#wandering anchor

[purpearls]

doodled my brother's dragoon, wandering anchor aka anka, from our ffxiv dnd campaign!!!

[fumscomics]

DRIFTING ANCHOR & WANDERING SPECTRENAUT (2022)

A Spectrenaut who visits the spirit world runs into an old friend from her past and catches up with each other over egg pie while reminiscing about their times together as a team.

[fieriframes]

[AND THEN YOU GOT THE FOLKS WHO JUST LOVE A DIVE, A WANDERING CORPSE, A BUNDLE OF MINDLESS FUNCTIONS, WHO CAN'T TELL ME ENOUGH ABOUT THEIR FAVORITE DIVE, A PLACE CALLED ANCHOR BAR AND GRILL.]

[countdown-til-sanders-take-over]

this is a formal apology for every time i've read ur fnaf theories, gone "ah... of course! yes!" and then forgotten to respond

This is a formal apology for every time I've read one of your asks, not immediately had a TQ&/E, and forgotten to respond

[tardis--dreams]

Why do i cry listening to bastille's the anchor thinking about one specific person. Stop that at once. I don't like it

[morethanwonderful]

God Zhou Ying as a kid really is just. What if you were a child whose perception of reality was wildly different from every adult around you. What if you were constantly overwhelmed and overstimulated and focused on the "wrong" thing. What if you were always distracted by background details of the world that no one else ever noticed?

What if you were a child who sometimes dissociated from the reality around you? What if you regularly lost track of where you were and saw horrible things, and when you came back to yourself you were always scared and confused? And what if every adult that was supposed to take care of you was so scared by your dissociating that when you were at your most needy and helpless, all your caregivers fearfully ignored you and pretended they couldn't see what was happening?

Surely this is a situation that can only apply to someone magical.

[fumssketches]

hi!! apologies for the lack of art for the past couple of months!! i’ve been working on this 23 pg comic and i hope you check it out!!

A Spectrenaut who visits the spirit world runs into an old friend from her past and catch up with each other over egg pie while reminiscing about their times together as a team.

you can buy it in my ko-fi  or gumroad shop!! along with that, i’ve got other comics available on my ko-fi or gumroad if you would like to support me there thanks!!

[waffliesinyoface]

i like to imagine that kaiba, having been an Actual Fucking Sorcerer in his past life, also has some level of magical bullshit abilities inherent to the other members of the cast

crucially, they are strongest and can only be reliably manifested when kaiba is being... himself. This is most notable when it actually happens in canon - ie: kaiba defies ishizu’s 100% accurate predictions of the future through the sheer power of fuck you, god, he’s going to win this duel with blue-eyes. I want to believe that he changed the future through sheer assholery.

Now, admittedly, the “ridiculously skeptical” part of his personality was inflated by the anime - in the manga he is a bit more introspective about it, and notably, after battle city, he kinda just goes “fuck y’all, Kaiba OUT” and leaves, and isn’t as dismissive of “that hocus-pocus nonsense” as he was before, because you know. Shadow games and angry gods just kind of happened in front of him. 

That said... he’s still like that at the beginning of battle city, despite getting mind-crushed by Atem in the prologue and Pegasus mucking about with souls in Duelist Kingdom. Magic has already happened to him personally, and he still goes “nah”. So in this case, I’m willing to make an exception for the anime-only arcs where he shows back up and continues blatantly ignoring magic shit, because it’s funny. 

Anyways. Based on that, I’m willing to argue that, should Bakura or Atem actually bodily project in front of Kaiba, as opposed to their regular possession shtick, I feel like Kaiba could just. Tell them no. He can accept that Yugi sometimes gets more dramatic but is willing to acknowledge split personalities as a Thing. If either of them tried to talk (atem) / threaten (bakura) him in ghost form, he could just be like “ghosts aren’t real” and they would be forcibly relocated back into their respective items. 

[bird-likes-to-fandom]

In your psychic Ezra au, is Jane bound to Ezra? Like, does she have to flow him everywhere in order to free Penny's soul and get her identified?

She is not! She's just as much of a ghost as the rest of the town's ghosts, so she can go anywhere and do pretty much anything she likes.

She feels a particular connection to Ezra, though, which is why she's around him so often. She doesn't usually leave his side unless he's sleeping or something like that, and he has no idea where she goes. I think she probably retreats into the liminal warehouse space to hang out with Ricky, but I'm not sure if I want the whole warehouse thing to be canon in this au :/

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

On abortion, a subject that is shitty as fuck.

To me, the biggest problem is that society was made to not accept fresh life unconditionally. Like the mindset that had developed through the course was it was a burden to have a child. And this burden was some encapsulation of financial responsibility and societal esteem and image.

And I am not saying ban abortion in the world. I am saying I want a cashless society where abortion would never need to be considered an option.

A place where there is no incest with father figures impregnating down their tree. A place where a single action following a decision to rape a woman ends in death: further beyond that a prison of suffering reflected back and penned in, for Time Eternal.

[auroradicit]

robin and m'gann. shapeshifting impacting your relationship with gender in equal and opposite ways.

[writerthreads]

How to avoid White Room Syndrome

by Writerthreads on Instagram

A common problem writers face is "white room syndrome"—when scenes feel like they’re happening in an empty white room. To avoid this, it's important to describe settings in a way that makes them feel real and alive, without overloading readers with too much detail. Here are a few tips below to help!

Focus on a few key details

You don’t need to describe everything in the scene—just pick a couple of specific, memorable details to bring the setting to life. Maybe it’s the creaky floorboards in an old house, the musty smell of a forgotten attic, or the soft hum of a refrigerator in a small kitchen. These little details help anchor the scene and give readers something to picture, without dragging the action with heaps of descriptions.

Engage the senses

Instead of just focusing on what characters can see, try to incorporate all five senses—what do they hear, smell, feel, or even taste? Describe the smell of fresh bread from a nearby bakery, or the damp chill of a foggy morning. This adds a lot of depth and make the location feel more real and imaginable.

Mix descriptions with actions

Have characters interact with the environment. How do your characters move through the space? Are they brushing their hands over a dusty bookshelf, shuffling through fallen leaves, or squeezing through a crowded subway car? Instead of dumping a paragraph of description, mix it in with the action or dialogue.

Use the setting to reflect a mood or theme

Sometimes, the setting can do more than just provide a backdrop—it can reinforce the mood of a scene or even reflect a theme in the story. A stormy night might enhance tension, while a warm, sunny day might highlight a moment of peace. The environment can add an extra layer to what’s happening symbolically.

Here's an example of writing a description that hopefully feels alive and realistic, without dragging the action:

The bookstore was tucked between two brick buildings, its faded sign creaking with every gust of wind. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of worn paper and dust, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee from a corner café down the street. The wooden floorboards groaned as Ella wandered between the shelves, her fingertips brushing the spines of forgotten novels. Somewhere in the back, the soft sound of jazz crackled from an ancient radio.

Hope these tips help in your writing!

[size-two-shrimp]

Thinkin about dead clades walking.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

18+ thoughts about LOGAN holding your hands above your head while you fuck

[fem!reader, mdni]

He rather likes the control of it, the ability to configure and move you in ways he pleases. The image of you below beautifully lewd: your wrists crossed over the other, a singular large hand securing their effortless bind – his weight from you above anchoring you in place.

Your knees loosely hugging at his waist, the contact minimal and desperate and clingy through your bound, busied hands. You’re handsy, urgent to feel him, though you can’t. All you can do is ball your fists and wiggle your hands, needy, extended fingers reaching down to skim the skin on the back of his hand.

He knew you were keen for contact, he could see it. Those knitted brows curling on your face every time he pulses around your hands, the act like he was teasing you with the temptation of letting go. The tiny microexpressions a window into every small yet overwhelming feeling you’re struggling to contain. 

His hips rock into you in a fluid, easing motion – each stroke calculated and precise despite it all being so soft and gentle. His cock sinking into you ever so perfectly, every wind nicely hitting at that spot inside.

His hands are occupied with you while yours remain empty – one hand still gripped firmly around your wrists, the other clutched to your side. His palm warm and busy as he touches you, the hasty motion of his wandering hand feeling over your side and your hip and your breast. 

Your knees tighten at his side as you adjust your hips, the new angle allowing him to slip in just that bit deeper. 

“Fuck,” he utters into your rawly kissed neck. The fresh, flush feeling of you loosening and tightening makes him momentarily miss a breath. “Fuck,” he repeats, the word strained and breathless between a staggered thrust.

The grip he has around your wrists tightens, his hold straightening your arms above your head. He dips in to press a string of kisses along your upper, inner arm – littering the sensitive skin with gentle, loving pecks. And the hand he briefly has on your waist lowers, his palm moving to situate on the back of your knee. 

The slight force prying your legs open, keeping them comfortably spread apart for him between. To fuck into you just that bit further.

[ninibeingdelulu]

Calmness ✧

Plot: Ken and you have a real daughter.

A/N: kinda short :(

Soft evening light filtered through the den, casting everything in that warm, nostalgic glow you'd come to associate with pure contentment over these past few blissful years together.

Ken's attention remained transfixed on that vintage baseball game rerun flickering across the flatscreen.

Body settled deep into those overstuffed couch cushions with one leg casually crossed over the other in peak middle-aged dad repose.

But it was the tiny, swaddled bundle cradled against his barrel chest that held your rapt fascination from the archway.

Soaking in every precious detail of their serene tableau with an overflow of maternal adoration swelling in your breast.

At just three months old, your newborn daughter remained utterly oblivious to her surroundings - cherubic features smoothed into perfect repose while bronzed lashes fanned over porcelain cheeks.

One little fist tucked up beneath her chin while the other tiny starfish hand rested atop Ken's broad pec, rising and falling with each of his steady rumbles.

Her doting father absently brushed the pad of his thumb in soothing circles over the minuscule knuckles. Never once taking those transfixed mahogany pools off your slumbering miracle's face as if committing every microscopic shift to eternal memory.

That singular worshipful reverie you'd immediately recognized and fallen hopelessly in love with all over again these past few weeks.

The exact same soul-deep look Ken once bestowed solely upon the orphaned kaiju he'd raised before watching her depart for greener pastures - now magnified tenfold through his unbreakable connection to your shared offspring.

A permanent reminder of the family you created together from that cosmic loneliness.

"She's not at all like Emi was , is she?" You murmured, footsteps barely audible across the plush carpet until dropping onto the open cushion space beside him.

Ken responded with only a low rumbling hum from his broad chest while immediately unfurling that sheltering arm around your shoulders.

Cocooning you into his solid, familiar warmth until your cheek smooshed comfortably against the firmness of his shoulder. Close enough to press a wandering caress across your tiny miracle's silken crown.

"No - she's not. She's ours." A meaningful pause preceded Ken's soft, gravelly rasp ghosting across your hairline. "Our daughter...our real baby that you gave me, sweetheart. One I'll guard with my life the same way I do for you always."

Melting into the tender, possessive squeeze encircling your trim waist, you craned your chin up against his collarbone to receive that lingering brush over your puckered lips.

Ken's soulful gaze locked onto yours - swimming depths of protective ferocity tamed only through utter reverence for the two solitary souls anchoring his universe now.

The unspoken mantra of doing anything to safeguard the loves of his life until extinction itself.

"You've already given me more than enough happiness to last a trillion lifetimes, babe. Thank you," he whispered hoarsely against your skin.

"For being everything I could've dreamed during those cold, empty decades..."

You stifled the tiny sniffle by reclaiming his questing mouth in a searing, needful communion - conveying through satin caresses alone just how desperately you treasured this man and the profound sanctuary of family he'd bestowed upon you.

Your Ultraman, protector, partner, and living legacy of insurmountable love all in one. Cradling you both to his gallant hero's heart for eternity.

[aphel1on]

the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.