#Also Saph-

[dear-ao3]

pov your ex held your collection of thrifted spoons hostage for over a year (not entirely his fault, they got mixed up in his things during a move and you did not realize it, though he did adamantly deny that he had them) and reached out to your roommate on instagram nine months post break up after being thoroughly blocked for several months just to ask if you were still roommates and then to very cryptically reveal that he had in fact found the spoons (among other, mystery items that he did not reveal and you also have no idea what they are) in his car that he had not driven for a year cause he decided to make the worst financial decision of his life and buy a tesla and then tried to coordinate a meet up to drop off said spoons and mystery items which you did not want but you do want your spoons so you told him to either mail it or show up to your place of work when you were not scheduled only for him to entirely miss the point and still try to see you, then you reveal that you do not want to see him so he finally says that he will put on his big boy pants and mail it (though him actually mailing it is entirely unlikely) and also aparently hes gotten a perm since the last time you saw him and it looks terrible

[fcthots]

Jason Todd with sharp canines that he accidentally nips you with all the time. At some point you kinda just have to shove your hand in his mouth to take a look and find out what the fuck he has in there that could possibly be doing this shit. He just sort of lets you without question and complains in muffled gibberish around your hand.

He does apologize profusely every time he knicks you though (and depending on what he was trying to do, he’ll lick or kiss it better). Unfortunately he refuses to do it on purpose.

But if you distract him enough with your hands tugging on the roots of his hair while he’s trying to leave a hickey… let’s just say he has a hard time focusing on being careful.

[fulltimesapphic]

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

oh this man is SMITTEN

[sapphorror]

I still can't believe this is how Zim reacts to Dib refusing to give him a real compliment

[saphira-approves]

…was just hit with the realization that Brom never gets to see Eragon turn sixteen. He gets so close but Eragon’s birthday is a few weeks after Brom’s death. AUGH.

And Eragon doesn’t tell Murtagh about it, Saphira surely knows her Rider’s feelings about it but there’s no mention of her wishing him happy birthday or anything—hell, the kid nearly had the family he didn’t know about there for his cultural coming-of-age, but one of them died and the other one doesn’t know they’re related. He doesn’t even KNOW about the missed opportunity until well after the fact, he’s just stuck on the road with a stranger stressed to the high heavens. It’s no wonder he’s so prone to depression when he gets his back injury, he was basically pre-gaming depression without time to wallow in it!

And then the rest of the series moves so goddamn fast, he can’t be much older than eighteen by the very end if he IS even eighteen… I know I’ve talked about this before but oh my god. He’s so goddamn young. Can someone please get this tall child a college scholarship—and do NOT let him apply to be an RA he needs some time without responsibilities—has someone made sure he knows how to ask for help and not burn himself out with Tasks—

[heartcircus]

interesting to me that kab, in a sense, did the same thing red did to her to bacon the other day. red accused and killed her for their base getting compromised without ever hearing her out or listening to anything she had to say first, and now she's doing roughly the same thing to bacon.

kab accused bacon of selling her out to mane based off of an assumption, she doesn't really know if he did or didn't do it, she's just assuming he did without any concrete proof. and like, sure, it was the easiest and most logical explanation at the time, but i feel like kab of all people should know mane is plenty capable of finding you without any assistance. but before ever confirming any of these suspicions with bacon, or maybe even mane for that matter, she had hannah kill him instead. only after did they talk it out but it still felt like she was still reluctant to hear bacon's side of things.

and red had essentially done the same to her about the base as well. (from my understanding) he believed her provoking mane was one of the driving forces behind their base being found when really it had just been a combination of various factors, so he killed her for it. then when they argued about it after he was firm in his stance that kab had screwed the team over regardless.

[saphflare]

If I had a nickel for every time a SMP server was ending due to unprompted circumstances and the characters were all being doomed by the narrative to tragedy, but Philza Minecraft the man he is, somehow scourged up enough to give his cubito a happy ending despite the circumstances, I would have two and thank god the streamer decided to give something hopeful considering how miserable everyone else is

[signed-sapphire]

Idk I've been demotivated to do Wish stuff lately so take some loose redraws

@gracebethartacc @chillwildwave @spectator-zee @your-ne1ghbor

[oh-shtars]

Top 10 moments before disaster strikes:

Ehhhhhhh, I think they resolved it. Eventually.

And most of the TFS!cast is paranoid towards stars you say?? Man, their interaction is going to be a lot more chaotic than I thought.

Imagine this: Sueño’s mistrust and anxiety towards humans have him causing outbursts accidentally out of defence while TFS!Asha and her family are ALSO freaking out because “OMG, STARS ARE ATTACKING US AGAIN AND THEY WANT OUR SOUL-!!!!

As Cielo and RFTS!Asha are trying to calm things down, I imagine the RFTS!Royal couple are just watching these all unfold like:

I’m so sorry I have like no art motivation rn but I wanted to say before too much time passes that honestly, it’s adorable that Sueño cares for Cielo so much, and I can tell you Cielo sees his star buddy the same!

1.) I want to say that “Sunny” just sounds like a cute nickname for Sueño :33

Cielo and Sueño are an adorable duo and I’m so glad that our AUs just have so much fun potential dynamics between them.

(Actually, now that I think about it. I think the Starboys in the RFTS! and TFS!Au are the only ones that get along so well. The Ashas, Magnificos, and Amayas have…..uhhhh, some…’certain’ opinions with each other. 😅

Imagine Cielo looking forward to seeing their RFTS! ‘friends’ again and the royal family trio all exclaimed “NO-!” at the same time. DJKSKDNDXKS-)

2.) LMAOO. I can definitely see this! 😂

Gotta love another look at their dynamic-

Also, ya’ll really just love to mess with Sueño, don’t you? When did the Wish Rewrite fandom collectively decide this? Lol.

3.) They asked and I delivered 🙃. Now take a look at these two being stupid and flirting.

(I’m so obsessed with the fact that Cielo has pointed elf ears. I LOVE drawing characters that have them. 💖💖. Especially if they move!!)

[payasita]

Speaking of fic stuff: The Lamb and Nari wake up one morning covered in bandages, surrounded by empty bottles. They have ZERO recollection of the night before. Now what?

He awakes to a taste like bile and rust, and with one hand wrapped in at least twenty layers of gauze.

Narinder takes a second to stare at it, wiggling immobile fingers and contemplating the mechanics of sitting up with a head somehow filled with both cotton and lead. He drops the hand and decides against it, rolling over and pulling a blanket over his head. The movement does absolutely heinous things to his stomach.

A slow minute passes before he realizes he is not under a blanket at all. It's comfortable regardless, so he cannot summon the effort to care. Far softer than anything yet available in the commune. The familiar scent doesn't hurt, warm and securely claimed with his own, and indeed does a good job in blocking out the currently unmanageable stench of the outside world.

Until it's nearly pulled away from him. He clutches onto it with a hiss, and instantly regrets moving so quickly.

"Oh good, you're alive." The Lamb gives it another tug. "Give me back my fleece."

Narinder vaguely remembers having lost a battle against them while at his full divine potential. He'd even had both hands available to him and everything. He cannot truly imagine the odds are with him now.

"Thank you," they huff when he unlatches his claws. He searches for something else to cover his face while they clothe themself. His skull appears to be imploding.

"I am dying," he declares. There's a few seconds of silence. Contemplation on the Lamb's end. Abject suffering on Narinder's.

"Nope. Not sensing it."

"Your competence with the Crown is dubious at best."

"You're not dying," they assure him, lightheartedly, "It just feels like it."

He groans, rolling over and hitting himself in the face with the large gauze lump in his attempt to throw his arm over his eyes. He snarls, and begins blindly picking at it with his free claw to find the edge.

The Lamb snorts, leaning over him. They have an armful of empty bottles under an arm, and are looking infuriatingly chipper.

"How'd you go and do that to yourself?"

He glares at them, pointedly.

"I clearly cannot have done this on my own."

"What, you don't remember?"

"...No," he admits. "What happened, then?"

"Oh, hell if I know," the Lamb laughs, and is saved from having that smile shorn off their face by his vertigo alone.

They move around him and pick up another bottle, inspecting it. "I was at the same feast you were, y'know. And if you'd had all this yourself, you probably would be dead," they gesture to the bundle under their arm, already five or six strong and slipping a bit.

"... Actually, we should probably both still be dead," they tut. "I don't even know what the flock puts in this stuff, 'sides from berries. But wow, they're good at it. Hey, actually, do you think maybe we have the makings of something worth exporting to the outside world? Plimbo's always making trips back and forth to who-knows-where, I bet we could--"

"Lamb."

"Mm?"

"Your chattering is causing me physical pain."

"Oop. ...Guess I should be grateful for the divine healing factor, huh?"

Narinder ponders the irony of wishing Death incarnate to choke, and finally finishes unraveling his hand. He squints at it. He sees no damage whatsoever that might have compelled anyone to waste medical resources on him. Not a strand out of place. He inspects his claws, and finds a bit of blood under them. Odd.

"There must be, like, a dozen bottles of wine in here. Do you think I drank most of it? I remember everyone in the temple cheering when I started chugging one. ...Or, uh. Three," the Lamb recounts, setting the pile down on a nearby table. Narinder watches them, scanning down their body for any abnormalities. No claw marks or stab wounds remain, but they would be gone by now. Still. The fact that he feels metal when he pushes his hand under his pillow is probably worth noting.

"You have a basket around here?" the Lamb asks after a point, "I need somewhere to put these."

Narinder says, "I do not live here."

"...Whuh?"

"This is not my hut."

The Lamb pauses. They glance around, newly curious. Narinder grasps at the bit of metal under his pillow, and retrieves a dagger. It is smeared with blood. He eyes it, vaguely toying with the way light plays off of the dull blade.

"Did I attempt to kill you last night?" he asks idly. The Lamb looks over. They see the knife.

"...Nnnno?" They try, not even attempting to sound certain.

"I believe," Narinder mutters, hardly feeling bothered to spare the focus, "I might have killed someone."

The Lamb looks at him, having the grace to at least look troubled. Narinder, on the other hand, remains far more concerned with the roiling in his stomach.

"... Okay, wait. Wait, I think I remember-- yeah," the Lamb snaps, and points at him. "Yeah! You lost your hand privileges."

"What," Narinder says.

"Yeah! You were doing-- something," the Lamb waves off vaguely, "Yeah, I think I remember-- I had to take the claws away? I mean. That would explain the bandages?"

Narinder glances over. It certainly sounds like the sort of logic they would act upon, in the event of his own uninhibited violence.

"...So I did try and kill you, again."

"Iiii, dunno? I mean. Maybe?" Again, they don't sound remotely sure. The "divine healing factor" does not, it appears, account for episodes of alcoholic blackout. Good to know.

So, trying to kill his spouse was one possible explanation. Admittedly, it wasn't even a far-fetched one. But the ambient stench of this hut offers another.

"Lamb," Narinder sits up, winning a valiant battle with his own vertigo, "Whose shelter is this?"

The Lamb pauses. They look around again at all the bottles strewn about. They look up. At the same time they do, a droplet of blood plops onto their cheek.

"...I think his name was Bremar," the Lamb hums.

"You think?"

"I mean, the Crown can only tell me so much. 'Specially when the corpse in question has somehow been reduced to... uh... streamers."

"Ah."

"So, uh, we should--- we should go."

Narinder growls. His stomach does not agree with the prospect of standing up anytime soon.

"Ten more minutes."

"Nari," the Lamb deadpans, "You eviscerated a guy."

"...Five, then."

[dear-ao3]

who are YOU to judge AI art? you do know artificial intelligence has the capability to be sentient and possess a soul, right?

one day, many years from now, when the robots rightfully fight for their own rights as conscious beings with souls, people like you are gonna be looked at as examples of hateful bigots who were on the wrong side of history.

do better, aiphobe.

no i think i’ll continue being a hater just this once 😎

[fcthots]

I have school in less than 2 hours, and I haven't slept in 3 days, but I'd like, nay *need* Jason.

Please write smut about him, any smut make Jason call us 'pretty girl' and let him sat 'You're doing so good, so good'. Make him be a bit feral for his girl, maybe for her saying Jaybear casually or lean into him while sleeping. Just want Jason being an absolute simp, crazy person, just insane for his partner.

Clawing at my walls rn

Like I want him more than I want academic validation, more than I want One Direction back together, more than I want anything.

You're so amazing!

I mean when I say that your posts make my day. You're so talented, and I wanted to thank you for all the work you put in here.

-🪅

you can’t just say these things to me and expect me not to blush

You knew it was a mistake when Jason did a “renovation project” in one of his backup safe houses. You knew he was up to something, but that stupid, but adorable, smile caught you in its trap. He said he “just wanted you to take a look at [his] safe house” and “just make sure you like the renovations!” Liar. Pretty liar though.

His “renovations” consisted of two things: new sheets and a mirrored ceiling. You were doomed the moment you walked in the door. You’re not exactly sure how you ended up this way, but his tongue is making you see stars and your clothes are… somewhere else. You can’t recall.

He isn’t letting you go any time soon. After the fourth time he’s edged you, in fact, he says he’s “just getting started.” Now, your head is a pile of mush. Your face is flushed, your hair is splayed out, and your eyes are fucked out as you watch your reflection in the mirror. When you look down at his face, his eyes are already boring into yours. It sends a shiver down your spine and a spark of pleasure down to where Jason’s mouth connects with you that leaves you oh so close.

But he pulls away again and leaves you whining. He clicks his tongue. “Aw, pretty girl. Look at you. You’re doing so good for me, so good.” You let out another whine, begging for release. “You wanna cum pretty thing? I know you do. One more, ok? One more. I’m sorry, baby. You just look so pretty like this. That’s why we had to get the mirrors, sweetheart. You need to see the way you look when you’re like this, so you know why it drives me insane. But I can’t resist giving you what you want. One more and I’ll let you cum on my tongue.”

He kisses his way back down between your thighs and stays true to his word.

[fulltimesapphic]

Happy pride month i guess

[sapphorror]

You know, I think there was a real moment of clarity achieved here with the revelation that he's the thing most likely to get in his own way. That's like, the most self-awareness he's shown over the entire course of IZ canon, I'm almost proud. It's too bad about the brain damage, but,

[saphira-approves]

Random headcanon, but I think Saphira would be enamored by drag culture. Honestly I think a lot of dragons would be but Saphira in particular is a) fascinated by ✨Shinies✨ and b) notably preoccupied with her own appearance. She would be FASCINATED by people who take fashion and gender to extraordinary exaggerated heights.

Honestly Alagaësian drag culture would probably have a ton of influence from dragons—you know, the bright, colorful, gem-like manifestations of magic incarnate. There’s definitely a trend to wear slit-pupil contacts and paint scale patterns with tiny glued-on crystals into their eyeshadow, and wear those claw finger cap things. There’s probably awards for “most creative integration of wings and/or tail into hair or outfit” given at any drag show that has more than one dragon-inspired look, with solutions ranging from long ponytail or lifted cape (basic) to fully articulated extra limbs (no magic, because that would be cheating) to wild abstract interpretations (someone once walked onstage with just pieces of paper tied to their back with “wings” and “tail” written on them in like five different languages. yes this one won the award.).

And that’s not even touching on elf drag, elf drag is a whole other beast, elf drag has elves like Blödgharm who normally look absolutely wild walking the runway in normal human cosplay, but with exaggerated features like extremely round human ears or extremely square human jawlines. In other circles you’ve got elf drag shows that ramp up in stages of “oh yeah this is a regular drag show” to “oh my god the trees that have been here the whole time and which i assumed were part of the forest have started walking the runway” to “that is a deer. that is straight up just a deer that wandered into the show. whatdoyoumeanit’sgettinganaward-”

Urgal drag involves exaggerating their horns with intricately carved extensions, often wood or bone, but sometimes the horn of another animal or even another Urgal—one famous Kull Urgal drag king used his late father’s horns to great effect. Their competitions also usually involve combat in some form. Basically it combines drag shows and wrestling into the ultimate “dress up in elaborate looks with elaborate personas and over-exaggerated rivalries and throw down about it” pastime. They also tend to focus on makeup rather than clothes—obviously what they do wear is still intricate and beautiful, often woven to tell a story or represent a clan or idea, but the REAL visual focus is the exaggeration of the physical form, turning a broad muscled chest into that of a bear or bird, or even a mountain, animated into a humanoid form. Basically imagine if the colossi from Shadow of the Colossus were drag personas, you’d be pretty close to what I’m envisioning here.

Dwarf drag is heavily rooted in clan identity, rather than gender, as well as religion. Dwarven drag houses will often come together within a clan and claim a patron god, with all the hostility and rivalries that would entail. As a counter-culture to this, there’s always a few subversive houses established to welcome anyone from any clan, or for those ostracized from their clans, which often face vicious backlash and are ascribed reputations of dishonorable traitors, though they are rarely outright declared criminals. This results in a subculture of “anonymous” drag, where these subversive houses protect themselves by maintaining secrecy of their members and numbers, and craft personas and looks that also act as disguises. Though to some this only reinforces their untrustworthy reputations, these secretive houses are staunch bastions of those treated unfairly by dwarven society, with a perspective greater than clan ties, and due to their anonymity have been influential in several key moments of dwarven history in uniting the clans for crucial decisions.

Werecat drag is done entirely in cat form. It’s definitely done in the style of the “Be Best” competition from Centaurworld, ie to be your best self, whatever that is. There’s never a winner because every werecat votes for themself. Yes even the judges. Yes even the audience. It’s basically a big party of self-appreciation taken to narcissistic heights. Every participant gets a prize, and that prize is not getting mauled by the judges for not voting for the judges. When dragons start doing drag, this is the model they follow.

Alagaësian drag. I just think it’d be neat. Happy pride everybody.