#{ the unconnectable }

[trainwreckgenerator]

a face you'd find on the side of a milk carton

[vicariousresearcher]

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

Johnny has been in a coma for 2 years 5 months, and 18 days. Who just barely survived long enough to get medical attention after Makarov. Who has become a part of the slim statistic of people who��ve survived a gunshot wound to the head. Whose brain scans show limited activity and such little chance of waking up.

But when his family gets asked if they’re ready to let him go his Ma shakes her head.

“God will take him when he’s ready.”

It’s not common that young guys get put in long-term care facilities like yours. Most of the time it’s older folks whose families can’t let them go and are using pensions to pay the rent costs.

At the start, his room is full of visitors. Big family. Very religious you’ve learned. A boy's bible is set alongside flowers.

Between the swathes of dark hair and bright blue eyes are a couple of other individuals. Quiet but polite.

“Teammates.” The dark-skinned man offers with a strained smile when you give him a curious look. “Military.”

It’s not long till his room quiets down. Visits becoming fewer. His family who was already a little detached from their son you concluded. Between the secretive work and deployments that kept him from home for months.

The team came by when they could though. Enough for you to learn their names and details about your resident.

You glean little things about him here and there. Find the sketchbook with his name on it left by the one named Simon. See the tattoo on his forearm obscured the thick curtain of arm hair. Listen politely to the questionable stories told by Gaz that always left Laswell's head shaking.

Quite the man Soap was is. No one’s given you an explanation on that nickname yet but the military guys that come in always call him by it.

You do what you can to keep him comfortable. Trimming his hair, changing out the gospel music for an audiobook every once in a while, talking to him whenever you’re in the room.

Well more so talking at him. Venting frustrations and complaints in hushed words so no one walking by hears you. Talking about your lazy coworkers, the overly loud upstairs neighbours in your apartment, and how you had to sit through another family dinner alone because your boyfriend made some excuse to not come again.

It’s easy to just talk when you’re in the room with him. Feels less like you’re going insane because you can reason that you’re talking for *his sake.* Not yours. Because what if he can hear you yknow?

……

You’ve just transferred him back over after changing his bed sheets, crouched and folding the linen under the mattress while you talk about your plans for this coming Christmas. How you’re excited for that one chocolate pop up shop that always comes to your mall-

You just about shit yourself when you stand back up and look to the head of the bed and see two slits of blue through his tan eyelids. Dark brown brows pinched in just slightly to create a crease between them.

……

A blinding white light accompanying a splitting headache was what he saw first. Eyelids sticky against his corneas. Weight of a thousand sins holding his muscles paralyzed and unable to flinch away.

Then the light flickered and he saw you.

Frizzy hair curling a fluorescent halo over your head. A swinging, unblinking eye glinting off of your chest.

Johnny who tells his weepy-eyed mother that it’s okay, he had the voice of an angel guiding him the whole time. That’s what brought him back.

[sannyo-appreciation-posts]

[secretsimpleness]

Sometimes I want to bring Morrigan but then I remember I play as a face-tanking rogue and I bring Wynne. Warden Cousland, Morrigan, Wynne / Dragon Age Origins (c) Bioware

[k0nfette]

Fendi Spring 2024

[primarydragon]

Alternative Cards Collectors (ZUN style)

[pinkcultgirl]

chimata decora :3

[noctiilio]

I've been commissioned to draw a colored-in sketch of Chimata and honestly ive had A LOT of fun shes one of my favorite designs from Touhou altogether

[nellasbookplanet]

Downfall has only just started, but already I'm deeply curious what Bells Hells reaction will be to seeing it play out. I've mentioned before that I suspect the dislike or outright disdain some of the party feels for the gods - most notably Ashton and Laudna, but also Imogen at times - is in part a product of the gods being so distant as to not feel like real people to them, and therefore being easy scapegoats.

It’s easy to see the mortal victims of Ludinus and the Vanguard as just that: victims. The Hells have met them, have been them. They have not seen or felt the gods suffer in the same way. Laudna even went so far as to blame the gods for mortal deaths and suffering after the solstice, even as the gods are the ones under attack. They feel uniquely abandoned by the world, and it's easy to blame these distant, powerful figures for their hardship. Certainly much easier than to see the mortal systems that enabled their harm, or to actively seek improvement on their own.

But to see the gods now, not just as people but as mortals, with all the flaws and vulnerabilities and fears of any of the Hells, with loved ones of their own and the same desperate sense of self-preservation as any living thing, will they be able to hold onto the disdain that they’ve clung to for so long?

[oswlld]

rose being a toymaker tho....

[llamasyes]

Tsukasa ☂️

[sereniv]

Can someone who is NOT a zionist tell me why Jewish people have so much conspiracy and hate? when did it start and why? how and why did it spread?

Preferably someone who is jewish or really knows what theyre talking about answer

[lunatic-runagate]

chimata teşekkürler

[sannyo-appreciation-posts]

[myokk]

fast sketch of ominis & fast intro to the ominis longfic I'm working on!! This is going to be the most self-indulgent pride and prejudice ripoff that ever existed, 100% based on the ominis of my oneshot💘

I am just OBSESSED with exploring the idea that he’s a natural legilimens & OBSESSED with the thought that he thinks too much for his own good🫶🫶🫶

Ominis Gaunt has always suspected he is cold-blooded.

It makes sense, really.

He always seems to be cold: frigid, long fingers that are often stiff and difficult to move; goosebumps raising the skin of his arms and the back of his neck any time he walks through the drafty halls of the dungeons; even his eyes, he has been told, are reminiscent of ice. They are apparently quite unsettling. The only time he feels comfortable in his body is when he basks in the heat of the sun.

His earliest memory is of the cold. It went like this: he was four years old: his older brother, Marvolo, had led him outside as a joke, he swore up and down that it was just a small joke, and how was he supposed to know that poor, blind Ominis would not be able to find his way back home? When his parents had finally found him, his frail mother sobbing and holding his tiny, blue, hypothermic body to her chest, Ominis remembers feeling quite perturbed at the disturbance. Couldn’t he just be left alone, in the silent soft snow?

He does not know if he has ever felt warm since.

As he strides through the dungeons, the copious amount of warming charms he casts on himself do not seem to be enough, but he keeps casting them anyways and also: wrapping his wool scarf more tightly around his neck, quickening his pace in the hopes that blood flows more easily through his limbs, wishing that he had remembered his gloves. Winter is always a terrible time of year (this winter more terrible than usual), and every breath of warm air leaves his lips reluctantly. How he wishes that he could just hold on to it a bit longer and yet the warmth leaves him precisely fifteen traitorous times a minute, the frigid air gleefully entering and burning its way down his throat in response. Maybe it’s a punishment of some sort.

His whole life has been defined by punishments and sometimes he preoccupies himself with the thought that it is the only way he can view the world. Most of the punishments are manifested in curses inherited from his family. (His parents and Marvolo insist that they are gifts, but Ominis begs to differ.)

First, his blindness: the only true punishment-curse that even his family rejects: caused by inbreeding, no doubt. He did not cry after his birth and his mother cradled his tiny body in silent arms, lovingly whispering nonsense-evil-Parseltongue to him but when he opened his eyes and she saw a brilliant celestine blue with no iris, she screamed in horror and shattered the frigid peace of the room. His parents tried everything to fix him, make him whole, throwing money at various possible solutions to no avail. Magically induced disabilities are not, apparently, curable by magic.

Ominis is not sure that he hates being blind, although he suspects everyone thinks that he should. It is as much a part of him as his fifteen-breaths-per-minute, and he thinks that vision is not all it’s cracked up to be. He is always terrified at the thought that his tenuous hold on sanity is only due to the fact that he cannot see, until he realizes he shouldn’t be terrified of hypothetical situations that cannot come to pass. He consoles himself with the thought that maybe, if he has had to give up his vision for his sanity, it is a small price to pay. Although, he also thinks sometimes that it would be nice to live a life without any morality holding him back.

He is entirely too introspective, after all.

It is precisely this introspection that is his downfall in this moment (and his cold blood). Ominis is so busy casting warming charms on himself and thinking in circles that he cannot use his wand to help him sense his environment and so he should not be surprised when he crashes into her.

And yet he is. Terribly surprised.

Maybe if he were not so caught up in his own thoughts he could have paid more attention to his surroundings. Instead, he spent too much time ruminating on his reptilian heritage and has now barreled head first into his arch-nemesis.

Rosalie Harris.

The girl who has stolen his oldest friend from him.

The girl who is currently making angry noises as she clambers to her feet and is picking up the things that he has crashed everywhere. Even if he could see, Ominis is not sure he would help her. Helping her would be akin to betraying himself, after all.

“Hey! Watch where you’re - oh, hello, Ominis.”

“Rosalie,” he says shortly, nodding his head where he thinks she might be standing and stepping to the side. He tightens his grip around his wand, feeling the texture of the wood change from rough to smooth as he runs his thumb down it. Smooth where he always seems to worry it, rough where the wood refuses to yield to the brushes of his thumb.

He surreptitiously casts the spell - he has at least done it so many times he no longer needs to say it out loud - and his surroundings light up. Or, he supposes that is the most apt description, considering he cannot actually differentiate between light and dark. He senses Rosalie’s silhouette to his left - she is standing with her arms crossed and her foot taps impatiently as she waits for him.

Waiting for what? he thinks, slightly irritated. She never seems to leave him alone and he wracks his brain trying to think of something, anything he can say to get rid of her.

Maybe if he speaks in Parseltongue, she would finally be scared away for good. He does not really want that second reminder of his family’s curse, though.

His family preferred speaking in Parseltongue with each other, believing the ability made them morally superior to everyone else and Ominis had not even realized until he had arrived at Hogwarts that no, it was not normal. When his name had been called at the Sorting, furious whispers had erupted amongst all the students, and his every step (terrified, confused, unsure - he had still been getting used to using his wand to navigate his surroundings) to the stool at the front of the Great Hall was plagued with a susurration reminiscent of snakes. Except these whispers, sneaking their way into his mind, had been unkind and overwhelming.

(He had not realized in that moment that he was also hearing their thoughts.)

Maybe now, with Rosalie standing in front of him and just annoyingly waiting for Merlin-knows-what, Ominis should use his Legilimency to find out what Rosalie wants. (He hates it, though.) It would not be difficult. (The thought makes him shiver in horror because he doesn’t want to abuse the ability.) He can feel the edges of her mind, her magic, and all he has to do is reach out - she is right there, and -

“Ominis?”

Her arms are crossed, he hears an impatient huff.

Why hasn’t she left him alone yet?

Hadn’t the Hogwarts Express already left the station, bringing all of the students home for the winter holiday? Ominis had thought he would be one of the only students left in the castle, and if he is being honest with himself, he had been looking quite forward to having the place to himself.

Ominis’s winter has just gotten infinitely worse.

Going to Gaunt Manor for the holidays is out of the question (he will not think about the nightmares that have been plaguing him ever since he received the owl demanding he go home), and Ominis does not want to be more of a burden to the Sallows. They already do enough for him over the summer, and Sebastian and Anne have convinced him to go to Hogsmeade with them at least twice over the next two weeks. Besides, with Anne’s curse progressing, Ominis does not want to be in the way.

“Why are you still here?” Ominis asks. He knows his voice comes across as cold as his blood, blunt, but he cannot help himself. Ever since Rosalie arrived - her entrance to Hogwarts also causing quite the stir - Ominis has been intensely annoyed by her presence. She is too happy. Too carefree. Too…well, everything he is not.

And, she does not seem to leave him alone.

Rosalie is always there, always hanging around Sebastian. (Taking Sebastian away.) He even showed her the Undercroft, which had almost caused a rift in their relationship. Ominis could not believe that Sebastian would be so careless, showing someone who for all intents and purposes is crashing her way into their lives, forcing them to pay attention to her. They barely even knew her, and yet Sebastian thought it was a good idea to show her such a sacred place?

(It does not help that she is intelligent, and Ominis has caught himself on more than one occasion about to ask her about her opinion on something before he catches himself.)

“I was looking for you.”

Ominis tilts his head at that and fiddles with his ring. He considers walking away, leaving -

“I mean…Sebastian said that you were also going to be here over the holidays and since everyone else just left I thought -”

“Thought what?” Internally, Ominis winces at the biting tone to his voice. It came out harsher than he intended, his voice loud and echoing through his mind, bouncing off the cold, stone walls surrounding them.

[ganondoodle]

working on the shiekah arm for the totk rewrite and i actively have to force myself to not try and make a mechanically sound magic tech arm bc its a magic tech arm and doesnt need to be mechanically sound