#don't you see the lanterns are for you????

[byfulcrums]

I hate it when people make the DC characters feel scared of Phantom. Or when they make them freak out over how crazy his life is

Most of the characters would just go “Oh a Ghost King! That's cool” and either attack, befriend or ignore

They always write Dick to be the responsible one when he's not. If he saw this child he wouldn't go “Omg he's so young!!! Poor baby!!!” he'd go “Oh god no please don't let B see this one” and then “Hey this one's kind of fucked up. I'm going to keep it for a while to see what happens wish me luck🤞”

Or when they make the JL freak out about him. Guys, Flash is able to break reality, time travel, destroy the multiverse and more. If he finds out Danny is Dick's clone or something he'd go “again? How many clones are there?” and just vibe with it

Danny would be so happy to find people who just don't give a shit about how weird he is. He only has his friends and sister and they're just. Three people. This boy needs mental help and everyone freaking out about him isn't helping. He's just vibing with his new also overpowered friends

“Yeah so I'm half dead. I was killed by a ghost portal that opened right where I was, and instead of actually killing me it brought me back to life. I'm a ghost possessing its own body. Sometimes if I feel too weak I'll look the way I looked when I died — with my chest half open and my eyes bleeding. My blood is green. I will probably see everyone I love die. Wild, right?”

“Oh yeah! I've got my own experience with dying. It sucks, man. It's funny for the fastest man alive to not have been able to outrun death lmao. Speedsters also age really weirdly. I'm a married adult with two children but I look like I'm 18. But then later I look like I'm 30. And then 20. And then 40. Sometimes I'm afraid I'll look into the mirror and won't recognize who I see haha”

“Talking about body horror! I don't know if I'm the real me. I've created so many mes (the scout thingies) that I can't tell if I'm the original one or not. Maybe I died, and I'm the only thing that remains of me, and I would never be able to tell. I could be being tortured right at this moment. I could be trapped in the speedforce. And no one would ever know because I'm right here, but if I'm not me then they'd live with an imposter by their side”

“Ahh, body horror. My old friend”

(they're all on the verge of a panic attack)

Danny, glowing with a green light at 3am in the kitchen: Hey what the fuck are you doing here

Green Lantern, also glowing with a green light: I live here you fuck

Danny: Shit this isn't my house??

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts 3 - Arendelle

[sagau-my-beloved]

Death At The Hands Of A God

Warnings: general sagau, imposter au, light descriptions of violence/gore, you die/are killed (by Venti), angst

-

It seemed as if the rain was particularly heavy, almost unusually so as it fell in sheets, occasionally catching the light of the moon, making it look no different than strands of silver.

That should have been a sign, the rain, the fog, the agitation of the weather. Mondstadt hadn't faced a storm this bad since before their current Archon, even the winds of Dvalin paled in comparison.

Venti was so ignorant not to pick up on the clues laid out before him by his own nation as he trudged through heavy rain, his bow at the ready and a sinking feeling in his chest.

He would never say he disliked the rain, despite what unpleasant memories linger in the back of his mind from those times. But everything carried a harsher weight when was faced with his current task, one assigned to him by no other than his creator.

Venti stopped to rest a moment, leaning against a tree for partial coverage, though it did little to shield his already soaked clothes. He felt something heavy and unpleasant in his chest as he reflected on the situation, an unshakable sense of wrongness, one that clouded his mind and dulled his senses. You were what he was after, you who posed a threat to the divine order simply because of your face.

He thought back on his creators’ honeyed words, a sickeningly sweet tone that he had never heard them use before, not that they very commonly addressed him at all, which made this particular summons out of place, a mixture of excitement and worry bubbling in his chest as he walked through their temple. To kill someone impersonating them, that is what they ordered him, hinting at the possible consequences his nation may face if he didn't comply with the utmost enthusiasm, the threat of which rang particularly loud when faced with what they had done to other nations in fits of anger.

He knew deep within him that this wasn't remotely justified, that he might as well be punished alongside you if the crime was simply stealing a face. If only you chose to look like another human, or even an Archon, he would have taken your mimicry of him as a complementary. But alas. Those feelings were pushed down and covered by the vow he made to his nation, one born of nothing but love and a promise for a brighter future.

Venti had considered alternatives, confronting you with your motive, begging you to make yourself scarce, making his own judgement on your reasons and framing his response accordingly, but those were all fleeting thoughts, quickly pushed away as soon as they arose. He couldn't get attached, he couldn't afford to think of you as human, and he certainly couldn't afford it getting back to his creator that he failed them.

He had heard about your existence from other sources, apparently being so bold as to walk directly into Mondstadt. You weren't met with pitchforks and torches, his people were more civilized than that, but the hostility was as sharp as a knife. You had left of your own accord after having no luck obtaining food or a place to stay, he had only heard after the fact from gossipers drinking late into the night, the faces of which were forced into his mind as he once again thought of his creators’ threat.

Venti was pulled from his thoughts due to a subtle noise, one almost unnoticeable through the heavy onset of rain, but it was there. A branch and a pile of leaves, something big enough to break them, and no one in their right mind would be out in this weather, except...

He swallowed what little apprehension he’d not already buried, reverting his mindset to something it had been five hundred years ago with the quick draw of his bow. The Archon saw you in the distance, just as soaked as he was, clothes tattered and foreign, scared. A quick death was the least you deserved, one free from suffering, and maybe your next life would be more forgiving.

He aimed for your head, a clear shot even now, but it seemed the moonlight that glinting off his bow caught your attention as you quickly turned your body to face him in a defensive stance, eyes wide, fearful, as if you could see what was about to come to fruition.

Your mouth moved, only fragments of the noise it produced were carried to him, broken syllables and muffled notes the very wind urged him to listen to.

You had said his name.

Venti faltered before the arrow released, for the first time in centuries, its' path no longer as steady or sure as it had been.

It hit your throat.

Venti's legs were moving before he consciously realized, forcing his body to where you fell, as if collapsing in on yourself, until he could finally see you clearly, drenched in rain and golden liquid, mixing together indiscriminately as they soak into the ground below.

There was a feeling of shock, which developed in his throat first, spreading evenly throughout the rest of his body, as if it were in his bloodstream. He looked at your terrified expression, a pained and now lifeless one, holding only fragments of the fear you felt.

What had he done.

Venti felt himself fall to his knees, hands immediately going to where his arrow lay firmly lodged, feeling for a pulse in an act he knew to be worthless.

"No. No, n-no— no. Please!" His voice cracked as his mind caught up with what his eyes were forcing him to behold.

You were the divine creator, Teyvat's one true God, and he had—

No. He couldn't even think it, the word that was on the tip of his mind carried nothing but pain, anguish and insufferable heartache, the likes of which he hadn't felt, well since...

Without thinking, Venti wrapped his arms around you, laid his head on your stomach, forced his eyes closed, and prayed. For your return, for forgiveness, and if not for any of that, then simply for a form of retribution.

He hadn't realized he'd started crying, tears and rain alike falling from his face onto your form, pooling at his eyes until the world around him became harder and harder to see.

The position you both rested in was not unlike that day long ago, forever etched in his memory and resurfaced through reflections.

Was this simple his fate? To find himself holding in his arms the corpse of someone he loved so dearly, over and over again. Was it written in his very being that all good things would be torn violently from him with little care to how it left him shattered, scrambling for the pieces of what little piece of mind he had left.

There was no coming back from this, no form of atonement. He could feel the shackles encasing his wrists, invisibly tying him to this moment, to where you had stood alive moments prior. His days of living freely died with you, forever encased in the space between where your souls had briefly met, and it was no more than he deserved.

It was only a moment later that your body was gone, dissolved into the stardust it was born from, slipping through his arms and carried by the wind that no longer obeyed him. That didn't stop him from reaching desperately, gasping and clawing at the air for what remained, heart in his throat as he begged for mercy, for anything but you depriving him of your vessel even after death.

You couldn't really be gone, not fully, you who so powerfully morphed this world from willpower alone, who disappeared for an infinite stretch of time only to descend again. Even if your vessel may have been no stronger than human, your soul was as old and powerful as existence itself, it would linger on in whatever form it had existed before, watching, waiting.

He would be ready for when you decided to give this world a second chance, he would wait an eternity and more to see your face again and repent a thousand times over, bear any hardships in the time between only to fall to his knees in complete acceptance at whatever you deem an acceptable punishment when faced with your light again.

But first...

It seemed as if there was a loose end to tie up, a deceiver bearing the ultimate sin, one much more deserving of his arrow, and one that would suffer a fate worse than death in your name.

Venti roughly brushed the tears from his face, eyes darkening as he shakily pulled himself from his knees, feeling as if his body couldn't decide between flying or collapsing.

His ‘creator’ would soon face all the fear and pain that was forced upon you, the wrath of a god who had lost everything for the second time, a goal he planned to pursue till his dying breath.

[triglycercule]

guys wtf i've been possessed because wdym i'm posting art AGAIN. horrortale doodles this time because i'm in a horror mood :3 ermm aliza jumpscare on 3rd photo

4th image is horror (if i cracked his back it would sound like a pop tube fidget toy)

[justarandomlambblog]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 [END]

The love story of a mortal and an immortal is always doomed to end in tragedy, but even just a little more time would have meant everything...

And that's Narinder's prologue for this au sketched out. Also yes that's a cat he's just got small rounded ears instead of long sharp ears <3

Explanation of the story under the cut (this time with some dialogue!)

During a festival, someone runs up to Narinder saying a stranger has come to the village, and he's wounded. Narinder recognizes the cloak he wears as being that of a Darkwood cultist, so Narinder takes the injured cat to his home to take care of him, and also to confront him without anyone else there. Narinder finds that he's brought a book of the Old Faith with him.

The stranger wakes up and notices Narinder immediately. Narinder confronts him about the book he's brought with him, and the fact that he's a follower of the Old Faith. The cat explains that he actually ran away, seeing no point in killing and fighting and living and dying for a god who is already dead (awkward considering Leshy is very much alive again and loyal to the Lamb by this time, but neither of them know this), but that his old family outed him as a dissenter and he was chased/attacked on his way out. Narinder accepts this explanation but gives a stern warning to the newcomer;

"These are godless lands and we bow to no one. There will be no talk of the Old or New Faiths, no talks of gods, no preaching. And this book stays in this room so long as you're in this village, got it?"

Narinder drops the book into the side table, then tells the newcomer that he's welcome to stay as long as he wants/needs so long as he doesn't bring talk of gods into the village itself. The newcomer accepts this easily enough- he ran away from the Old Faith, after all, he only brought the book by happenstance.

Narinder gives the stranger clothes and shows him around the village, introducing him to people (and translating for both sides, as the newcomer does not speak the godless language and the godless don't speak the language of the Faithful). Time passes, and the newcomer stays even when he's healed, slotting himself into the daily routine of the village. Narinder begins slowly teaching him about their culture, once it becomes clear that he doesn't intend to leave; he shows him how to take care of the feral beasts, teaches him how to make paper lanterns for their lantern festival, teaches him their dances, and eventually even gives him an ear piercing, the same as anyone who comes of age inside or is accepted into the village from outside gets. It's essentially the moment that he becomes an accepted part of the village, an acknowledgement that he is one of them now; no longer an outsider, no longer a cultist but one of the godless.

One day, Narinder's friend (as by this time he cannot really be called a newcomer and ofc I don't have a name for him...) confesses to Narinder, and Narinder realizes all at once that if he wants to pursue this... thing he and his friend have going on, he needs to tell him the truth.

So Narinder does it in the most dramatic sad wet cat way he can; he brings out the book that's sat gathering dust inside the drawer for well over a year now and finds the entry on the Red Crown and the One Who Waits. The "Friend" is confused at first before looking at Narinder and realizing that Narinder is the One Who Waits- a fallen god of the Old Faith, and arguably the most powerful of all of the Old gods.

And... he doesn't care. Narinder is Narinder, not the Bishop of Death after all. He just tosses the book- something once sacred in the cult he was born into- aside and expresses that he doesn't care; it doesn't matter who Narinder used to be, or the crimes he committed in the past, because he loves the person Narinder is now. Narinder accepts his confession with this acceptance.

Time passes. They marry, with Narinder presenting a marriage charm to him, much to his delight. They start a family- first child they name Ari, the second Elloi, and the third Minuit, all a few years apart in age.

And for just a little bit- everything is perfect. Even though Narinder's immortality hangs over him like a shroud, he takes every day a moment at a time, and he's happier than he's been in a long, long time.

Then one night they're woken by the sound of crashing and screams. They're a little freaked out, because it's been so long for both of them but they recognize that sound- they've just both been on the other side of it. Opening the curtains confirms Narinder's fears; there's a raid happening on their village, the same way gods and their cults once crusaded against each other and razed entire settlements in a bid for power. Buildings are burning, people are running and screaming and crying, some people are dead, and robe-clad people very reminiscent of cultists and heretics bear weapons and chase people down, uncaring of whether they're old, young or children.

Narinder scoops up the baby- only a few months old and crying in fear- while his husband rushes to grab their older kits, only to find their beds empty. Panic sets in, and rather than running into the forest (to hide and hopefully avoid the attackers) like they initially planned, they rush into the village to look for their daughters. Narinder comes face to face with a cultist, and has a moment where he remembers Shamura teaching him offensive magic- before they even had the crowns, back when it was just them and the magic they were born with. Chains, which he hasn't seen or felt in nearly a hundred years at this point, shoot up at his command, spearing through and instantly killing his would-be attacker.

His husband, somewhere along the way, loses the dagger he'd always carried while fighting cultists. He spots their daughters on the ground, holding onto each other and crying in fear while a cultist raises a sword. Instinct kicks in and he rushes to them, throwing himself between his kits and their attacker- too afraid that attacking them would still end up with his kits hit by the sword.

Narinder hears his kits scream and turns in time to see his husband collapse, mortally wounded (he did take a sword for someone who was in front of him, that shit went DEEP), and in a moment of horror reaches out with his magic, spearing their attacker with the chain before they can turn their attention to the kits again. He runs over, dropping down by his husband's side, and pulls him into his lap. His husband manages to smile at him, saying some final words before dying in his family's arms.

Grief hits Narinder hard, and his magic lashes out; withering lines of decay snake through the village, the grass crumbling and the earth itself cracking in the wake of his magic. It targets the cultists while avoiding the villagers, and the cultists begin rotting and turning to dust right on the spot, whether they are bodies on the ground or living beings in the middle of swinging an axe. All at once the tables are turned, their attackers reduced to ash and blood on the ground and in the wind, and careful to avoid the lines, slowly the bravest of the villagers follow the decaying earth to its epicenter; Narinder and his once-again-broken family.

None of the villagers fear Narinder, even like this. All they feel is grief; grief for what has happened to their village, grief for their neighbors and loved ones, grief for the families that have been lost, grief for what the future holds for them. They share in his grief, but they realize something in that moment; Narinder can actually do something with his grief.

A few days pass and the dead have been buried. Narinder and his older kits pay respects to his husband's grave, and some villagers approach to give their condolences and also ask; "What now?"

He looks back, listening to their worries. With his third eye open and with him reaching out to them with his own magic, he notices for the first time that some of them have a certain... energy about them. Some have more than others; some's energy is lashing out, while others' are gentle, and some are... reaching back to him. He realizes that this energy is magic- the same thing Shamura saw in him and the others, thousands of years ago, when they decided to train them.

He remembers Shamura telling him something now, when he asked why they taught him and the others to fight and use magic when they clearly wanted to keep them all safe; "Sometimes the best way to protect those you love is teach them to protect themselves."

He takes this lesson to heart now; the village must learn to fight, so that they will never be made victims again.

"We rebuild. We learn to wield swords." He summons a flame into his hand, holding it out for the villagers who have turned to him in this time of hardship to see. "And those of you who are capable of magic- I will teach it to you.

"What has happened here will not happen again."

[torchbearing]

most insufferable man in existence, i guess.

[dnangelic]

the hollow nonviolence but nevertheless heavily palpable longing and empty vastness of daisuke's heart. post

[babacontainsmultitudes]

Over The Garden Wall but instead of Wirt and Greg it's Grant and Paeden that's it that's all I needed to say thank you

[orchideae]

With the end of of the event slowly approaching, I just need to say that... listen, Lantern Rite of 2024 was good, but I will hold the ending scene of Lantern Rite 2023 up to the skies like it's Simba into perpetuity and then some more. Not because it was my first Lantern Rite, but because it's everything that represents Liyue in every possible way. The goofiness of Hu Tao and Xinyan (listen, I know, it wasn't the greatest song, but even that has grown on me), the Qixing, Baizhu and the wonder on Qiqi's face that should be what everyone looks like when they first see the lanterns in the night sky, Xiao, the ascension of the lanterns into the skies, the crowd, Yaoyao's excitement (!!!!), Ganyu's little lantern, everyone, everyone. Ugh, 'May the year ahead be a blessed one - I believe it shall be' (the faith in his people, stop it), CLOUD RETAINER, the orchestra, Madame Ping's zither after the entire storyline, THE ORCHESTRA!! I'm fine about this game, I promise.

I just really love this game, and I really love Liyue.

P.S.: I'm still going to badger people for Lantern Rite threads.

[livelaughbone]

Preview: Cognito's Outertale Lantern Festival Sticker Sheet

Celebrate next year's Lantern Festival with the Outertale skelebros and this wonderful sticker sheet by @sin-cognito ! 🏮

The stickers also make an appearance in the calendar for the month of February so even if you can't get a full bundle, you can see them there!

[starlitfunkster]

Oh yeah, I can post this now that I'm back.

[emdotcom]

Fucking months back, when I was trying to find a proper-good name for 'Turnips, I was looking into Jack'O'Lanterns & stumbled into an Irish tale that describes a spirit forced to wander earth forever, carrying only a hollowed out pumpkin for a lantern to light his way. Well, that's all well & neat, but I wanted to know, like. Why is he damned to wander the earth? Why a pumpkin? & I couldn't find a good answer, just reciting of all I'd said before. Mind you, I didn't look too hard -- 'twas bedtime.

Anyhow. The fucking spooky radio dramas just opened a Halloween special, & were explaining some things about the holiday as background, & they gave me an answe to the first question. 'Cording to the Mystery Man of The House of Mystery segment, 's 'cause Jack had pissed off god & been barred from entering heaven. Then, he pissed off the devil not long after & was barred from entering hell. Not being able to go either which way, he's condemned to wander the earth.

[iiboronii]

Okay this might be a silly question but I trust my loyal tumblrinas more than anything soooo... I have this paper lantern string light that I absolutely adore but idk where to put it?? It's currently on my curtain rod overtop of my curtains (not above but like on top of the curtains) but idk if that's where they should go. I have a few more string lights btw so if anybody has any fun ideas for them pls lmk 🙏

[aromanticasterisms]

iansan relevance right off the bat let's fucking go

[death-rebirth-senshi]

Forget the coliseums Elden Ring needs to patch in a room at the roundtable specifically for taking screenshots of your character with decent lighting that doesn't weirdly obscure face details

[iniziare]

Re-tag drop: Yelan