#but now i finally get to write about it

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 13 - Check

Arashi awoke to pain.

“Hold still, I’m still working here,” was the brusque reply, followed by a hand forcing her back down. Arashi just about had energy enough to turn her head to the source of the voice, eyes still blurry. Fareena (or the green-ish blob that was probably Fareena) was rolling something around her leg, something white and long. It hurt. But she wasn’t the voice. To her right, Stalwart’s arm (again, probably) was keeping her neatly pinned down as a steady stream of aether flowed from her into Arashi’s broken body.

“Smashed ribs, broken femur, cut in more places than I care to count, one bad enough to require immediate stemming. Fareena, apply pressure on her right hip, that’s where the cut is deepest.” Fareena complied without a word, for once robbed of pithy comments. “What was that thing? Surely it couldn’t have only been a man, surely…” Quieter, low enough that Arashi had to strain to hear it. Something was wrong with one of her horns. It felt lighter.

“Y’shtola…” she managed to gasp out, voice rough and unsteady.

“Krile’s tending to her. She’ll live, if only just.” Stalwart’s own voice was strained, devoid of her usual tone. “You, on the other hand, nearly bled out before we could get to you.” Arashi’s vision was getting clearer, clear enough to see the tears staining Stalwart’s face.

“Sorry,” was all she could manage. Fareena grunted, perhaps in amusement or perhaps in admonishment. Her face gave nothing away. “The others? Alive?”

“Thanks to your idiocy, yes.” Stalwart must have been terrified to be this terse. “We were too late to save Mefrid, he was gone as soon as the sword pierced his heart. Several other resistance members are too injured to fight any time soon. But you held off that monster long enough for us to evacuate.” At the cost of yourself, was the unspoken conclusion. Arashi was sure she heard Fareena muttering something to herself, perhaps that the reckless Au Ra reminded her of herself. Somehow that was worse than Stalwart’s comments.

Arashi’s gaze was drawn to something in the corner, something red peeking from a rough length of cloth. Fareena followed her gaze to the object, then quickly looked away. Arashi furrowed her brow in confusion before realisation clicked. Her sword. Or what was left of it. The crown prince of Garlemald had shattered it like a child’s toy. The best craftspeople of Idyllshire had come together to gift her that blade, and now it was barely more than a hilt and a jagged edge. Utterly useless. To its side, tucked against the wall of the dingy tent, was her mother’s blade. Sheathed and waiting patiently. Her only choice now.

“Where are the others?” Arashi asked, her strength slowly returning despite the pain.

“Taking stock of their losses,” was Fareena’s reply. Her dry undertones were also vacant, her eyes harder than Arashi had ever seen. Making ready to pack up and move, from the sounds of it. Their spirit broke when your sword did.”

Nothing for it, then. Arashi slowly pushed herself up, ignoring Stalwart’s shocked gasp or Fareena’s warning glare. “Take me to them. Carry me if you have to.” Her voice brooked no argument. “Or else I’ll crawl there myself.” She wouldn’t abandon the fight, not now. She’d never be able to face Lyse again.

Fareena and Stalwart exchanged a glance, then looped their arms under Arashi’s shoulders and lifted her to her feet… and past them, into the air. Arashi’s squawk of surprise was quickly shut down by Stalwart’s glare. “It’s this or nothing.” Her voice brooked no argument either. Together the pair half dragged, half carried Arashi out of the tent and into the night, to the dimly lit command table where the leaders had gathered. Alphinaud was speaking, making some grand point about a war on two fronts and dividing the enemy’s attention. None of them noticed the trio approaching until Arashi spoke up, willing her voice to be as clear as it could.

“Then we take the fight to Doma.”

Silence erupted, then a chorus of alarm, surprise and dismay. The Warrior of Light was swiftly ushered back to her tent… after she made Alphinaud promise not to leave her behind.

Doma. Her sister. Her home. I’m coming. Wait for me.

[pippuns]

pre-transmigration cumplanes because they are the most divorced guys who never met

[sugarcarnation]

love love love how similar these two panels are. makes me insane

[batbabydamian]

DC August 2024 Solicitations - Comics Featuring Damian! 🦇

THE BOY WONDER #4 of 5

8/7/24

Written by Juni Ba

Art and Cover by Juni Ba

Variant Cover: Valentina Napolitano

Damian Wayne may have been struggling to live up to his father’s legacy…but the last thing he ever wanted was to be returned to the clutches of his grandfather, the Demon King. But when his worst nightmare comes true, can he rely on his mother to defend him? Or has he lost her forever to the same horrific legacy he’s tried to escape?

BATMAN AND ROBIN #12

8/14/24

Written by Joshua Williamson

Art by Juan Ferreyra

Cover by Simone Di Meo

Variant covers: Juan Ferreyra, Vasco Georgiev (1:25), Simone Di Meo (Batman 85th Anniversary)

Years ago, Bane killed Alfred Pennyworth right in front of Damian. And now, on Dinosaur Island, there is nothing stopping Robin from getting his revenge! Except his father, Batman! And the giant dinosaurs, of course.

DC VS. VAMPIRES: WORLD WAR V #1

8/14/24

Written by Matthew Rosenburg

Art and cover by Otto Schmidt

Variant Covers: Jae Lee, Steve Beach, Homare, Riley Rossmo (1:25), Nikola Cizmesija (1:50)

The smash-hit series returns! It’s the dead of winter, and any hope for a fragile truce between the Green Arrow-led human heroes and vampire queen Barbara Gordon’s army has been dashed by Damian Wayne and his guerrilla fighters. He’s the only one fighting back against the bloodthirsty hordes, leaving Green Arrow with a choice: Does he stand and fight or sacrifice the boy in the name of peace?

WONDER WOMAN #12

8/21/24

Written by Tom King

Art by Tony S. Daniel and Belen Ortega

Cover by Daniel Sampere

Variant Covers: Tony S. Daniel, Jorge Fornes, Julian Totino Tedesco, Guillem March

Meet the new dynamic duo! Wonder Woman teams up with the unlikeliest of allies, Robin, on a top secret mission to save their fellow heroes. Will Damian and Diana’s quest to break into Waller’s Gamorra supermax prison be a successful one? Or is it all part of a more elaborate trap for Wonder Woman and her new sidekick?

SUPER-PETS SPECIAL: BITEDENTITY CRISIS*

*Damian mentioned in summary

7/30/24

Written by Tony Fleecs, Alexis Quasarano, Michael Conrad, Dan Watters, and Kyle Starks

Art by Mike Norton, PJ Holden, Sami Basri, Chris Mitten, and Kyle Starks

The Super-Pets are back—and this time, they’re all BITE! Haley, the beloved bark-out star of NIGHTWING, finds herself to be a fish out of water when she arrives on Kent Farm. As our big-city mutt tries to adjust to country living, she’s shocked to discover a kennel of courageous critters is already waiting for her! Bitewing, meet the SUPER-PETS—and you might want to hold on tight because things are about to get hairy! Also featuring—stories of misch-woof and mutt-hem! The dark side of the dog bed! The many pets of Damian Wayne! You’ll have to squeak it to believe it!

[its-your-mind]

*deep breath in*

the fears 👏 have always 👏 been (in one way or another) 👏 parallel 👏 to 👏 desire 👏

let me explain.

so many of the statements given by actual avatars center around some sort of need that was met by their entity. Lots of them even had a positive relationship with the fear that drove them.

Jane Prentiss is an excellent example - the Corruption has always been about a form of toxic and possessive love, but she personally has a deep desire to be “fully consumed by what loves her,” and finds a perverse joy and relief at allowing herself to be a home

Jude Perry is another - she fucking loved watching people’s lives be utterly destroyed. The Desolation only offered her a power of destruction on a grander scale, and then gave her a more intense rush of joy as she did its work. When she tells Jon that he needs to feed the Eye before it feeds on him, it’s almost as an afterthought; she was happily feeding the Desolation long before it burned her into a new existence.

Simon Fairchild. Every time that old loose bag of bones wanders into the picture, he is having a fucking EXCELLENT time playing with the Vast. He loves showing people their own insignificance, and he loves luring them into situations where he can throw them into the void as he smiles and waves.

Peter Lukas (hell, the whole Lukas family (except Evan. RIP Evan.)) hated. people. all he wanted was for them all to go away, to leave him alone. The Lonely only fulfilled that desire.

Daisy, Trevor, and Julia, all devoted to hunting those things they deemed monstrous.

Melanie, holding tight to that bullet in her leg because on some level, she wanted it. It felt good, it felt right, it felt like it fit right alongside the anger and spite that drove her to success.

Annabelle Cane first encountered the Web when she was a child, running away from home in order to tug on her parents’ heartstrings in just the right way to have them wrapped around her little finger. Later on she volunteered to be the subject of an ESP study. Hell, she’s the one who dangled the “Is it really You that wants this?” question over Jon’s head in S4.

And that brings us to Jon, beloved Jarchivist, the Voice that Opened the Door. Ever since he was a child targeted by the Web, he was looking for answers. He joined the Magnus Institute’s Research Department looking for them, he stalked his coworkers in search for them, he broke into Gertrude’s flat and laptop out of desperation for them. And when he realized that all he had to do was Ask to get truthful answers to his questions? It was only natural for him to jump at that opportunity.

Elias told S3 Jon that he did want this, that he chose it, that at every crossroads he kept pushing onwards, and the inner turmoil that caused was one of the focal points for Jon’s character through the rest of the podcast.

There’s a certain line of thinking in many circles about the power of the Devil: he’s not able to create anything new. All he’s able to do is twist and warp that which was already present, making it something ugly and profane while still maintaining the facade of something desirable.

Jon didn’t choose the Eye. But he did wander into its realm of power, exhibiting exactly the qualities it was most capable of hijacking and warping to its own ends. Jon didn’t choose the Apocalypse. But Jonah picked at him little by little, pointing him towards each Fear individually. Jon didn’t want to release the Fears. But the Web tugged on his strings just so and laid a pretty trail for him to follow until he reached its desired conclusion.

Jon didn’t choose ultimate power, or omniscience, or even his own role as Head Archivist. But he said “yes” to the right (wrong?) orders and kept on pushing for the right (wrong?) answers. He wanted to succeed at the work he had been assigned. He wanted to protect his friends. He wanted to rescue them when they were lost. He wanted to prevent the apocalypse, to save the world. He wanted to know why he was still alive, when so many had died right in front of him.

The Great Wheel of Evil Color that is the Entities might not fit as neatly into categories in this universe - maybe there was no Robert Smirke trying to impose strict categories on emotional experiences, or maybe the ways they manifest in the world has turned on its head (goodness knows many of them have been showcased and blended in some very fun and new and horrifying ways so far) - but their fundamental foundations seem to be the same. Hell, in episode one we learned that there had been enough individual incidents to create a distinction between “dolls, watching” and “dolls, human skin.”

Smirke’s Fourteen isn’t going to be relevant as common parlance, RQ said that already, but I don’t think that means the Fears themselves (and their Dream Logic-based rules) are different - I think it means that the levels of understanding, language used, and personal connections among people “in the know” are going to be entirely unfamiliar

[firbolgfriend]

Cover Art for my Infection au aka Sweet Feather Diet :)

[askyofexplodingstars]

my favourite polycule

[averlym]

fairest of the fair

[martianbugsbunny]

Hour One (A Kalluzeb Fic)

*falling down the stairs* I did it! I finished my post-Zero Hour fic, it's so tasty to me <3 I'm not even gonna ramble about it I'm just gonna get right to the fic bc I love it!!! read on and enjoy!!!

When the ship was safely in hyperspace, Kanan quietly let Kallus into a room on the Ghost that was currently deserted. Judging by the half-made bunk beds against the wall, Kallus assumed it was living quarters, but he was too distracted by the growing pain in his shoulders and ribs to try and piece together whose room it was.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Kanan said. And then Kallus was alone again, with the forgiving, kind voice of the Jedi echoing in his brain. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to softly. He was lucky these people whom he’d hunted across the galaxy for years had even bothered to pick up his escape pod, rather than speeding away from the Imperial fleet and applying the rule of “serves him right.”

Something in him cracked. He began to sob, silently, terrified of what he had done in betraying the Empire, overwhelmed by a thousand different strident feelings he couldn’t even name. The heavy breaths hurt (every movement seemed to hurt, now that his adrenaline rush was wearing thin) and his head was pounding. Was the world really spinning, or was that just him?

At the first hiss of the door sliding open, Kallus dragged his sleeve hastily across his face to remove any tears or snot that might give away that he’d been crying—a bad decision, really, given his black eye, which stung at the rough contact.

It wasn’t Kanan who stepped into the room, slightly awkwardly and with bright green eyes that reflected back at Kallus those unnamable emotions.

It was Zeb.

Kallus took a step back, hands clenched at his sides. He knew his eyes were red and he could feel spots on his face where he had missed tears, and he hoped Zeb wouldn’t notice. He had no right to cry in front of this man, of all people.

Zeb stared at him for a moment, and Kallus could feel him mentally checking off all the things that were currently wrong on Kallus’s person. Hunched posture from his injured ribs; blotchy face; bloodstains on his uniform and dried blood on his lip.

“I brought you some clothes,” Zeb said. In the other hand he held a medkit, and Kallus realized with a sinking feeling that those supplies were for him. What a waste of resources that seemed. “They’re probably not your size, but they’re better than the Imperial things you’re wearing.”

Kallus took a breath before answering, surprised at how steady he was able to force his voice to be. “Thank you,” he said.

Then there was a horrible pause as Kallus realized he wouldn’t be able to remove his chest armor, much less his shirt, without help, and he could see the exact same knowledge dawning on Zeb’s face. “Karabast,” he said. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you.”

Kallus shook his head after only a brief moment of thought. He didn’t have the strength to punish himself any further. Whether or not he was worthy of Zeb’s help would have to wait until he was healed. “If you don’t mind,” he said, taking another shaky breath as he once again met Zeb’s gaze.

He didn’t look angry. He almost seemed…proud? That wasn’t right. Kallus was seeing things; his brain had been shaken up by his escape and he was imagining things that weren’t there. “I don’t,” Zeb said. He crossed the room and set the clothes down on the lower bunk. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the empty space next to them.

Kallus did as he was told, relieved to be off his feet. The leg he’d injured on Bahryn had been hurting horribly since his fight with Thrawn, particularly his knee. He might need to consider getting a brace, he realized, if he wanted to keep fighting—which he did.

Zeb unclasped the sides of Kallus’s ISB-issued armor, dumping it on the floor. “Sabine’ll get a kick out of painting that,” Zeb said. “You can wear our colors instead of Imperial ones.” “Give it to somebody else,” Kallus said. “I don’t want it.” Zeb gave him another strange look that he couldn’t parse. “Whatever you say.” He began to work at the clasps of Kallus’s uniform shirt. They definitely wasn't built for his large, clawed fingers. “So…you’re a Rebel now,” he said. “Still think you made the right decision?”

There weren’t words to describe how firmly Kallus was convinced of it. He was terrified, staring into the face of the unknown, but he knew he’d done the right thing—he just wasn’t sure how to live with the consequences. How to build a new life for himself out of the ruins of his old one…which had been built on the ruins of so many other people’s lives.

So Kallus simply nodded, trying to keep himself from spilling any more tears. The thing that made that impossible was the gentle way Zeb worked the unclasped shirt from his torso, pulling off one sleeve and then the other, grumbling angrily in that deep, rumbling voice when he saw the bruises on Kallus’s side.

“I apologize,” Kallus said immediately, his voice stiff and cracked like old, uncared-for leather. “This isn’t fair.” Zeb helped him get his arms into the new shirt he’d brought, leaving the clasps undone; the medics would only have to undo them again later to treat his injuries properly. Then he draped a quilted jacket across Kallus’s shoulders.

“You just uprooted your entire life, Kallus,” Zeb said, sighing and adjusting a non-existent crease in the jacket. “I would think it was weird if you didn’t cry.”

“Not in front of you. You shouldn’t comfort me.” Kallus moved backwards, further into the bunk, away from Zeb’s touch. He didn’t deserve empathy and he didn’t want pity. “This shouldn’t be your problem.”

Zeb got up from the floor where he’d been kneeling and sat on the edge of the bunk, staring at the opposite wall instead of at Kallus. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “Maybe I should say it’s none of my business. Maybe I should leave you to deal with it alone. But when you worked with me on that ice moon, and saved my friends from the Empire, and fed us all that intel as Fulcrum, I think you kind of made yourself my business.” He turned back towards Kallus, his face serious, his eyes soft. “Now let me check your other injuries.”

Kallus complied, shifting closer to Zeb. Even if it didn’t sit right with him, he didn’t think he could refuse Zeb anything. He would do whatever he was asked, whatever he was told—even allow Zeb to take on some of his burden—if it would make a fraction of a difference. If it would help him so much as an inch towards making amends.

With his broad hands carefully gentle, Zeb put a few stitches in Kallus’s broken lower lip. Kallus wondered where Zeb had learned those skills; if it was gained during his time in the Honor Guard of Lasan or in the Rebellion. For a moment, he was lost in wondering, searching Zeb’s face while he was intent on his task as though he could find an answer there. He only realized Zeb had paused and asked him a question when Zeb tilted his head to the side, staring at Kallus for an answer of his own.

“Could you repeat that?”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I said, can you see alright? That black eye doesn’t look too good.”

His eyes were dry now, but there was still a blur in the left side of his vision. “Actually, I can’t,” he said, swallowing hard. “Everything to the left is hazy.”

“It'll probably need a while to heal,” Zeb said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll get you fitted with some visual aids.” He dabbed something cold and clear on the bruised skin. “There’s nothing more I can do until we land, but you should be fine.”

The pain in his side begged to argue, and he was pretty sure that something in there was broken, but Kallus nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything."

How could he put that everything into words? Thank you for not killing me on Bahryn, thank you for telling me to look for the answers, thank you for believing me when I was Fulcrum, thank you for picking me up just now, thank you for tending my wounds.

He didn’t need to. The way Zeb was looking at him, he already knew.

“We have enough people on board to handle things,” Zeb said, his voice equally low. “I can stick around here for a while if you want the company.”

Kallus felt a smile tugging at the stitches on his lip. More everything to be grateful for. “Alright.”

They sat there together on the bunk for a while in silence. It was a comfortable silence, somehow, and Kallus finally began to relax, not breathing easily past the injuries to his ribs but certainly breathing more easily than before.

“You were limping,” Zeb said, breaking the quiet. “When you came on board you were limping.”

“Once you’re wounded, that body part becomes a target. It’s not so bad, now that my weight’s been off it.” Zeb leaned back against the wall. “That’s good.” He extended one arm to Kallus. “Come on, Kal. We’ve got time before we land anywhere, you can rest.”

There was a moment of hesitation, of doubt, and then Kallus allowed himself to settle next to Zeb, with a strong purple arm around his shoulders. As he started drifting off, safe for the first time in months and knowing his injuries would be cared for, Kallus thought he felt Zeb’s fingers gently rubbing across his arm, and there was a little pit of warmth in his chest that kept the cold of pain and guilt out.

[theminecraftbee]

okay now that i'm no longer trying to keep a project secret from certain people i can complain publicly about a thing i've been losing my mind about:

why the fuck is the evo wiki like that.

listen. i know. i know fandom wikis being decent entirely relies on whether there are people who both want to obsessively categorize things enough to fill out the wiki, with the free time to do that kind of obsessive categorization, and the desire to manage it all as a wiki. believe me, i know. but please i'm just trying to do research please, please at least bigb's page was just Entirely Empty so i knew i had useless information and just left. why the fuck did the mafia's page, by contrast, have this:

a sentence that is actively LESS USEFUL THAN IF IT WERE NOT THERE.

and then grian's page - GRIAN'S. GRIAN'S. THE ONE PAGE I THOUGHT MIGHT HAVE A SHOT OF BEING FILLED OUT. JOKE'S ON ME I GUESS.

BECAUSE IT HAS THIS????? I'M LOSING MY MIND. WHY ON EARTH IS THE WIKI LIKE THIS. WHY IS IT THIS BAD. PLEASE I'M JUST TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT EVERYONE'S RELATIONSHIPS WITH JIMMY AND MARTYN WERE PLEASE,

anyway thankfully i had friends who could help me with their own knowledge and who also found the evo recap but in conclusion i have been being driven mad by this for weeks, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[sticks-and-souls]

Anakin & Letting Go

I always found it to be a little skeptical that Anakin could become a force ghost after it took Yoda, Qui Gon, and Obi-Wan learning and training how to do it, and I always thought “really? Anakin? Finding that level of peace and letting go?” But after this episode, seeing the care and lesson that he imparts upon Ahsoka that he learned so painfully, I understand it from him so much better. Vader was so stuck in his complete self-hatred that he allowed nobody who had known him before as Anakin to reach him (most notably Obi-Wan and Ahsoka) because of the overwhelming extent of his shame. It took his son, who had never known him and yet who still stood before him and believed in him, loved him, sacrificed himself for him, to call Anakin back from the depths of Vader. And this Anakin, let everything go to save his son and to allow his son to save him.

And it felt so impactful to get to see this mature post-Vader Anakin reaching out to Ahsoka to teach her this very hard-earned lesson that he took the very hard road to get. Because she has Vader in her. She is everything Anakin taught her, and we saw the behaviors that led Anakin to becoming Vader—the fear of losing his most cherished relationships—reaching out of Anakin very early in the clone wars (and before) and the two of them are both very aware that he imparted those lessons on her. And then we've seen across this season—and overtly in her clone wars flashbacks—that she believes she is inextricable from these traits.

I’ve always loved Anakin as a fictional character, getting to see his earnestness, his flawedness, and his intensity (to borrow Huyang’s very accurate adjective), but this episode brought a level of humanity to him that has moved me so deeply. Life is HARD, loss gets forced on all of us no matter what, and the lessons that we learn through mistakes that we made can be extremely painful because acknowledging and taking responsibility for hurting people is actually really painful for humans (not owning up to our actions is the emotionally easier choice and George Lucas has stated time and again that the Dark Side is about taking the short-term easier choices). But it ultimately means that learning from your mistakes is an actual choice you have to MAKE. And this is the core of Anakin’s lesson. He is teaching Ahsoka that she has to choose which lessons he has taught her that she will live by, but more than that, that she is empowered to be able to choose. Yes, she has everything that he taught her—the good and the bad—but she is not condemned to live out all of the lessons. 

And the beauty of it isn't just the lesson, but that Anakin gets to be the one to teach it to her. The betrayal that she experienced in discovering his fall, the taintedness that she has been portraying that she feels about herself, gets specifically addressed because if he figured it out, then she definitely can too. If he is more than just Vader, then she is too. And THAT is what the "Is that what this is about?" line is actually about. It's so so important that we get to see pre-Vader, Vader, and post-Vader across her vision because the point is that yes, Vader is a part of him, and that brilliant shot of the two of them glaring Sith eyes across the blade at each other did it's job in conveying that Ahsoka is capable of that darkness too, but you are not only the darkness. You get to choose. ("You're more than [death and destruction] because I'm more than that"). And more to the point, you have to choose. Because if you don't specifically choose to fight the dark, then you're ultimately choosing to fall into it. "Fight or die."

So for Anakin to be able to reach out to her one more time, to be able to love her the way he, as Vader, had refused to the last time when they met on Malachor, and to open with “you’re never too old to learn”, because god if he didn’t learn that the hard way too. And to be able to pass on to Ahsoka how to actually let go because he himself had only just finally been able to learn it as well, feels so powerful and poignant.

And that look of pride and wistful sadness that he gives her at the end? That both she and Luke were able to learn so quickly what took him so long? And that maybe, he may have helped save her from the worst traits that he imbued upon her? That’s him having let go of his own shame. He feels grief, he feels guilt—we can see it on his face—but what has happened has happened and he has accepted that, and finally learned that letting go doesn't mean it didn't happen, it means it doesn't have to define your actions going forward.

And finally, it’s also him letting go of ahsoka. By teaching her that she will choose her destiny, he has to accept that he cannot control it either. And he has. “There’s hope for you yet.” 

So yeah, Anakin learned to let go, and getting to see him here, in this headspace of acceptance and peace, practicing and understanding what it means to be a Jedi, was so unexpectedly cathartic and revelatory for me as viewer. 

[kylejsugarman]

i wonder if as mike sat there bleeding out from the world's pettiest gunshot wound, he felt a pang of regret for jesse not just because he was leaving the kid alone with walter white and no more buffer for that abusive relationship but because he wouldnt be able to let jesse know what happened. he's smart enough to know that walt is just going to cover this encounter up and never tell the truth about mike's death, which only bothers him because jesse deserves to know that mike didnt abandon him. mike didnt walk out on him. mike didnt give up on him. mike sits there dying and thinks of jesse waiting at his living room window for mike to pull up to the curb and collect him for some work errand. waiting for him. a child sitting on the soccer field after practice, watching the sun fall lower in the sky and realizing that no ride is coming to pick them up. unwanted, forgotten. mike dies before he can reach the field and jesse never learns that in his final moments, mike wanted to tell him "i would never leave you behind."

[ohmytiredheart]

It's uncanny how much the FNAF lore actually makes sense if you look at it through the eyes of TMA

[mattodore]

pay attention to theo’s beautiful face and not whatever matthias’s arm is doing... i liked the lighting more here than against the wall

[kheyys-worms]

The Most Dangerous Predator of All

-

This art is based from a yandere!Rook x reader fanfic called Sugar Dew Sewn Anew by the wonderful @merakiui 💞💞 It's my all time favorite Rook Hunt fanfic and it's been living rent free in my head ever since I read it (and will continuously do so until I turn senile!). Do check this fic and Mera out! She's such a wonderful writer and her writings are absolutely incredible ✨✨

[muscariii]

I don't have much time to draw because of school but I managed to do some lazy drawings today.

I actually wanted to make something with colors and stuff but I just can't find any time to do that. At least this week since I have a lot of studying on my head right now. But maybe I'll manage to draw more on the weekend!!

So for now here's a usual Nerevar and Rasha thing :3

They're really fun to draw for me. I feel like I keep making both of their hair longer and longer so uh... Whoops :T