#I usually don’t share my writing

[alarrylarrie]

The absolute lack of human decency is truly startling these days and is leaving me at a total loss for words.

Liam Payne was a person.

He was a person.

A person.

[paimonial-rage]

DILUC AND 8 (their pet peeves) -- @milkstore

[Character Analysis Ask Meme]

What are Diluc’s pet peeves?

Lack of respect for service workers - Some may find it surprising seeing how rude Diluc is to the Knights of Favonius, but it’s true. Growing up on the winery, Diluc has seen firsthand the amount of work that goes into making wine and caring for the mansion. He understands the pride his workers put into their jobs. Not to mention his father raised him, not only to respect those under him, but to protect them as well. Is it really surprising then that he does not stand for those who harass his workers? To him, they’re the scum of the earth.

[rodolfoparras]

Thinking about how Alejandro is the type to tease you for your weapon of choice.

You’re at a table assembling your weapon when you feel the colonel peering over your shoulder “is that what you’re going with today eh?” You state your reasons for picking it and he says things like ��hey I’m not judging yeah?”, “aha I’m sure it’s a good choice” but he says it in a tone that sounds a bit too playful and you don’t have to turn around to know he’s got a shit eating grin on his face.

But the second you leave your weapon unattended he’s making sure the weapon is operational for the mission, counting and recounting the bullets, checking for anything that could potentially go wrong and put you in harms way. When you come back to the table you have a suspicious look on your face, wondering what the colonel could have been doing with your weapon while you weren’t there. By then he’s back to acting all playful and innocent, hands in the air with a mischievous smile on his face.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Warning y’all in advance that I might have reached the end of my Fluffvember stuff :( Simply because idk if I’ll have time to write/draw anything else, I’ma lll ou of queued stuff. But it seems like some are still utilizing the prompts, so I hope everyone continues to have fun with it <3

[jelly-of-many-ships]

Intersting experience in math class:

I was doing some work while listening to the good omens soundtrack because it helps me focus and I love remembering which scene each track is from. Anyway, David Arnold (the composer) also composed most of the music for BBC Sherlock, which I don’t think too many people know (He’s amazing and I love literally everything he makes). And so when I finished the good omens album it started playing other music by the artist, which in this case, happened to be the BBC Sherlock intro.

I have not heard that song in almost a year in a half. BBC Sherlock was like a canon event for me, it was the first real fandom I joined and it introduced me to tumblr, fanfiction, and literally every concept associated with fandoms. Most pieces media Ive consumed, and definitely every fandom i’ve joined since then has been in some way because of tumblr, or other fandom spaces. Even good omens, which I am currently hyperfixating on to a frankly concerning extent, I was only introduced to via the domino effect of BBC Sherlock.

Why is this important? idk...backstory I guess? whatever, anyways, after awhile a fell more and more out of interest with Sherlock, and while I’d definitely still consider myself in the fandom, I’m just not really that into it anymore, especially since the rest of the fandom isn’t very active either. The year when my interest was the strongest was a very interesting time. I was really insecure and not very happy, but I had some amazing people in my life who I really miss. These two things, I think, are possibly the worst combination to have in terms of nostalgia, and I find that experiencing things that remind me of this period feels very strange. For example I physically cannot listen to some of the songs I added to my playlist around this time without getting really emotional, but I refuse to delete them because they really do feel like a part of me. From time to time I do remember the bad things and maybe feel a bit upset, and yet if I could go back, I know I would, just to remember what it was like to experience it all.

I don’t think I could ever fully explain it but BBC Sherlock genuinely felt like opening a very weird portal, and so when in the middle of math class, immediately after listening to the good omens track “the end?” and vividly imagining the end credit scene of season two, the Sherlock intro started playing, I felt such a strange mix of awe and nostalgia that I almost started crying. It sounds pretty stupid typing this up, but it was such a unique experience, and I don’t think I can really explain it. Good Omens is the only thing I’ve been even somewhat interested in to the extend of Sherlock, and after listening to possibly the most depressing song of the entire show, to have such a sharp reminder of who I used to be blast full volume into my head felt like diving headfirst into cold water. It really does sound stupid, but in that exact moment I remembered everything; the evening I heard that song for the first time, staying up for hours scrolling through pinterest and discovering the fandom, the first day I told my friends about it, the day i read my first fanfic, the day I was so convinced they were gay I accidentally discovered shipping (lol), the night I finished season 4, alone, at 2am, the day I joined tumblr, the week I learned how to play “the game is on” on piano, and the lunch period I wrote my first fic after daydreaming about it for weeks.

These things probably seem pretty mundane, but this was like a new world to me. They represent more than just discovering I new interest though. They’re some of the only memories I have of that time. I cut my hair, I realized I was queer, and for the first time in my entire life I had an actual friendgroup, one that I still care about so much. Life was, at the same time horrible, yet the best it had ever been, and I didn’t even know it. When I really think about It, I realize in actuality how little time has really passed, but everything feels so different. I think to myself that there’s no way that person was me, that the kid who had so much energy and enthusiasm for life, poetry and writing and had yet never felt so insecure couldn’t have possibly turned into the burnt out, powerless person I feel I am today.

At least I’m not so insecure anymore? I’m not so sure what to say. All I know, is I think that moment in math class made me realize how much I’ve grown, how much I appreciate those experience I got to have, and how much that song will always mean to me.

[prdx-invdr]

this pretty much sums up the entire fic i think

[alloutshirt]

//

[sarroora]

Sorry I'm late to the party! My favorite things about your fic is the darker atmosphere and lingering dread and despair from spooks departure and delicate situation. The angst of a broken family of misfits, trying desperately to repair itself and be whole again. And watching dibble, effectively their collective best friend/supporter/part-time spouse (clingy ass cats!), tear himself apart trying to both help them, and also keep his beloved career. I'd like to see more of this, chief!

THANK YOU SM AND WELCOME ANYTOIM

Oh moar angst definitely incoming in future chapters brace yoself-

(Honestly? I’m glad you think the growing despair of spook’s lengthening silent absence is well-felt. I always worried it didn’t come across well enough)

On the other side, poor Spook. He‘s in a very bad place physically and mentally. His health is deteriorating (literally), and he thinks Top Cat is dead. He doesn’t even know if the gang is still safe in Hoagie’s - because T.C.’s absence would lead to a whole slew of problems for them. And he blames himself for it all.

Dibble’s grown to love these cats over the years in spite of the problems they cause - especially T.C. - and he feels a responsibility towards them. It’s a very difficult position to be in-

What’s the right thing to do? Is it to do his job perfectly, allow no room for exceptions? Honestly, if he did, no one would blame him. He’d be advancing his reputation and career, and fulfilling his oath. But is that really why he became an officer of the law?

Or does he do what he thinks is right even if it went against what his superiors and the whole System says? What happens if people, especially those supposedly under his protection - end up falling through the cracks because upholding the law was more important than helping people with far less power and privilege?

[kdsburneraccount]

Screenshots from my wips that make me question my life decisions:

Edit: added some more bc I remembered I had some weird ones

What was I cooking

[i-dont-even-know-by-this-point]

Howl’s Moving Castle (the book) is officially my new obsession thank you and goodbye

[hcdragonwrites]

Blossoms (a tidbit from my book)

Art by @neurocosmical - characters belong to me

So I was inspired to share a scene that comes up later in my books - one when Dominicus begins to realize something completely impossible for him- not after the damage that had occurred the first time. It is just a glimpse of what I am working on and I was encouraged to share it by the lovely friends I have. It is just a draft- so everything is subject to addition or subtraction but the essence of it won’t change. 💜🥺 I hope y’all like it

Dominicus took one look in the long wall length mirror that hung upon his wall and scowled. His orange eyes narrowed in disgust as he reached up to his antlered head. Upon one of the curving points a great mess of lichen and moss grew, dripping down like gossamer green lace. Dominicus gave a yank and the green life was torn from his antlers. He tossed it into the marbled sink, the green sharp against the white.

Soft mage light illuminated the blue framework of the bathroom, revealing a structure that, in itself, looked organic in nature. Silver branches of stone lined and cut through the blue and grey of the mountain stone. As another vicious ripping sound echoed in the bathroom, Dominicus tossed more green- and silver ichor dripped from the spot patch on his point.

Dominicus, Lord of Bones was one of the ruling Aspects, a being that upheld and governed the world beyond mere politics. He grumbled at his reflection in the mirror, the four eyes flashing in annoyance. Dominicus reached up again with another claw and ripped the lichen out. It went flying.

This won’t do! He looked like he had gotten his head stuck in a thicket and had pulled the rest of the green with him. The great Lord of Bones, The Harbinger, Bringer of Death and Calamity of Souls (as many of his titles claimed him to be doom and gloom), could not be seen with the soft growth and mossy patches growing from his body.

“Of all the days for my body to rebel.” He hissed. This would be difficult and painful to pull off. He had never grown this much in one night- had never dropped his guard to allow such feeling to swell in him and cause his dysfunction to show. Dominicus was the Harbinger - a veritable God of Death, if mortal standards could apply to Imbrians. He could not go into Echo, the capital, with his antlers velveted in moss.

Dominicus tsked as his mood turned more and more sour. He had meetings to go to, connections to make, and other Lords on the Obsidian Council to meet. He had no time for gentle pruning and sprucing. If the other Lords could see me…

Grimfire and Stardust if Pheon caught a glimpse of him-

A knock came from the door making the Lord pause.

“Dominicus ?”

Oh no.

Dominicus I’ve brought your Tea for you.”

A prickling began, an itching sensation. Dominick’s looked back in the mirror- and swore.

Oh no.

The spots the Lord of Bones had just ripped off, had torn and thrown like wet paper, had repopulated in little lichen tufts.

“Dominicus?” The door opened, and the Lord wanted to roar. But he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

For if he did, Dominicus would have the urge to defang and tear his antlers off. Because the little human that walked through the door with such an upturned and worried face, had somehow gained his affection.

Which meant he couldn’t roar or swagger or threaten his way out of this embarrassment.

“I heard you cry out and-“ Asphodels eyes became wide as saucers, her face blanching. “Dominicus! Your horns!”

“It is quite fine, Asphodel.” He grumbled, feeling the flush beneath his skin begin to spread. His ears flattened to his head, spines along his back clattering beneath his robes in disharmony. “A normal dysfunction I sometimes go through.”

“But … your bleeding.” Kindness- it was kindness he saw in his eyes and the great Lord felt his skin give a shudder.

“Just a scratch. Nothing to worry about.”Dominicus turned back to the mirror, a lip curling in both anger and embarrassment. He wished he could down his Antlers in acid. Maybe then I wouldn’t be caught in such embarrassing circumstances. Asphodel didn’t leave though. Instead she stepped forward. And stepped again.

“I have to get it off- GRIMFIRE! That STINGS.” He snarled softly, keeping much of his anger in check as he flung another growth down. He had learned quickly that his anger could startle her. Dominicus didn’t get angry often- but he did play the cold menace, leaning into the rumours and gossip that he was cold, calculating and every hungry.

Hands touched his arm and he looked down onto the small mortal.

“Bend your head down.” She asked.

“Why?”

“I can help you.” She motioned to the tools on his countet that he had forgotten in his shocked and embarrassed state. “If you must remove them- let me do it.”

“Um… how should I - ah yes.” She crossed her legs on the floor and patted the silver lined stone with a hand. She thinks me a dog? I should be insulted. Instead he felt all a flutter. Even as he tried to be cold, Dominicus was thawing in the simple presence of this tiny little flower.

“Settle your head here I’ll be able to reach it fine then” Asphodel smiled up at him, a flash of white and bright joy.

Fire and destruction, she will be the ruin of me. Dominicus felt his heart run and race as he bent his great frame down and settled it tentatively beside her. Asphodel walked up, gathering the tools he had abandoned in his anger. A pair of shears and a little knife were gathered up as she began tending him.

Dominicus watched. Ever since coming to Imera, his home, this little human had been so strange. At first he had been watching out of curiosity. No one came to the house of Imera, to the Court of Death (as the lords liked to snicker about), willingly. Zinnia had made the girl cook and then had brought her dripping and covered in juice from the broth to serve him. Zinnia had hoped this would have tripped and ticked the Lord to devour the soul of this mortal- and regain some of his lost power. Without stars to eat and cosmos to feed from, he had been slowly waning in strength and power. Zinnia did not understand that Dominicus could hear the souls as they died, could feel their fear as no Lord could, as they were sniffed out.

So of course he had refused. He had hopped to send Asphodel away, back to that frozen waste that these mortals came from. Instead she had snatched his robbed sleeve and begged to remain in service. Dominic us had never had anyone willingly hold or seek his touch. He was feared, a render of worlds. But she had sought his hand, his attention, even if it was only for a job.

Of course he couldn’t say no to her. And now look where they were. She was gently trimming, meticulously pulling the velveted lichen and moss from its home. When the cuts drew blood she staunched it with the sleeve of her tunic, staining it silver.

She shouldn’t use the good moonsilks. We have the swabs to use- Dominicus watched her continue dabbing with her shirt and felt his irritation from the moss antlers turn to playful teasing.

“Flower you have ruined your shirt.”

“Oh! Let me—“ she made to move. But he tapped her leg with one claw, motioning for her to continue.

“It’s alright. I’ll replace it. Just be more mindful in the future.” He chuckled “You’ve costed me a small trove of clothes in the past month.”

Dominicus watched her cheeks rise in Color and felt his body warm. A tingling and soft warmth started in his Antlers and Asphodel gave a great “oh!”

“A flower! I’ve never seen you grow a flower.”

No. That was impossible.

“Dominicus.”

“Yes.” He didn’t ask it as a question. He was too frozen- terrified of the reality that was coming to life before him

Asphodel brushed a hand over the antlers, the fingers cupping the growth that had appeared. It felt nothing like the moss and lichen he was used to.

“This suits you so much better then bare antlers.”

Dominicus rose suddenly, startling himself and her in the process.

“Thank you for the Tea, Asphodel. I can tend to the rest myself.” He kept his voice even even though fear bubbled in his throat. Please no please no please no please no-

“Oh- I’m sorry-“

“You did not do anything.” The fault was all on him.

Him and his stupid heart.

As she left the bathroom and he closed and flipped the lock on the door, The Lord turned back to the mirror. There sitting on one of the branching curves was a very fine and very white blossom. It hadn’t bloomed, hadn’t begun to flood with color like the last one did.

A blossom. A bloom. It only meant one thing.

He was in love.

[caterpillarinacave]

I am having such a not good time

[babygirlwolverine]

thanks for putting up with all my babbling headcanons and drabbles today! I love y’all mwah mwah <3

[rabbit-harpist]

(personal and religious ramble, apologies)

thoughts on rebaptism

i was a child the first time. i meant it. it was my choice and it was meaningful.

but i was a child.

the future is uncertain. i think i know what my immediate future holds. i /know/ that it holds change, huge change. good change, hopefully. i am taking steps in line with the purpose he is showing me.

but it could crash around my feet. the stability i have been blessed with is not by my own merit and i cannot do anything to ensure it. everywhere i look the world unravels.

i want to do what i can. i want to spend my life loving with purpose and fighting for mending. by his grace i will. it’s still too big.

we must hold onto each other or we will all fall through.

and this is my choice, to hold on to you. when the rain comes and the flood roars i cannot stand in my own strength. but there will be rock beneath me, and i will reach out, and we will make it through together.

it’s going to be okay.

i am older now. and if i let myself i will drown in fear before the floods reach me. but by his grace every day i wake and i choose to be grateful for the light. and every night i braid my hair, and i name a person i love with each twist.

and i will make art because the beauty is too much to let slip away. and i will

love with intention. i only have today to carry out his love. i only have now.

this is a commitment. this is a promise. every time i look at my ring it is a reminder. lead me in your love.

[tariah23]

If look back is getting a movie fr, I swear I’m gonna start bawling rn

[overheaven]

self portrait as a shitty laptop. wip i guess