#so here you go :D

[scarletneptunelikesart]

Welp, i've been convinced Here's my sonadow kiddo (though technically he has Silver's DNA in him as well), Sony !! These drawings are about a month old, but I've been itching to draw him more anyway - Put a bunch of em on one canvas, and snipped some closeups!

Bottom drawing is his usual outfit, cause in present canon he's around 5-6 yrs old

He's a lab baby from around 500 years in the future, made from preserved samples of Shadow, Sonic, and Silver's DNA He's still got some lore to be figured out but hey, I like drawing him regardless of whether his backstory is consistent yet :D

he's basically my little guy <3

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

Sun and Moon

Just a couple of Space Rangers au doodles I did the other day when trying to get my drawing motivation back :]

[wren-of-the-woods]

I used @finishwhatyoustarted-event as motivation to finish up an old ficlet! Silmarillion fandom, G, 0.7k, also on AO3.

~

Fëanáro loved the language.

The elves made it; it was theirs. Theirs, and theirs alone. No Vala was responsible for it. Nobody else could possibly claim credit for it save Eru himself. They always have had it and they always would have it. They were the Quendi, the ones who speak.

Fëanáro loved the forge, loved to create things of beauty where there were none and to make things of wonder and delight. He loved to wander the land, to seek out new and undiscovered things. For many years, he could delight in the pleasures of the world without hesitation. He eagerly took the knowledge offered by the Valar and used it to achieve things unheard of. 

But the Valar were meddlers. They were fools. They were thieves. They would take what they wanted from the elves and claim that it was their right. They would say it had been they who taught the arts to the elves. That the elves could have made nothing without their aid. That this gave them a right to whatever was created by the craftspeople who had surpassed the Valar’s skill many years ago. And the elves, foolish as they were, believed them.

The Valar could have no such claim on the language. They never have, and they never will. Words belonged to the Quendi, and they always would. That made them precious. As precious as the brightest stars.

But they were impermanent. Transient. They did not have the great stature and majesty of the stone towers in Valimar, nor the solidity of the metals of the forge. They are the wind blowing through towers and cities of the mind; sometimes a gentle breeze, sometimes a great and moving tempest, but always temporary. Always changing. Always passing away. Even the greatest song, the most moving speech, would be lost and forgotten in time.

Numbers could be recorded with repeated markings on stone or cloth or rope or paper. It was much harder to record words and sounds. There were the picture-like symbols that the Vanyar would sometimes use to record history, of course, but they were cumbersome and imprecise and only conveyed simplified meanings at best; far too clumsy to be much use to someone like Fëanáro. The vast majority of the knowledge and history of the Quendi was passed through verbal communication only.  

Fëanáro would not tolerate this.

Works of language deserved every bit of the credit given to great feats of engineering or works of art. They deserved to be passed down through the generations without change, shown to anyone who would see them. The Valar should be made to see that they do not own the Quendi. The language would be as immovable as the stars, fixed and unchanging in its beauty. Its current course of incessant change, of unreasonable divergence from what is right and good, would be stopped.  It was perfect as it was. Any change could only result in the downfall of the one thing the Quendi could indisputably call their own. 

It must be set down and recorded. It must be made to stay put. It must be perfected, polished, and purged like the finest jewel.

Ñolofinwë had said this was impossible. He had said that words were like the wind, and that nobody could possibly catch the wind in a bottle and keep it on a shelf. Arafinwë had butted in and added that even if one could, it would no longer be the wind — without motion, wind is nothing more than air.

Fëanáro ignored them. He had learnt, over the years, that the only voice worth listening to in these things was Nerdanel’s. If anyone else said that something could not be done, Fëanáro would simply complete his project with greater eagerness and be ready to flaunt his success in their face. But if Nerdanel says something cannot be done, then it truly is impossible.

This time, Nerdanel said it is a wonderful idea. She even offered several suggestions on where to start — perhaps he could use a simplified form of the explanatory diagrams he would sometimes create when making blueprints, or of the historical tapestries woven by the Vanyar. Fëanáro had taken her thoughts eagerly. She was usually right about this sort of thing. 

The paper was spread out in front of him, ready for his ideas. Countless new worlds would be opened up when he succeeds. He would succeed. He always did. If one had enough determination, creativity, and skill, anything is possible, and he certainly had a surplus of all three. All he needed was time.

He touched his quill to the paper, and began.

[faithfulcat111]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Robin Buckley/Vickie Characters: Robin Buckley, Vickie (Stranger Things) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Knight Robin Buckley, Castle life, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Ficlet Series: Part 4 of Mapleswood Castle Summary:

Robin always fell into crushes far too easily and out of them just as easily. This one though...

[riacte]

not romantic not platonic but a secret third thing [what would happen between earth and the moon if the earth stopped spinning as illustrated by xkcd randall munroe]

[cosmosnout]

Revelations.

[expelliarmus]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bros before Ho(oh my god is that Hanguang-Jun?)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[zu-is-here]

i hope this isn't blasphemy but imagine a Genesis!Dreammare AU? With Night being the one to eat the apple (Eve) and Dream following him (Adam)— maybe Nim could be the version of god?

The Fall

[darqx]

Upgrading the 'polaroid magnet' idea of 2019 for 2023's Xmas card trades, these ones are made from wood and use actual magnets! Luxurious! |D All the poses are also referenced from actual party photos i've taken of other people, to add to the candid vibe lol.

The dreamcatcher is kind of a gag gift (yes the craft project i reffed here) for some friends. Since they don't have the ability to fight their nightmares i have offered to [try and] do it for them XD

Made from: Wooden craft polaroid (plus some backing MDF pieces), magnet, misc decorating items (glitter, wooden shapes, gel pens, paint etc). The dreamcatcher is just a storebought one with laminated paper mes wired to it

[ruporas]

lonely

[ID: A limited palette of green and pink, Vashwood comic. The first page serves as a prologue. The first panel shows Vash speaking to someone off screen while Wolfwood is lingering behind him. A black arrow is drawn pointing at him. In the second panel, Vash is buying donuts in the distance while Wolfwood is once again in view, lingering. and the black arrow is drawn pointing at him. In the third panel, Vash is leaving a cubicle and turning towards his right with a slightly peeved expression. He sees Wolfwood, leaning against the cubicle, waiting for him, and with the black arrow drawn, pointing at him, implicating the consistent hovering of Wolfwood’s presence during Vash’s everyday. At the bottom of the page, they’re drawn out of panel with Vash turning to Wolfwood and saying with an irritated expression, “You’re really following me everywhere, huh?” Wolfwood responds, “What, you got a problem?” Vash responds without hesitation, “Yeah, kinda...”

The second page starts with a new day. In the first panel, Vash is seen alone, weighing apples in his hands at a mart, with crowds passing behind him. In the second panel, he turns to his right and starts to say, “Hey, Wolfwood...” In the third panel, he’s startled from seeing a stranger, whom he’d accidentally called out to when he was expecting to see Wolfwood. He says, “Oh, you’re not him. Sorry!” In the fourth panel, the stranger walks off and Vash muses, “Right, he said he had something to do today...”

The third page begins with a close up of Vash's miffed expression, the continuation of Vash's thoughts, "Now that he's not here, this is just like how I used to be, but... It feels lonely somehow. Oh well, I'll see him again tonight, like always." In the second panel, it shows Vash walking through the marketplace crowd, alone. In the third panel, the door panel is a close up of the door opening with a peek of Vash's head. He says, "Wolfwood!" In the fourth panel, Vash is holding a bag of food with a bright smile and says, "Are you hungry? I got you something to eat today!"

The fourth page begins with a shot of the room, two beds being highlighted, one of them being made properly with the blanket draped over the bed and the other with the blanket folded and pillow sitting on top of it. There's no sign of Wolfwood. The second panel shows Vash with a disappointed look as he thinks, "He's still not here?" The third panel shows Vash putting the bag of food on the table. Stapled to the paper bag is the receipt with a written note "For Wolfwood." Vash's thoughts continue "He does like to stay out so, I guess there's no reason to worry..." The fourth panel shows Vash sitting his bed somberly with his thoughts continued, "It's not any of my business anyway..."

The fifth page starts with a close up his blank expression as he looks downwards, thinking, "Even if he left completely... That'd be understandable and better for him. I'll just travel alone again... like before... Huh?" The next panel shows Vash's composure break, tears welling up in his eyes suddenly, as he didn't expect to cry. He starts to sob, putting his hands to his face to quiet himself and wipe at his tears, as he says, "Ugh... Dammit... I miss h..." The last panel shows Vash leaning over into his hands, still crying, and in the back, the door swings wide open with a bam as Wolfwood walks through with the punisher swung behind him. He shouts, "SPIKEY! You in here?!"

The sixth page starts with Wolfwood confused, looking at Vash and Vash looks back, just as confused, with tears in his eyes and snot out of his nose. Wolfwood starts saying, "Ah? You..." No longer in panels, at the bottom of the page, Wolfwood takes the Punisher off of himself and starts to walk towards Vash, continuing with slight concern, "What's wrong with you? Did something happen?" Vash, hurriedly begins to wipe at his tears, denying immediately, "No! No, I'm fine! Nothing happened!"

The seventh page, Vash points towards the table, with a hand still wiping at his tears and he smiles as he says, "I uh got you food. On the table." Wolfwood looks towards to the table and responds, "Oh. I was getting hungry, thanks." He turns his head back to Vash immediately after with an uncertain expression, knowing the other wasn't responding to his concern, and says, "But, I know you're an idiot with this stuff, so I'm reminding you again. Don't brush it off if it's an issue, alright?"

The eight page, Vash's tears have dried and he looks to Wolfwood with a soft smile and responds, "Yeah. It's okay though..." A panel at the center shows a side view of Vash approaching Wolfwood. At the bottom of the page, with no panel, is a close up shot of Vash's hand, holding onto the edge of Wolfwood's jacket sleeve, as he says, "Because you're here now. Wolfwood."

The final page is a back shot of both of them standing next to each other, Wolfwood's head tilted slightly to the left, not fully believing Vash as he says, "That doesn't answer anything, Spikey." Vash responds, "There's no need to talk about it! You should enjoy your food. Let's have a drink too?" Wolfwood responds, "Tsk, tsk. Fine, yeah. I could use one." END ID]

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

SAGAU thoughts, let's go

Ajax, an Abyss-touched mortal, who has long been told that his violent nature would never garner favor with the gods, much less the Creator. Childe, whose Harbinger comrades care not for the myths of the Creator, preferring to forge their own path. they tell him, the youngest, to allow the Creator to hate him- if that is the exchange for writing their own destinies, the Fatui will gladly take it.

but for Childe, it hurts to think this way. even more so for Foul Legacy; the Abyssal creatures who only have one salvation, the hands of the all-loving Creator. to hear that the Creator will hate him breaks his heart, Legacy taking over their shared body and curling into a corner to sob, taking comfort in the darkness of Childe's room.

the Creator is never seen nor heard, yet still guards all of Teyvat- which is why it's such a surprise when you end up getting tossed into Mondstadt, ripped away from your familiar world into another. it's still familiar, only not in the way you expect, having seen Teyvat behind a screen all this time. all the characters you know and love seem to be dedicated to worshiping you, praising your grace and power and watching your every move.

it's extremely overwhelming. you just want to befriend your favorite characters- the most beloved of which you can't even find! but you're stubborn and determined above all else, and set out alone to find out where Childe, your favorite DPS, could be hiding.

he shies away when he sees you in the distance, your features familiar from so many books and carvings, but instead of disgusted, you look... excited? he blinks, and suddenly you seem much smaller, Foul Legacy's love for you allowing him to hijack Childe's body for a moment. Legacy yelps and shrinks back further, trying to hide himself to avoid what he assumes must be a scornful glare. but instead he feels gentle hands cupping his cheeks, your soft laughter music to his ears as you greet him.

"Hello, Legacy."

his wings flutter upon hearing your kind voice utter his name, with all the love and affection you can give, and when your arms wrap tightly around his waist he feels like he could sing. your hands move to scritch under his chin, and Foul Legacy croons in delight, allowing himself to melt into your touch, snuggling his masked face into your palms. the taint of the Abyss seems far away, the pain soothed beneath your fingertips as Legacy begins to purr for the first time in his life, holding you, his beloved Creator, close to him.

and you let him, hugging him back, because you adore Childe, Foul Legacy, and the Abyss with all your divine heart.

[diamondsheep]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BELOVED MARIMO 💚💚💚!!!

[skialdi]

Sleep pile, aka a Luffy sandwich

[ba1laur]

wolfwood d nicholas from trigun anime 1998 you are just a guy i would meet at the gas station perhaps or the grocery store even

[secondbeatsongs]

“We Like to Party (The Vengabus)” with every second beat removed