#here have this headcanon

[capriciouswriter207]

Disaster always strikes. Such is the way of the world: apocalypses claim the world, wipe the slate clean for a new batch of people to rise up until their time inevitably comes as well.

The latest of these cataclysms destroyed a grand civilization. The rolling hills of the surrounding savannah, the hills on which this city was constructed, shook and moved as a neverending storm rolled over. Even the driest patch of land was transformed to mud, One man escaped, though not unscathed. One man escaped, though not away. He fled underground, where the storm was reduced to trickles of water and the mud did not slide so far down. Down, where mobs saw their chance and attacked on sight, some torches and lanterns knocked off the wall or shattered after the impact of the tremors. Down, away from the tragedy.

Those who know the story are few and far between. Some say he died. Some say he lived, but barely. In either case, they say he never left that cave again, that his ghost still haunts those depths, that he perished in the darkness.

All of them are missing a crucial detail: none of them know about the Machine. None of them know about this civilization's deepest and darkest secret, previously tended to by one man and one man only because everyone (even its creator) feared its power. None of them know its engineer thought only of his greatest creation in these dire times and sought it out, even as mobs swarmed him. But even mobs dared not enter the chamber that housed the Machine, the sculk spilling and creeping from the pit within which it was created. Dimly-lit patches of blue crawling in an ever-shifting tapestry of silence. The darkness oppressive, the patches hypnotic, yearning whispers desperately reaching out to lost souls like them. Its engineer sank through his knees on the threshold, barely any strength to crawl closer to his magnum opus. His blood fueled the few veins of sculk already around him, spreading cross stone and flesh. It knew he was dying; it knew his time was coming to an end; it knew what this man had come here for.

Indiscriminately, the sculk spread across him as he bled out, his fleeting life a source of nourishment. More tremors shook the cave in which it resided. The man lost consciousness, half his body claimed, as the chamber partially caved in and the Machine shut down.

Nobody knows how the Machine sprung back to life. Nobody knows where it stands, or that it exists. They barely remembered the Ancient Capital until a friendly yet mysterious archaeologist put it back on the map.

The archaeologist had rested all that time. His mind slept, his transformed body in stasis. He awoke to a soft hum, the sculk around him coming to life as the same happened to him. The change was immediately noticeable - not quite human anymore, but not completely sculk either. In his confusion, uncertainty and fear, he stood up and staggered to the surface. The sunlight greeted him as though nothing had changed, but his home was in ruins.

He only met people after he could control it - both his urges and the little bits that sometimes oozed from him. The space between him and the sculk below was big enough, the transformation incomplete, the connection not as strong as it could be. His control reached as far as being able to suppress it and pass for a normal person. That was all he needed or wanted to be able to do. That was all he should be able to do.

Nobody had any reason to suspect him. By that time, he'd developed some quirks the others focused their attention on. The dirt perpetually stuck to him covered for any darker spots, his sense of preservation was brought up before his sensitivity to loud noise.

Yet he breathed, he ate, he slept, he lived.

Even if dying mobs always drew his attention in an unhealthy way.

Even if the Deep Dark called to him, still.

Even if he sometimes felt like mind and body were slowly slipping away.

Disaster always strikes. Such is the way of the world. And Pixlriffs has experienced this first hand.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

I remember discussing Tintin casting choices with a friend from Germany and remarked how it was odd he often has an English accent in adaptations rather than a Belgian one, and my friend just replied "that's because Tintin gives incredibly strong English boy energy (derogatory)"

Here in the UK there's a lot of weird classism tied into accents. Today accent diversity and representation in broadcasting is actively pursued but in Tintin's time there certainly was a preferred accent to have.

imagine this exchange happens between pages 28-29 in The Crab with the Golden Claws

[forgettable-au]

I think about this call so much

[krysmcscience]

Call this the Whoopsie AU (it's barely an AU)

I mean. Narinder never explicitly SAID the Lamb would stay dead... :3c He probably should have been more specific. >:3c

Part Two:

Well. The Lamb tried, but...sorry, Nari, the crown hates you now. Shouldn't have been so quick to lend it out, I guess. :D

Aaaand Part Three:

'Isn't he just adorable?' -The Lamb, probably, while their followers smile and nod and internally scream at the brand new hellcat they now have to share living space with...

Anyway, nothing says 'Dead To Me' like following a person around to loudly remind them of how dead they are to you. Right? Right. Narinder's got this all figured out. <:]

[cthulhum]

does anyone realize how crazy it is to have the actor of a mostly headcanoned queer ship say the fans were never crazy and they were right all along after 10+ years of everyone just absolutely going nuts over the said queerbaited ship

[peaktora]

𝐂 𝐈𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘 ˚◞♡ ⃗ satoru gojo

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 ┊ your husband is unbearably clingy.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.9k words. no pronouns used or specified gender for the reader. intended lowercase. established relationship (#married).

a/n. — i’m warning u guys right now that this is not proofread 😭 .. i literally just typed this up rq and posted it bc it’s been too long since i’ve last posted something on here

p.s. the prompt was in my notes from a longgg time ago, but i believe it’s from @/creativepromptsforwriting .. if not please lmk !!

"c'mere, hold my hand," satoru pleads for what has to be the third time. he pouts at you, who’s sitting on the countertop.

your brows furrow as you look up from your phone, "but, you're washing the dishes?”

he twists the faucet handle, and a steady stream of water flows down. after a brief glance at you, he places the plate beneath the water and says, "i know how to multitask, baby."

clinginess is defined as “the tendency to stay near someone for emotional support, protection, ect.” but there has to be another term for what satoru is, because you can't give any of those things while holding his hand right now.

you let out a deep breath and turn off your phone, watching as the screen fades to black. "satoru, there's no way i'm sticking my hand in that dirty dishwater," you say, sliding your phone into your pocket.

he practically shoves the plate into the drying rack. "i can't believe this," he huffs. "we literally had vows."

“what are y—“

“we had vows that said you’d love me in sickness and in health.”

"well…are you sick?" you ask, crossing your arms across your chest.

he pauses his task of washing dishes, leaving them untouched. leaning over the sink, he rests his arms against its edge. he steals a furtive glance at you, only to find your gaze locked onto him. with a hint of hesitation, he softly mumbles, "no..." before you can respond, he interrupts, "but i’m in health, and the vows said that you have to love and cherish me in this state too."

you lean back, searching your mind for what the alternative of holding his hand would be. because in no world would you hold his hand in dishwasher. then, it hits you. "for now, would a hug make you feel better?"

he answers your question with a hum, and you can't believe he's debating whether or not to accept your offer after all that drama over holding hands in dishwater. even so, he adds, "i'll have to give it some thought."

two can play that game.

“it’s okay,” you say, gracefully hopping down from the counter. a smirk spreads across your face. “i could just go—sit on the couch?” slowly, you start to walk in his direction and make your way over to the living room.

he doesn’t say anything, letting you do as you please. it’s not until you start to pass by him, that you get the reaction you wanted.

or atleast, somewhat similar to what you wanted.

"on second thought—" he exclaims, and the dishwater swirls around him as he turns around, his hands still wet and dripping.

you cringe as small puddles gather on the tiles. "hey—" but he interrupts you as he reaches out to grab your wrist. “ew—I—what the hell?”

you instinctively try to pull back, but he slips his wet hand in yours; sealing your fate.

“satoru—”

“what happened to nicknames?”

“satoru.”

"’m not sure who that is. i go by a lot of names, but not that one. lets go down the list, yeah?” he clears his throat. “i go by "babe, baby, swe—"

"you should consider adding "gojo" to that list."

"now, when have you ever called me gojo?”

"right now, in exactly ten seconds.” your husband gasps, hanging his mouth open. “satoru go—"

“woah woah woah—what’d i do to deserve this treatment?”

“you put your dirty dishwater hand in mine.” you jerk your hand back, struggling to escape free of his grip.

his grip tightens on your hand, “if you’re feeling like not loving me today then just say that.”

“hey—don’t discredit me. i offered you a hug and you said you had to “think” about it.”

“cause holding your hand ‘s better.”

you sigh, “after you’re done with the dishes, you can hold my hand as long as you want.“

he lets out a soft, thoughtful hum—the same hum that got you both into this situation in the first place. at the same time you shake your head, a mischievous twinkle appears in his eyes, and a smile twists onto the edges of his lips. "deal" he says, shaking your hand. “but before-“

you tsk, making him drop his excuse.

“wh—“

"the quicker these dishes get done, the quicker you’ll be able to hold my hand. so get on with it—go," you playfully command, and his grip loosens in response. seizing the opportunity, you slide your hand out of his grasp. you look down at it, seeing bits of food that’ve stuck to your palm. gross.

you walk over to the sink, feeling the cool water flow over your hand, washing away the food and dirt that clung to your skin. as you stand there, you hear satoru's voice grumbling from behind, "i hate doing dishes,” and you can’t help but snort.

before you know it, you feel his presence close behind you, his body pressing against yours. his arms encircle you, creating a cozy pocket of space between the counter and his body. satoru leans over your shoulder, gets a sponge from the soapy water, and starts washing a bowl. you simply lean back and look at his features.

the sight almost makes you want to stay in his arms forever. that is, until you realize the predicament you're in.

“you did not,” you whine. you desperately try to break free from the cage he’s trapped you in, but your attempts prove more and more pointless.

"oh, yes, i did," he declares with a smile. “what did you say earlier?" he clears his throat before proceeding. "the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you'll be able to hold my hand," he says, mockingly imitating your tone. "so, the faster these dishes are done, the sooner you can leave and do anything you want."

you sulk and moan while you reluctantly grab a dish and a spare sponge from the sink. “i hate you.”

“i love you more.”

[sabertoothwalrus]

wait I'm trying to gauge something

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 8: How met your mother (CSSR design by @qourmet!)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[aballadforbarbatos]

diavolo makes a pact with you

well, you never know

once upon a time, he brought it up to lucifer and barbatos

they shot him down immediately

receiving a lecture is bad enough but imagine receiving one from BOTH lucifer and barbatos

rip

he takes it like a champ tho. he’s way better than me cause i hate getting told off

years pass

the devil’s pudding event happens. diavolo almost learns his lesson that day.

like he says he has but there’s a lot of times where that memory crosses his mind and he sits there like huh. wish that could happen again

YOU learnt the lesson though, so it’ll NEVER happen again

if he brings it up on his birthday there’s a good chance you will look at him with disdain

he’s catching up on paperwork when something crosses his mind

maybe you’d be more into it if you had a pact with him?

the lecture he got from his two closest friends though was pretty awful though

but…

what if it was in secret?

what if, and he’s just throwing out ideas here, he gave lucifer a ton of work and made barbatos go on holiday and summoned you to his castle?

hypothetically.

you know, a will-never-happen scenario.

barbatos appears at his door soon after that.

“hey, barbatos. what did you need?”

“oh… nothing. i just got a bad feeling, that’s all.”

oops

another year goes by and the idea pops into his head again, about the same time as he sees you cuddling up with mammon

Right.

diavolo’s situation and this isn’t even remotely the same, because you don’t need a pact to cuddle and mammon is your first so he’s on a separate level altogether, but he chooses to ignore these details

it’s barbatos’ birthday. he gets sent off. hearing complaints, diavolo threatens him with two weeks

lucifer weirdly gets hit with a ton of work randomly. damn that’s crazy huh. do your best!!!

and you are summoned to the castle. you also get a bad feeling.

he tries to convince you that having a pact with him is a good idea

(some people are normal about this; i am not and wouldn’t need convincing personally)

you refuse.

if you bring this up to lucifer if he asks about your visit he is so screwed

ah, but maybe he could make you his unwilling partner in crime…?

pulls a lucifer and forces it on you. suddenly you have a big fancy mark around your neck.

he’s pretty proud of it. you cover your face with your hands and go oh my god.

it feels like it could be exasperation but he would really prefer for it to not be that

lucifer asks what diavolo wanted you for and you weakly say it was for new clothes. new clothes that conveniently hide your collarbone

all of this is unraveled when someone (mammon) walks in on you getting dressed and screams bloody murder about the weird MARK on your neck

pacts are permanent and so is diavolo getting lectured

[steddieas-shegoes]

Steve Harrington, age 7, being forced to join Boy Scouts because his father wanted him to learn how to “be a man” but didn’t wanna be the one to put in the work

Eddie Munson, age 8 and three quarters, forced to join Boy Scouts because the CPS worker who placed him with Wayne said it always looked good when the kids were involved in extracurriculars

Steve and Eddie becoming best friends because they both hated the uniform, and the activities, and having to please a bunch of men who had nothing better to do than hang out with kids three nights a week (and one Saturday a month)

Steve and Eddie earning every badge out of spite for their situations, not because they actually cared about tying knots or starting fires (okay, actually, that one was kind of cool)

Steve’s dad actually coming to a badge ceremony and seeing the way he hugged Eddie, known trailer trash, and immediately deciding that Steve no longer needed to be in Boy Scouts

Steve being sent to sleep away camp that summer so there was no risk of him being around Hawkins kids, only to come back with weekly swim lessons and a commitment to the local Little League team that “could really use your arm, son”

Wayne being granted full legal custody of Eddie so he didn’t have to work so hard to impress CPS anymore, letting him stop Boy Scouts as long as he found a hobby, pleased when it was guitar

Steve and Eddie finding their way out of the Upside Down together because of what they learned in Boy Scouts, laughing about how only two good things came out of that whole time: tying knots and becoming friends

[violent138]

The Batcave is the one place Bruce can truly unwind and drop the whole 'unbreakable' act he has going to assess his injuries, patch up the Batmobile, repair his suit, test out prototypes, and fail. That's why he's so annoyed when the kids bring strangers into it.

[floralete]

watched evangelion for the first time w some friends recently. good anime

[sneez]

family portrait :D young sam and sybil are behaving themselves and vimes is throwing a hissy fit because they tried to make him wear the helmet

[id: a digital painting of three people sitting for a portrait in a domestic interior. young sam is standing with his hands behind his back and beaming proudly. vimes is standing behind him with his hand on his shoulder, wearing a shiny military uniform and a surly expression. sybil is sitting on the right with an arm around young sam, smiling at the viewer. a plumed helmet is sitting on a table on the left. end id.]

[milkywayes]

GARRUS VAKARIAN: DATABASE IMAGE ACCESS. > PT. 1 : 2160, 2166, 2170. > all files backdated according to user preferences: (terran_coordinated.calendar).

[ineffableteeth]

Sorry lemme just-

[lucabyte]

"So what's the weirdest possible first (second) impression Loop could make on the party in postcanon?" "Yeah, that, probably."

+ Bonus

theyre just standing there in direct party order while this happens. normal tuesday.