#technically also

[nocek]

Wade is always winning at the pay attention to me game.

In this case grand prize is hour long lecture about spiders reproduction (and also genetics, don't forget the genetics ;P)

[joyfuladorable]

You got this, Usagi! (He does not got this)

Silly bonus illustration for my buddy @forestwhisper3's fic Dragon of the Sun and also a Belated B-day gift for her! Go read her fic it's So Freaking Good!!!

Also, this is a redraw of the manga cover for Go For It, Nakamura!

[youwantamcdonaldbeautiful]

worlds most stupid yuri square I came up with for an au. yue and azula are in a Semi. Arranged marriage.

[rosemacclare]

I used to think it made me some kind of pervert. And now? And now I think I like the way I am.

[tire-d-artist]

YOU SHOULD DRAW SEBSON🫵🫵🫵 if you want to draw them☺️

By the way, what do you think about sebson? What kind of ship is your sebson?

Here you go, buddy! Thanks for asking

They’re very fun to draw by the way so I’ll definitely draw them again in the future

Now about how I see Sebson

They swallowed magnets

Cuntiest podiums EVER

No braincells

They’re so annoying

They love to bully each other (examples: “Who was that anyway?”, “Do you marry now?” “Why? Are you proposing?” and “beaten by Jenson for not wearing a tie. That’s alright. I’ll do that when I’m 30+”)

Adorable!!!! They be smiling and laughing 24/7

LOOK AT THEM

Bonus Sebmarkson/Martianson/Dilf sandwich as I like to call it:

Jenson stayed friends with both of them even throughout all the RedBull drama multi 21

Mark adds even more cunt to the podiums

Princess (Jenson), slut (Seb) and loser (Mark) even though they’re all slutty

[avianii]

Mav and goose

betrayal.

[littleblueturtle123]

Have I ever told yall how much i love tadc. And buttonblossom. And pink. And purple. (Sketch dump!!)

(Click for quality, reposts not allowed, reblogs encouraged!)

[ironicveghead]

All Blue Theory -

My theory for the All Blue is that it resides behind the guard of a storm on the Grand Line. A massive spiraling hurricane, impassable by ships. The storm itself pulls sea and air currents from all reaches of the sea, a natural highway for creatures, sediment, seeds, and weather patterns accumulating into one, twisting ecosystem.

The island is a coiled land mass, a mix of soil and topography threaded with each season one might find on the Grand Line.

(Do you see how many curly references I'm throwing in here?)

To reach the All Blue, it would take an incredible ship and crew, don't you think?

PS: I've worked this theory into my Mermaid-Sanji, Zosan fic "Let the Ocean Be Kind" but that's not required to read in order to join in my theory!

[tonguetyd]

I’m very lucky in that I can pinpoint the exact moment when I went from “I like this band” to “I am in the rabbit hole hitting multiple rocks on the way down, I am never recovering from this band” with ST.

Do you know how?

Because it was this photo.

Source: adamrosssi as always

It was so over the second I saw this. And I have not recovered since.

[warpweight]

ALL OF THIS EMOTIONALLY EXHAUSTING EXPERIENCE BEING DRAWN OUT FOR MONTHS AND FINALLY CULMINATING IN A BLOWOUT FIGHT/HEARTWRENCHING MAKEOUT/THE TWO LEAST ROMANTIC BOAT RIDES OF ALL TIME IN ONE NIGHT. AND THEN CHRISTINE DAAE HAS TO GO GET A MINWAGE JOB AT THE LAUNDROMAT TOO

[stereax]

please come to my party2

[Image ID: A really bad MS Paint poster for an invitation to LB the upcoming Devils-Flyers game. The top reads "yuore invited", then "it'll be fun i promise" in smaller text below, then "round 2!!!" in the same size below that. The Flyers and Devils logos are terribly drawn underneath, with a "vs" between them. On the right side near the Devils logo, a small pixelated Timo Meier headshot is seen with the caption "we have a timo!"; under it, even smaller and more pixelated headshots of Stefan Noesen and Brenden Dillon are seen with the smaller caption "and a noesen and dillon". On the left side near the Flyers logo is simply the text "no shrexwives AGAIN booooo". At the bottom, "#devils lb" is bold-italicized-underscored in red and "shrevils lb" bold-italicized-underscored in cyan. At the very bottom is the text "monday january 27 7 pm eastern time". In the very bottom right, in small size, is the text "please don't kill our other goalie <3". End ID.]

second playdate??? :3c

[wantonlywindswept]

10/10 fox day: forgotten fox bit

to celebrate fox day you get more of the next section of the forgotten fox au, which contains...zero fox actually present x_X

i am trying okay

---

Bucket, for the crimes of having an excellent sabacc face and a hip that seized up when moving any faster than a light jog, was often stuck manning the Guard HQ front desk.

They didn't get too many natborns coming through these days, at least, now that the CSF were forced to do their own jobs and had taken over guarding the prison. The Guard was back to being a protective, high-level military force instead of doing all the domestic policing and drudgework they'd been relegated to. They were still beholden to the Senate, but things had gotten better since Palpatine died and Organa took office, even if some of the Dome's denizens still saw them as little better than droids.

So Bucket didn't have to deal with that at least--he could, he got his name from being able to fit his demeanor to whatever the situation needed it, swapping faces like you could swap a helmet--but he did still have to deal with the regular comers and goers. Thankfully, that was mostly clones, plus the new addition of the pack of Jedi healers that descended on medbay once a week.

Interesting bunch, the Jedi. A lot more personable than Bucket had thought they would be. Surprisingly calm up until you admitted to using a soldering torch to close an acute laceration. 

(It wasn't even a recent injury--it happened so long ago that it was already healed. But now Master Nema gave Bucket the stink eye whenever she saw him, like she was trying to determine how medically stupid he'd been in her absence.)

"--figure what they were going on about?"

Bucket snapped to attention as the exterior doors slid open, a placid expression settling across his features. He turned toward the voice--only to relax when he caught sight of the visitors.

"Just something about another shift in the Force," Marshal Commander Cody said, offering Captain Rex a shrug. "It's not as bad as when Palpatine died; nobody passed out this time, at least."

"Small mercies," Commander Gree observed, bringing up the rear behind them. He had four takeout containers cradled in one arm, and by the smell they were from the offensively good noodle cart that parked near the base of the Rotunda. Bucket took a deep, envious breath and decided he was definitely going there for latemeal.

This particular group of GAR troopers--along with Commanders Bly and Wolffe--were a familiar enough sight at Guard HQ. They didn't visit often, almost eternally deployed to the front lines, but whenever their leaves lined up they usually made an appearance. Bucket had never seen all five together at once, but maybe that would change now that the war was over and battalions were being called back to Coruscant.

"Commanders, Captain," he greeted, standing up behind the counter to salute. His second for the day, Kelari, hastily copied the action. 

Cody waved the formality away with the sign for 'at ease', nodding at the two of them in turn.

"Sergeant Bucket," he greeted. "And I don't think I know..?"

"Private Kelari, sir!" Kelari chirped. She was still painfully shiny, wide-eyed and awestruck as she stared up at the Marshal Commander, and Bucket allowed the gaping with fond indulgence. 

She was one of their most recent acquisitions, part of a squadron that arrived after the death of the Chancellor. The group didn't have any direct experience with the war or the suffering that came with it, and the entire Guard were doing their damndest to make sure they never would.

"Private Kelari," Cody acknowledged, one side of his mouth ticking up. "Good to meet you."

Kelari beamed; Bucket shooed her away so he could get back in front of the security screens. 

"The Jedi up to shenanigans again?" he asked as he pulled up the admittance forms. 

Rex sighed, heavily, and Cody shot him an amused look.

"Let's just say," Gree said, "That it will be nice to avoid more half-coherent explanations on how the Force works in the future."

Bucket snorted, starting to fill out the usual info. The Guard never got a Jedi--and with the reveal of Palpatine being a Sith, they now knew why--but he had to admit he was glad they never needed to deal with the often-inexplicable Jedi tendency to rely so much on some invisible cosmic power.

"Captain CT-7567," he recited idly as his fingers flicked across the keys, "Commander CC-2224, and Commander CC-1004, here to see Commander--"

Bucket blinked at the 'reason for visit' box. 

This batch of clones had been visiting the entire war, either by themselves or together, whenever their rare leave allowed. They came often enough that if Bucket wasn't the one that would suffer the datawork hassle later, he would have just waved them on through. 

He was familiar enough with them to know that Cody's infamous scar came from a sparring accident, that Gree had three half-finished xenobiology research papers that he hoped to someday publish, and that Rex had been forcibly adopted by the CC clones without being allowed any input in the matter. He knew that Wolffe had three implanted teeth from multiple attempts at biting trainers through their armor as a cadet, and that Bly sometimes mixed up his letters and numbers and had almost been decommissioned as a result.

And Bucket had no idea what to put in the box.

He slowly lifted his gaze from the half-finished form to meet Cody's eyes. 

Missing memories weren't that uncommon, in the Guard, but as Bucket watched confusion steal across Cody's face--as that confusion shifted into rising unease and panicked alarm--he didn't think it was just a Guard problem, anymore.

[mewhengoninja]

What’s up with the red colour scheme ninjas falling for the relatives of villains who are (sort of) game show hosts

[deityoftherain]

touch-starved excursion - Scott-Centric w/Etho Wild Life EP 1 Fanfic

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Gen, M/M but also none? Ambiguous sparklesparkle

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 1,424

Summary: [Insert image of Scott and Etho sitting in the boat together during Wild Life Session 1] That's it, that's the fic.

Inspired by @celestial-clownz https://www.tumblr.com/celestial-clownz/766284661578170368/i-would-also-like-to-request-scottho-perhaps-the

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Summary Alternative (fic below image):

There were many things Scott had wondered about when Grian proposed Wild Life to them, but this certainly wasn’t one of them. Not that it was bad, by any means, but he could feel his face heating up with each passing moment. Scott attempted to joke enough with his friends to laugh suspicion off of him, not wanting the teasing to shift to a personal attack against him, and it seemed to work for the most part!

Hold on, wait– let’s back up for a moment.

The first wild card of the game altered their heights, making them taller every time they jumped and shorter every time they crouched. The height-change toggles made everything much more difficult to complete, especially when trying to crouch near ledges– he would know, he almost died because of it– but it wasn’t too bad, all things considered.

Scott was positive that future wild cards would be much, much worse than gaining the ability to change their size at will, but that was for Future Scott to worry about. Present Scott was too busy to be worrying about those right now. He was having a blast as he messed around with his friends, laughing and cracking jokes with whoever happened to join in. 

He wasn’t exactly sure why a handful of them decided to take a boat and row around within the wide river, but these early days were filled to the brim with supply gathering and lighthearted shenanigans such as this. Almost everyone was on dark green, made obvious by their eyes, making the only threat to their lives the typical mobs and their own negligence. People weren’t as hesitant to engage with one another for fears of being stabbed in the back just yet.

Moments of joy and bliss such as these were a significant reason why Scott continued to accept Grian’s invitation to these games of death, despite how heightened (ha!) his anxiety could get the longer he spent on the server. That, and he was good at it! He even had a win, maybe two under his belt! The rush of winning– of getting far– was a thrill so addicting he didn’t foresee himself escaping anytime soon. 

Besides, increased anxiety was expected for everyone who grew more fidgety and paranoid the more lives were lost, bloodlust festering and pumping extra adrenaline through their veins. He didn’t have to think that far ahead just yet, so he ignored the nagging within his brain in favor of the situation at hand.

Scott hopped into a boat with Etho first, so tiny he compared himself to a bug. He couldn’t even see over the edge of the boat’s rim unless he went on his tippy toes, but the novelty of it all entertained him more than the actual boat ride. Scott spent the next however long taking turns with the others, altering his own size whenever he switched off and got back onto land.

So why was Scott’s face flushing pink?

No, it wasn’t because of how hard he was laughing, though he would definitely allow others to come to that conclusion. It wasn’t like Scott could come up with a better misdirect if someone decided to call him out on the blush that painted his cheeks. The coloring was so undeniably vibrant against his freckles and fair complexion. 

Scott couldn’t help it though; his mind fixated on just how close Etho was to him. 

Boats tended to force Players fairly close together to start with, but with the wild card this session altering their sizes, it eventually managed to bring them even closer than Scott had ever guessed Etho would allow or feel comfortable doing. Scott had half the mind to not cross those boundaries and pull away himself, but Etho never pushed Scott away from him nor had he tried to flee the spot where he sat, so Scott didn’t dare punish himself if Etho was content.

Scott stood at a fairly average height; he wasn’t particularly short, but he also wasn’t  particularly tall either. Etho, on the other hand, would be labeled as tall. He had a good few inches on Scott, making it clear that there was a height difference, but it wasn’t anything drastic enough for Scott to achieve within his brain as a thing.  

The wild card had other plans, however. 

Etho grew and Scott shrunk, exaggerating the height difference they already had, so the present circumstance wouldn’t have changed much even if Scott were at his typical size. Due to their altered bodies and the boat’s space restriction, Scott was practically forced to sit in Etho’s lap… not that he minded that too much. 

The other man’s legs rested alongside Scott’s legs as his back laid flush against Etho’s torso. Etho interlocked his fingers and rested them on top of Scott’s head, using himself as a pillow and Scott as a vertical bed. Etho wasn’t known to be the most physically affectionate person, so Scott assured he was doing this to put on a bit of a show because of the wild card, but Scott couldn’t help but feel honored that he had chosen him for that task.

His heartbeat quickened its past as Scott started to daydream of Etho’s long, nimble fingers tangling themselves in his blue waves instead of with each other. If they didn’t have a potential audience around, perhaps Etho would wander Scott’s body, brushing gentle touches against sensitive skin and various curves. Or, if Scott was really lucky, Etho would curl his arms around Scott’s torso and bury his face into Scott’s hair or against his neck. 

Oh, how Scott longed to be encompassed so thoroughly, surrounded by love, affection, and a comforting touch… though these thoughts were likely a result of Scott’s neediness. Touch was extremely important to him, especially casual signs of affection. They were a way to display care without words, and they helped ease the sick, fragile ache of being touch starved.

Perhaps that was why sitting on Etho caused flowers of all kinds of colors to grow in his hair and on the surface of the water around them, brought into life without conscious thought. They were his specialty, after all, so it was no wonder why their creation came so naturally. It was concerning that they had arrived without him realizing at first, however. Flowers often appeared around him as a physical indicator of strong emotions, meaning the flusteredness wasn’t just some baseline infatuation. 

Maybe the flowers were brought on less because of Etho and more because of the comfortable touch. It has been a while since Scott managed to secure a chunk of time with any of his friends with everything going on. He hadn’t wanted to bother them when they weren’t open to it, so none of them have helped fulfill that desire in such a long time now. That longing only fueled the fire that raged under his skin as his mind focused on their points of contact and more flowers sprouted up around them. If Etho noticed, which Scott was sure he must have, Etho didn’t comment.

In a way, flowers were an extension of himself, so it felt incredibly cruel and unfair for them to act against him like this. It was some sort of cruel trick from the universe to expose his true emotions in such a colorful and obvious way, especially because he couldn’t lie because of his fae heritage! Half-truths tended to be sufficient enough, for Scott knew how to use them when he needed to, but his annoyance still stood.

Or maybe it didn’t.

Void, it was hard to be annoyed when Etho was so close, his face so close Scott sensed his presence even if his mask blocked most of the breath that would otherwise hit his neck.

Passively, Scott wondered if Etho could feel the rapid beating of his heart or the way his breathing hitched, but he didn’t dare ask. Scott didn’t want to risk breaking this tender moment, a blimp in the game that Etho would likely forget even if Scott didn’t. Scott wanted to enjoy every second of contact for as long as he could, for he knew it was unlikely he would find the chance to indulge himself, unless his teammates offered their services.

Unfortunately, it was only a matter of time before Etho pulled away and left Scott the boat behind. Time was precious, after all, and no one ever knew when one would experience luxury, comfort, or positive happenings for the last time. 

[maydays-medbay]

My sketches from the magma @dimorphodon-x hosted! I had so much fun watching everyone make their art! I'd definitely be down to do something like this again, a thousand times over! (Also, Pike is the hollow knight vessel character! I made him recently, and I might talk about him when I get more info about him fleshed out :>)

[yarrayora]

vampires as a symbol of grieving

not grief itself, no

grieving

of people who don't know how to move on, of people who have been swallowed by despair

the first vampire created was an orphan from a small village, abandoned by everyone and then revived by a stranger who desperately dug up his grave

he was named Sleepy Ash to reject the funeral prayer "earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust" he's not dead, you see. just sleeping.

he was given this eternal life in exchange of the lives of the villagers. he grieves and mourns them even to this day. and because it's his fault, because he's a monster, never once he thought to grieve for himself. and so his grieving hasn't ended, because nobody mourns the death of the human before he was the first vampire.

until finally mahiru grieves for adam the human who died, so sleepy ash can finally move on as the vampire called kuro.

there is a vampire called world's end who takes no kin of his own because he refuses to acknowledge his grief. he lies to himself that he doesn't need other people, that he raged because he has a principle to uphold. he never stops to think that his principle stems from his grief. do not harm the weak, because he was a man who failed to protect the weak.

until finally nicco grieves for the little girl sacrificed to revive the gladiator slave, so ildio can finally fight for the people he loves.

there is a vampire who drowned in the sin of lust. he takes in the dying children and raised them with love untouched by lust. these children will grow into adults that will define him as their angel and savior.

he feeds the dead children his blood to give them a second chance at a happy childhood. these children are the symbol of grieving. grieving for the robbed future, for children who will never get to become an adult. but it's alright. one day they will make the choice to walk under the sunlight on their own, when they are finally satisfied and ready to move on.

but

who

will grieve

for their angel and savior