#I thought I was finally free.

[follineo]

UUUUGHGGHGHGHGH,,,,

[onefey]

you're going about your normal day when, suddenly, surprise! you've been pokémon mystery dungeon'd!

unfortunately, due to budget cuts, the pokémon assigning quiz has been canceled. instead, you must spin THE WHEEL, assigning you a random, unevolved, non-legendary and non-mythical pokémon. you must now go on some sort of world-saving adventure as this pokémon. good luck!

tell me in the tags what you rolled, and how you feel about it - for bonus points, you can spin the wheel again for (or just take your pick of) a pokémon to be your partner.

bonus rules:

you're not shiny unless the wheel tells you you're shiny

take your pick of regional forms and evolutions (for example, if you roll vulpix, it's up to you whether that means normal or alolan vulpix)

apply whatever logic you like with regards to gender

have fun and be yourself!

[beescake]

im a sollux kinnie and ur art is great. like a delicious meal. 1 million courses. my compliments to the chef.

AOGHHH TYSM I REALLY APPRECIATE IT

in gratitude i present a little guy doing setup for the first time 🐝

[stefisdoingthings]

silence

also this is from Wolfwood's POV (in case it isn't clear) i have 0 normal thoughts (every song ever is VW)

[crystallizsch]

okay hi so listen hear me out

sea snake is a bit too obvious (and too boring)

so i made him based on some kind of lionfish??? (bc something something venomous marine animal) also with a LOT of creative liberties i made with how the fish looks like

let’s also give his fins some rips and tears here and there bc what are the implications of that??? that’s for you 🫵 to decide

anyways chat i lowkey dont know what i was doing

i had no other thoughts but haha funny snake man i turn into fish

[pokeberry5]

thug beatdown round 2: electric boogaloo

(extras, cw flashing gif:)

alt:

the fit:

[crazy-fangirl2524]

My biggest flex will always be how I knew Neil was the more feral and dangerous one than Andrew this whole time even before tsc and seeing the entire fandom freaked out makes me want to kiss and hug Nora and just thank her for finally finally showing everyone and I’m not just crazy

[gobstoppr]

Tetris Fanart.

I've been playing tetris while listening to horror podcasts. and yeah

[randomminty]

Enchanted by akatsukis princess carryisms

[lordoflightning]

what if, hypothetically, i couldn’t take it anymore?

[asterwild]

the blue-footed booby (Sula nebouxii) is a seabird found in the tropical and sub-tropical Pacific Ocean, along the western coast of the Americas and the Galápagos Islands.

[twinkskeletons]

fob 4ever

[kusanagihaku]

help me hold on to you.

⭢ alan x mc, 2.2k

It is a dance of wants and haves, of budgets and portion sizes, of learning to think for two. It feels like you could do this forever. How easy it is, to be with Alan. How easy he is to love.  or: supermarket date! supermarket date! soft and fluffy domestic alan!!! i love him!!!!! ( º ᴖ º ) // also on ao3

You frown. How is it that whoever runs the campus store can bring in three different types of almond milk, but only one brand of oat milk? 

You weigh both cartons in your hands. Maybe you should just get the almond milk. It isn’t even the good type of oat milk too–

“Y/N?” 

You glance up, only to be met with sea green eyes and arms full of flour and sugar bags. “Kaito!” 

Kaito beams back, golden hair washed a pale yellow under the harsh cold of the store lights. He looks slightly different dressed down, almost like he could be a college student elsewhere in a ratty old hoodie and sweatpants. “I’ve tried that brand of almond milk, it freakin’ sucks. Get the blue carton.” 

You can’t help but laugh. With the strange stocking style of the campus store, you can only ever trust comments of the other students and hope not to step on any culinary landmines. You reach to put both cartons you were holding back when Kaito clears his throat. 

“Why are you wearing a Vagastrom hoodie?” 

Ah. 

You flush, biting your lip. It was colder than you expected this morning when Alan left the bed for his morning run, uncurling himself from around you gently in an effort not to wake you up. But you awoke anyway, body leaning towards his residual warmth like it has every day you’ve woken up in his bed, eyes blurring open to Alan’s fond smile. 

I’ll be back soon, he promised, voice low. Go back to sleep. The sleep-rough of his voice left butterflies at the bottom of your stomach, a small dance of adoration and contentment that lasted long after he shut the door. 

But the cold was sharp, and as Alan’s warmth faded from the blankets you found yourself sitting up and leaning off the edge of his bed until your fingers snagged the yellow hoodie draped across the back of his chair. It smelled vaguely of engine grease, as does everything in Vagastrom, but as you pulled it over your head you were surrounded by sandalwood and summer, by sunlight and sea salt, by Alan. 

The brush of comfort was enough to turn your eyelids heavy and your dreams sweet, until you were awakened again by Alan’s touch on the crown of your head. 

“Y/N?” Kaito peers at you, and you jolt a little. 

“Um,” you say, intelligently. “Ah.” 

It’s not as if you were hiding the fact that you were dating Alan per se, but it… had never really come up in conversation? After all, it is a fairly recent development, and Alan isn’t the type to broadcast news about himself to others. The interactions you’ve had with most of the other ghouls involve mostly you running small errands for them anyway, and less so idle chit-chat. Other than the Vagastrom ghouls (Leo had scoffed the first time he walked in on Alan’s thumb brushing your cheekbone and walked back out, while Sho just smirked and hollered something in Leo’s direction about a bet), you don’t think any of the other students know anything about your relationship with the Vagastrom captain. 

But this is Kaito, one of the first people to befriend you in Darkwick, and now that you’re faced with the opportunity and his guileless eyes, you feel kind of ashamed you’ve never told him about it…

“Did you find it?” A gentle weight rests on the top of your head. A warmth blooms at the base of your throat, sweet and golden, and you briefly forget about Kaito as you lean backwards to smile up at Alan. 

“They don’t have the brand I usually get. Should we get almond instead?” 

Alan nods at you to place the carton in his basket. “Sure.” 

“Sho said he wanted us to pick up some bell peppers too–“ 

“Sorry, what the fuck?!” Kaito’s yelp is startling, and you reflexively jerk backwards into the solid harbour of Alan’s arm. “Since WHEN?!” 

You flush. A sheepish apology balances on the tip of your tongue, but Alan beats you to it. The gruff in his voice is evident as he says, “Your business, Frostheim?” 

Kaito’s eyes grow round. A million little emotions (mostly some frantic type of fear, but tinged with betrayal, you note somewhat despondently) flash across his face before your apology tumbles out. “Sorry, Kaito, I meant to tell you and Luca, but I’ve been so busy-“ 

“It’s okay,” Kaito squeaks, and before you can say anything else he disappears up the aisle, bags of flour dropping in his wake. 

Alan frowns. He pulls you slightly closer, fingers resting lightly on the waist of his hoodie, and there is something so unexpectedly tender in the action it makes your heart feel three times too big. Always soft, always warm. Always gentle, with you. 

You half-expect him to say something about Kaito, but he just sighs. 

“Bell peppers are up front,” he says, instead, and you laugh. 

You end up picking more bell peppers than Sho asked for, if only so you can add the extras to the dinners you cook for the week. Alan picks out spring onions and a new box of white miso; you trade it for a box of red (he has an unopened box of white miso hidden behind his giant tub of protein powder; you unearthed it while searching for his black pepper last week) and toss in an extra yellow onion. 

You spend the most time in the meat section, of course – Alan’s meals consist mainly of grilled meat on rice whenever you’re not around. You watch as he frowns his way through cuts of meat, bending over to trade pork shoulder for jowl, and you resist the urge to smooth out the crease between his brows as he looks between both price tags. 

It is a dance of wants and haves, of budgets and portion sizes, of learning to think for two. It feels like you could do this forever. 

How easy it is, to be with him. How easy he is to love. 

He doesn’t believe it, you know. Where you see caution and care in wrinkles of his palms he sees nothing but bloodstains and bruises, like there is nothing in him that deserves to be held. But oh, the way you’re trying to show him–

It is a whole downpour by the time Alan walks you back from Vagastrom. You are both soaked to the bone, your bangs sticking to your forehead and his yellow vest a dark ochre. 

You invite him in to dry off, of course. He can’t possibly make his way back to Vagastrom like this. 

(You also don’t think he can find his way back in the pouring rain, but you don’t say that part out loud.) 

“I’ve got towels upstairs,” you say, instead, and lead him up the stairs to your room. You pray hard that all your laundry is in its basket and you haven’t left anything stupid out. 

You haven’t, much to your relief, and you invite Alan inside after a cursory glance. You shrug off the wet sop of your jacket and dump it on your desk, heading straight to your closet to where you remember sticking the towels after your last laundry run. 

“You can leave your vest on the desk, I’ll hang it above the radiator to dry,” you tell him, and immediately regret it. Stupid. Stupid of you to think your heart can handle the visual of Alan removing any piece of clothing in your vicinity. 

You are weighing how stupid it would sound to retract your statement, when Alan clears his throat. “Your, um. Your toy is on the floor.” 

You twist around to see your white stuffed rabbit lying on the floor next to your bed. Huh. He must have fallen out when you clambered out of bed this morning, rushing to make your 9am class. 

“Oh, you can just set him back on the bed,” you say, before turning to rummage through your closet for towels. You easily locate your spare one with a triumphant ha!, and turn back to hand it to Alan so he can dry off. 

…only to see him kneeling next to your rabbit, fingers outstretched as if to pick him up, but hesitant all the same. You blink. 

Alan senses your stare, and looks up at you, almost embarrassed. “My hands are dirty.” 

You know what he’s talking about – you’ve spent countless hours staring at his fingers as they fill out your forms, watching his hands twist spanners around bolts, dreaming of what his hands would feel like on the bare of your skin. They’re mostly clean (or as clean as he can get with wiping them on spare rags and rinsing them in the sink), but there is always a line of engine grease lingering under his fingernails he can’t quite get out. 

You understand what he’s talking about too – he looked up at you one afternoon, seated on the worn leather sofa in the Vagastrom garage as he tinkered with the hood of a car. You were balancing a calculator on one knee and a form on the other, trying to figure out why the budget request for Leo’s next mission was so high and trying to look like you weren’t staring too much at the muscles in Alan’s forearms. 

Honour student, he sighed. He set down the wrench. Don’t get involved with me.

You looked up, slightly flustered and alarmed at having been caught, but a protest on the tip of your tongue all the same. He caught the look on your face and shook his head. You don’t want to get mixed up in my life.

You didn’t say anything back then, choosing instead to duck your head to hide the burn in your cheeks, but oh, how you wish you did. 

You want him to know how you’ve noticed that his hands and eyes linger longer on you than most, that he takes extra care to clean up whenever you’re around. You want him to know you’ve seen the sidelong glances he’s thrown at you, too, across the garage, and that you’ve seen the red on the tips of his ears after he leans in a bit too close for a bit too long, the peeks he takes whenever he thinks you’re busy fixing something on his phone. 

You want to show him how his fierce has always been used for protecting, how his heart has always been built to lead. How his hands have always been meant to build and fix and hold and never to hurt. 

You want to tell him that you don’t know what pushed him to make the choices he did all those years ago, but you know that he is more than the product of those choices, more than what those circumstances have made him become. That he’s more than the strength behind his knuckles and the decisions that he’s made, how he’s someone an entire house will rally behind and defend to the death. That he deserves to give himself a chance to go for what he wants, for once. 

You shake your head. You hope he understands, this time. “I don’t mind.” 

When he still doesn’t move, you move to kneel next to him, towel wrung between your hands. The wet green of his hair hangs over his eyes, but you can see him watching you all the same, almost as if you are the hunter and he is the prey. 

“I don’t mind,” you say, again. It comes out as a whisper this time, bullets careening into a moment glass-thin. 

His eyes dart up to meet yours, narrowing and wary, but your hands move before he can speak. The brush of your thumb over the rough of his cheek is feather-light, and you will him to understand what you mean when you lean forward to murmur, “That way, I can fall asleep thinking of you.” 

You feel Alan’s breath catch as you brush your lips against the edge of his mouth, and you can almost hear the cogs in his head turning, slowly, as you pull away. Please understand.

And when he turns to you, when he gives in to himself, finally, when he presses his lips against yours in a controlled kind of recklessness and the thirst of a man who hasn’t felt the cool of water for days and doesn’t quite believe that he can, it feels like he does. 

“Do I have breadcrumbs?” Alan turns to you. You blink, pulled back by the anchor of his voice.

“Mm,” you manage, “I don’t think so, but I do. We can swing by the cathedral to pick it up before heading back to yours?” 

Alan hums in agreement, and bends over to retrieve a tray of pork chops from the freezer display. You can’t help it – you lean over to press a small kiss to his cheek as he straightens, and laugh when he turns to you, confused and slightly startled, smile tugging on his lips and blush climbing up his ears. 

“Thanks,” you say. For everything. 

Alan looks at you, eyes moss-soft, haloed in the artificial bright of supermarket aisle, then places the tray into his basket. He shifts the basket to his other side so he can grab your hand in his free one. “Let’s go home.” 

Yes, you think, tangling your fingers into his. Let’s. 

[its-your-mind]

*deep breath in*

the fears 👏 have always 👏 been (in one way or another) 👏 parallel 👏 to 👏 desire 👏

let me explain.

so many of the statements given by actual avatars center around some sort of need that was met by their entity. Lots of them even had a positive relationship with the fear that drove them.

Jane Prentiss is an excellent example - the Corruption has always been about a form of toxic and possessive love, but she personally has a deep desire to be “fully consumed by what loves her,” and finds a perverse joy and relief at allowing herself to be a home

Jude Perry is another - she fucking loved watching people’s lives be utterly destroyed. The Desolation only offered her a power of destruction on a grander scale, and then gave her a more intense rush of joy as she did its work. When she tells Jon that he needs to feed the Eye before it feeds on him, it’s almost as an afterthought; she was happily feeding the Desolation long before it burned her into a new existence.

Simon Fairchild. Every time that old loose bag of bones wanders into the picture, he is having a fucking EXCELLENT time playing with the Vast. He loves showing people their own insignificance, and he loves luring them into situations where he can throw them into the void as he smiles and waves.

Peter Lukas (hell, the whole Lukas family (except Evan. RIP Evan.)) hated. people. all he wanted was for them all to go away, to leave him alone. The Lonely only fulfilled that desire.

Daisy, Trevor, and Julia, all devoted to hunting those things they deemed monstrous.

Melanie, holding tight to that bullet in her leg because on some level, she wanted it. It felt good, it felt right, it felt like it fit right alongside the anger and spite that drove her to success.

Annabelle Cane first encountered the Web when she was a child, running away from home in order to tug on her parents’ heartstrings in just the right way to have them wrapped around her little finger. Later on she volunteered to be the subject of an ESP study. Hell, she’s the one who dangled the “Is it really You that wants this?” question over Jon’s head in S4.

And that brings us to Jon, beloved Jarchivist, the Voice that Opened the Door. Ever since he was a child targeted by the Web, he was looking for answers. He joined the Magnus Institute’s Research Department looking for them, he stalked his coworkers in search for them, he broke into Gertrude’s flat and laptop out of desperation for them. And when he realized that all he had to do was Ask to get truthful answers to his questions? It was only natural for him to jump at that opportunity.

Elias told S3 Jon that he did want this, that he chose it, that at every crossroads he kept pushing onwards, and the inner turmoil that caused was one of the focal points for Jon’s character through the rest of the podcast.

There’s a certain line of thinking in many circles about the power of the Devil: he’s not able to create anything new. All he’s able to do is twist and warp that which was already present, making it something ugly and profane while still maintaining the facade of something desirable.

Jon didn’t choose the Eye. But he did wander into its realm of power, exhibiting exactly the qualities it was most capable of hijacking and warping to its own ends. Jon didn’t choose the Apocalypse. But Jonah picked at him little by little, pointing him towards each Fear individually. Jon didn’t want to release the Fears. But the Web tugged on his strings just so and laid a pretty trail for him to follow until he reached its desired conclusion.

Jon didn’t choose ultimate power, or omniscience, or even his own role as Head Archivist. But he said “yes” to the right (wrong?) orders and kept on pushing for the right (wrong?) answers. He wanted to succeed at the work he had been assigned. He wanted to protect his friends. He wanted to rescue them when they were lost. He wanted to prevent the apocalypse, to save the world. He wanted to know why he was still alive, when so many had died right in front of him.

The Great Wheel of Evil Color that is the Entities might not fit as neatly into categories in this universe - maybe there was no Robert Smirke trying to impose strict categories on emotional experiences, or maybe the ways they manifest in the world has turned on its head (goodness knows many of them have been showcased and blended in some very fun and new and horrifying ways so far) - but their fundamental foundations seem to be the same. Hell, in episode one we learned that there had been enough individual incidents to create a distinction between “dolls, watching” and “dolls, human skin.”

Smirke’s Fourteen isn’t going to be relevant as common parlance, RQ said that already, but I don’t think that means the Fears themselves (and their Dream Logic-based rules) are different - I think it means that the levels of understanding, language used, and personal connections among people “in the know” are going to be entirely unfamiliar

[shivunin]

the fact that you start the Tabris origin by literally stepping into your mother's shoes. the fact that what you get is a wedding outfit and your mother's worn boots, kept carefully intact for years, tucked away for this exact moment. the fact that you then immediately take the path she never could, leaving behind the alienage and the wedding and following Duncan (who would have recruited Adaia first, if not for baby!Tabris) to what ought to have been death.

And Then!! instead of fighting and falling as she did, cheating death and becoming the fighter she always intended you to be instead??? Reliving and simultaneously subverting the story of her life??

[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 1/7)

Since the edited episodes are starting to come out, I figured that bc of that and the fact that I've been keeping this in the back burner for a loooong while now, might as well complete all my friendlocke violet gijinkas!! Some are gonna stay the same while others are gonna have slight/ complete redesigns, so please keep that in mind!

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there's gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I'll be linking here when done vvv

(Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) !!

@saltydkart-reblogs

And that's pretty much it, designs under the cut!

LARK:

HUGE nerd. spent most of his time during the Uva Academy studying different kinds of pokemon as well as different fighting styles he can utilize once he is able to go out on his own journey with his very own trainer! Too bad that didn't really help in the long run...

His entire wardrobe consists of McDonald's related outfits. It's fucking insane. He even has some from long LONG ago that aren't available anywhere else.

The bubble pattern on his hair is able to move and change. Nobody knows how this is possible, not even Lark himself. All Lark knows is that his hair looks incredibly stylish!

Speaking of bubbles, he has the ability to blow bubbles whenever and wherever he pleases!

Often keeps himself extremely clean and gets upset if even a small speck of dirt gets on him, despite this he somehow smells like McDonald's food and axe body spray. Disgusting. He's so cool!

Even after death he still likes to hang around the other team members as a ghost, often getting to know the newer members as well as reuniting with the old ones. Sometimes they see him, sometimes they don't. It usually depends.

SARA:

Due to being a human in her past life, Sara is able to actually speak with the other humans in the pokemon world. However she usually doesn't due to it being seen as extremely weird and out of place. She did slip up once while talking in the presence of Arven, who thought it was the weed making him hear things.

Oinkologne are usually unable to do much with their hooves but Sara spent nights practicing how to knit with her new hooves and now she's able to do it flawlessly. I don't know how she managed to do that but go queen!

When first joining the team she'd often have the urge to eat her food related companions. It was a strange time for Sara, but she managed to overcome it.

When Peppy gets sick, she usually is the one who nurses him back to health. She was a human once so she often is able to figure out whatever sickness Peppy has and treat it properly. I suppose she's like a second mother to him.

The bag she carries with her is full of thread that she collected from various Tarountula she encountered on the journey, as well as little things she knits together in her spare time.

For the most part, Sara forgives... but NEVER forgets.

Did you guys know that Sara has a new YouTube channel? Check it out!

Pastey:

Before joining the team, Pastey was a nameless wanderer. He's been down every road in Paldea and knows almost the entire region (except for Area Zero) like the back of his hand.

He's gotten hurt pretty badly throughout the run (ie. the Mikey fight, the Atticus fight, and ESPECIALLY the final battle), however, he does not gain any (physical) scars from those fights. This is bc he's basically an axolotl, and axolotls are usually able to heal without scarring.

Pastey's "arms" are, to put it simply, mud prosthetics. More info here vvv

Pastey HAS met Mall Bingo once before the run, however, he doesn't recognize her. The only reason he does not recognize her is bc she wears glasses. (You know how people somehow aren't able to recognize Superman bc he wears glasses in his civilian attire even tho his face remains the same? It's basically like that lmao)

Unlike the lightbulbs he eats, the gasoline he drinks isn't really mandatory to his diet. Gasoline is like alcohol to him and he drinks it like an absolute CHAMP.

He goes fishing when there's nothing else to do or when he can't sleep at night. He doesn't do this bc he thinks it's fun or anything, only bc it's a "good time passer" or so he claims. Other members of the team will often sit with him and vent out anything that's troubling them at the moment, and Pastey is always there to listen to them.

And that's pretty much it. Next is Joe, Hannah Ü, and Mykyie!