#// Am I proud of this one? Also yes-

[gomzdrawfr]

🎃happy thanksgiving🦃

reblogs are appreciated!

[link]

[deefighter2739]

It's still summer at Dedede's Resort... 😘❤️☀

[gingermintpepper]

One of my biggest pet peeves is the assumption that something has to be sad for it to be tragic.

I've always been a big believer of the 'Apollo has an awful love life'/'Apollo is plain unlucky with love' line of thinking but it does bother me that the general reasoning for that statement is given to the concept of 'Apollo is somehow undesireable and thus rejected' (Cassandra/Daphne/Marpessa) or 'his lovers die young and thus their love is unfulfilled' (Cyparissus/Hyacinthus/Coronis). I personally think that's a very unfortunate way of looking at things - not only because it neglects the many perfectly cordial entanglements and affairs Apollo has had, both mortal and divine - but because it presents a very shallow interpretation of the concepts of love and loss and how loss affects people.

Apollo can still grieve lovers that have a long, healthy life. The inherent tragedy of an immortal who knows his lovers and children will die and cannot stop it does not stop being tragic simply because those lovers and children live long, fulfilled lives. The inherent tragedy of loss does not stop being tragic simply because someone knows better than to mourn something that was always going to end.

What is tragic is not that Apollo loves and loses but that loss itself follows him. Apollo does not love with the distance of an immortal, he does not have affairs and then leaves never to listen to their prayers again. He does not have offspring and then abandon them to their trials only to appear when it is time to lead them to their destinies. He raises his young, he protects the mothers of his children, he blesses the households that have his favour and multiplies their flocks that they may never go hungry. He educates his sons, he adorns his daughters and even in wrath he is quick to come to his senses and regret the punishments he doles out.

Apollo loves. And like mortals, there will always be some part of him that wishes to protect the objects of his affections. Apollo, however, is also an emissary of Fate. He knows that the fate of all mortal things is death. He knows that to love a mortal is to accept that eventually he will have to bury them. There is no illusion of forever, there is no fantasy where he fights against the nature of living things and shields his beloveds from death. Apollo loves and because of that love, he also accepts.

And that, while beautiful, is also tragic.

[joifee]

Fungus mage ✨ I am excited for this origin hehehe

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

And that’s a wrap for Comic Con 2024! Ha, it was a lot of fun, but I really enjoyed dressing up as Mondo today! I even had a couple people recognize him! And a few others just liked the hair, one of whom asked how long it took me to get my hair like that, which tells me that at least it looks natural enough for people to mistake it as my actual hair, ha.

Overall, Comic Con was cool! On Thursday, I attended a live podcast recording for Braving the Elements, which is an Avatar the Last Airbender podcast hosted by Janet Varney and Dante Bosco (the voices of Korra and Zuko, respectively), and I actually got a trivia question right and I should (hopefully…) get an email from them soon to get a prize for answering the question right. If not… oh well. At least I’ll be featured briefly on the podcast answering trivia correctly, even though I usually suck at trivia, ha.

The rest of the days were a bit more meh, but I still had fun. I won a Pokeball ornament from a Hallmark panel, since I knew how many Squirtles were in the Squirtle Squad, aha. Which leaves my trivia score 2 for 2 at the moment.😅 I also got a free shirt and scarf for the upcoming Yakuza live action show, which was neat. I’ve never played Yakuza, but my brother has, so I was able to give him the shirt at least.

Still, while Comic Con was fun, I’m definitely glad it’s over so I can go home and clean up from my frantic cosplay creating the last several weeks, oof.

Also! On the first day I dressed at Taka, but since I was by myself I only have the one photo my dad was able to quickly take of me before he had to drive off and a quick selfie I took in the car.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

thinking about puppet!Home. also thinking about that tidbit saying that Wally had to learn how to be gentle first as to not break things. combining both for maximum effect

[arttlars]

Sanuso art I did for Valentine's day hehe

[acourtofquestions]

Kingdom of Ash Chapter 61

Chapter; Highlights (okay the entire chapter is a highlight)🤣

As requested @mysterylilycheeta I NEED TO SQUEAL IN WYVERN FANGIRL WITH YOU NOW CAUSE OH M GOODNESS THIS CHAPTER ON SO MANY LEVELS I JUST AHAKWIHUHFEJLZXBKEKA

Agony was a song in Lorcan's blood, his bones, his breath.

Every step of the horse, every leap she made over body and debris, sent it ringing afresh. There was no end, no mercy from it. It was all he could do to keep in the saddle, to cling to consciousness.

To keep his arm around Elide.

She had come for him. Had found him, somehow, on this endless battlefield.

His name on her lips had been a summons he could never deny, even when death had held him so gently, nestled beneath all those he'd felled, I, and waited for his last breaths.

And now, charging toward that too-distant keep, so far behind the droves of soldiers and riders racing for the gates, he wondered if these minutes would be his last. Her last.

She had come for him.

Lorcan managed to glance toward the dam on their right. Toward the ruk rider signaling that it was only a matter of minutes until it unleashed hell over the plain.

He didn't know how it had become weakened. Didn't care.

Still Elide kept urging the horse onward, kept them on as straight a path toward the distant keep as possible.

No ruk would come to sweep them up. No, his luck had been spent in surviving this long, in her finding him. His power would do nothing against that water.

The farthest lines of panicked soldiers appeared, and Farasha charged past them.

Elide let out a sob, and he followed the line of her sight.

To the keep gate, still open.

"Faster, Farasha!" She didn't hide the raw terror in her voice, the desperation.

Once the dam broke, it would take less than a minute for the tidal wave to reach them.

She had come for him. She had found him.

The world went quiet. The pain in his body faded into nothing. Into something secondary.

Lorcan slid his other arm around Elide, bringing his mouth close to her ear as he said, "You have to let me go."

Each word was gravelly, his voice strained nearly to the point of uselessness.

Elide didn't shift her focus from the keep ahead. "No."

That gentle quiet flowed around him, clearing the fog of pain and battle. "You have to. You have to, Elide. I'm too heavy-and without my weight, you might make it to the keep in time."

"No." The salt of her tears filled his nose.

Lorcan brushed his mouth over her damp cheek, ignoring the roaring pain in his body. The horse galloped and galloped, as if she might outrace death itself.

"I love you," he whispered in Elide's ear. "I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken." Her tears flowed past him in the wind. "And I will be with you ..." His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. "I will be with you always."

He was not frightened of what would come for him once he tumbled off the horse. He was not frightened at all, if it meant her reaching the keep.

So Lorcan kissed Elide's cheek again, allowed himself to breathe in her scent one last time. "I love you," he repeated, and began to withdraw his arms from around her waist.

Elide slapped a hand onto his forearm. Dug in her nails, right into his skin, fierce as any ruk.

"No."

There were no tears in her voice. Nothing but solid, unwavering steel.

"No," she said again. The voice of the Lady of Perranth.

Lorcan tried to move his arm, but her grip would not be dislodged.

If he tumbled off the horse, she would go with him.

Together. They would either outrun this or die together.

"Elide-"

But Elide slammed her heels into the horse's sides.

Slammed her heels into the dark flank and screamed, "FLY, FARASHA." She cracked the reins. "FLY, FLY, FLY!"

And gods help her, that horse did.

As if the god that had crafted her filled the mare's lungs with his own breath, Farasha gave a surge of speed.

Faster than the wind. Faster than death.

Farasha cleared the first of the fleeing Darghan cavalry. Passed desperate horses and riders at an all-out gallop for the gates.

Her mighty heart did not falter, even when Lorcan knew it was raging to the point of bursting.

Less than a mile stood between them and the keep.

But a thunderous, groaning crack cleaved the world, echoing off the lake, the mountains.

There was nothing he could do, nothing that brave, unfaltering horse could do, as the dam ruptured.

Rowan made himself stand there, to watch the last moments of the Lady of Perranth and his former commander. It was all he could offer: witnessing their deaths, so he might tell the story to those he encountered. So they would not be forgotten.

The roaring of the oncoming wave became deafening, even from miles away.

Still Elide and Lorcan raced, Farasha passing horse after horse after horse.

Even up here, would they escape the wave's reach? Rowan dared to survey the battlements, to assess if he needed to get the others, needed to get Aelin, to higher ground.

But Aelin was not at his side.

She was not on the battlement at all.

Rowan's heart halted. Simply stopped beating as a ruddy-brown ruk dropped from the skies, spearing for the center of the plain.

Arcas, Borte's ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons.

Aelin. Aelin was—

Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying.

Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet.

Right in the path of that wave.

"Oh gods," Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too.

They all saw her.

The queen on the plain.

The endless wall of water surging for her.

The keep stones began shuddering. Rowan threw out a hand to brace himself, fear like nothing he had known ripping through him as Aelin lifted her arms above her head.

A pillar of fire shot up around her, lifting her hair with it.

The wave roared and roared for her, for the army behind her.

The shaking in the keep was not from the wave.

It was not from that wall of water at all.

Cracks formed in the earth, splintering across it. Spiderwebbing from Aelin.

"The hot springs," Chaol breathed. "The valley floor is full of veins into the earth itself."

Into the burning heart of the world.

The keep shook, more violently this time.

The pillar of fire sucked back into Aelin.

She held out a hand before her, her fist closed.

As if it would halt the wave in its tracks.

He knew then. Either as her mate or carranam, he knew.

"Three months," Rowan breathed.

The others stilled.

"Three months," he said again, his knees wobbling. "She's been making the descent into her power for three months."

Every day she had been with Maeve, bound in iron, she had gone deeper. And she had not tapped too far into that power since they'd freed her because she had kept making the plunge.

To gather up the full might of her magic.

Not for the Lock, not for Erawan.

But for Maeve's death blow.

A few weeks of descent had taken her powers to devastating levels. Three months of it

…

Holy gods. Holy rutting gods.

And when her fire hit the wall of water now towering over her, when they collided —

"GET DOWN!" Rowan bellowed, over the screaming waters. "GET DOWN NOW!"

His companions dropped to the stones, any within earshot doing the same.

Rowan plummeted into his power. Plummeted into it fast and hard, ripping out any remaining shred of magic.

Elide and Lorcan were still too far from the gates. Thousands of soldiers were still too far from the gates as the wave crested above them.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it.

Fire erupted.

Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame.

A tidal wave of it.

Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

The wave slammed into it. And where water met a wall of fire, where a thousand years of confinement met three months of it, the world exploded.

Blistering steam, capable of melting flesh from bone, shot across the plain.

With a roar, Rowan threw all that remained of his magic toward the onslaught of steam, a wall of wind that shoved it toward the lake, the mountains.

Still the waters came, breaking against the flames that did not so much as yield an inch.

Maeve's death blow. Spent here, to save the army that might mean Terrasen's salvation. To spare the lives on the plain.

Rowan gritted his teeth, panting against his fraying power. A burnout lurked, deadly close.

The raging wave threw itself over and over and over into the wall of flame.

Rowan didn't see if Elide and Lorcan made it into the keep. If the other soldiers and riders on the plain stopped to gape.

Princess Hasar said, rising beside him, "That power is no blessing."

"Tell that to your soldiers," Fenrys snarled, standing, too.

"I did not mean it that way," Hasar snipped, and awe was indeed stark on her face.

Rowan leaned against the battlements, panting hard as he fought to keep the lethal steam from flowing toward the army. As he cooled and sent it whisking away.

Solid hands slid under his arms, and then Fenrys and Gavriel were there, propping him up between them.

A minute passed. Then another.

The wave began to lower. Still the fire burned.

Rowan's head pounded, his mouth going dry.

Time slipped from him. A coppery tang filled his mouth.

The wave lowered farther, raging waters quieting. Then roaring turned to lapping, rapids into eddies.

Until the wall of flame began to lower, too. Tracking the waters down and down and down. Letting them seep into the cracks of the earth.

Rowan's knees buckled, but he held on to his magic long enough for the steam to lessen.

For it, too, to be calmed.

It filled the plain, turning the world into drifting mist. Blocking the view of the queen in its center.

Then silence. Utter silence.

Fire flickered through the mist, blue turning to gold and red. A muted, throbbing glow.

Rowan spat blood onto the battlement stones, his breath like shards of glass in his throat.

The glowing flames shrank, steam rippling past. Until there was only a slim pillar of fire, veiled in the mist-shrouded plain.

Not a pillar of fire.

But Aelin.

Glowing white-hot. As if she had given herself so wholly to the flame that she had become fire herself.

The Fire-Bringer someone whispered down the battlements.

The mist rippled and billowed, casting her into nothing but a glowing effigy.

The silence turned reverent.

A gentle wind from the north swept down. The veil of mist pulled back, and there she was.

She glowed from within. Glowed golden, tendrils of her hair floating on a phantom wind.

"Mala's Heir," Yrene breathed.

Down on the plain, Elide and Lorcan had halted.

The wind pushed away more of the drifting mist, clearing the land beyond Aelin.

And where that mighty, lethal wave had loomed, where death had charged toward them, nothing remained at all.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back.

For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day.

A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

She'd kept that power coiled in herself even after she'd been freed from the irons. Had struggled to keep it down these weeks, the strain enormous. Some days, it had been easier to barely speak. Some days, swaggering arrogance had been her key to ignoring it.

Yet when she had seen that wave, when she had seen Elide and Lorcan choosing death together, when she had seen the army that might save Terrasen, she'd known. She'd felt the fire sleeping under this city, and knew they had come here for a reason.

She had come here for this reason.

A river still flowed from the dam, harmless and small, wending toward the lake.

Nothing more.

Aelin lifted a glowing hand before her as blessed, cooling emptiness filled her at last.

Slowly, starting from her fingertips, the glow faded.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body.

Back into Aelin.

Clarity, sharp and crystal clear, filled its wake. As if she could see again, breathe again.

Inch by inch, the golden glow faded into skin and bone. Into a woman once more.

Already, a white-tailed hawk launched skyward.

But as the last of the glow faded, disappearing out through her toes, Aelin fell to her knees.

Fell to her knees in the utter silence of the world, and curled onto her side.

She had the vague sense of strong, familiar arms scooping her up. Of being carried onto a broad feathery back, still in those arms.

Of soaring through the skies, the last of the mist rippling away into the afternoon sun.

And then sweet darkness.

[marquisecubey]

I have a new dnd character and I’ve been drawing her so much for the past week uuuuuuhhhhhh anyway here’s sister Frenelle I named her after a type of light fixture

(Congratulations! You have clicked on the Read More and you have unlocked her long ass backstory. Enjoy this thing I sent to my dm, which I can only assume that she must have liked because she gave me a free legendary magic item lmfao. Don’t worry if you’re not up to snuff on Eberron specific lore, I catch you up on the important bits.)

The secret child of an elven nobleman and a human scholar, Frenelle Albright was born in the isolated island nation of Aerenal.

Aerenal was not a kind place to anyone who was not a full-blooded elf, and with very few flesh and blood friends to talk to, her mother's wide collection of books became her dearest companions. From an early age, the doctor saw great intelligence and curiosity in her daughter; the tomes she pulled from her mother’s shelves were leagues above her expected reading level, and by the age of eight, she could even hold entire conversations about complex historical topics.

Humans cannot wander freely across Aerenal with no reason, but it was a vital place when it came to Dr. Albright’s research. The goal of the books she was writing was to help the rest of the world gain a greater understanding of Aereni society, and to hopefully encourage them be less afraid of their open practice of necromancy. But sadly, while it was a fantastic place for a researcher, there were also very few opportunities for her bright young daughter to truly flourish and learn at her own pace. So one day, she had a difficult conversation with her daughter: For the next several years, she would stay on the island, while Frenelle would be moving across the sea to attend a boarding school in Fairhaven on her father’s coin.

Frenelle was terrified at first of being alone. She was already a terribly shy girl by nature, and the new city and climate were overwhelming. For the first month, she hardly spoke to anyone at all, not even to her teachers. However, over the next few months as she properly settled into Fairhaven, she was taken aback by how welcoming the new environment was, especially compared to the coldness of her hometown. People actually wanted to talk to her, and they remembered her name. She had peers that she could talk to about all of the math and magic and history that were bottled up for so long, and when she excelled at a topic, she was rewarded instead of scolded.

The most exciting thing about the academy was that she wasn't even the only half-elf there. Or rather, Khoravar as they called themselves, and as they called her too. The main group of khoravar who took her under their wing were a group of rambunctious kids from House Lyrandar, and it was here that she met her best friend, a boy named Leeko.

Leeko was outgoing, kind, and a bit of a hothead, but he was also passionate and smart in the same way she was. He loved all of the flying machines and massive airships that his family was building, and he talked intensely about how excited he was to pilot them one day, proudly showing off the Dragonmark of the Storm on his right hand. Despite them seeming like total opposites at a glance, the two couldn't have been closer. Every time they met up to try and study for classes, they'd end up talking for hours on end about everything from old magic to new technology. For the first time in her life, Frenelle wasn't alone.

Each year, she would return home to her mother for a couple of weeks, but as she continued to thrive in Fairview, she began to notice that the doctor was growing more isolated and depressed each year back on the island of the dead. Eventually, she was able to convince her mother to leave behind her studies, coming home with her daughter, never to return.

Frenelle quickly rose to become one of the top students in her class, graduating from her boarding school with honours and moving on to study divination magic and history at the University of Wynarn. By then, Leeko had left for the island of Stormhome to train as a pilot, but the two continued to write long, cascading letters to one another every single week.

Her unconventional background gave her a unique perspective when it came to her studies at Wynarn. This was all well and good, until it led to her constantly interrupting professors during lectures to question their biases. This was especially true when it came to the taboo field of necromancy, which she had grown up seeing as a very normal thing in her culture. Eventually, however, she quickly grew wise to the fact that if she wanted to succeed as an academic, she would need to suck up to her less worldly professors every now and again. After all, if she wanted to make her point of view known, she should attempt to hear them out as well.

While working on one of her Master's degrees, Frenelle's work ethic and passion managed to attract the attention of a temple of Aureon in Arcanix, where she was offered a position as a novice. She was hesitant to quit her studies at first, but at the urging of Leeko, who just had gotten a job as an air shuttle pilot at the floating towers, she dropped everything and accepted the massive opportunity.

In fact, the chance to see Leeko again may have been her biggest reason for moving to Arcanix, because it turns out, she had started to develop romantic feelings for him. And, as she would later come to find, he felt the exact same way. She would even learn that he had planned on marrying her, which was no small deal of course. After all, Leeko wasn’t simply just her best friend, he was an heir to House Lyrandar, the Half-Elven dynasty who controlled the rapidly growing industry of air travel across the civilized world, using the Dragonmark of the Storm that ran in their blood.

A proper, pure Dragonmark gives a person tremendous power. Most importantly to those in the twelve Dragonmarked houses, it is a predictable power. However, the same cannot be said of the unpredictable power that results when people from two different houses produce a child. Unpredictability is volatility, and volatility is danger. For the sake and the preservation of society, all marriages and sexual relations between those with different Dragonmarks are strictly prohibited.

Frenelle didn't actually notice her mark for the first few days. She had figured it was some benign skin condition, a small rash around her eye. When it didn't go away, she went to see one of the healers at the temple, who laughed when she said she had no idea what it was. When he realized she was being serious, he explained that she was a foundling, a Dragonmarked person with no previous ties to a house.

He explained that her Dragonmark of Detection was an incredible thing.

With the power of her newly manifested mark, Frenelle became an obvious standout among the rest of the clergy in ways she hadn't even thought were possible. She could look into people's thoughts, see entirely new creatures from beyond the material world. She could protect people from danger.

The royal family of Aundair was in search of a governess for their children, but not just any regular teacher would do. They needed a cleric, a person who could embody the very will of Aureon, the god of magic, knowledge, and the law itself. Their job wouldn't be just to teach, but to physically protect the future of the kingdom. And, who in the world could possibly be better for that than the gifted foundling who just landed on the steps of Arcanix?

Frenelle walked past the cockpit as she boarded the air shuttle. The pilot smiled as he called her name and waved with a childlike excitement. She lowered her head. Words that he’d never get to speak reverberated through her skull. She felt his heart sink like a rock through her own chest. He wanted to marry her.

Vows of celibacy aren't necessarily a requirement for becoming a cleric. However, many choose to take them on in an effort to avoid mortal matters clouding their judgment. It's not as though she had much of a choice in the matter. After all, when the queen who funded your schools and the god who bestowed you these powers give you a call to action, to uphold and protect the law, you listen.

So, as a cleric with a high stakes mission, Frenelle simply chose to take that mission very seriously. And you see, it's actually fine. She's fine. They're fine. It’s fine. He’s fine. They’re fine. They're all fine. She's fine. It’s fine.

[iamfuckingsorry]

"Do you know where we are going next?" I asked ART.

Y'know what, I think maybe I don't need any more Murderbot books. I think maybe ending things here is fucking perfect and as much as I love Wells's writing I'm genuinely not sure it can get better for me.

Like, so much of the books are about MB learning how to be a person, about becoming okay with being a complete individual with everything it entails. The first thing it does once it's actually allowed to decide on its own is it runs away from it all (admittedly to go on a mission to confirm some things about its past, because it genuinely just wants to be *good*). It shoves all its emotions away as much as it's able to. Then shit happens, and it makes its first friends, makes decisions based on these friendships, goes through a lot of emotionally intense situations...

And we get to this point here. MB having zero doubts about going with ART says a lot about its relationship with ART, but it also says a lot about its relationship with its humans - it knows that wherever it goes, when it comes back, the humans will still be there. Its humans actively acknowledge its struggles with being a now-free SecUnit and MB is willing to entertain the discussions to an extent and share information about its deeply personal experiences. Hell, System Collapse ends with MB admitting it might be somewhat broken, but that's okay as long as it can keep doing its job, and agreeing to basically do counselling - this is the guy what would rewatch its favourite TV show again and again in order to avoid acknowledging it even had Emotions a couple books back.

Reading this, I know that MB will be okay. It has hopes and goals and genuinely believes in itself and it has an amazing support system that its willing to lean on for the first time in its life. I'm convinced it'll go on to do great things with ART. And that's really the only thing I need to know.

[dailypokemoncrochet]

FOTH Flamigo!

There's something so funny to me about Pokemon that are basically their real life animal counterpart. I feel like Flamigo goes a step further in that even its name is basically "flamingo" lmao

Anyway, this is an example of how I post when I make a new Pokemon. I'm still deciding if this is what I'll focus more on when I actually have time to crochet. You can vote in the poll here to help me decide :D

[strawhatboy]

you were an unexpected surprise, the defining moment. the collision of stars that slammed into us hard and sent our neat little world plummeting into the ocean. we never expected it to be you, you know? but it is you. It's all you. and now there's no looking back.

happy birthday captain! monkey d. luffy 05.05 🩷

[aerialworms-art]

Spocktober + Trektober Day 14 - Historical AU

Yeehaw, baby!

(ID under cut)

[Image ID: A black and white drawing of Jim Kirk, Spock, and Doctor McCoy from Star Trek: The Original Series.

They are sitting atop a stagecoach. Spock and Jim are sitting on the front bench. Jim has the reins in his hands. McCoy is sprawled out in the back, head leaning on the railing, his feet (clad in cowboy boots) crossed over the railing on the other side. They are all dressed in western clothing with cowboy hats. Spock and Jim are wearing shirts and waistcoats; Spock's is buttoned up, Jim's waistcoat is unbuttoned and his shirt is hanging open to his collarbone. McCoy is also wearing an apron and has his shirtsleeves rolled up. His hat is jauntily placed over his face and he has a stem of straw sticking out from his mouth. Jim and Spock both have stars pinned to their chests that vaguely resemble the Starfleet chevron. Spock is wearing a bolo tie with the IDIC symbol on the pin.

Jim is saying, "Alright, listen, these Dodge City cops aren't likely to trust 'big city folks', so we're gonna have to blend."

Spock replies, "Which is why you're making us wear these absurd hats."

Jim: "...they're not that bad."

McCoy: "Yeah, they are."

Above the drawing is written "Trektober" and "Day 14 - Historical AU" Below it is written "@aerialworms" and "Spocktober"./End ID]

[iraprince]

Hiii, i love your stuff and kinda from a distance really look up at you for, in my perception, being able to express yourself without giving a fuck. Thats sick dude, Im so so afraid, of absolutely everything, its nice to think like i might grow into someone less apologetic of my existence. Nice to see people just being yknow

hey, thank you, this is really really nice. the secret that is probably not a secret is that i am also deeply afraid a lot of the time lmao -- but less than i used to be, and in ways that feel less stifling and self-suffocating, if that makes sense.

like, it used to be "i'm scared that if i express myself the way i want to, everyone will find me obnoxious, so let's just sand those edges down to be safe" -- now my fears are more like "now that i'm expressing myself in a way that feels natural and real, i'm afraid that it's all stupid/vapid/not worthwhile or meaningful" (<- specifically abt my art) or "i'm happy that i talk and act the way i want to now, but what if it makes me impossible to befriend," etc etc etc. which still feels bad and puts me in a funk a lot of the time but at least it's a fear that comes After/in reaction to doing stuff, rather than a fear that STOPS me from doing stuff, you know? like, it's evolved into a kind of fear that's less in my way.

anyway. i believe you'll experience something like this, because wanting to grow is the first step of growing. the fact that u hope or wish for something different means you're already on your way. to fewer fucks!! or at least distributing the fucks u give in a way that serves u better

[warlordfelwinter]

i did it

--

faceup was done by the person i bought the doll from, i just added freckles and painted his nails. i swapped his eyes, styled the wig, and made his outfit, apart from the metal embellishments which i stole off of the outfit the doll came with or found in my basement.

things i have learned about myself during this process: i do no enjoy customizing dolls. this was an entirely frustrating process and i disliked 90% of it, especially making the clothes. which is why they're not as finished as they could be. however now i have a doll of my dnd character so it was worth it. he can sit by my computer and judge my performance of him on dnd nights

things i learned about celeste during this process: he has claws. the doll came with clawed nails on the feet which i didn't realize when i bought it but i kind of dig it so i'm incorporating that into his character. there are celestials with claws i'm sure. he has inexplicably sharp toenails now it's canon

i will probably go buy more of the anklet rings for his wrists as well and swap those out but the store only had two packs of those so i couldn't get enough. i will probably also change the pendant, that was just some little pre-wrapped bead i found in a box in the basement that was Good Enough lol. but for the moment he's done.

[spiderscribe]

day 12 of TF Rare Pairing Fest is bringing out my longest fic for this event by far, filled for the prompt "Memory" with Slipstream/Windblade <3

@tfrarepairing

In her first time loop, Windblade chooses the simplest, most direct option.

“You’re going to die,” she tells Slipstream.

Slipstream looks at her like she’s gone insane. Windblade has to admit that’s a fair assessment, because she’s not entirely sure herself that she hasn’t gone insane. 

“What,” says Slipstream.

Windblade reaches forward, trying to grab Slipstream’s servo, but Slipstream jerks out of the way. Blue electricity sparks off from her injured arm, highlighting the obvious distrust in her scarlet optics. 

“Are you threatening me?” she demands.

“No!” says Windblade, aghast. “I’m being literal. I’m trying to warn you!” She darts a glance at the congregation of Autobots and Decepticons milling around and lowers her voice, even though she's pretty sure the secrecy isn't necessary. Before approaching Slipstream, Windblade had taken care of Bludgeon, just in case. For the sake of the temporary truce, she’d stopped herself from murdering him, but she’s certain that he’s in no shape to get in her way or hurt anyone else. “Look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but I’m from the future. And today is the day you’re supposed to die.”

“...You’re right,” says Slipstream, backing away like Windblade’s insanity might be contagious. “You do sound crazy.”

(read the rest on ao3!)