#i was screenshotting this for the sliver of his back but then i was like oh. my god what the fuck

[dennisboobs]

[chernozemm]

infatuation makes your heart race love is quiet. love sets you at ease.

and because most of my pieces are mental screenshots of little scenes in my head, here's the scene:

Crowley was tugged into consciousness bit by bit. The afternoon light slowly filtered in, as well as the hum of music from the other room and the weird angle his neck was at. He was warm and content and wanted to sink back into his nap, but the threads of sleep fluttered away the more he tried. Finally, he took a deeper breath, shifting in the armchair, and cracked an eye open just a sliver. There he was, the angel, sitting at his desk. Had hardly noticed Crowley was awake, engulfed in his task of retouching a damaged page. Looking at his hands, Crowley became aware of the fuzzy warmth covering his own and peeked down to see a blanket tucked around his shoulders.

The feeling hit him so hard he let his head loll to the side, eyes closed. His chest tightened and he just…buckled. Finally came undone under the weight of his love for Aziraphale. Its inexorable, steadfast pull which he had been pushing back against for millennia, it had finally caught him off guard, sleepy and vulnerable and so tired from holding back, from refusing to name it. It was a quiet surrender. Crowley looked back at Aziraphale with the understanding of a man meeting his end and embracing it.

Perhaps he could gently pull the blanket to the side and get up. Perhaps he could cross the few steps to the desk and place a freshly made cup of tea to Aziraphale’s right. Perhaps he would hold his gaze, for longer than needed to answer “Don’t mention it”. Perhaps he would ask him if he would like a scone with that. Perhaps Aziraphale would understand that this was not about the scone at all. And yet, what Crowley was asking of him was also exactly about scones. And tea. And quiet afternoons together. Perhaps the angel would finally put down his sword, too, and the world would let out a breath it had been holding for millennia.

the soulmate to this piece, i guess.

[asbealthgn]

(the thrilling conclusion. also posted on ao3! here's some art of the kitten i did. part 1, 2, 2.5, 3)

The Corroded Coffin fan base find out about Steve entirely by accident.

It starts, of course, with the kitten. After Eddie’s had her for a few days he decides to make an official post on his Instagram, which is a big deal because he normally just lets his PR people handle posting. All he normally does is post shit to his story, but the kitten deserves more formal recognition than that.

So he picks his favorite pictures of her (his camera roll is filled to the brim at this point) and posts them with the caption meet the light of my life, Lemon Verbena Deathclaw Goblikon Munson (Lemon for short). It’s like kicking a wasp’s nest, but, like, the good version: everyone and their dog shares the post to their stories, edits set to any number of Corroded Coffin’s hit songs are spread across TikTok, coffintwt is in an uproar.

Several hours later, Eddie posts a video to his story. He films Lemon on the couch and asks her, “Miss Lemon, how does it feel to be the best, most famous cat in the world?” She responds by meowing loudly and trying to bite his camera. Steve is sitting on the couch, so part of his thighs end up in the video.

Aside from having great thighs, the odd sliver of Steve’s legs or torso or arms showing up in various photographs and videos that Eddie puts on his story over the next few days does not draw a lot of attention from the Corroded Coffin fanbase. If Eddie were to guess, he would probably say they assume it’s just Eddie or one of his bandmates. It’s not until Eddie posts a video of Lemon trying to climb onto the couch on her own and Steve’s hands make an appearance steadying her that people take notice. More specifically, the Twitter account that’s dedicated to posting close-ups of the members of Corroded Coffin’s hands posts a screenshot of the video with the caption those hands do not belong to our boys.

From there, it becomes a wild source of controversy on Twitter as coffintwt tries to figure out for sure if those hands belong to anyone in the band. There’s a lot of back and forth, but ultimately they seem to agree that the original poster is The Authority on the matter. Then it becomes a game of going back through other pictures of Lemon and trying to figure out if the guy showing up the background of so many of them is also someone outside the band. A lot of screenshots start flying around with captions like none of the corroded boys would wear yellow or the rest of the band other than eddie were in LA when this one was posted and so on and so on. 

A consensus is reached: Eddie has been spending a lot of time with someone not in the band, quite possibly a boyfriend.

On a rainy Tuesday three weeks after they met, Eddie lays back on his couch with Steve laying on his chest and Lemon laying on his chest. “They’re onto you, Stevie,” Eddie says. 

“Who’s onto me?” Steve asks, not looking away from the basketball game on the TV. He’s terminally offline and has been blissfully unaware of the saga unfolding. 

“Twitter,” Eddie explains. “My fans have noticed you in the background in a lot of pictures of Lemon and they’ve started putting the pieces together.”

Steve scratches Lemon under her chin and she purrs happily. “Why are they looking at me instead of her?”

“Hell if I know,” Eddie says, reaching around Steve to rub Lemon’s head. “It’s not like you’re super drop-dead gorgeous or anything.”

Grinning, Steve turns his head to kiss Eddie. “Thanks, baby.”

Before Steve can turn his attention back to the game, Eddie hooks his finger under his chin to keep Steve’s eyes on him. “I have a question for you,” he says, “Well, two questions.”

“What’s up?” Steve asks. 

“First, do you want to be my boyfriend?” Eddie knows that three weeks is kind of ridiculously fast, but Steve has practically moved in already, spending all his free time here and sleeping in Eddie’s bed most nights. So Eddie’s not super worried about what his answer is going to be.

Sure enough, Steve smiles. “Yeah, I do,” he says. He kisses Eddie before asking, “What’s the second question?”

“Well, since you said yes, do you mind if I post something about us to stop the speculation?”

“I don’t mind,” Steve says, “But can I tell Robin first so she finds out from me?”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, of course. Do you want to go ov—?” But oh, Steve is already pulling out his phone and calling Robin. Okay then. 

“Hey, Robbie! Just wanted to let you know that Eddie’s my boyfriend now….No, he wasn’t already….Well, we hadn’t talked about it….Okay, that’s kinda mean….No, it’s okay….Yeah, Lemon is great! Do you want to talk to her?” Steve holds the phone up to the kitten and she bites the microphone. Steve puts the phone back to his ear. “That was her….Okay, I actually have to go. I just wanted to tell you….Bye, love you!”

Steve puts his phone back in his pocket and then grins at Eddie. “Alright, I’m ready.”

“If there’s one thing about you, baby, you’re a go-getter,” Eddie says, laughing. He gets his own phone out and holds it out to take a picture of them. Lemon, who is fascinated by phones, looks up at the camera as he snaps the photo. Perfect. 

Eddie posts the picture with the caption the rumors are true, Lemon has two dads. she gets her looks from Steve’s side. Then he puts his phone down and wraps his arms back around Steve. He can worry about his fans’ reaction later. Right now, he has other plans.

“What do you say, boyfriend?” he murmurs in Steve’s ear. “Should we go put Lemon in the bathtub?”

tagging: @nburkhardt @stargyles @csinnamon-fox @manda-panda-monium @silly-jellyghoty @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @starquirk @lightwoodbanethings @dramaticwriter @adaed5 @freyaforestafay @roaringgoodshow @sherrylyn628 @stevesbipanic @stevethehairington @henderdads @artiststarme @softboisteve @gregre369 @korixae @kokoshka67 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @piningapple @iwouldsail @thesuninyaface @aftermidnightwriting @hamiltonsteele @brassreign @bitchysunflower @homosexual-having-tea @adelicioustragedy @trashpocket @dramaticwriter @eddiemunsonswife @blackpanzy @bitchysunflower @adelicioustragedy @thegingerrapunzel @overhillunderhill @beckkthewreck @glittergluekintsugi @elyondelannoy @somegirlsomewhere @pluto-pepsi @shinekocreator @goodomensgurl @savory-babby @blues-tunes @babyblender @221b1tch

(tagging is having issues so i'll tag the rest in a reply)

[trendywaifus]

Okay okay, babe, idk how to word it BUT do you know that one trend? Where someone puts lipstick on themselves and then it slips off the lips? 😭😭 And they or someone rubs it off and the camera pans to the other person? THIS, BUT WITH STELLA AND KAFKA? I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING

standdddd uppp nowww! I hope I done it correctly!

“ hey woman, what’s the hold up? where are you and (name)? me and blade are waiting for you two by the ship! “ sliver yells impatiently at her phone as her magenta—haired colleague appears on the accepted video call. her brow furrowed at how disheveled kafka looked compared to her usual appearance. her fringes messily hovered over her eyes, the contact lenses she normally wears wasn’t even on—instead, her light purple hues were more visible and lively. she barely had on any makeup except for the red lipstick and even then, it seemed like it was sloppily done and smudged.

“ sorry for the wait darling, i have a little distraction here, we’ll be there. “ she apologies lowly, smiling down at the camera. sliver wolf rolls her eyes as kafka glances off to her side, her smile grew wider. what seems like to be your hand moves into the frame and attempts to wipe the smudge from the corner of her lips.

“ i’m so over it with you two. “ sliver wolf mutters, annoyed as the camera pans over to you. your face was covered with lipstick stains, looking absolutely dumbfounded as your eyes caught on to sliver wolf’s. “ k-kafka, you crazy woman! “ you smacked the phone away from your face, the aforementioned woman giggles before the phone call ended.

“ i can’t believe those two. . “ the hacker sighs exasperatedly then turns her head towards blade who had his arms crossed with dissatisfaction after hearing the whole ordeal. “ i guess we will have to waste even more time to wait for those two clowns. “

he merely grunts with a shrug, “ typical. “

“ (name), are you wearing lipstick? “ march asks, curiosity laced with her voice. she quints at you from the other end of the screen and you chuckle nervously, “ w-well, i kinda wanted to try it on, y’know? “ she stares at you suspiciously, “ but why is it smudged? “

“ because it’s my first time, it’s not going to be perfect march. so, why did you video call me? “

she definitely wasn’t buying that but she decided to shrug it off. “ stelle isn’t answering her phone and i wanna ask you if you seen her around. “ she blinks in confusion when your eyes immediately travels somewhere off screen for a few seconds before returning your attention back to her. you smile playfully, “ yeah. I know where she is. “ on cue, stelle’s hand came into view, clumsily smearing more of the smudge from the crevices of your red stained lips.

march’s gasp was dramatic when the camera switched over to stelle who was casually covered with lipstick prints. she waves at the camera with her other hand, “ did you need me march? “ there was a few moments of silence before a small click! fills your ears and afterwards a loud zwoop! indicating the call ended.

“ uhhh stelle, did she just take a screenshot of you and leave? “

“ yeah. “

“ she’s going to show and tell everyone, isn’t she? “

“ yup. “

[residenthughes]

starting afresh

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 1.3K

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, re4r leon with re2r haircut/hairstyle

summary: it's been six years since the raccoon city incident. some things change, and some things stay the same (where re4r leon cuts his hair as short as it was in re2r for the first time)

notes: whoever made the mod(s) for leon to have his re2r hairstyle in re4r, no words. just take my money. I'm begging. but if y'all have seen those screenshots/played with the mod yourself, you just know how good he looks with his hair short :((( makes me so soft! hehe

feel like i kind of stepped up my dialogue here, thanks to all the fics I've been reading as of lately 😈 couldn't be more thankful, haha! hope y'all enjoy this and please feel free to let me know your thoughts on this!

“What do you think?”

You’re at a loss for words. Jaw slack and eyes wide. You’re overreacting, you know you are but this quite literally came out of nowhere. It was an uneventful, slow Sunday. As per yours and Leon’s routine, the leisurely day was spent draped in a citrus scented duvet and immersing yourselves in cosy cuddles to recharge for the long week ahead. It was only when your lips ghosted over the rosewood marks of love peppered across the expanse of Leon’s clavicle, hands feverish and wandering that your actions ceased upon the growl of your stomach.

Leon can only laugh, kissing away the flush of your cheeks as he mumbles against your forehead. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s make some food.”

You pout, wanting to beg for five more minutes (like you hadn’t before), bones aching for the pamper the cloudlike bed provides, but Leon’s already leaving you, arms extending up to the ceiling as he stretches. The sliver of afternoon light peeking through the curtains basks his toned body in all kinds of flattering light, muscles expanding and contracting. 

Leon turns to look at you, lips plump with love as the duvet drapes your body like some fine ballroom gown. He swears his heart beats out of his chest. There really is no one as beautiful as you. 

“Race you to the kitchen?” A teasing eyebrow is raised and even though Leon sets himself in motion to sprint, you don’t budge. Not even an inch. 

He deflates, eyes rolling as he pads over to your side of the bed.

“Don’t wanna,” you mumble as you attempt to bury yourself into the bed, cocooning yourself with the dark shadow grey duvet. “Too lazy.”

Leon sighs. “I’ll give you a piggyback ride?”

Your attention is grabbed. You remove the duvet from your face, sly smirk positioning itself amongst your features.

“I’m listening.”

You cupping behind your ear is what does it for Leon. Dramatic as always.

A huff of amusement sounds from him. Considering the extent as to which the man spoils you rotten, you should be babbling for him to recant his offer, carrying yourself to the kitchen before you two move in a synchronised dance practised all the years you’ve been together as you make food. But Leon’s already perched up on your side of the bed, back towards you with his hands behind him.

“Of course you are,” he beckons for you with the flutter of his fingers, an easy smile sent your way over his shoulder. “Now, hop on before your stomach eats itself.”

You follow his lead, as you always do. Hooking your legs around his waist and circling your arms loosely around his neck. You don’t forget to show your appreciation, peppering his nape with kisses that have laughter pouring out of Leon like honey. Once you’re in the kitchen of your shared apartment, Leon sets you down on the cold countertop with the squeeze of your thighs and opens the fridge.

“Shit,” you crane your neck to look into the fridge too. Much like your stomach, it’s pretty empty. “Need to head to the store if we want something edible for dinner.”

“Is there anything for now at least?” You really can’t be arsed to wait to go get some groceries, make a meal and then eat.

“Kind of, but we definitely need to go shopping after this.” Leon states as he brings out the remnants of the fridge. You go to grab the spices from the cabinet and the last of the eggs and stare at your ingredients.

“Let’s get this party started.” 

You groan. 

Leon can be so lame sometimes. Yet so lovable all the time.

-

Once the appetising brunch made with nothing but the utmost of love settles in your stomach, you reluctantly begin to egg yourself on to completing the rest of your weekend’s work and preparing for your Monday back at the office. Blue light glasses perched against the bridge of your nose, you gnaw at the end of your pencil, legs crossed in the way Leon always jokes in the shape of a pretzel. You’ve left quite a bit of work for yourself to complete tonight, so you don’t see yourself leaving your workspace anytime soon.

Leon understands, he always does. Kisses your forehead delicately and murmurs something about getting some stuff from the grocery store for dinner. He’s out the door before you can get a word in. You now understand why he left in such a hurry, understand why he took longer than usual. 

Before you, your longtime partner, with long dirt blond locks that framed the angles of his cheekbones, sports a new hairstyle. Or should you say old. You haven’t seen him like this since you first started dating - bashful young adults about to embark on their journey into adulthood, sweaty palms linked and heart beats in sync. Ever since the ruinous events of Raccoon City, you noticed that with all the scars and burdens Leon carries with him that he never once looked the same. Face gaunt and eyes sunken in. It took a long while before life returned to his eyes. And though you were beyond ecstatic that Leon was seemingly getting better, you couldn’t help but take note of his hair. He never cut it like before. Never. 

Opting for longer strands of his gorgeous hair, Leon always gave a chuckle and said, “thought you always wanted me to grow my hair out,” whenever you asked. It was sweet of him to do so, sweet of him to say, but you and him both knew that wasn’t entirely true. However, you never pried - that was not in your nature, and certainly not evident in all the years you’ve been with Leon. So, you didn’t ask again and when the time came that Leon’s huffs of annoyance filled your ears as he struggled with keeping the strands out of his face, he departed with a smile and cut a mere two inches off his almost shoulder length hair. It remained that way for the next six years.

Now, having grown into his rugged features, the short hair length from all those years ago conjures something else in you. It feels nostalgic but new -  feels right and looks that way too. But more than anything, you feel proud. Proud of Leon and all that he is, all that he’s become despite everything.

“Barber went a bit crazy, didn’t he?”

Oh, bless him. He’s so awkward, so endearing it hurts. Pools of blue avert your gaze, the floor apparently more interesting, fingertip scratching the surface of his cheeks that burn with ruby red. This is a big moment for Leon, you think, but you know better than anyone that he doesn’t want it to be. Just wants your reassurance and all the calmness that comes with it.

Your hands against Leon’s cheeks shift his eyes to yours, getting an eyeful of the absolute fondness that swims in your eyes. He simply drowns in it - knows the glimmer in your eyes signifies the pride that swells in your chest, the tenderness of your touch loving and reassuring. He did well, has always done so well. Deserves his flowers and the whole damn garden. 

“Maybe,” you giggle and your joy is contagious. Smiling with you, Leon feels you twiddle the strands of his hair between your fingers. Slow and gentle - like your love is. It’s so sweet. “But, I’m not mad at it. Not one bit.”

In all the time you’ve been with Leon, there hasn’t been any more than a handful of times you can recall where he willingly leaned on you for support. Not because you lacked the capacity to do so, but because the solitary nature and secrecy of his job kept him from doing so. Facing his nightmares as much as he could by himself, meeting his new nightmares on missions by himself - everything by himself. But in moments like these, where the significance of his trauma can be lost in translation, he surrenders himself to you. Altogether. Unabashed and brave. He couldn’t be more dashing than he is right now, all versions of himself served to you on a silver platter. 

You fall in love all over again.

[cor-lapis-candy]

@venusandsaturnsrings the fucken fantastic writer they are turned a spew of my words into wonderful filth and I wanna return the favour with something in return.

So here we have more nasty obsessed childe and his very not slimy lust for you!

I had this written for so long and just needed the push to give it to someone as a character and they deserve more Childe filth.

Minors DNI or I will block you.

If anyone was to look into his camera roll they would see the normal things, screenshots from his work, saved memes, and other random photos of various things, but one gallery was for him and him alone locked and kept behind a password that was several letters and numbers that would mean nothing to anyone but him. That gallery was his digital shrine to you and your form, every picture was taken either as a joke or when you hadn't been paying attention, a few even darker in how they show you vulnerable and sweet but those are for his eyes only.

But here and now in the dark of his room, PC abandoned as some stream plays in the background, phone in hand and pants just barely pulled down, there would be nothing stopping him from enjoying the pictures he had of you to the fullest. Letting the gallery play like a slideshow of your face and body, pausing on certain pictures where he can see more than just small slivers of skin, eyes glued to the beach photos he had managed to nab from your socials.

The sight of you drenched and smiling so widely at the camera had him spiralling, though blooming of how you would look fully naked in his shower, hair pushed back working his soap into your skin, laughing when you catch him staring, reaching out to him and pulling him into the water with you uncaring of how his clothes would get drenched.

The idea of you being in his home, bare, fluttering your eyes at him and letting him touch you as the water cascaded down your back had his cock throbbing in his hand, drops of white dribbling past his still-moving hand and covering his phone screen is the cum that his mind was still painting your form in, still filling his head and making his shoulders and highs shake as his hand keeps going, keeps flicking his wrist and wrings another orgasm from him.

When the pleasure turns to pain does he stop, hand falling away as his cock finally softens, sensitive and oh so spent, flopping back wards onto his chair, cringing at the mess he had made of his phone, white spots of cum coating the screen, edges and the desk around it, a true mess if he had ever made one.

But the sight gives him one last idea, making him whine as a tightness in his gut stirs, sure it may have only been a picture of you now coated in his cum but his mind whispers about what it would look like if it was actually your face or better yet the mess he could have made between your legs.

The nickname childe has for you flashes under the mess of his cum from your number and his cock is half hard again, now all he had to do was clean up this round of cum and answer you, hopefully, you were wanting him to come out to see you…

[sevenrs]

3, 16, 22 👀

violence ask game ; OPEN

3. screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

that one guy who called slugcat shipping a time paradox is literally so fucking funny, but real answers... does it have to be on tumblr? because i can think of two i hated that i saw on discord. everything ive seen on tumblr i've personally disagreed with but i wouldn't call any of it bad ANYWAYS DISCORD a pre-downpour headcanon i saw in the official server was something like. "moon is only nice to you because she suffered :) her whole experience humbled her. if she was still standing, she'd be as ruthless as pebbles" SUFFERING IS NEVER A POSITIVE FOR ANYONE! i get this is like. not a real person but to imply that suffering somehow makes someone a better person (and not a better character) is sickening. i don't see it now that dp came out but. gross gross gross and take number 2. someone went on a rant in a discord server im in about how pebbles literally did nothing wrong because everything that led up to his situation wasn't really his fault-- moon stopped him or suns gave him the pearl. whats next. it's slivers fault for dying too? YES its information that shouldnt have been given but that doesnt mean pebbles DIDNT use it irresponsibly. he did. he was killing moon. and she was rightfully trying to save herself

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

something my friend also dislikes but. really dont like it when people depict artificer as soft. that is a war criminal perpetuating the cycle of violence that hurt her in the first place. i understand maybe sentimental about children because its a nice thought but other then that. that is someone with cold logic to justify her ruthless violence. YES she is sympathetic. but jegus. that cat sees murder for the sake of murder as an ok thing and the soft interp of her feels wrong

also uh. different thing entirely but. sorry i really dont understand sunx x pebbles. suns is very much a mentor to him and thinking about them getting together is uncomfortable to me. its the power imbalance to me. suns x pebbles isnt problematic to me (as long as you dont like. romanticize the potential abuse! my friend has seen some of that and its gross) but its a bit umcomfy

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

anything i say about spirituality in rain world. im not religious and i honestly don't know the % of buddhists and hindus in this fandom but the inspirations are real and do matter and you cant brush karma and reincarnation off as a "game mechanic" because a lot of it does make sense in universe. all of it? i cannot explain all of it, either because it really doesn't make sense or i don't have the knowledge to yet. but literally being able to die and come back is not just a game mechanic! it's part of the lore!

[astarionfreak]

Exile (Or: How you learned to stay) | Ch. 8 - Shadowheart: Hanging

// Ascended Astarion x Reader (Fem!Durge) + Shadowheart x Reader (Fem!Durge)

Shadowheart returns to Astarion's palace with Gale and Minthara. Things go about as well as you'd expect.

18+ • NSFW • 3.7K words (8/?) | Read on AO3 (Dead Dove: Do Not Eat - Check tags for warnings)

You steel your nerves as you approach Astarion’s palace. A potion bottle is pressed tight to your chest. You keep it against your skin so you can feel it, so you know you have it. It’s the critical first half of a plan that could give her an advantage.

The potion has to work. You can’t fail her. You won’t fail. If you don’t get this right, all is lost.

You glance over at Gale. He’s facing forward, not looking at you. What is going through his mind? He’s been quiet since you started your journey here.

The sun shines brightly in the sky, a striking contrast to the first time you came. Back then, it was so dark. There was only a sliver of the moon in the sky to light your path. Perhaps that was a warning.

You were on a mission to rescue Astarion then. Now, you’re fighting to undo the mistakes of that night.

The spawn come in the dead of night. You were sleeping. You wake to a fight. You fail. They take him.

They take Astarion.

She gathers her things, holding back angry tears as she pulls on her gear. Blood drips down into her eye from a deep gash on her forehead. “They took him. They took him and I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t stop them. I failed — I failed him,” she says.

“It’s not your fault,” you whisper. “We were all here. This does not rest on your shoulders alone.”

The rage on her face is unmistakable, there’s a tremble in her voice when she tells you to get dressed. Her breath comes in rapid-fire bursts. She’s not thinking clearly.

“Just breathe, love. We’ll get him,” you say, trying to find your conviction. You reach for her, but she pulls away. Your heart sinks. She won’t let you touch her. She won’t let you comfort her.

You begin to whisper a healing spell.

“Save your magic. We’ll need it,” her voice is flat and distant.

She won’t let you heal her.

“Let me do this, please,” you say.

“No.” She sheaths her daggers and slings a light crossbow over her back. “I’m not worth it.”

“A potion, then. I am not foolish enough to set foot in a vampire den with someone who is actively bleeding,” you say.

She grunts something that you accept as a begrudging ‘okay, fine.’ You reach into your pack and find a small healing potion. You take her wrist and press the bottle into her hand. For a moment, it’s as though she comes back to you.

Her eyes soften. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Shadowheart. He wasn’t ever supposed to go back to that place.”

“I know,” you say. “He’s going to be okay.”

“We were going to handle this without him.” She curls her fingers around the potion bottle but doesn’t pull her hand away from yours.

Your thumb moves in small circles around her wrist. An attempt to comfort her. “I know.”

She stares at you with wide eyes, her chest heaving with each breath. Her lips are softly parted.

You wish to pull her into your arms, to comfort her in the only way you know how. But she is not yours to hold. Not anymore. When all this is over, Cazador, the cult, the brain — maybe you can win her back.

“He’s going to want to ascend,” she whispers. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to stop him.”

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Bonus oneshot: Palisade afternoon

[erithel]

This might be a weird thing to ask but I noticed how you and almost everyone in the fandom portrays Lance's eyes as blue. Does the show ever (or anything canon) confirm Lance actually has blue? Because in the show I can't even see his eye colour so his eyes just come out as two black dots?

So Lance's actual irises are very small, especially compared to the other characters.

But his eyes are blue, just a very dark blue. Personally I like drawing him with larger irises because that's just my style.

I also like the headcanon that he has blue eyes because his last name is McClain, which means somewhere way back in his lineage, one of his relatives traveled to Cuba from Scotland or something, and the blue eyes are just a recessive gene in his family.

I just spent way too long trying to take a screenshot from netflix to just have them all turn out black – so this was the best picture I could find.

If you look at the bottom right corner of his eyes, there's a sliver of blue. The color is there, you just have to really look for it.

I know some fic writers prefer to give him brown eyes, but I actually don't know if I've seen that in fanart. Usually, like you said, his eyes are always blue.

[intothetlkverse]

Based on this screenshot.

Been seeing the image of the screenshot for awhile now and I wanted to do another screenshot redraw, so what better way than to display my own redesigns and get some rock practice done then with this?

First off I gave Zira her signature head stripe and gave her more of a sadistic, sinister grin. Kovu and Vitani remained mostly the same, aside from using my colors, though Kovu also got a longer mane tuft extending to his neck, as I like to believe it has been several months since his encounter with Kiara. Nuka also got a sliver of chest mane fur, as well as a rougher, scragglier pelt to reflect how he's more rough and tumble then the rest of his family. Nuka and Vitani also got more cockier expressions.

Going on to the other Outsiders present, from left to right are Tupa, her sister Kosa, Kamili, and Vumbi. I've spoken about them more in this picture on Zira's pride, but I'll go over them quickly here, as well as changed I've made.

Tupa and Kosa are Scar's bastard daughters with Chimbia(aka Digger), conceived not too long after Nuka's birth(yes, Scar is a cheating jerk in my view, having had affairs with at least four lionesses), making them both Nuka's younger half-sisters. Zira hated that her mate had sired other cubs with her best friend/second-in-command and initially hated the twins, but after Scar's death she saw how they could be useful to her plan of avenging her love. The idea of her mate's family and children rising up to destroy his enemies appealed to her, and so she trained the two alongside her own children as soldiers, filling their minds with her vision of revenge. In the end, Kosa and their mother died in the final fight while Tupa survived and later moved on with Kion and some of her pride sisters to live at the Tree of Life, and later had a daughter, Damu.

Kosa received the least amount of changed when I was first inspired by this to create her, so I just made her slightly more scruffy in this picture. Tupa was designed long before I decided modelling off the Outsiders we saw in this episode, but her appearance worked pretty well, so not much changed aside from the darker nose, the scruffier pelt, the torn ears, ripped lip, and the facial scars. Kosa is much more calm and calculating, with a biting edge, like her father, while Tupa is more reckless, viscous, and emotional, though later becomes a lot more reflective and mature after the war and after the birth of her daughter. Her scars were given by a hyena during Scar's reign, during when Scar was considering whether or not she and her twin were better off alive or dead. Needless to say, the offending hyena was banished, the event was written off as a fluke, and the pride was none the wiser, albeit wary. Both sisters were very adamant and enthused on joining Zira in her expedition to enter and takeover Jasiri's pack's watering hole.

First on Zira's right is Kamili, Chozi's mother, aunt and later guardian of Tazama, Alama(Dotty) and Mahali(Spotty), and daughter of Kiapo(Ahadi's brother). Sharp, perceptive, and attentive, as well as supportive, her nieces preferred her over their mother and willingly accepted her after her sister Siki's death by viper. Her design got some minor tweaking, with the major change being the addition of her cheek spots and color tweaking, but she mainly remains the same. One of Zira's scouts, she was one to first find this area and report back to Zira about a potential new base and in none-to-pleased to have someone coming in and disputing this find. Still Kamili survives the final battle and later joins Simba's pride, supporting her own daughter's move to the Tree of Life, Tazama's induction as the Guard's keenest, and Dotty and Spotty's contribution as huntresses into the pride. Both she and Vumbi act as retirees in their newly unified pride, occasionally stepping in to assist with hunts and babysitting, though mostly enjoying their later years in a much more gentle, healthier environment.

And speaking of Vumbi, the last lioness on the right is Kasi's mother, sporting new purple eyes based on her original design and more of her daughter's scruffier appearance. Unlike her reckless, free-spirited daughter, Vumbi is much more strict, controlled, and patient, though also very loving towards her daughter. Kasi was the last to be born in the Outlands and was very weak and small at birth. Despite being suggested by Zira to leave her out for the scavengers, Vumbi held onto and protected her daughter, promising Zira she would be worth it. Despite how many times Kasi's speed-demon behavior, lack of impulse control, and penchant for mischief got on her nerves, Vumbi never gave up on her daughter. She joined this mission here in the hopes to provide a slightly better environment for her daughter, and of course is pretty annoyed and a bit disappointed that a Pridelander cub has come on in and trying to stop them. After the war, Vumbi still is a supportive and loving mother to her fastest guard member daughter.

[violettduchess]

Dear Anon-

I accidentally deleted your ask but luckily I DID take a screenshot. I haven't really thought about taking requests because I know with real life, it would take me some time to get to it but your caring for your friend and asking for something to help her feel better was really sweet. So I did it!

I hope you both like it!

Keywords: first kiss

Pairing: Gilbert von Obsidian / MC

Word Count: 1236

Its hard to categorize this. I'd say it veers towards spicy angst.

The night is angry. The sky flares with white hot lightning, raging against the light of the moon, now imprisoned by black clouds. Thunder booms, rattling the earth, and the wind whips through the trees, strangling thinner branches and ripping leaves off by the stems, scattering them like drops of blood.

But you aren’t afraid. Storms have always meant an appreciation of being safe and warm indoors, of curling up with a book and candlelight and allowing the sounds and words to carry you somewhere far away, to travel out of the moment on the winds and be somewhere else.

A glance at the clock tells you the rest of the palace should be asleep. It’s close to two in the morning, an hour folded deep within night’s arms. You slide out of bed, forgoing slippers or shoes for the sake of quiet. Yes, the storm is raging but who knows if it would be enough to cover the sound of footsteps, however cautious you may be.

There is no question where you are headed. The carpet is soft underfoot, the corridors dark but you know the way. You could do it blindfolded. Shadows accompany you as you make your way to the library.

The heavy wooden door opens silently. You step in and feel the way peace sinks into you, relaxing your shoulders and the tension in your neck. You are where you belong, surrounded by the things that bring you joy. You are safe.

The book from earlier that day is right where you left it. You know Chevalier hasn’t been here or he would have put it back. Or chastised you. Likely both. You pick it up and along with the silver chamberstick, head for the cushioned velvet window seat. You curl up, leaning against the sliver of wall, only glass and lattice between you and the wild winds, the howling and snarling storm.

You reach up, pressing your hand against the cold glass. Your book lays forgotten in your lap. You haven’t even lit the chamberstick. Your eyes close, your hand pressing harder. The storm feels like it’s calling to you. Promising you something. Digging into the trenches of your heart, trying to unearth hidden secrets. Speaking to your very soul. 

So enrapt are you, that you don’t notice the library door open or the man who steps inside, closing it behind his back in one fluid movement. You don’t notice the way he pauses when he sees you or the way he then remains perfectly still, observing before making his way purposefully over, his footfall breaking your reverie.

As if in slow motion you turn your head away from the window and are met with the sight of Prince Gilbert von Obsidian standing right in front of the window seat. Gone is the heavy black cloak, the opulent cane. He is however still swathed in black, as if the shadows themselves have wrapped themselves around him, lovingly.

Startled, you jump up from the window seat, a reflex. You don’t want him towering over you like that. But standing does nothing but bring you even closer to him, close enough to see how dark his eye looks in the night-soaked library, dark as Shiraz wine. 

You’ve never been this close to him before. Your gaze has always been drawn to him, no matter whether in a ballroom or a dining hall but you’ve avoided being close to him. A few polite exchanges is all….

Exchanges, if you’re honest, that have replayed themselves over and over in your mind, in the dark, in your dreams. 

He tilts his head, skin pale as cream, hair dark as smoke. 

“What a late hour for you to be up and hopping about.” His voice is silk ribbons and velvet and a blade’s edge. You could wrap it around your wrists and throat, drape yourself in it, hurt yourself with it.

You refuse to move, squaring your shoulders. His eye drops to the bare skin of your neck, your arms. Outside the wind howls.

“The same could be said of you.” No titles, no formality. The hour, the storm, the intimacy of the dark have stripped them away, burned you down to your essence, bare to him.

He breathes in and his eye closes for a moment. When he opens it again, he looks intrigued.

“Most everyone here in Rhodolite stinks of roses. But not you. You’re….different.” His gaze runs over your face, almost palpable. You feel the way he takes in the lines of your jaw, the curve of your lips, the way your lashes frame your eyes. In front of him you feel diaphanous, every thin layer of yourself easily discernible to that eye.

A loud crack of thunder shakes the palace.

You jump and his hands come up instinctively, fingers curling around your upper arm. His touch is cool.

His lips lift in an amused smile. “Afraid of the storm, Häschen?”

You turn your head to look at the window again, at the rain lashing against it, the dark, distant shapes bending to its will. Your heart thunders in time as you turn back to face him.

“Afraid of it?” You shake your head, loose hair brushing against your cheek, his hands. “I’m not afraid of it, Gilbert. I savor it.”

That word hangs from your lips, ripples through the space between you. He draws in a short breath, as if stung. His grip on your arms tightens…and then his mouth is on yours. Hungry. As if he wants to taste what you just said, swallow it for himself. You find your fingers curling into the soft black of his clothing, unafraid of the tornado of want that his kiss unleashes inside you, smashing through all your doubt and concern and questions. You meet his hunger with your own, body pressing up against his, unable to stop yourself. Irresistible. Lightening and copper.

Only another crash of thunder, wild enough to rattle glass, is enough to shatter the unexpected haze of want. You both break contact at the same time. There is no satisfied smirk on his kiss-bruised lips. No knowing arch of brow. There is only surprise and hunger and need. Your arms ache with the desire to reach out and pull him back, to taste him again. You aren’t aware of how hard you’re breathing, your lungs struggling to find room for the oxygen it needs and the fire inside you burning it all away.

Gilbert von Obsidian lifts his hand, then lowers it, his fingers curling into a tight fist. He is the first to compose himself, ever a master of control, except for just now, with you. Inside he’s as rattled as the window panes.

It’s too dangerous. All of it. Your secret role as Belle, your duty to Rhodolite. You can’t do this. You can’t. You can’t.

This jumpstarts your sense of place and time and purpose. Your muttered apology is lost to the sound of rain as you rush past him, ignoring the brush of his hand on your waist, the call of your name. You run, through the dark, until you are back in the safety of your room.

Panting, you lean your back against the door.

Outside the storm wails, ever onward.

Inside, your heart is its own tempest, howling in frustration and fear and fervor.

What have you done?

[arotechno]

Jughead (2015), Issues 9-11: Discussion and Commentary

This brings us to the first arc written by Ryan North, who saw that the aroace Jughead train had left the station and simply could not resist tagging along for the ride. If you’ve followed anything about Jughead as a character at all, then you’ve probably seen many screenshots from these three issues before. It’s the Sabrina arc (that’s right, as in the teenage witch)!

I have a lot of analysis at the end of this one, so buckle up!

The gang ends up at Pop’s, as usual, where Jughead meets the shop’s new mascot, a talking burger lady. Jughead is, unsurprisingly, thrown off his game by this. After all, burgers are his one true love, but girls? He doesn’t really have an interest in them. It’s a confusing moment for him, and when his friends witness this, well… they assume he’s got a crush on her.

This is an iconic page in the “aro Jughead” canon. Here we have Betty trying really hard to be a good friend and doing what in her mind is the best for him, trying to help him through what she and the others perceive as his first crush. Jughead, meanwhile, is diving headfirst into a spiral of confusion (and later, discomfort) at the idea of having any sort of interest in another person.

I want to give my utmost respect to Ryan North for explicitly having Jughead say that he doesn’t get crushes. It’s not the only time that North does this during this arc, and I think it makes all the difference between making this awkward and relatable rather than making it seem like Jughead is being stripped of or “cured” of being aro.

Betty pushes Jughead to talk to Sabrina (the burger lady—it’s Sabrina), and after a while of running into each other day in and day out as Jughead frequents Pop’s on a regular basis, they strike up a friendship. Jughead has gotten what he wanted—to be friends with the cool burger lady—and he seems genuinely satisfied.

…But unfortunately, things do not go as planned for Jughead. The next time they see each other, Sabrina asks Jughead out. And Jughead, in true stereotypical oblivious aro fashion, agrees, without realizing until it is much, much too late that what he has just agreed to is a date. Like, a real date.

If you think about it, Jughead has probably never been asked on a real date before. And this is something I ABSOLUTELY would have done (and may still do today, if I’m completely honest with myself) as a teenager. Jughead’s immediate regret is so palpable here, and so relatable to me as an aromantic.

In his panic, Jughead turns to his friends for help. They are… not helpful. They’re trying to be helpful, sure, but whereas Jughead doesn’t really seem to want to go through with this at all, his friends are more set on giving him romantic advice (with varying degrees of usefulness). Jughead really has to go out of his way to defend himself and insists on multiple occasions that he thinks the girl in the burger costume is cool and interesting, but that he doesn’t like-like her, he doesn’t even really know her!

Unfortunately for Jughead, he ends up going on the date. And who does he call for help? His only other openly queer friend (I say openly because let’s be real with ourselves, none of those kids are cishet), Kevin Keller.

And okay, this scene with Kevin is genuinely kind of funny. You get the impression that Kevin has had a lot of practice dealing with straight bullshit, and that he’s more than a little disappointed that Jughead’s “big emergency” turned out to be something this totally mundane and not worth his time.

Ultimately, Kevin is also super not helpful, even after Jughead steals his phone in an attempt to get him to come to the table and diffuse the awkward situation Jughead has found himself in. So Jughead resorts to what I can only assume is plan Z, which is to call Archie for backup.

Only semi-related, I really love the way Ryan North writes conversations between these two. It just feels really genuine and believable. And anyway, I don’t know what Jughead was expecting, but resident himbo Archie Andrews is of no help to him, and only ends up making things a hell of a lot worse.

This leads to Sabrina rushing off to the bathroom and casting multiple spells to try to get Jughead to at least play along, if not outright fall in love with her, all of which fail spectacularly and only end up making her far angrier with him. I don’t blame her for being upset—the date was a total disaster, and right at the moment Jughead was about to be honest with her, Archie showed up and made things worse. Sabrina storms out, and vows that she’ll get revenge on Jughead for this, somehow.

All of Sabrina’s subsequent spells on Jughead also backfire. She tries to make him fail his classes, and he passes with flying colors; she tries to make him spend the whole day with resident asshole Reggie, but he ends up befriending him against all odds. She even ends up unleashing a giant eldritch horror by accident, and—well, that’s not important.

In the end, Jughead decides to make things right. He never meant to hurt Sabrina, and she seems to be in a tough spot, having just moved to town, so he brings her some food as a peace offering and explains what really happened. And Sabrina is… surprisingly receptive, in fact more receptive than Jughead’s friends were when he came to them for help, despite the fact that this is something they should already understand about him. Being upset with Jughead wasn’t doing her any favors, so Sabrina already seems to be at peace with what happened and is more than willing to forgive him and be his friend despite all that transpired between them.

This is a really great scene. There’s a nuance to it—the way Jughead acted on their date was unfair, both to Sabrina and to himself. He needed to be honest from the beginning, but instead, he just kept trying to escape. At the same time, Sabrina gets it, and it wasn’t very cool of her to try to use magic to get what she wanted, either (not that Jughead knows she did that).

Jughead helps Sabrina re-enroll in her old school and quit her job at Pop’s to move back in with her aunts, so that she can live out the rest of her teenage years the way she’s supposed to. Afterwards, Sabrina and Jughead both seem really happy, and thus volume two ends on a positive, quiet note.

I really like this arc, for the reasons I’ve already stated and more. It’s funny and awkward and endearing (I say that a lot about this series, don’t I?), and it portrays a realistic and relatable aromantic problem without it being aboutaromanticism. It’s more about Jughead being honest about his feelings and making a new friend than about Jughead being aro, even though that contextualizes the situation. A great deal of the series is about that—Jughead being honest with himself and others. In the first arc, it’s Jughead shaking off a persona of apathy. In the second, it’s Jughead being honest with Archie about their friendship and the way Archie’s behavior has been making him feel. Here, it’s about Jughead being honest about who he is at his core, and accepting it about himself—and Sabrina accepts it, too, no questions asked. Even if he never says “I’m aromantic,” the sentiment is there plain as day, and it’s a refreshing beat for the story to land on.

That said, I do have a bone to pick with this arc. There’s a line in the sand here between Zdarsky and North. In the last arc, we saw Zdarsky portray that really subtle but meaningful interaction between Archie and Jughead, in which Archie seems not only keenly aware of Jughead being aromantic—even without the word—but also tacitly supportive of him, such that he knows immediately when he’s crossed a line. Here, we see Ryan North take a bit of a step back from that, such that Archie may be aware of Jughead’s orientation but seems way too quick to assume all that’s changed the moment there’s even a sliver of possibility that Jughead has a crush. That’s the reality of having different writers stepping in to interpret the same characters in loosely connected stories like this, but it still bothers me. I prefer Zdarsky’s style of storytelling in general, but in particular I also prefer his portrayal of Archie, as much as Ryan North’s on-the-nose aro moments and undying love for Reggie make me very happy. As a whole, nobody ever stops to ask Jughead what he wants, they only tell him what they think Sabrina wants. Jughead says so himself:

I suppose one could make the argument that Jughead’s friends, or even Jughead himself, are only really aware of the asexual bit (if at all—for all we know Veronica and Reggie have no idea, for example) and that’s why they don’t only never mention aromanticism but also sometimes seem ignorant of it. It’s possible that the aro side of Jughead’s orientation is still something he doesn’t have the words for, despite it being a truth he knows about himself, and in fact I think that would have been an interesting angle to take, had this series continued beyond 15 issues. But what I have an issue with isn’t so much the fact that Jughead’s friends are unhelpful (because let’s be real, sadly a lot of us have been there), but the fact that never are they asked to apologize for pushing him to do something he so clearly didn’t want to do. Whether he or they know he’s aromantic or not, he was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of going on this date—and not just due to a lack of experience. I would have liked it had Archie, or Betty, or Kevin apologized, or even once asked him what he really wanted. Betty comes the closest, by talking it out with him in the first place, but even she still earnestly pushes him to go through with the date anyway.

Anyway, there are two arcs left for me to discuss, and frankly I’m not as enthused by either of them as I was for these past three, for a variety of reasons. The Ryan North train continues for one more arc, and then it’s on to Mark Waid and Ian Flynn’s big finish. Those two updates might come a little slower. Until then, I was going to include a compilation of Jughead looking uncomfortable, but I've only got one image slot left thanks to tumblr, so instead I leave you with this:

Same, Jughead. Huge same.

[cardiaccadillac]

Naturally, being me, I wanted to write a oneshot for Murdered: Soul Suspect where Ronan watches his own autopsy. The screenshot may be a useful reference.

(Also a polite request for no spoilers beyond the police station section of the game. This is for now as far as I’ve played.)

He doesn't have to stay to watch this. Ought not to. There are more pressing matters calling him, like the girl in the holding cells or the serial killer at large, yet still it doesn't feel like Ronan has been given the choice.

Digging forceps, seven times prying for the remnants of a bullet. Shrapnel slivers extracted from devastated flesh, two splintered ribs and shattered vertebra, a ricochet from the cobblestones where an exit wound bloomed and then reversed its wrath back within him. Clatter of cold, unfeeling steel in a stoic tray. The remnants of a magazine that hours before had claimed his life, loaded by his own hand.

Ronan stands and watches it all.

Only when the forceps are laid aside, coated in a cloying sheen of red he still can't quite believe belongs to him, does he feel the first flicker of nausea; the living sensation warped into a ghostly mimicry no more real than the quickening of his phantom breath. The medical examiner picks up a scalpel and chooses where to divide the tattoos that had painted Ronan's life.

The motion is efficient. Professional. Impersonal. The first incision undoes the spider web, separates the roses that once tangled he and Julia together till death do them part, and Ronan watches it all with the passivity of a shy student afraid to question his master's work.

(Why keep staring? Is it because they've left his eyes open? Why did they open them when he watched Rex gently press them closed…?)

No. It isn't that.

He'd asked the girl sat by her own corpse a few slabs down why she would choose to watch this. Now he thinks he understands.

The body on the slab used to be him. The same body that once lived, once breathed, once felt; the same hands that knew equally the violence of bleeding knuckles, the pleasure-pain of an ink-tipped needle, the tenderness of caressing Julia’s skin. Just a used canvas soon to rot now. Hollow flesh incapable of even acknowledging the presence of his soul.

(He’d stirred his own death rattle with a ghostly brush of his cheek. Ronan doesn’t dare touch again.)

The creak of the bone cutters as they pry away the front of his ribcage draws no flinch, yet were Ronan still living he's certain he'd hear the blood pounding in his ears. (There's none left for that. All drained into the cobblestones several blocks away.)

Then a soft squelch, a hunk of bone and cartilage lifted away to rest instead in a metal tray, and the damage wrought on his lungs is revealed. The right one mangled, seven times punctured, as expected. Flecks of black from a decades-long smoking habit in both, not so expected, yet upon reflection blindingly obvious.

And between them nestles his heart. Still. Silent.

Whole.

The sight stirs within him an ache that feels like the bruise left by the hopelessness of his first attempt to climb back into his body. With a gesture of his hand he can send electronics into overdrive, summon ghostly structures into existence, or even leash an unsuspecting demon to banish it. Yet he can't command his own heart to beat.

Ronan bows his head and doesn't know if he feels anger or humility.

The examiner and his assistant talk. The words aren't illuminating. Cause of death is obvious, embellished with words like trauma and haemothorax and hypovolemic shock, but putting a name to the wounds seems to matter less than naming the man who caused them.

They empty him out. Piecemeal, organs on the scales. Turn him over, at last breaking the vacant stare of his sightless eyes. Livid bruises stain his back, bleeding over the bullet-broken lines of his tattooed mural as though painted by a careless child. Blood crusts at the back of his skull.

They're going to open it, Ronan realises, when the bone saw comes out again. Check for bleeding in his brain from impact.

He's never seen the back of his own head so closely before. Isn't sure that he cares to.

Wrenching his spectral eyes from the corpse, Ronan looks back in the direction of the holding cells. He's borne witness to his own autopsy long enough. He has his own witness to find.

[mx-julien]

the Ninjago comics were shrouded in mystery to me before finding this post by @ninjadont where they gave the link to the Kingdom of the Snakes issue and OH BOY i'm so glad they did because it produces these wonderful screenshots [below the cut, which i have now figured out how to do! heh] (P.S. there are image descriptions)

based on the premise that Jay enters an alternate universe in which he didn't join the team after his invention worked, Wu gets dejected and demoralized, leaving Cole pretty much to fight alone against the serpentine bc Zane's still wandering around and Kai's helping the serpentine bc they have Nya captured.

[Image Description: Wu and Cole stand side by side in the Monestary, Cole looking innocent and concerned and Wu seeming hesitant. The text box on the upper right says, "'Sensei Wu knew terrible things were about to happen in Ninjago,' Cole says. 'So he decided to build a ninja team, starting with me. It was an idea he was unsure aout, but he had to try.'"]

[Images Descriptions: Lefthand photo is an entire page of the comic book. The first panel shows Jay spinning in the air and facing off against a venomari plane. Jay's thought bubbles say, "I've got one big advantage. I know them, and they don't know me. For example, they don't know how much I like gum..." The next panel has a red background on which he's doing spinjitzu and throwing a flat, pink piece of gum that seems to be angled at the viewer. He's thinking, "Or how much they won't! [like gum]" The next panel shows the gum flying through the air. The next, and largest panel, shows the venomari plane covered in oozing pink gum, with the sound effect, "SPLORCH." The last panel at the bottom right of the page shows Jay spinjitzuing away and thinking, "Now to get down below. I don't trust Garmadon as far as I could whirl him." Righthand photo is an entire page of the comic. The box at the top left says, "Then, near Constrictai City..." Kai, who's wearing his ninja gi, holding a golden staff, and has an eye patch on, is running through the forest. From further back in the forest, a voice says, "Hey hothead! I hear you couldn't catch a cold, let alone an escaped prisoner!" Kai asks, "Who's there?" In the next panel, as you've probably guessed based on the terrible one-liner, is Zane, leaning really nonchalantly against a tree, with his eyes closed. He says, "You wouln't know me, not in this world anyway. But I know all about you." The back of Kai's head is in the foreground and he says, Then you know what my job is-- I'd suggest you start running." Next panel is closer to Zane and shows how relaxedly he's leaning against that tree. He still hasn't moved yet, and says, "Try and catch me... if you can." Next panel shows waves of anger coming off Kai and shows a closeup of his face as he's yelling, "I'll show you what I can do!" The final panel shows Kai running through the forest with his staff, chasing Zane in the foreground, who's running away from him and saying, "I hope you're ready because here he comes."]

[Images Descriptions: Lefthand photo is of an entire page. The first panel shows Jay in his gi in the middle of his spinjitzu vortex, thinking, "Should give the hypnobrai something to think about. I wonder how Garmadon is doing! I can't believe I'm asking that..." The next panel shows Garmadon gesturing towards the entrance to a cave so dark we can't see inside. He says to Zane, "This tunnel leads right to the cells in the north tower." Zane, who is walking towards the entrance, says, "There's an escape tunnel from the cells? [Why] didn't you destroy [it]?" Next panel is a close up on Garmadon as he's saying, "I liked to let prisoners escape sometimes. Gave my giany spider something to do." The final and largest panel is a scene of Garmadon and Zane, who is closest to the viewer, shrouded in darkness as they crawl through the tunnel, just the smallest sliver of the outdoor showing through the entrance. Zane says, "So why do you care about helping Nya and Kai? Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?" Garmadon responds, "People can change, Zane. For example, I used to only have two arms." The righthand photo is of one panel. The silhouettes of Garmadon, Jay, and Zane are in the foreground and a castle on purple mountain cliffs is shown in the back. It's mostly gray with some accents of white bones and red fabric. Notably, there is a large skull on it. The box at the top left says, "After a long day's journey..." One of the ninja, presumably Zane, says, "That is... impressive... in a disgusting sort of way." The ninja to his right, likely Jay, says, "Wait a minute, that was your castle in the underworld... What's it doing on the surface?" The shadow that is clearly Garmadon responds, "What you have a design that works, you stick with it."]

[Image Descriptions: The lefthand photo is one panel, which shows Garmadon and Zane walking towards Kai and Nya, who are hugging off-panel. Garmadon says, "I hate to break up the touching moment, but there are snakes all over." Zane adds, "And Kai was working for them five minutes ago." The righthand photo shows several panels of one page. The first panel shows Garmadon, whose head is in the foreground, talking to Kai, "I have put together a team. [Five] unlikely allies to strike at the serpentine and drive them from Ninjago. Once and for all." Kai, whose hood is off so you can see the scar that surrounds his eye patch, has his hands on his hips, and replies, "Then I'm in." Garmadon asks, "You have no problem with trusting me?" The next panel is a closeup on Kai's face. He's squinting his eyes and baring his teeth, saying, "Who says I trust you? But I know exactly what I'll do to you the second you step out of line." Next panel shows Zane and Nya, whose faces are visible, off to the side. Zane, looking wistful with his arms held behind him, in a comment to Nya, says, "That's our team-- one big, happy family." Nya's arms are waving in front of her and she replies, "At least it is 'our' team-- Jay must feel like he's looked into a funhouse mirror. Everyone's the same, but different." The last panel shows the side of Garmadon, who has one hand in the air, pointing, and saying "We must get moving if we are to reach the valley of the great serpent in time. Follow me." From off-panel, an unidentified voice says, "No! Don't!"]

[Images Descriptions: The leftwards photo is of two panels. The first one has a text box that reads, "Later..." It shows Kai, with his gi off and eyepatch on, hiding behind a rock. He's saying, "Is that thing safe?" to Jay, who's wearing normal robes, a stupid-looking pair of goggles, and messing with a contraption with two large antennae. There's a wrench lying to the left. He says, "Of course it isn't safe. Okay Jay [from the main Ninjago universe], now! Take off!" The next panel shows the lightning jet taking off, leaving a trail of smoke behind it. Jay from the main Ninjago universe, who's inside the plane, says, "So long, everybody!" The righthand photo is a continuation from the left one. It shows Kai, who's now covering his body and most of his face, ducking behind the rock. Jay, whose goggle lenses are whited out now, is standing in front of his smoking contraption with his arms in the air, saying, "Yes! I did it again!"]

it's weird and campy and sometimes made me laugh aloud?? like with Zane heckling Kai while he was casually leaning on a tree? wonderful. the ending has a pretty hilarious screencap, too, but i'm not about to spoil the whole thing for y'all.

ngl though this art for it was cool though.

[Image Description: An ornate red outline that's roughly in the shape of a box and surrounds the ninja who are in their gis and get closer to the foreground in this order: Zane, Kai - who is punching the air, Cole - who has one arm out to fight and the other drawn in, and Jay - who's holding his golden nunchucks up above him with both hands. Around the bottom on the left are smaller drawings, in the order of getting closer to the foreground: the venomari helicopter, a fangpyre, a constrictai who's holding a golden staff-like weapon, the head of an angry constrictai warrior, the bottom of which is covered by a snake facing the middle of the drawing. The bottom right has a venomari warrior brandishing a bone-sword that's overlapped by Jay's elemental plane, these, too are slightly behind a snake symmetical to the one on the left that's facing the center. The center-bottom shows, all in red ink, an ovular photo of Sensei Wu that's above a scene of the Destiny's Bounty. Outside the drawing, to the left, there is a silhouette of a ninja sliding down a rope, next to the words, "Enter The Serpent" in orange letters lined by black. The bottom, smaller red font reads, "The ultimate brick masterpiece! Lavishly produced on location in the world of LEGO® Ninjago!"]

honestly, other than the unconventional art style, lack of continuity, and occasional oocness, the dialogue is actually weirdly kind of spot on and the framing of each shot is good. i recommend giving it a read. it's on archive.org, which just asks you for your email and then you can have access to everything they have. most of it being open access and some of it being published material they have the rights to circulate.

cheers, LRG