#job hard lol

[wasabi-gumdrop]

Kabru has a secret admirer in the castle!

[pyjamacryptid]

So. I drew that “Arthur’s fished out of the lake” au of mine

edit: yes I know that boats like that likely wouldn’t fish on a lake, and that where avalon should be isn’t really a lake anymore - I promise I know this 😂 - the imagery of Arthur being fished out of a lake in a net was just too hilariously powerful 😂

[shadowquill17]

as an actual French person, let me tell you that Kit did a really good job with his lines in French? Obviously he still had an accent but it was FAR from the worst I've heard, and he was completely understandable (which is NOT a given even when actors try their best) and sounded quite natural? Honestly he sounded like someone who's been practicing their French for a lot longer than he actually has, so while he didn't sound like a native speaker I am SO PROUD of him because we all know he had a long way to go from "oui"

[tieflingteatime]

how am I expected to hold down a full time job when all I want to do is play baldur's gate 3

[cynicallyneutral]

some sketches,random nart stuff i drew last year that i havent posted yet dijghfkjgjg

[thesapphiredragon13]

Heya! Sorry it’s late (as usual) but here it is! My piece for BillDip Secret Santa for @pchelaus .. hope you like my take on “Cosmic horror beyond our comprehension Bill taking a liking to flattered but confused Dipper.” !

I had a lot of fun with what features to add to give the whole ‘cosmic horror’ feel but you can never go wrong with some star speckled tentacles and extra sets of eyes lol.

[thatonebipotato]

a somewhat swap au of Scarab and Prismo. i say somewhat because its not just swapping them, i changed a lot of stuff other than just like their jobs. heehoo ok enjoy :]

text descriptions and more information under cut ^^!

Prismo -

his [physical] body is "frozen" in time

a bit more calloused over his years of working, but still considered very chill

he usually talks people down so he doesn't have the fight them

the crystal weapon is around his neck

it shoots out like a flashlight

the auras/souls of his victims get trapped in jars

pupils go starry when he does this

So here, Prismo is a god auditor! He's still very down to earth, but after years of fighting and monitoring and capturing, he's a bit worn down. That being said, he's still generally considered to be everybody's pal! The crystal he uses can't store the people he gets, so he has to carry around the jars. Because of this, he can usually only detain like two people at once, maybe three if he pushes it.

Prismo has some resentment about not being Wishmaster, but not the way that Scarab would! He just thinks he could do a better job, but he respects Wishmaster Scarab and just kinda lets it slide. He and Scarab are actually pretty close, and if he's injured or just very bored he'll go bother the cosmic bug.

Things he can do that aren't mentioned are that he can walk on walls/defy gravity, make duplicates of himself, and teleport. Duplicating himself and teleporting takes a looot of energy out of him, and considering that he is perpetually tired, he really doesn't use those abilities a lot.

Scarab -

this form resembles his physical body, but is still just a projection

he can touch stuff, but can't feel anything and can't be hurt/damaged

he's a bit more relaxed, but is still quite strict/rule oriented

the wings of his mask can open up, but usually don't

he is very big :)

the time room is less of a room and more like a never-ending labyrinth of paths

only the truly determined will obtain a wish

Scarab as the Wishmaster is a lot more relaxed than in canon, but due to his nature he is still a bit strict about rules and such. He will explain how exactly a wish will work to those who reach their goal, and if they choose to ignore that, they don't get a second chance. He usually won't go further into detail about the rules, either. This is where Prismo's slight distaste comes from, because he thinks that if he were in Scarab's place he would be nicer about it. That's about as far as that goes, though.

The main entrance that everyone is allowed through(the labyrinth) is infinite, but there is space around it(like a pocket dimension inside of a pocket dimension). Getting into the outside space will lead to the rest of the Time Room, but only Scarab has access to that. He spends most of his time floating in the abyss of the main area. There is no set path to find him, and he will instead come to whoever enters, if they're determined enough.

Scarab does not let people wander freely through the Time Room, so most of the other cosmic entities tend to avoid him because he isn't very fun. Prismo doesn't, though. Unlike anyone else who may enter, if Prismo simply calls out for Scarab, he will arrive almost immediately. Though Scarab has a 3D form, he is still confined to the Time Room, and does not find joy in watching the universes(he only does it if he's reeeallly bored, or if it's necessary). And since he blocks off the rest of the room to anyone else, he never gets any visitors, only mortals looking for his favor.

He doesn't mind the isolation at all, but he does enjoy the company that Prismo offers him. He doesn't mind being secluded, but he gets lonely sometimes. Prismo has many tales of his adventures being an auditor, and Scarab has begun keeping notes on all of them. He looks forward to Prismo's next visit always.

That's about all I have to say about them and their lore, at least as a base to build off of later, so uhhh here's they're color pallets :]

On the left is just how they both look, and the right is just missing the gradient for Scarab so it's easier to see(they don't look super great, but im just laying out the colors)

[fernsnailz]

hey what if i made a sonic fan comic. would you guys be interested in that

[garrandia]

if i had a dollar every time when jjk narrator says something like "AND THIS PESON HAS POWERS TO RIVAL GOJO SATORU" and they drop ded next chapter i would have 2 dollars

[vaguely-concerned]

The Wire BASHIR: So, that's it then. You're going to just give up and let them win. GARAK: Them, Doctor? BASHIR: The Central Command, the Obsidian Order, whoever it is who exiled you here. You're just going to roll over and die, let them destroy you, give up any hope of ever seeing Cardassia again. GARAK: Doctor, did anyone ever tell you that you are an infuriating pest? BASHIR: Chief O'Brien all the time, and I don't pay any attention to him either. --- Our Man Bashir BASHIR: Is that what they taught you in the Obsidian Order? To give up when things get tough? GARAK: As a matter of fact, they did. That's why I've managed to stay alive while most of my colleagues are dead. Because I know when to walk away. And that time is now. And you'd know that, Doctor, if you were a real intelligence agent. 

Hm. Thinking. 

(*julian bashir voice* okay but what if I quite simply didn’t let you give up just like that tho. Neither on yourself nor on other people. What then. 

Garak’s soul vibrating at some supersonic exceedingly horny pitch as he’s bleeding freely from the neck: …I’m listening)

[theloveinc]

sukuna ryomen x reader - part of this!au , the king of curses watches you get ready for a lunch date with friends.

(warning: this is a piece about body image, which mentions reader having insecurities about trying on clothing and gaining weight. that being said, this isn't so much an angst fic as it about a relationship dynamic. fem reader who is called a woman/girl, adult themes, etc. 1.3k words!)

thank u to @notvil + @saetyrn9 for sukuna pet names! <3

Most of the time, the King of Curses, Sukuna Ryomen, looks like a man. Thick set yet lean, baby-soft skin tattooed in deep, chocolate browns, and pink hair the color of April’s most delicate of cherry blossom petals, he fits into an entirely new category of handsome; one that would make your mother cry to see you standing against, but one that’d have anyone leaving another man at the altar for.

Some of the time, however, he looks like a monster.

Large and autocratic, he takes up space in your home the way a centerpiece of freshly slain taxidermy would, almost wooden, looming, like that of a thousand-year-old tree with roots more ancient than a Japanese cedar tree and a trunk just as strong.

Though normally, this form disturbs you enough to keep you from straying too far from his usual behests (most often, pulling out your bare breasts to present to him or finger feeding him food off of your plate, despite how many times he’s told you he needs no sustenance of the kind), not even all four of his arms or all four of his eyes can tear yours away from the mirror in front of you and the sides of your hips it presents as rather… surprisingly…voluptuous.

Really, you can only hope it’s the water damage behind the old silver that’s causing your belly to appear slightly more distended than the last time you last remember inspecting yourself to such an intense degree, and not the fact it’s been a few years since you stopped consistently working on your feet.

(You still sometimes pick up night shifts at the diner, during weeks when money is tight after paying rent and you’re craving something nice after weeks of rice with an occasional egg on top, but they’ve started stationing you at the register, where the only things you’re moving are credit cards through the slider and the thumb on your right hand as you play sudoku on your phone.)

The dress you’re wearing is old, and if the out-of-style pattern of its skirt didn’t make that obvious enough, the way the elastic is permanently stretched and no longer cinches around your waist makes it perfectly clear. You don’t feel… unattractive in it, not exactly… but it makes you look like some sort of old maid, you think, your ass resting just a little too full for your comfort and the frills around your bust too tacky for your liking, and not like someone who should be hanging out with a bunch of 20-something year-olds now years out of undergraduate.

Most of your friends dress in stylish ensembles they’ve collected and created over the many years you’ve known them… and while you wish you could emulate the causality they display in their effortlessly chic everyday wear, you’re still stuck living halfway out of your mother’s closet because clothing shopping is a luxury you have obviously not prioritized affording.

It’s partially why you’ve managed to push it too close to the wire to change outfits (really, you tried on two other things and felt strangely the same in them, one blouse an ugly, stained mustard and the other even more motherly looking, flaring widely over the lower bit of your belly as if that part of you needed hiding), as by now, you’ve learned there’s not enough time in the world to make you feel as confident as you do in your favorite pajamas, in your own home, entertaining only yourself.

And sometimes, Ryomen, when he feels like playing nice.

Because really, it’s hard to care about who the outside of you pleases when most of the time, your outfits (ugly or motherly or not) have no bearing on said, six-foot, seven-foot, something curse who fucks you upside down and backwards near daily every spare moment you’re able to offer yourself to him naked, and who currently stares at you like the piece of meat you really are as you stare at yourself.

Clearly, he is bored watching you, as when he’d tried picking at the clasped band of your bra, as much interest in the old lace as taking it off you accounts for, you’d succeeded in swatting at him enough times to have him slinking off to drape himself dramatically over your bed sheets again.

“Foolish woman,” he complains. “Never have you bothered wearing fancy clothing around me.”  

“It’s not about the clothing. It’s about how it’s literally been 35 pounds since I’ve last seen these friends.”

Sukuna rolls half of his four eyes, the two that don’t sit vertically or flatly on his face where they would if he looked human.

“Pounds of flesh?” he says dryly, which you ignore in favor of pulling off the frilly shirt you're currently wearing and replacing it with something much more simple you initially thought might come off as too casual, but now seems like the best option in terms of comfort.

“Of…fat,” you twist in the mirror to briefly glance back at where he sprawls, pinching the dips on your hips as though it’s obvious what you’re talking about, “that I can’t exactly hide.”

“Hide?” he repeats incredulously, his big face morphing into something much more pointed and annoyed as his words darken into a chuckle that seems to echo and vibrate between the walls. “Good women walk bare, you know.”

What you know is that Sukuna is taunting you, and that his kind of woman, the traditional, acquiescent kind, hasn’t existed for thousands upon thousands of years. It’s something he must have been forced to come to terms with since having woken up in a decade that is entirely not his, where most women (you included, as well as all the other ones you’re sure he’s encountered here) dress in business casual suits and spend their time working for the man (rather than serving one) because it’s the only way outside of finding a husband they’ll be set up to survive.

Still, Sukuna has made a few attempts at pushing the expectation of that ancient naturality on you, despite knowing you don’t have the kind of time or patience or even employment that level of… maintenance (or lack thereof, given that what he likes is when you’re completely unshaven and greased up for his pleasure) …requires to indulge him, the literal cost of it all notwithstanding.

“Good women don’t binge themselves on the latte machine at work and order lunch takeout just because someone else is picking it up.” 

The man, the king, as he sometimes demands to be called, seems to ponder for a moment, eyes not on you but on the pale, stained bed sheets he pinches between two of his long nails as he considers your response. You’re not yet sure if he really cares, but no sooner is he shooting you a nasty pair of eyes you try to ignore as you stick a hand down the back of your ass to rearrange the seamless panties beneath your leggings.

“Who, sweet girl,” he says, voice wet with a surprisingly bitter edge, “is picking it up?”

You stare at him from out of the corner of the mirror, at the way his eyebrows have narrowed, his mouth has puckered downward, and his eyes haven’t stray from your body since you mentioned it’s shape. Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes.

“Nobody, actually. Starting tomorrow, I’m officially bringing in lunch from home for the rest of the month.” Letting your pants slap back down once your hand emerges from the waistband, you decide it’s finally time to suck it up and take your leave. Your friends have never been judgmental people no matter how much you’d like to impress them regardless, and you doubt one bad outfit is going to ruin the rest of your week, much less however long the friendships may last. “I’ll be good, and then you can stop nagging.”

“I am not nagging, poppet.” Sukuna scoffs, clearly offended as he shifts to roll over and face away from where, in a few minutes, you’ll no longer be, having already started preparing to grab your purse. “I’m saying good women need only care about pleasing their own men.”

“Their own, huh?” you ask, to which Sukuna humphs, though still lets you lean over your bed to give him one brief kiss on the shoulder before you leave. “I’ll have to remember that.”

[sysig]

Okay but TSP/Portal crossover AU is such a cool concept, how have I never thought about that before?? I'd like to request Narra and GLaD hanging out watching their respective little guys go through tests like 'can you believe them they're so dumb <3'

Day 30 - They're absolute hellions

Bonus:

Noooo, my bucket!!

[buwheal]

We can't hear it Spam, but it's real to you. I get auditory hallucinations a lot, and usually what helps me is a distraction. Maybe... name 5 things you can see? Or make paper airplanes with old messages, or draw some pictures. Otherwise, I'm sure someone has a crossword or story they can send you to help you out!

[heybiji]

double life

[kirby-the-gorb]

[dicing20]

Weathers finally getting cooler so time to break out the Halloween dice 🎃