#failing and flailing

[fistfuloflightning]

You are without doubt the worst rogue cultivator I’ve ever heard of. Ah. But you have heard of me.

Some Mobei-jun/rogue cultivator!Shen Yuan brainrot—thanks to @neonghostcat I can no longer separate SY from the guandao 😭 (thank you from the bottom of my heart)

[simply-sithel]

and when you move, I'm moved by Catja [link]

A wee 60 pages- true mini, bound for the @renegadepublishing Tiny Book Bang. Typeset by Indoor Cat Press.

.

...this book was so tiny, I lost it in my Drafts! Sharing now, almost a year later, as the 2024 Tiny Books Bang nears it's 2nd typeset reveal

[whumpshaped]

thinking about whumpee who just wants to engage in freaky funtime. they've gone through the horrors and they never want to go through them ever again- but being afraid is so very fun and they're badgering caretaker for it endlessly. but whenever caretaker demonstrates any willingness, whumpee immediately goes "but it'd just be play, right? it'd be pretend?" making caretaker think that maybe it's just not a good idea. whumpee just seems so anxious. it's like they love the idea of it, but any talk of execution makes them recoil.

still, they eventually work out an arrangement. whumpee is jittery as ever, testing out the safeword a thousand times to see whether caretaker would really stop. they say it before and after caretaker is finished tying them to the chair, they ask "but it's all pretend, yeah? you're not mean for real? it's all bluffs?" another hundred times, then they follow it up with "no, i do want this, i do, i just wanna make sure it's not too scary, or real"

and then caretaker gets into the rhythm, and whumpee is immediately captivated. all that nervous energy that should absolutely be there during play like this just vanishes almost without a trace. whumpee looks the calmest they've looked in a long while, and caretaker can barely believe that someone can be this calm watching them play with a knife and throw out threats

[fidgetspringer-art]

The Shimmer Shields - Uniform design

[elfcollector]

Release the Wardens from their bindings and surrender! I won't ask twice. No. You won't. The Elder One showed me how to deal with you in the event that you were foolish enough to appear again.

[flowerflamestars]

Abbattoir snippet

“Lady Hunger does not ask or accept worship,” the woman raised her brows, more disdainful than offended. “Illyria was once a friend to her, and so she is a friend to us.” Hunger. Cassian recognized the marks on the other, soaring, well-lit walls if nothing else. The facets of Illyrian worship that he’d never gotten to see well-tended, much less grouped together: wind, water, sky. Storm Maiden, Once-drowned Warrior, Grandmother Starlight. What had been taken for so long, Cassian knew nothing else. Lost before he’d ever been born. The niche with what was nearly Feyre’s face- rendered beautiful, awing, familiar but utterly wrong- was much, much smaller. Darker. Littered in writing, names tracing up the wall behind her. Cassian shook his head. “That’s Feyre Archeron.” He tipped back his head, staring at lights so high above they glittered, this stronghold he’d never even heard of. “You- you don’t follow the clans. That’s why you’re here?” She flashed her teeth at him, wings wide as a sky flickering fuller in rage. “The little coward that pretended to be one of us?” A teenager, sitting before a vast stature wielding hammer and tongs, turned all the way around to hiss Cassian’s direction. “That child, ruling in the memory of a man who despised us? We are Illyrian, unlike you. We answer to no one.” “But”- “But nothing,” It was a snarl, and all Cassian could do was look, look at that impossibly perfect, impossibly familiar face. Cassian scrambled forward, after her quick retreating form. “Please. What- the names?” She rounded, robe flaring, showing a paler color up around the edges. “She is old,” the priestess intoned, like Cassian was very small, very stupid, ill-behaving child. Pitiable. “She pays her debt.”

[splickedylit]

Do the kids these days know about REX DUODECIM ANGELUS because no matter what stage of my life I've been in RE: Homestuck, good ol' RDA never fails to get me, ehhhhh, how you say,,, turnt as fuck.

[lavender-temult]

why do baby otohan’s colors look like fuckign TOOTHPASTE in this version 😭😭😭

[gracelyngrausamkeit]

So, besides drawing and writing, I've got a variety of interests (too many, to be precise). Some of them include reenactment, LARPing and other "lived experience" events that often inspire me to be creative. So, some time ago, the Bulgarian LARPing society got divided on whether flails are safe enough to be allowed in game. As you can imagine, this led to off-game quarrels and internet flame wars. As a fervent pro-flail representative, I drew this propaganda poster featuring "Floli, the Goddess of Flails" to support the flail cause. Our slogan was "Don't flail the flail"

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[puppetmaster13u]

Day 8: Jester

[espectres]

THE CLOUDS FALL DOWN and they are of crushing rubble and hazardous rods of metal. Puddles of blood dry quickly, and there is no shine that rattles through them as you step there, worn-out snickers pressing on the cement painted with liveless rust. It makes you think of the dead, the lives which has been turned upside down, tossed around before giving in under the weight of heartless cruelty, just like their bodies under the weight of their homes. You stand there in the middle, stranded and small and lost between the jagged ends of torn buildings and your own weariness, mesmerized with how you could look on the dead, the cold limbs and rotting flesh and eyes that speak of unfathomable last terrors- and still, you feel absolutely nothing. 

Because it isn't death that twists your gut brutally, and it isn't the unsightly things that unsettle you- never quite has ... & never will. It isn't death that brings you here, carrying your heavy limbs and restless mind and bright eyes along. They never really lose their shine, your eyes, even rimmed from tearing and hooded by sleepless nights, it's not really their choice, no matter how you look at it, it's never really your choice, either. They stare at everything and nothing, your eyes, at the chaos where you once stood, unstoppable and determined; at the city lights in the distance, how can they go on like nothing has happened ? at the hand that burns by your side, it hasn't recovered from your own recklessness.

What were thinking, anyway ? Housing all that energy within your core ? Was it empowering; to know that you've kept going for months ? Was it relieving; to feel how it fizzled and bubbled and thrived in your veins, alive and overwhelming and threatening to simply burst and kill you ? 

" Shou-chan, " A familiar voice asks, you've been aware of her for a while now, refusing to acknowledge the company as your whole being hides out of sight, stubborn and upset and uselessly invisible. You listen, though, you always do so, carefully. " Do you blame yourself ? " 

You raise your head, your powers falter away and so does your orientation, apparently, because you stare again, but it's as thought you've suddenly forgot all cognitive skills, looking so lost. Maybe you are lost, maybe it's answers that you've come here to find, to find out where did you go wrong, to stop your mind from thinking of what has been and what's to come and what could've been, to help you ease the frightened beating of your heart that refuses to cease, you're so ... you're so afraid ! What are you afraid of ? Isn't it over already ? What worse could possibly happen to you ? You don't know, you don't know, you don't know anything anymore. 

Intead there is the weight of life sitting ever so gracelessly on your shoulders, and the phantom press of hands against your throat, pressing onto your feeble pulse, and you can't talk, you can't move, you can't breath and you're terrified like you've never been your whole life. You couldn't do a single thing, you couldn't change a single thing, you could have done better, if only you'd have been stronger, if only you'd have known better- 

" You never had a chance. " She smiles, she might as well kick you in the stomach. But her eyes are kind in a way, just like your mother when she calls to check on you, just like your healer when he takes care of your reopened scars. None of that mattered, none of that could help you, none of that could save you. None of that could stop you from trying, even if you never had a chance - were you so wrong ? Was it all so pointless ? 

" It was completely out of your control. " She walks away, then. Leaving you behind to your staring and your confusion, the fresh wounds in your hands and the unshed tears, the palpable race of your heart and the unamed, chronic ache in your chest. 

[gothiclit]

SISYPHUS BY ANDREW BIRD AT THIS RANDOM COSTA COFFEE

[hollowwish]

Sudden idea that Doc is so tall he can just. easily lift smaller hermits a few feet of the ground

[acemxce]

managed to draw something. playing with some designs for Ace's family. what I've got thus far as I roll with some ideas. basically just seeing what sticks.

his surviving siblings. Kingstyn and Royal

will they ever be relevant? probably not jklfsd especially not Kingstyn who lives in Sloth and Ace barely knows. but let me be creative.

[priffi]

they're both assholes, can we acknowledge that? he did some shit but he also doesn't deserve the extra shit she's doing. she's allowed to speak out but she's not allowed to bring that extra pain. there's a reason he's coming back and it's not because he wants to but because he has to my god