#hghghg

[drbased]

the upside of all this discourse is I've found a new bunch of people to follow who I wish I could have booped. I am booping you in spirit - oh no, I mean I'm booping you in science

[squidkid15]

POV before and after you watched your best friend get slaughtered by the gods

[revelisms]

Excerpt: A Gift for Birdie

Vi reminisces on the past, and reckons with the present. She and Silco chat about a gunsmith.

From a work in progress set after 'heron blue,' an AU where Vi and Jinx reconnect under different terms. Slow, rocky relationship rebuilding, found family messiness, and a dash of hurt/comfort.

Music is humming on the jukebox, again.

It's not the kind Vander would play—not his soul-songs and morning light and blanketing warmth—but similar.

Jazzier rifts on the edges. Low, muted, musing. A glowing moon, to a burning sun.

It's like autumn nights and weaving branches; like the shadow that toils behind the bar—too thin, too sharp, too spider-like to be the silhouette instinct urges her to see, that her heart bleeds and aches for; a man wrapped in red and black, instead of beige and blue.

It's Sunday. The afternoons are always slow enough to count the damned minutes by hand.

She's picked up on his habit for making his rounds of other business ventures, on days like these—Sunday Stockies, as Jinx calls them—ventures, Vi was realizing, that were more than just meetings and trade edicts and knife-edged threats; more than just his cigars and signatures and shark-still eyes, sorting through contracts three miles thick.

She finds him down here, far more often than she would have ever dared. An image that doesn't match, that isn't right—but one that fills an empty, gaping space in her mind's eye, nonetheless.

The familiarity eats at her. Strange, in its stranger comforts.

It doesn't make it any easier, invading his breathing space.

A scrape of glass and metal sounds off behind the bar. With it, a dry drawl: "Still asleep, is she?" 

The girl snoring behind her paint-smattered door is seventeen today: beached on a bed of bomb-scraps and blueprints, in a room littered with clothes Vi doesn't recognize, the air tanged with gunpowder and metal.

Vi knows it, because she had sat with her in it the night before, well past the twelfth bell. Listened to her ramblings about the latest missions and some brute who'd gotten his face smashed in, the tale spiked with a manic wonder.

He deserved it, Jinx had crooned, shaking out her wrist with a theatric twirl. Those bones, though! Yeesh! Felt like they were made'a rocks.

Her sister never did well around violence, before. Now, from all Vi had gathered, she burst to life at the first sign of it, like a fuse waiting to be lit.

That wasn't the same. Wasn't right. Wasn't Powder. 

And while Vi had listened to it all—a knot lacing through her stomach, piercing straight to her throat—she'd felt a chill at her shoulder. Ignored it, at first—like she'd ignored the tack of his heels over the stairs; ignored the slow, prowling sweep of his gait down the hall.

But the chill had lingered. Turned heavy as the nose of a gun pressed to her nape. She'd sliced her eyes over her shoulder, and found a shadow looming at her sister's cracked door: a glowing eye simmering through it.

He'd leered at her from the shadows, in deathly silence. She'd stared back. Tried and failed to keep a snarl off her mouth.

It was as though Jinx knew he was there, without even having to look. She'd bantered him off, with rolling eyes and teenageish grumblings (It's late, I know!). Not long after, she'd started up her yawnings, and shooed Vi out.

And that—that wasn't the same, at all. 

Powder had always hated sleeping alone. As long as Vi could remember, she'd beg and beg her to stay until she drifted off, to the point that their designated beds had blurred to one.

She'd never felt safe enough in her own skin; never felt at home, even in the spaces that were wholly theirs.

The nights had never been kind to her, in that way. To any of them.

And that bastard had come to her door, like he knew all of it, as much as Vi did; like he, too, had found odd routines in Jinx's sing-songed Night-nights!, waiting for the times he'd find her tear-streaked and shaking instead, hands itching at her comforters.

He'd stood there and stared—like he'd forgotten Vi was there at all, back where she belonged: sitting knee-to-knee with her sister and knifing a glare through the door, denying to her last breath that he would have ever set foot in here, wrapped up Jinx's knobby hand beneath his blood-stained owned and sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her, prattling off quiet folktales and business nothings while the green light of their city fluttered and dimmed.

She stands across from him in a too-empty bar, music not-quite-Vander's toiling behind her, glaring at the chalk that smudges his slacks, and bites down the venom building on her tongue. Mutters, "I want to get something for Birdie," instead.

For Jinx, she means.

She still can't manage the poison of that name, whether chosen by her sister or not. It cuts her too deeply to bear.

He's turned to the shelf above him: another scrape of glass. "Have you not coin of your own?" The words scathe as dryly as the flit of his lashes. His hand sweeps from the shelf, sorts through another.

Vi drags her fist to a knot. "It's at the Bridgewaltz," she huffs, curtly. "Sevika said you had a...connection."

Fronts upon fronts for business deals behind closed doors, built on partnerships forged decades past.

It uproots her—rattles her, still—peering into the inner workings of what all the Lanes used to be. What all Vander had never told her.

Silco counts bottles by the dozen, a full cycle of breath, before turning down to the supply sheets clipboarded over the bar. Undercity light prisms through the glass, a greenish-gold haze: white-glowed on the page he flicks back between his fingers, on the silvering sweeps of fringe that fall loose at his temple.

He looks out of place, down here. Uncharacteristically dressed down. That rotted splotch bared on his face, his hair not quite tamed, the red-black lines of his sleeves cuffed and rolled. 

Another page rasps between his fingers. "Demian," he rumbles then, penning in a string of numbers in his spindly script. A long-faded scar hooks down the inside of his left wrist. His eyes raise to hers, slowly. She rips her own away. "He operates the gunshop by the third quadrant."

Vi chews hard on the inside of her cheek. "Narrows it down, huh?"

A dark brow crooks at her. "We've a code," Silco gravels on, without a trace of humor. "He'll ask what you're having; you'll say rumwine." Another rustle of paper, another scratch of his pen. "How much do you need?"

She shrugs, ticking her nail at her palm. "Was something like one-eighty, last I saw."

He says nothing to that, for a moment. Flips through another supply sheet. And she stares at the way his brow furrows, at the twist of his wrist; at how he stands just a touch off-kilter, as though something else should be at the end of the bar, where her memory sees Vander with a towel slipped off his shoulder and a pint scrubbed dry beneath his palm.

"She's fond of his works with osmium," Silco muddles then, tucking his pen behind the rattish crook of his ear. She rocks back on her heels. Watches, suspiciously, as he leans over to sort through the register: a snap-shring of the drawer.

He counts out clean stacks of glinting, gold-plaited coin: seamless as a teller.

A hundred and fifty hexes—and a hundred and fifty more, atop them.

"That's—that's not—"

"I'm aware." He leans into the willowed splay of his palm, with another dagger of those mismatched eyes. She meets them, a whip-fire glare. "Haggling takes more than using your fists, girl."

Her nails fidget at her thumb. "I know."

"Then be smart about it. I've found he runs fifteen-percent mark-ups, on average."

Her teeth ache. She wants to shove the hexes back in his face, turn tail and walk straight back up those glossed stairs. Wants to snatch up every glimmering coin, out of her own spite, and stalk across the floor, before he can get in another word—but he's glancing absently over another shelf of glasses at his knee, like he knows every damn nook and cranny back there, like he's worked it as much as Vander ever did, and the thought gnaws and gnaws at her—What the hell were you?—until she can't think.

He tallies in another row of orders. Glances at her, slowly: a flit of teal and cinder, there and gone again. "Take your time," he suggests, after a breath. "Fetch yourself something to practice with. It's worth knowing your way around a bullet, in this line of work."

Metal flares on her tongue. "I don't need a gun."

Ice and fire, burning into her. "Do you intend to punch your way out of every shootout you cross, girl?" Condescending, petty old drawl: the sheared velvet of his accent heavy off his jagged teeth. "Perhaps I can fetch you a bow and arrow, if you're so inclined."

The jab eats under her skin, and sets her blood boiling.

Vi scrapes up the coins into the satchel at her hip, and storms off, out the gilded whirl of the door, without another word.

[faunabel]

character bingo for spain 🍅🍅🍅

gee i wonder who sent this ask… i have absolutely no idea who could have possibly sent it… (teehee)

you're gonna hate me but spain isn't one of my favorites. he's alright. i think he'd be fun to write if i tried to. i don't like spa//mano, so i never really have the chance to read fanfiction about him to develop any love for him! i have my own headcanons on him... still working on my interp. kinda wanna roleplay with a spain rper to get a feel for him better. maybe someday!

[save-the-villainous-cat]

I saw y'all talking Abt the hobbit and LOTR and lemme say

I fucking love hobbit and it may or may not be bc of Thorin & Kili 😭😭 I'm just out here exposing myself

LOOK I GET IT BUT THE HOBBIT MOVIES ARE ABSOLUTELY TERRIBLE PLEASE DONT TELL ME YOU—

[bellsliturgy]

thinking abt rham’ir being swept off his feet and protected and cherished and loved and he’s so not used to it that he’s flustered and covering his (blushing) face with his sexily tattoo’d arms huaaaaaahh

[lemonswriting]

*drops this on u

caL CAL CAL CAL

I JUST WOKE UP OMG IM BLUSAHING ASBNJILASHBGASUGHVB

[territorial-utopia]

Happy Midsummer's eve! Remember to hold on to your shoulder companions when leaning down so they don't fall-

[daisyofwaterdeep]

[nsfw, gender neutral, reader has tits] Imagining Halsin being super casual with unprompted sexual touching after being with him for awhile. Him sliding his hand down your pants, lazily fingering you as you're cuddled up and reading together. Leaning over and swiping a big thumb pad over your nipples to get them hard, just because he likes the look of them through your shirt. Him listening to you recount your day and he just starts stroking himself through his pants, as casual as someone would scratch an itch. He's still completely listening to you, but he doesn't try to ignore or hide when you turn him on. Now that he knows your his and his completely, he follows his desire unabashedly. Touching you and loving you comes as naturally as breathing to him. But this does lead to him forgetting his manners outside of the house--a former companion comes to visit, and the three of you are chatting and reminiscing happily, Halsin's arm comfortably across your shoulders. Without thinking or even realizing, he starts playing with your tit...oh Halsin, dear.

[good-wine-and-cheese]

I so incredibly do not understand 'x reader' content at all on a fundamental level

[mochiobonio]

dancing in the dark, with you between my arms sidlink edition

Link dragging Sidon away from the extravagant party in Zora Domain while they're celebrating Link defeating Calamity Ganon and the two would just vibe and talk besides the waterfalls in Lanayru,

then some fairies play music for them and not wanting to miss out this opportunity, Sidon tries dancing with Link, the two having trouble at first but they continued and tried synchronizing as much as they can but failing, just laughing at how silly they look

Link just dancing to the beat while Sidon, been taught how to dance properly from a young age, joins in. Fireflies surrounding their dance floor as the light makes Sidon all the more beautiful, getting distracted Link bumps into Sidon and the two fall onto the wet grassy floor, chuckling to each other. After the laughter died off, the two looked at each other, feelings started brewing and they just, slowly press each other's forehead to each other, the Zora Prince whispers underneath his breath, something only the Hylian can hear

"You're perfect..."

[drbased]

When I saw gottmik's look, all I could think of is the connection between the fake tits that drag queens use to mock real women, and the fake tits the real woman has in a bag to represent the removal of her real breasts. What a horrible convoluted mess of misogyny that all is. late-stage gender ideology

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

okay i finished watching the episode and i'm

IM ABOUT TO EXPLODE RAAAAAA

[a-sad-rat]

this was the only picture that could truly capture doll's essence

[devilsrecreation]

TLG Outlanders Incorrect Quotes pt…..5?

Janja: I think we're missing something

Reirei: Teamwork?

Kiburi: Cohesion?

Mzingo: A general sense of what we’re doing?

On some mission (feat. Kifo):

Kifo: Nenenenenenenenenenenene-

Shupavu: *whispering loudly* Kifo, what are you doing?!

Kifo: It’s my stealth noise! Nenenenenenenenenenenene

Njano: *laughs* Nenenenenenenenenenenene

Shupavu: Everyone, shut the fuck up!

Literally all of the skinks: Nenenenenenenenenenene

Human/Zootopia au:

Cheezi: NOTHING’S WORKING!

Chungu: Wait, Cheezi! We’re not cavemen! We have technology… *repeatedly smashes computer*

Janja: AWOOOOO

Cheezi: NYEEEEEEHHHHH

Chungu: LEEDLE LEEDLE LEEDLE LEE

Janja: That’s crazy talk!

Chungu: That’s not crazy talk, THIS is crazy talk! Gableehblahbleh Hublehbluhbleh BLEH BLEH BLEH lehlehlehleh-(Janja smacks Chungu)

Goigoi: Chungu, I don’t think “wumbo” is a real word

Chungu: Sure it is! I wumbo, you wumbo, he, she, me, wumbo. Wumbo, wumbo-ing, wumboer...

Sumu(while Chungu is still going on): ...I wonder if a fall from this height would be enough to kill me....

Chungu: Wumbology: The Study of Wumbo?! It’s 1st grade, you guys!

Mzingo: Can you take hats in a dignified, classy, and sophisticated manner?

Chungu: You mean like a weenie? Okay! (in a funny and somewhat baby-like voice) May I take your hat, sir? May I take your hat,sir? May I-(Mzingo puts his hand on Chungu’s mouth)

Mzingo: Alright, that’s enough.

Chungu: (raises paw) Is mayonnaise an instrument?

Ushari: No, Chungu, mayonnaise is not an instrument

(Chungu raises his paw again)

Ushari: Horseradish is not an instrument either...

Scar: People talk loud when they want to act smart, right?

Kenge: CORRECT

Tamka: Well who cares about a stupid reptile?

Kiburi: *pissed off* Gee Tamka, it seems you would care a lot about stupid reptiles CONSIDERING YOU ARE ONE!

Nduli: (sliding downhill) Hey guys! Watch me do “The Grouchy Kiburi”!

Kiburi: Stop naming moves after me!

Nduli: (mimicking Kiburi) Everybody’s an idiot except for me

Kiburi: Well it’s true

Mzingo: Could you not stand so close? You’re making me claustrophobic

Chungu: What does that mean?

Cheezi: It means he’s afraid of Dandy Claws

Mzingo: No, it doesn’t!

Chungu: Ho ho ho! *laughs*

Cheezi: Stop it, Chungu! You’re scaring him!

Cheezi: 🎶Janja is my best friend in the world!~

Janja is my best friend in the Outlands!

Janja-🎶

Chungu: (interrupting) 🎶Likes Chungu more than Cheezi!🎶

Human au

Kiburi: Okay, “insert rod support A into Slot B”

Janja: That’s what-

Kiburi: If you say “That’s what she said” one more time, I’m going to pop you.

Mzingo: Janja, what happened?

Janja: I’m sick. (coughing badly) Remember that time you dared me to lick the swingset?

Mzingo: No, I said “Janja, DON’T lick the swingset” and then you told me “Don’t tell me what to do!” and then you licked the swingset

Janja: *about some random animal* Tell him off, furbrain!

Cheezi: That’s my ice cream cone!

Janja: Great! Now let him have it!

Cheezi: You can have it :)

Cheezi: Psst, Chungu…I thought of something funnier than 24

Chungu: Let me hear it

Cheezi: 25

Chungu and Cheezi: *snickering*

Cheezi: “Chungu, you’re a genius!”

Chungu: “Yeah, I get called that a lot.”

Cheezi: “What? A genius?”

Chungu: “No, Chungu

Goigoi: Remember, licking doorknobs is illegal on other planets.

Nduli: Wow, Tamka, I didn’t know you spoke bird

Tamka: No, Nduli, that’s Italian.

Nduli: I know who owns this river, I just can’t place the name….

Hatari: *suddenly arises from the water, bellowing at Neema* AAAAAAAAOOOOOOOAAAUUUGHHH

Nduli: *oblivious* No no, it’s not GAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOOAAAUUUGGHHHH

[dont-even-ask-lol]

TGAA doodles from a few days ago