#ive been sitting on this for a while

[kandayuu]

Choice

Happy birthday deltarune!! Here's a comic about kris

Commissions

kofi

[sgwrk]

you are going to dps very Very slowly

[wholelottatransbians]

Forgotten Goddess: Okay, I'm curious after seeing the latest Green Valley Chat. What is Star & Stripe's whole deal?

Is she the goddess of the American Dream?

She's a Goddess of Truth, Courage, and Strength. She's a Greek goddess, the only Divine child of Heracles and Hebe.

Basically, Cathleen came down to Earth to build back up a worship base, accidentally became a Hero, realized that hero praise is pretty similar to worship, and just rolled with it.

A small part of her regrets the whole America motif, but she makes it work.

Anyway, after the Sports Festival, she took anice of a loose goddess she didn't immediately recognize, went to Japan for a few weeks, and took Yaoyorozu under her wing. And accidentally falling for Midoriya Inko along the way, these things happen sometimes.

[pacinglikeghosts]

nothing lasts forever (but let's see how far we get)

august and jane | canon compliant/wedding fic | 9.3k words

“Are you nervous?” August asks between forkfuls. Jane shakes her head. “Why not? I’m terrified.” “The way I see it, I’ve been cheating death and defying odds since I was old enough to walk. I didn’t think I’d get to live past forty, and if I did, I’d probably be miserable and lonely. I didn’t even think people like us would be legally allowed to walk together in public, much less get married. If I can survive all the shit I went through in the seventies, and everything with the Q, getting married to you is the easiest thing I could do,” Jane explains, setting her dish on the steamer trunk. “You’re the love of my life, August. I can’t imagine a life without you, and I have no idea how I lived it before you.”

Or: In continuation of the Jane bonus chapter, August and Jane finally tie the knot. kind of.

as always, layout credits to bunivys!

read it here!

[hinamie]

how many hoodies can i give this kid

[iffingly]

brotherly bonding time

[itty-bitty-sunshine]

Needed an excuse to draw sun in his natural habitat (unpaid babysitter).

[poarkchop]

got ur kidneys.. on my mind ^_^

[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.

[ill-cypher]

have an itty-bitty harrowhark

[pricetagged]

MEDIEVAL SCAMMER GHOAP?! Please enlighten us🙏🙏🙏

Since you both asked so nicely, have a snippet of a whisp of a concept😅

I have an idea. Not fully fleshed out. I could go in two directions, either historical Ghoap working as Pardoners and taking advantage of ignorant village reader (corruption kink, religious themes, abuse of power etc.).

OR, for my monster-lovers, has anyone seen Dragonheart? I was picturing, like, one of them is something beastly, the other plays at knight = profit? Fantasy scam and rescue? So, it would go something like this:

(Tw kidnapping and kind of mean Ghoap)

---------

Your situation didn't look any better flipped on its head. Flipped on your head, rather. Snatched and thrown over a bulky shoulder, high– higher than even your standing position. It was discomfiting; it was terrifying. Blood rushed to your face not only in fury but also in shame as your skirts fluttered in the breeze.

He noticed, too. His greedy fingers dug into your thighs, skimming down like he was soothing a skittish horse. But you felt the way he lingered. The way he chuffed and squeezed tighter when you kicked out with all the strength of a skittish colt.

Your fists pounded uselessly against heavy splint-mail, hands-catching on rough nodules and spikes that didn't quite register as pain. Not to your panic-stricken mind, thoughts flying off in the wind behind you as the beast carried you off.

But the smack registered.

Perhaps it was the sound, the harsh slap of flesh on flesh. Whipping crack, like the snapping of a great branch. The precursor to an eerie stillness, violence begetting obmutescence. And it worked–

–for a second. For the time it took for your stinging nerves to catch up with your racing mind. Then you howled. Kicked and clawed and hissed like a feral cat as tears welled in your lash-line.

"How dare you–"

"Quit yer fashin'. Ye'll bring the whole kingsguard down this way–"

"–good–"

"–and then I'll have tae kill them all," That had your attention, legs tense under the heavy band of his bicep. "Dinnae much feel like sharin' ye around."

"Oh, you beast! You foul, vile, disgusting–" Your voice was high, words scratching as they hitched out of your aching throat.

It hurt to speak, vocal cords already shredded from the way you'd screamed when he'd first ransacked your village. Coughing on heavy, acrid smoke and crying futile warnings about the Black Knight and his monster-in-arms ('Quiet, girl. Viper-tonged harlot, slither off and for gods' sake, quiet!') . But it hurt more to be silent. You flung insults like broken arrows, hoping that they would somehow land. That they would hit, fortuitously, and pierce the thick-hide of this brute. But hope is vain, and the fancies of men make gods laugh.

You landed hard on something soft.

Ego almost as bruised as your knees, you kept your eyes low. Sweeping. Marshy, wet silt. Topsoil sluiced off, only mud and clay and reeds to your right. A cheerfully babbling brook just beyond, water murky and discoloured with backwash from– the water flowed past the estuary of the village so it must be– no–

The realisation was caustic. Mordant. Burning at you like the scorched air in your lungs.

"You're a monster," you spat the words, mouth watering in your haste to let ichor drip forth and blacken him as much as the foul, brackish water ahead.

"Noticed that, did ye," he laughed, words glancing off like feeble blows. "Best not tae piss me off, then. Stay there and behave yersel'. Company's comin'."

Glancing up at him was like a blow to the stomach, wind punched out and body shaking. You already knew that he was big, inhuman. But now you could see every inch; monstrous, twisted mockery of natural features. Like a man formed of rock, too immense and hard and jagged to pass for anything but artificial. Counterfeit. Contranatural. Creation's bastard. All tusks and teeth and shorn hair. Hair everywhere, even down his bare, bulging forearms and thick knuckles. Coarse, dark.

His eerie, bright blue eyes blazed around black, pupils wild and blown. It could be the thrill, cruel playfulness of an apex predator. Berserker-wide, coming down from the kill–

But he'd been carrying you for a while, bloodlust long-since sated on the men and manse of your homeland.

You shivered, sweat and cold mingling in a discomfiting damp that raised the hairs on your arms. (The hairs on the back of your neck were already needle-stiff and prickling).

You pocketed a stone, a big jagged filthy shard. One you hoped could bruise and slash and poison, turn wounds weeping and sick.

Now that you were silent, he seemed especially strident, swaggering around the barebones of what you supposed must be a dwelling. You felt the slight whistling of air from the cave behind, cavernous and black. If you had to run, to hide, you'd take your chances with the forest and river ahead. To be lost in the appetites of the mountain abyss would spell death as surely as at the hands of this creature.

You watched him, cocksure and comfortable as he shucked off his warhammer and began unbuckling his braces. If you could read the snarl of his crooked teeth, you'd perhaps say he was in high spirits. He sent you a wink as he shrugged off his splint-mail, gravelly laugh echoing in the cavern behind.

It disguised the approach of your visitor.

"Grabbed the wrong one, Johnny," you shrieked as something grabbed your forearm, hauling you up. Looking down you saw the muted sheen of a spiked gauntlet. Black patina, flaked in iron rust. You swallowed hard, lump in your throat so big that it caught any words that might try to escape. Him. The Black Knight. The Liar. 

"Ye said to grab the pretty one by the fancy house."

"She's not the magistrate's daughter. No ransom for her." He spun you around, metal biting hard into your chin as he arched your face towards his.

Cloaked in ink-black helm and visor, you could just about peer in to meet his gaze. He looked back with cold, assessing eyes. The voice that rumbled forth was as harsh and breccial as you remembered, words rending you apart with serrated precision: "Not worth a rescue mission."

He released your chin with a final shake of your head, huffing amusement as you rubbed at the thin scratches he left behind.

It was hard to breathe now, stomach swirling and head-light. Even if you could will yourself, it wouldn’t help. There was already a faint coppery smell leeching from the Knight; your heart recognised it even if you would not give name to it. It sped up, fast enough to rush past your ears with discordant force. 

You didn’t feel the other one step up behind you, not until it was too late. There, trapped between man and monster (man the monster), tight enough that you couldn't even shiver. You felt the power of the creature even more now without the armour, all muscle and fat, sheer power close enough to sink your fingers into. But you couldn't move, your shallow breaths already catching in your throat into soft, hitching whines. 

"Shh, it's alright, bonnie," Rough, clumsy fingers swiped under your eyes. You felt him crouch lower, stubbly hair and tusks digging into your powder-soft cheek. "Looks like we're gonnae have tae keep you, then."

------------

[oetscop]

you may visit his room.

[slavhew]

jakey + dirkjake sandwiched between my organic chem notes. a poem in there somewhere

[trancegnder]

go my scarab (tfem d16)

thank u @princepqul for inspiring me to doodle this

[ethosiab]

erm . yeah

[archivebottles]

"You don't need to worry about me. I can take care of myself now."