#wow it's late

[nord-ronnoc]

Endgame (August 6th, 2023) | Star Wars Jedi: Survivor | Part 11

[ratsketches]

= The Devil That Brings Disaster =

[smokin-salmon]

Fuck it. *Makes the old woman cry*

[bread--quest]

we all need to start appreciating peridot stevenuniverse more for what she did for us. it would be easier to say what she DIDN'T do honestly. she's autistic. she's silly. she's sad and little. she's an overworked i. t. guy. she's a saturday morning cartoon villain. she's aroace. she's gay. she yelled at her boss and immediately had a mental breakdown. she's both a victim of and perpetuates the oppressive society she was raised in. she has to unlearn her conceptions of other people's worth and her own worth so she stops hurting other people and hurting herself. she achieves this in part through robot fights. she's hyperfixated on a canadian soap opera. she draws shipping charts. she's nonbinary. she can never go home again. she doesn't want to go home again. she went from believing literally anything was a weapon that could be used to harm her to farming and making art and music with her best friend in a barn. she's like 3 feet tall. she has a twitter account where she talks in all caps constantly. she's green and her hair is a triangle literally what can't she do.

[late-draft]

[claybooots]

Bepo *smiles wide*

[hazieash]

Astrid about to use her new genjutsu

[civetside]

hello guys it's me miss consistent art style!!! wrestling AU????? sorry i am smashing my 2 current interests together as ya do, gideons trying to be a cool pro wrestler and harrow is her manager

[violent138]

My personal headcanon for Clark Kent interviewing Bruce Wayne (when neither of them know each other's secret identity) is that Clark is the one person Bruce doesn't flirt with and leaves with a halfway coherent interview. A reluctantly impressed Perry White sends Clark repeatedly to get quotes, and work on more articles, leading to Bruce and Clark having several calls, some of which jokingly get called "off the record calls". This goes on for several months before they realize that's just called being friends, they hang out, and they have their identity reveal, it's less jarring because they know a lot about each other and Bruce informs Clark that he's sending Clark a suit made of more durable materials when Bruce realizes how rippable it is during making out.

[shanastoryteller]

The day his deal comes due, Sam goes missing.

Dean tells himself it’s nothing, that he’s gotten caught up in some research, some last ditch, hail mary nonsense and that he’s just turned his phone off and everything’s fine, that he wouldn’t do something stupid, that he wouldn’t break his promise.

He tells himself that for the first two minutes after he cracks his eyes open and sees the empty bed across from him, and the first time his call goes straight to voicemail, and not much after that. Sam’s broken his promises over things significantly less important to him than his brother’s life.

Dean is dressed and in the Impala five minutes later, heart thudding wildly in his chest. He calls Bobby, Ellen, everyone he can think of, but none of them have heard from Sam, none of them have eyes on him. Sam was with him last night, even if he boosted a car, there’s only so far he can get.

He keeps calling, keep searching, desperate to stop whatever he’s trying to do, to find him, to see his brother one last time before he’s dragged to hell. To make sure Sam is going to be okay after he’s dragged to hell. But the hours tick down, the sun sets, and he can’t find a trace of him. He’s so exhausted and heart sick that when he goes to call Sam again it takes him a long time to read the number on his phone, eyes swimming, the time not making any sense.

1:03

That’s not possible.

That’s not –

His phone rings, blocking out the time with Bobby’s name across the screen, and he answers it but his throat is too thick to say anything.

“Dean?” Bobby says tentatively. “Are you – I got an email from Sam. It just said, I mean, did–“

“What did it say, Bobby?” he asks, even though he’s sure he knows.

Bobby sucks in a breath at his voice, because he knows just as well as Dean that he should be screaming in hell right now, not answering his phone. “To take care of you.”

Dean drops the phone, hears Bobby still talking as he grips the wheel and presses his forehead against the back of his hands. This is what he’d been afraid of. This is why he hadn’t wanted to mess with the deal in first place. This is the one thing he’d begged Sam not to do.

It's easy to find a crossroad.

The demon is laughing at him when it shows up, wicked grin in a pretty face. “That didn’t take you long, boy.”

It’s a different demon than the one he delt with, obviously, but Dean figures they all know the same shit, since demons are a bunch of gossips. “This wasn’t the deal. My brother lives and I die.”

“You traded your soul for your brother’s life,” she corrects, so amused by all this that all he wants to do is kill her, to exorcise her, to make her scream. “Just like your father traded his for yours. There’s no reason Sammy can’t make his own trade. Man, but is your family fucked up. Maybe if you’d just settled down like little Sammy wanted, you wouldn’t all be bargaining for each other’s lives like haggling at a flea market.”

“Untrade it,” he snaps. “My soul for him alive, come on, no year, no waiting, you bring him back and take me to hell right now.”

She laughs in his face. “You don’t have anything to bargain with, boy.”

“My soul,” he repeats, “That’s what this is about, isn’t?”

“Oh, it’s what it’s all about,” she says. “But Sammy’s a clever boy. You know that, don’t you? He didn’t trade his soul for your life, he didn’t have to. You didn’t die. No, he traded it for your soul. Sorry, honey, but your credits been declined.”

At first he doesn’t understand. Sam traded his soul for Dean’s, exactly, so there’s no reason he can’t trade it right back. Then he gets it.

She sees the exact moment it clicks, the moment despair and horror sweep across his face too quickly for him to stop them. “That’s right. Little brother owns your soul now. For some reason he didn’t think you’d take proper care of it. You have it because that’s where he wants it, but no one will be making any deals with you, Dean Winchester. You can’t sell a soul you don’t own.”

“You can’t,” he has to clear his throat, “you can’t just come in and change things at the eleventh hour-”

“Eleventh hour?” she interrupts. “Sammy made his deal eleven months ago.”

His mouth is so dry he can’t speak.

“Isn’t it funny?” she asks, head cocked to the side. “All this time, the deal he’s been trying to get out of wasn’t yours, but his own. Maybe the two of you might have even managed it, except you just wouldn’t help, would you? Insisting that he not research, that he not look for a way out, and he spent so much time trying to convince you, coaxing you to talk about your feelings when he knew you were safe, all he because he thought it would make you feel better when he was gone, because he couldn’t tell you the truth and talk about how scared he was, so talking about your fear was as close as he could get.”

Dean’s going to be sick. “Don’t – please, please, I’ll give you anything-”

“You don’t have anything,” she says, gleeful. “You want to know why I agreed? The thing that made it just too delicious to refuse? Sammy’s down there, just starting in on an eternity of torture, and all he has to do get out of it is give up your soul. It’s his, after all, and he can put the original deal back in place any time he chooses. Just one moment of weakness on his end and his beloved big brother will be on the rack instead.” She sighs happily. “It’s almost as good as anything we’re doing to him down there, the knowledge that if he slips up for even a moment then it would all be for nothing. I couldn’t have found a way to twist the knife deeper if I tried.”

There’s vomit crawling its way up his throat and he has to swallow it down before he can speak. “I can’t – I’ll do whatever you want, please, there has to be something.”

She leans forward, cruelty and delight shining in her eyes. “The only thing you can do is what you’ve been telling your precious baby brother to do for the past year. Accept it. Move on. Live a good life so his sacrifice isn’t in vain.”

God. How can she – how can Sammy expect him to –

He’s doubling over, finally upchucking what little he’s ate today, and he’s dry heaving on the dirt when he hears the fading sound of her laughter.

This can’t be real. This has to be Hell, he has to be in it right now. He has to be.

[napping-sapphic]

*gives you a gay little kiss that feels like home*

[royaltea000]

This man has no idea how close he is at all times to being attic wifed

[grey-viridian]

My doodling process be like:

pain pain angst 🌈HAPPY PRIDE MONTH🌈 pain

[thelien-art]

Eönwë, Herald of Manwë & Ilmarë, handmaiden of Varda

Eönwë likes shiny stuff, I don´t make the rules

[amalthiaph]

or whatever 'laundry' and 'taxes' are called in a galaxy, far, far away.

This was supposed to be my May the 4th Art but every day is Star Wars day if you're hyperfixated enough

so let me post it eleven days later. Okayy, but I have to admit that it really bummed me out how I wasn't able to finish this on time, bec I had planned this since January.

Rebelcaptain was my first Star Wars ship and since I heard this quote, Jyn and Cassian are all that ever came to my brain.

Here are the clean version (for those who are still reading this and ILYASM btw)

[orukkart]

who took a chomp out of that thigh—??

insp: 'Heatstroke' photoshoot (duh) published in GQ China June 2024