#beyond the divide

[tyziia2]

[ID: a lineless digital drawing of Karkat and Dave as two original species. Karkat is a chiyoni, a humanoid being with feathered ears and red eyes with black sclera. Dave is a Bell Ringer, a humanoid with crystalline horns, a long tail, and pointed ears. the two are sitting together on a bus; Dave is pointing at a crudely drawn image in a book of a skateboarding figure running into a tree. Karkat is looking at Dave, annoyed and incredulous. end ID]

your honor they're in love. this is a commission for @thegempage of a scene from their fic beyond the divide which you should go read immediately to find out The Lore behind what Dave and Karkat are and what they're doing on a bus :)! tysm for commissioning me Opal!!

[thegempage]

i have a different idea i want to write and a thing i want to record tonight but this has been stuck in my head all day so here's this little btd and hs proper (very non-btd-canon but not technically impossible) crossover

You don't know who that guy is, but he looks an awful lot like you.

The hair is right (wrong color by a few shades too light, but the right unmanageable shape), the way his eyebrows twitch is right, the sweater... you're pretty sure you do own that sweater, actually. Somewhere in a closet you've long forgotten. His eyes are full of red and gold rings but you get the same sensation meeting them that you get when you look in a mirror too late at night, when you know you're looking at your own face in the dark but everything just seems a little off.

It also helps that his blood is the same bright, candy red as yours, and is dripping from his nose and hands as you stare at each other.

But even that is... wrong. His blood is thicker, you manage to scramble together. It doesn't drip the way yours does, free and thin. It crawls down his face and hands like a corn syrup, leaving bright trails in its wake. There are stains on his cheeks like tear tracks, echos of the same bright red.

"Who the fuck are you."

It doesn't really matter which of you said it first, because his voice sounds like yours with an accent you can't place.

He coughs, spraying more of that syrup-blood all over his hands and the front of his shirt. One of your other friends could probably tell you why he's doing that, but the longer you look the more you can guess that he just got beat the fuck up.

"Well?" you prompt, closing your arms around yourself. You've gotten better with (your) blood over the... years, but his is just unsettling enough that it's making your skin crawl.

"Shut the fuck up," he snarls. "Give me a second."

He raises a hand to brush the blood away from his mouth (leaving red trails in its wake), and the movement pulls your attention to his ears. Red and gold feathers sprout out from behind his ears and shake as he takes a few rattling breaths. Someone must've punched him in the gut, maybe busted a rib or two, if you had to guess; you don't know how, or who, or what he's doing here, but clearly whatever's dropped him on your doorstep neglected to patch up the damage he's taken. You drop your arms into a regular pissed off cross as he straights up, goes to run his hands through his hair, and thinks better of it.

"I'm not supposed to be here," he says.

Your yard, far too peaceful for this kind of morning, agrees with a rustle of wind through the leaves. "Yeah, no shit," you say. "Answer my question."

He doesn't. He looks up, eyes scanning the sky like it has the answers for him. When he moves his head you can see the top of what is clearly sheet music tattooed at the base of his neck; the red reminds you of...

Fuck, Dave is going to be coming out here any second, you need to wrap this up.

"This isn't --" whatever he says makes your brain hurt "-- is it? That's the real sun."

"What else would it be?"

"The --" That word hurts even worse, wrenching your eyes shut.

"Yeah, hey, don't say that again. Just tell me who the fuck you are and what you're doing in front of my house."

"Do you think if I knew I wouldn't have flown away already?" He says it like this is obvious, and it is definitely not, and you are not thrilled by how this conversation is going. "And if you really need to know, it's Karkat."

The fuck it's not. The imposter Karkat starts to turn away from you, but when he pauses to flex his shoulders you grab him by the wrist and yank him forward. Your faces almost crash together but you realize you did yourself a favor when big, angelic wings of black and red and gold unfurl themselves from his shoulders and block out the light from the sun.

"Let me go," he snaps, trying to wrestle away from you. "If I'm not back soon they'll --" he says some more words you don't get, but these don't hurt your head. "Dave is depending on me --"

"I'm what?"

Dave is standing in your doorway, and you feel the imposter Karkat's blood run cold in your grip, as if he's filling with ice. He looks from Dave to you and back again. He's calculating something, trying to deduce what exactly is going on (you know, because that's the expression you make, too, which you hate). Dave walks up to the two of you, but he turns completely to you. "Who's this guy?" he asks.

"He says his name is Karkat."

Dave's eyebrows make an appearance above his glasses. "He does look a lot like you. Like a weird fantasy version of you, but not a sexy fantasy, more like a dungeons and/or dragons fantasy version."

That statement makes your grip loosen enough that imposter Karkat can pull his hand back, but he doesn't fly away. He's stopped looking at you, his gaze locked on Dave, his expression muddled. You step between them, lips curled in a snarl. You don't know his intentions, sure, but that's worse.

"The book."

He doesn't elaborate on that statement. He whips a phone out of his pocket and dials a number, mumbling something that is clearly a prayer under his breath; before the phone hits its second ring, there's someone at his side, someone that looks an...

Awful lot like Dave.

This new Dave doesn't even notice the two of you, talking in tones you can't understand to this imposter Karkat, who rambles in the language that doesn't make your head hurt as new Dave looks over his hands, his nose, the spots where he brushed blood across his face, and for all of your suspicions about this imposter Karkat, you would have to be a fucking idiot to not realize that new Dave is deeply, lovingly worried for his health.

Your Dave puts an arm around your shoulders, reaching for your hand. "He's bleeding," he says, and you think he means the imposter Karkat until he gestures with your connected hands to the cuts on new Dave's forearm, clearly already healing but shining with a glittering pink blood.

Your morning is, without a doubt, absolutely fucking ruined.

[yu2ki]

⛄️🎐💭 2nd header by kiwicidios

[floydleart]

Here's a Lalna, there's a Lalna...

[limplegsakimbo]

Hello again mr. strider, or as you seem to be known as colloquially, "bro". I am writing to inform you that i will be going on a trip for six to twelve business days, and will be unable to ensure the total skaianet upkeep of your site during that time. My subscription however, will be paid on time as usual. Maybe the missus or the sitter will get a kick out of it ho ho! Anywho, i hope to see you, and your puppets, again soon. Tally ho!

[hoarding-stories]

Eursulon spending the entire episode in the water.

Suvi spending the entire episode in the city.

Ame spending time both on the sea and on land.

The symbolism really does write itself

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Sunscorched Divide by Zezhou Chen

[bellesans-merci]

“Sakura,” Kakashi called to his sweetly humming wife, pointing with utter bemusement to the two boys huddled against each other on the couch with faces so flushed they were nearly steaming from their ears. “Why are Naruto and Sasuke sharing a shirt?”

The woman deftly slicing vegetables at the counter didn’t so much as spare him a glance, though a pleased smile pulled at the corner of her lips as she deposited carrots and onions into a bowl.

“They were fighting,” she said simply, a shoulder lifting so carelessly he almost felt dumb for asking, “and we do not fight in this house.”

His lips twitched as he read the stretched out words printed boldly on the red cotton, wondering who she’d sweet talked into making an extra-extra-extra large shirt that said “I LOVE YOU” and just how she’d managed to strong-arm the two idiots into it.

He bit down on his lip to keep the laugh bubbling in his chest from spilling over, until the door to their guest bathroom opened and Sai calmly walked into the living room dwarfed by a pink shirt with, “I’m sorry ☹️” embroidered in white across the chest.

The boy looked so unbothered and yet, was very obviously burning at the tips of his ears, that Kakashi couldn’t contain the loud bright laughter that startled his team and beaded tears at the corners of his eyes.

He laughed, and he laughed.

He laughed as he took his place at the stove, he laughed as he donned his puppy printed apron, he laughed at the playful nudge of Sakura’s elbow in his side.

Kakashi’s heart thumped with so much joy and laughter, that the rush of it was almost electric. It warmed him from the apples of his cheeks to the tips of his toes, sparking in his chest like the eye of a storm, and it felt a bit like breaking as much as it swelled in completion.

This, this was a home—this was his home.

He swiped his fingers at his eye and told himself that the moisture there was from the humor found in the betrayed glares of three pre-pubescent boys, and not because he’d been chasing this feeling all his life.

[lambergeier]

started rereading baru cormorant due to the hypnotic influence of zoe's liveblog and the level up from book 1 to book 2 is SO funny and good. book 1 is solid and engaging but structurally insane and a bit light on characterization. book 2 is also structurally insane (spending like 150 pages in the elided keep..... dickinson you dog that could have been 60 pages easy) but every single character has become SOOOOOOOOOO funny and compelling and loud in between books 1 and 2 that i am eating it the fuck up. Tell Me More About Baru Stepping On Svir's Gay Little Toes. And Also You Are Both Mass Murderers

i forgot how stark the difference is, probably because it was a few years between reading them, last time i did so, but rereading was a very good idea. now i can appreciate the improvement AND i remember who all the aurdwynn characters are. i've had book 3 on my shelf since it came out but never read it bc i so poorly remembered book 2 that i kept meaning to read it after i did a series reread, which never happened. but now it's time girls

[yloiseconeillants]

HI I HAVE LOST MYSELF IN THE SAUCE OF HOUSING and did all these instead of like. finishing 6.4 msq-

Bricriu's private dining room in his tower in Mhach

Allen's @hermits-hovel underground office from the Doomed Lightning Shard with Bonus Alleyway

Halmarut's office/crashpad at Akadaemia Anyder

6000 thanks to @tallbluelady, @lilbittymonster, @abyssalmermaiden, and @hermits-hovel in particular for standing in place while I swapped housing items between realities (and for all the gil aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa)

[dr11ft]

if theres one thing that consistently makes me want to start biting people in the neck its when mfs post shit like this about how "hobbyist haters cant stand when I give professionally centered advice" because their feelings got hurt when they know damn well the only reason those people came after them is because of the rampant and I mean rampant analysis of the art industry, its relation to class, and your position in it as something that is magically tied to your "soul" and "dedication" and how "serious" you are about art. You're not cooler because you were able to make it in the industry maybe log off and practice anatomy.

[mayasaura]

do you think tamsyn is intentionally drawing a connection between the Buddhist eightfold path and the eightfold word?

the eightfold path is supposed to lead to liberation from the cycle of rebirth (I’m drawing a parallel to lyctoral immortality) and the last element is right samadhi which is often described as “meditative absorption or union” (a parallel to the consumption of the cavalier and absorption of the soul)

idk just food for thought i’ve been mulling over

I've been pondering this for a while myself. I've never heard the word "eightfold" used in any other context. Like, it could very much be a coincidence because #-fold is a Portentous Word Form, and eight Houses contributed to the theorum, but let's assume for now there is a connection.

I would say it's less of a parallel and more of a reflection. This framing of the Eightfold Word would make it kind of a warped mirror of the Eightfold Path.

Following the Eightfold Path delivers you from samsara, right? The ultimate purpose is to break the cycle of reincarnation that binds a person to the worlds of mundane suffering. That last element, right samadhi, it's about the illusion of existence being transcended in meditation to see the true nature of being. The Path leads to understanding of the self as transient—an illusion created by a much larger whole. Or something like that. I'm not a priest or bodhisattva, or even a scholar dedicated to understanding these things.

Speaking the Eightfold Word is entirely the opposite. The lyctors have subsumed the other into the self, making the self the center of their being. They haven't been freed from the cycle so much as they've jammed the wheel, leaving themselves trapped in the suffering of their existence for, theoretically, eternity.

I don't know if it's an intentional reference or not, but I do enjoy considering the implications of lyctorhood from that perspective. John and the lyctors have become so consumed by their obsession with the self and ensuring its continuance, it's broken all the bonds that would make them part of a larger whole in this life and left them each alone together in their own private hells. Speaking the Eightfold Word means that they'll never reach the other shore.

[yu2ki]

# frieren icons ♥︎

[bikelaned]

my bones said it was tumblr divider time

i love tumblr dividers

[voxofthevoid]

So for the De-Aged Gojo fic (since im apparently trash for that story lmfao, I have a basic bitch word for u (sorry, I am infact a basic bitch) - Agony

I 100% support both of these choices!

There are only two hits for agony in the entire series, and both of those are in Part 3—I think the fic also approves of you 😂

I've picked the porny one. The other one appears in a conversation segment and also has spoilers for a major plot point.

Yuuji spits out a curse and moves, pulling at Satoru’s dick in a blistering counterpoint to the sharp, stuttering rhythm of his hips. Satoru claws at the table, nails gouging the wood, and with his Six Eyes blasted open, he sees Yuuji react to it, lips parting on a soundless exhale as he fucks deeper into Satoru, cock sliding wetly over the mean curve of his own fingers. They dig into Satoru’s prostate, and Yuuji’s other hand tightens around the head of his cock, palm growing slick with precome that he spreads over the length, stroking him with a violence that he says he plans to tear Satoru’s end out of him.

And he can, he will; Satoru’s embarrassingly close already, the pulsing arousal from Yuuji fucking him churning hotter, brighter. It burns his blood, singeing vein and bone. He’s making noises, staccato things that rend his throat.

Behind him, Yuuji grows more frantic with every thrust, louder and wilder, Satoru’s name spilling from his lips like a curse, holy and damned.

That’s what breaks him—Yuuji, bowing over him with an expression of exquisite agony, pushing impossibly deep and mouthing Satoru’s name like he can’t get the air for it. Satoru’s muscles seize, cock pulsing in Yuuji’s merciless grip, and he knows Yuuji feels it, on his hands and around his cock, knows it by the shattered cry of his name and the vicious thrusts that push him over the edge and into the abyss.

It burns him clean.

[impossible-rat-babies]

I wonder if the scion split is gonna be friendly competition bc I dunno if eyrie is gonna take it well otherwise