#I need to start tagging that

[charles-leclerc-official]

omega charles would tell eveyone ferrari has banned him from having sex, except it is just him and his big brain thinking up new ploys to torture his boytoys

Withholding the chussy to see who breaks down in public first

[cuuno-moved]

True Beauty

Bongragh was not a pretty city.

Oh, sure, it was alright- it was a hub city of sorts, the kind that adventurers traveled through and sometimes settled in, but it wasn’t made to be pretty, unlike most dwarven cities, it was made to survive the ever present danger of the volcano it was built into erupting. It was a fortress of a city, and its people were severely lacking any sort of elegant wonder.

Brontel was not like most of the people of Bongragh. 

From a young age, he’d always admired the beautiful strangers who bustled through the city looking for magical artifacts to buy and sell, visiting inns and rest stops, sparing the locals not a glance, unless it was to start a fight. Brontel dreamed of becoming like that, beautiful and magical, walking through a city that was not his own, unafraid and unabashed.

He used to dress up in his mother’s rough weave dresses and heavy shawls and twirl around the house, demanding his parents and siblings trade with him, and, when he grew up, he became a tailor, working to mend these strangers’ beautiful clothes.

His aunt did nothing but encourage this. 

A drow who’d had her fair share of adventure, she would tell him tales of magic, of love, of excitement, and Brontel- oh, Brontel yearned.

One day, though, a tiefling came in, with a torn dress he wanted mended, and things changed.

The dress was not made for battle, and the tiefling wasn’t cold. He told Brontel about his adventures, described the places he’d seen, and, as Brontel painstakingly stitched the tears bit by bit, he realized that this torn fabric was true beauty.

It was silk, and white, with peach flowers on blue branches. It shone under his fingertips, and he could almost smell the flowers in the fabric. He ached as he handed it back.

“Do you want to come with me?” The tiefling, Oryon, asked. “You’d make a good fighter, I can see it in your eyes, and you won’t have to wait around for beauty to come to you.”

It was shockingly hard to leave.

Not because he had to say goodbye- there was really only three or four people who’d care if he left- but because those three or four were so insistent that he stay.

“I can’t protect you out there.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” He insisted, his back to the bed as he packed his bag. “I’m a big boy now, I can win my own fights.”

There was no response, just a sigh.

(Always sighing, he thought, but didn’t say. This is why you’re graying already- and it’s not very attractive on you.)

And so, Brontel Wardrock left Bongragh, and he didn’t look back.

He sent letters, of course, at first to everyone, then, just a few, then, just to one.

The typical letter was short, but to the point, loving and concise, saying exactly what he needed to say.

‘Hello, dear. I killed a wolf today. Love, Brontel.’

Of course, with him moving so often, there was no telling if he ever got any back. He assumed he did, he assumed there was a massive pile of letters waiting for him to collect somewhere, but he didn’t mind. He knew everyone must miss him so much, and he couldn’t wait to see them when he got back, once he located True Beauty, and gotten a bit to take home. Once he could prove he was in the right. Once he could show everyone that it was out there.

Rossleon was supposed to be it.

It was supposed to be the most beautiful city in the world, supposed to be so close to perfection that even infernals wept when they saw it.

Brontel wasn’t impressed.

Sure, he’d seen some beauty there- Sunny’s cloak came close, as did Maya’s hair- but there was no True Beauty to be found.

And so, as soon as he could, he decided, he was going to move on. 

After he explored this cursed canyon, of course.

[overlymetaromantic]

Dungeon Meshi, or as I like to call it, Marcille's-increasingly-difficult-to-ignore-revelations-that-her-endless-devotion-to-Falin-may-in-fact-be-more-rooted-in-lesbianism-than-she-originally-thought

[aliteralchicken]

sexualizing your fav characters? Nah mate you got me wrong, I’m asexualizing them, that one’s demi now

[ctrlzxoo]

ROUND 7: amongst a sea of green, is a glimpse of snow

Bonus: happy end(?)

[forgettable-au]

PROLOGUE

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 1-9)

AND SO IT BEGINS!

[CONTINUE] [MASTERPOST]

[tawnysoup]

the fritter (frin critter)

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[beebfreeb]

To all my long-term followers: You have to look through all of my art and deduct exactly what's wrong with me. I know you can do it by now.

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[barawrah]

beloved

[big8cola]

[artsarasp]

I would love to hear about QQQ and the gender swapping plant

Hey, so, I may have been possessed for a second there.

bonus qqq telling her bff wqw

[sweetdreamspootypie]

Does anyone have any recs for reputable orgs for Jewish solidarity for Palestine?

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

[kayshasiemens]

Rising from the dead to share this painting and then disappear again

I have spent over 90 hours of my life on this thing because I have had the brain rot for the last 2 years of my life (almost 20 if you count when I first read the comics) and it had to express itself somehow

Hope this dramatic bitch feels appreciated

(A Dream of Morpheus, handmade egg tempera on panel, 12x18 inches...if by any chance you'll be at SDCC or Gen Con, I'll be at booth 934/936 at the first one and Art Show #13 at the second one - come see the original, maybe get a print, or just yell/cry about Sandman with me?)

And here, have some more details - I had fun combining some favorite elements from both the comic and the show ♡