Vision as well.

(Although, at this point, we can be certain he has already mastered it to its fullest potential.)

And we will leave no instructions nor any messages for him but we shall give him a ‘gift’ worthy of his status.

He shall have the power to bend reality to his will thru the use of the Parcae System.

As you must have already received the latest draft of Parcae System’s user manual, I will only give a brief introduction to the system.

We will set that child as the sole user of the latest beta version of the Parcae System. The system itself have three major requirements to be activated:

Requirement 1: Another person must start the line that will be set into reality with “I wish…”. No variations (ex: “It would be nice if…”, “I hope…”, etc) will be accepted.

Requirement 2: Desmond must agree to that wish verbally. Simply thinking it will not activate the system.

Requirement 3: Both 1 and 2 must be done in succession and 2 must be done a minute or less after 1 is complete.

Only when all three requirements are satisfied will the Parcae System activate.

The Parcae System is, of course, limited to the possible branches available in the Calculations.

And it must always keep the changes to a minimum as to not cause too large waves.

And it is only allowed to not change reality if and only if the branch it will move to will not interfere with the system’s main objective:

“Keep Desmond Miles alive.”

Of course, this system was hastily created during the final days of Minerva of the Capitoline Triads.

As such, it is not without any flaws.

As you have noted in your previous report, this system does not have a failsafe for any changes that would affect us or those who have created us.

You have suggested we force the system to exclude us from any changes the child would create but is it not a good reward for that child to be given the choice of the fate that awaits us if he does learn of us?

Does the thrill of finally being shut off not excite you, Chronus?

Looking forward to your inputs and recommendations,

Aion

[shokupanko]

Meet Cerulean :D my pals Piko derivative (・。・ )

[pandaspwnz]

I saw D20's Misfits & Magic, ExU: Calamity, D20's The Seven, and I liked Aabria but that was kinda it, I just liked her yknow?

And then I saw D20's ACOFAF, saw her on Critical Role as Deanna and started going like 👀 okay hold on

And then I just finished D20's The Ravening War, and I finally started ExU: Prime and I also began listening to Worlds Beyond Number (and then quickly stopped I think mid ep 3 because you're apparently supposed to listen to the Children's Adventure first!) and I just. Love her 😭 she has so much friggin heart and puts so much thought into her characters and I love how open she is as a DM and how she describes things and man, listening to her in WBN as little Suvi is just 😭😭 made me fucking cry in her INTRODUCTION and several times since! Ma'am I am suing for damages!!!

This is an Aabria Iyengar appreciation post. I hope to see her in so. many. more things!!

[dizziiedaikon]

Hey Ace can you eat p-

[roguecanoe]

Clothes (I think) Nolan would wear.