#I'm guessing at least. well then again it could actually be

[fallenclan]

so!! starting off to say Moon 263 [part 2] might be one of my favorite fallenclan updates ever. here are some more specific thoughts because i have A Lot

the first panel with the "not actually chosen" ones chatting is so nice. the colors for this update are so tasty and really have a mystical vibe, but i especially like this first panel with the mushrooms. also, the textboxes look so neat overlapping. i like how wolfbite is quieter and not saying much while feathersight is speaking the most. it can be inferred that he's explaining about how starclan/the glowcave usually works with darkstone and honeysong occasionally adding on, and at the end wolfbite is just like "all right guys, i get it."

the way the starclan cats are drawn is so cool... the "fading" effect that makes them look all watery, as if bits and pieces of them are drifting away?? incredible. i love it! i also really like how the stc textboxes are a different shade. it's just a neat detail. the star effects surrounding them is so pretty also. i just love how you draw the starclan cats in general, they look so magical. i like how away from the glowcave, their colors bleed past the lines, but at the glowcave they appear more solid, as if they're stronger there. i just,, i love it

the cameos! omg. i literally never thought i would see nick again but here we are. i'm a big fan of all the appearances!!

silverbelly is adorable. i love how excited feathersight is to see her. also, when she first appears, i like the detail of darkstone sweating. despite being a medicine cat, he's literally never seen a fully formed starclan cat before. he's nervous!! wolfbite looks shocked but i feel like this is more about the idea of her being "special" rather than seeing silverbelly tbh. she's like "damn i guess i actually am plot relevant."

salmonskip... i was so happy to see her... she's such a goober. nick's "we all had our own cats we hoped would come" was such a fun line as well for its thought provoking effect. i feel like it's a nod to how there were so many different "fourth cat" theories in the discord server but i could be wrong. we all had our ideas! now i'm super curious as to who nick was rooting for... and also who each of the previous leaders wanted (should i send another ask with my theories on who specific starclan cats wanted to be the fourth cat?)

big fan of the "you weren't actually chosen, you chose yourself" yada yada. wonderful! i love choosing your own destiny narratives. i'm sure nothing bad will happen to our little feline heroes

sleepycloud :(

"you sound different than i thought you would" - honeysong, had me in shambles. honeysong is older than lionsong was when he died... he looks so young here

poppyfeather made me laugh. i love the "not that this isn't heartwarming..." that i read in a 100% sarcastic tone. she is not in the mood for happy reunions!! she has a dictator to depose, guys. time to see her vengeful trait come into effect...

the ending! darkstone and honeysong look so envigorated whereas feathersight looks exhausted and wolfbite... looks ready to "do what has to be done." i love how happy she was to see sandsnap, and then how her happiness is buried once the poppyfeather and cherrystar step in with their plan, as if seeing sandsnap only strengthened her desire for revenge.

i had a dream after this post where the squad was about to confront ravenstar and he was all like "you thought i didn't know about your little schemes? cute." and his little gang rolled up (sleepydawn, flamefall, levi, patchback, etc.). i don't remember much else of what happened but i woke up like " oh no . . . the little guys are in danger . . . " anyway this segues into my prediction that there will be at least one death as a direct consequence of their attempt to depose ravenstar.

-🐉 (giggling and swinging my feet)

as always dragon... you literally never miss

i'm so glad you picked up on the textbox thing, you basically got it in one!!! feathersight and honeysong explaining helpfully, darkstone chiming in with his little snips and jokes, wolfbite talking less because she's got somewhat of a listening role there etc

IT WAS SO FUN TO DRAW THEM LIKE THAT... the white lines made it kind of difficult to see the white cats (looking at you sleepycloud) but otherwise. so fun. your assumption is correct, they're more solid there than they are as ghosts, and then in Starclan they arent wispy at all, just faintly glowing with those white lines (though they're so fun to draw like this i might have to just draw the ghosts like this always. idk)

cameos!! Nick was a special request from my sibling that I agreed with wholeheartedly. he was so silly

"damn I guess I actually am plot relevant" LMAO

yup it was a nod to all the guesses!! if i had infinite time and energy i would have put in more starclan cats as nods to specific guesses (Canarywish aka the greatest red herring I ever fished comes to mind), but alas. and you KNOW id love to hear all your thoughts fuck yes!!! (I didn't have anyone in particular in mind for Nick, but if I had to choose I'd say he was hoping for Snailpetal as well, she's his only surviving descendant)

i'm sure nothing will happen ! nothing bad at all!

sleepycloud :( indeed. i will let slip that i've got some plans as far as the sleepydawn situation but that's all i'll say about that for now

SHES ALMOST TWICE THE AGE HE WAS WHEN HE DIED... i always forget how young Lionsong was. not even 30 moons :(

i love Poppyfeather she is ALL business. "listen you guys can come back to the glow cave literally any time after we kill ravenstar's bitch ass can we get on with it pls"

YES EXACTLY!! Honeysong and Darkstone are the Young Optimistic ones, Feathersight is very cautiously optimistic but has seen a lot of shit and is more realistic about the odds they're facing, Wolfbite is in Get Shit Done mode. she's locked in. her thirst for blood has died down a bit upon seeing her dad and now it is HER job to save her clan. weight of the world on this poor girl's shoulders

i'm sure there will be no consequences. dont worry

[lunarharp]

wip thing...

of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)

they mean the world to me

[sysig]

Still normal don’t even worry about it (Patreon)

[tardis--dreams]

I actually realized i hate work. Won't be putting any effort into this anymore ♡

[cypheragent]

at the risk of seeming mean... i cannot imagine insisting loustat isn't interesting while pretending that shipping louis and daniel is

[deviousdiesel]

.

[i-appear-misssing]

I just had the horrible thought that I need to fall in love because having devastating crushes on beautiful, competent, authoritative women that I desperately want to please is exhausting and I need it to stop

[friendofthecrows]

Wish I had more of that stereotypical "refined genius psychopath mystery villain" vibes and less "dysfunctional no sleep cycle can't tell when/if they have emotions traumatized mess doesn't feel like a human paranoid future true crime psychopath" vibes. So that was word salad. Moving on.

[thorne1435]

You have a wildly Western view of the world. Rest assured, my dear, my people knew what male and female were before colonization. Get your head out of your white ass.

Dude I never fucking said that. I said that our ideas of masculine and feminine and thereby our concept of and gender roles for "Man" and "Woman" (within our western culture), were greatly influenced by, if not deliberately redesigned as, a justification for racism against African slaves.

I have gone to great lengths to reiterate the fact that sex and gender are not equivalent and yet 90% of the bad-faith interactions I'm getting from that post are dumbfuck TERFlets telling me how I need to go back to kindergarten because they can't read.

And like, sure, I guess I could say--just in case you're all completely brain dead--that I am well aware that the concepts of "man" and "woman" existed well before then in at least most cultures (though in at least a few cultures they didn't exist alone). But at the same time, cultural ideas of what makes a man or a woman differ wildly, and we have a lot of archaeological evidence to suggest that "adult human female" wasn't the "right answer". That's my point: there is no universally agreed upon, empirical definition for a woman. There isn't really one for female either I suppose, but there is at least a more consistent traditional definition. When (and not "if") that word gets redefined, it will likely be in and for academic contexts as we come to understand what human sex really is. Unfortunately, we can't cross that bridge or get to it while we lose our shit over whatever the fuck a woman is.

So just let it go. A woman is whatever you want it to be, because a woman isn't anything. Grow up.

[noxtivagus]

SHADOWBRINGERS.... listening to the song again n oh god i love the lyrics so so much we r ignoring the fact that i have to wake up in like less than 4 hours

[blizzardfluffykpop]

why the fuck do i miss pigeons

[a-passing-storm]

I don't think I've ever been the Long Period of Radio Silence type of depressed person, but now that my obligations are voluntary and ungraded, I am! It sucks!

[eddiestattoos]

My birthday is 2 months away and I'm already coming up with my excuse for how I'm going to book it off work that isnt simply "it's my birthday and I don't want to work"

[sunderwight]

Headcanon that Shen Yuan was hotter than Shen Qingqiu, actually.

Like yeah SQQ being a cultivator gave him a boost to enough attributes + being in a stallion novel where everyone is either unrealistic hot or dog's butt ugly got the Shen Qingqiu body extra points, and he wasn't bad looking to begin with. Plus not being ill is vastly more important to the new Shen Qingqiu than those extra hotness points (Without a Cure notwithstanding). But part of the reason why he's kind of like, meh, at least I'm not hideous or anything, is because Shen Yuan's original body was a knock out.

I also like him as chronically ill, and, as many people know, beauty standards and sustained suffering are not as incompatible as they should be. Shen Yuan was conventionally attractive in part because conventional beauty standards seem to want everyone slowly dying all the time. But even setting that aside, the man had flawless bone structure, an appealing figure, captivating eyes, and the kind of voice that stopped people in their tracks.

All of which was a contributing factor to his antisocial lifestyle, actually. Despite the fact that Shen Yuan does enjoy company and requires a certain baseline of social enrichment for his enclosure, his internalized homophobia and closeting did not play well with overtures from interested parties (regardless of gender). The only way to minimize the odds of him being asked out on dates was to essentially become a shut-in, especially since even Shen Yuan can only make so many excuses before he himself starts to notice that he's going to a lot of effort to avoid specifically that avenue of socialization. Far better to just remove himself from any risk of it, and then vocally lament that oh no he's just too much of a nerd to get anywhere with women!

Anyway this largely doesn't matter much outside of sheer comedy potential for any situation where SY gets his old body/life back. Like imagine a reveal scenario where the System is going to transport them back to their old lives.

Shang Qinghua: well bro I guess this is gonna be the ultimate test of love, right?

Shen Yuan: what do you mean?

Shang Qinghua: our husbands are gonna see what we looked like back before we were glorious cultivators! they're going to have to track us down in our mundane, kinda shitty pre-transmigration lives! it's gonna be at least a little embarrassing, right?

Shen Yuan: *gets his old body back*

Shang Qinghua, normal human with average looks: ...

Shen Yuan, exemplary 11/10: ?

Shang Qinghua: what. the fuck?? bro what the fuck why are you hot???

Shen Yuan: don't make it weird

Shang Qinghua: make it weird??? why were you sitting at home reading my shitty novel when you could have been out there building your own harem???

Shen Yuan: stop exaggerating

Shang Qinghua: oh my god you've always been like this. this is it, isn't it? it wasn't even brain damage from the transmigration or something--

Shen Yuan: hey

Shang Qinghua: --you've just always been completely unaware, haven't you? every time I wrote a beautiful woman who didn't know her own appeal you'd be jumping down my throat--

Shen Yuan: because that's a stupid trope--!

Shang Qinghua: --JUMPING DOWN MY THROAT EXACTLY LIKE THAT but this whole time THIS WHOLE TIME it wasn't even a glow-up issue, you've just been that, personified, yourself--

Shen Yuan: look I know I'm not ugly but I'm not I'm hardly that good-looking

Shang Qinghua: YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO CRITICIZE THAT TROPE AGAIN! oh my god. how many broken hearts did you leave behind when you died?!

Shen Yuan: none, I wasn't even seeing anyone--

Shang Qinghua: yeah full offense but I am nottt taking your word for that. I bet you had a harem you didn't know about in this lifetime too. I bet you had a fan club, like an anime prince

Shen Yuan: *mumbling*

Shang Qinghua: what was that?

Shen Yuan: I said... only in high school...

Shang Qinghua: oh my god

Shen Yuan: it wasn't a big deal!

Shang Qinghua: *frantically trying to see if he can find any trace of it on the internet now*

[adore-gregor]

So

[k9wa]

𑣲 RILE HIM UP ! ft BOOTHILL.

⠀ — your least favourite cyborg is brought back to you a mangled mess.

⠀ OR

⠀ — being boothill’s mechanic when you lowkey can’t stand each other.

⚠︎ sweet sweet tension, a little suggestive towards the end, gn reader (no referring pronouns), can they fuck already, this was ib by his lightcone, wc 1.9k

boothill's eyes flickered to life, emitting a faint glow of red as his systems began to reboot.

a pair of familiar red pupils met yours, two crosshairs fading into sight as boothill regained his sight and— to your dismay— consciousness.

as the cyborg regained his motion he attempted a step forward, only to realise he didn’t have the feet or legs to do so. the only thing keeping him powered on were some metal claws screwed into his back and a few loose cables connecting to your terminals.

“sugar plum,” boothill's scruffy voice cut through the silence. “do y'care to explain where my legs might’a run off to?”

you actually cocked an eyebrow. how the hell were you supposed to know? boothill was brought back to you in a mess of scraps and wiring— the damn hunk of metal was lucky you made him as blast proof as possible and he was left salvageable. 

“care to tell me how the hell you got this roughed up?”

you asked in turn, crouching down to look at the detached and ruined internals of boothill's torso where the stand-in wires were connected. you ran a finger carefully along the edge of his shredded metallic stomach.

“guess i didn't make you as smart as i thought. time for a newer model, maybe?”

boothill's eyes flickered down to his missing lower half, then to your hand that was more or less caressing him. it was amazing how much annoyance they could show in all their artificial glory.

“look who’s talkin.” the cowboy grumbled, pointy fangs poking out in an irritated grin. 

“how ‘bout, ‘gee, boothill! i’m real glad y’ain’t get blown to smithereens beyond repair!’” 

“it would've been less work for me if whoever blew you up finished the job.”

you sighed as you stood up, putting a hand lazily on your hip.

“how’d it happen?”

boothill bit back another argument with a gruff chuckle.

“some real cutie-pies i was huntin’ down had a lil’ more firepower than i expected. guess they didn’t appreciate me spoilin’ their party.”

boothill visibly cringed as his insult was substituted with some cutesy nickname mid explanation.

“and can you fix my beautiful synesthesia beacon already? this thing is drivin’ me up the wall.”

the request fell on deaf ears as your fingers typed something on your laptop, likely another string of code.

“you’re more concerned about your censor than how long it’s gonna take me to put your legs back on…” you sighed to yourself, still leaned over your workbench, eyes focused on your screen.

“i'm not touching it right now. you’re lucky i’m even letting you stay sentient after this.”

boothill snorted at the remark, brows furrowing in a steady grimace.

“well, ‘scuse me for wantin’ to speak freely–  i’m a grown man!” his pointy teeth shone as they peeked out again in a grin.

“y’know what? just leave yer lil’ tools and all the pieces there— i’ll get my legs back on myself. don’t need no charity work from the likes’a you.” he laughed. “heck, may even give myself a new pecker while i'm at it!”

the mechanic had half a mind to listen, sit back and watch boothill struggle to reassemble himself just to prove a point and simultaneously bask in his embarrassment when the former realised it wasn’t possible.

(not that he would’ve admitted defeat– you would have begrudgingly stepped in and helped before he inevitably messed up his wiring more.)

you stepped back over to boothill, hands moving to hold his cheeks so you could tilt his face side to side to check for any more damage.

“cool it, cowboy.” your eyes squinted in focus as they looked at boothill's, lightly tugging up on his eyelid to check for scratches or cracks.

“i'll get you back up and running, just lose the attitude already.”

boothill's eyes narrowed as he felt your touch on his face. the temperature difference of warm fingers on his cold, mechanical body stirring an oddity where his gut should have been. though he tried to ignore it, the sensation was there, clear as day against all his artificial nerve endings. 

“real easy for you to say,” he huffed, avoiding your eyes as he was examined like a broken toy. “let’s see how peachy you are when yer all strung up and legless, love muffin.”

that censor really was gonna drive him insane.

“just get it over with.'' boothill muttered in annoyance. “and try not t’fuss anythin’ up.”

it took quite some time, as expected, for you to successfully reattach boothill’s legs and fix his mangled midsection. when you were finally finished, you tugged out any leftover wires that connected boothill to your terminals and pushed back in your wheelie chair to beckon the cowboy forward. you pushed your glasses up to your forehead, some hair getting swept out of your eyes with them.

“feel fine?”

boothill rolled his ankles and bent his knees, giving his legs a good stretch to test their mobility.

“mighty fine,” he responded, satisfied to feel they were weighted and moved the same as before. “though i can’t say i’m lovin’ the breeze up my backside.” 

boothill glanced down at himself, steel body completely bare and lacking any of his signature clothing. 

“got my pants lyin’ around anywhere, sugar plum?”

you pointed to another table in the room, where boothills clothes— (or rather the new ones you had to go and get—) were neatly folded, his hat placed on top of them. 

boothill went to get himself dressed, hoisting up his bell bottomed pants and sliding on his jacket. he stole a glance in your direction every so often, resisting the childish urge to roll his eyes at the mere sight of you.

the artificial man hit a small bump in the road as he went to zip his jacket (could you really call it that with how little it covered?) up—  his fingers weren’t responding as well as they should have been. he could open and close his fist, but lacked the precision to pinch and hold the zipper.

��hey, honeybun,'' boothill called over to you with a furrowed brow. “didn’t i tell you not to go fudgin’ anythin’ up?”

you, in all your overtired glory groaned, turning around in your chair and waving boothill back over.

“what are you talking about?” 

“my cute lil’ fingers ain’t workin’ that’s what i’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

boothill's footsteps were clunky and loud as he stomped his way back over to his mechanic.

you reached for his hand, an uncharacteristic gentleness in your touch as you examined five mechanical fingers.

“make a fist,”

boothill obeyed, curling his fingers into his palm.

“open it,”

he obeyed again, letting them open and relax.

“hold up two fingers,”

boothill tried, but his fingers got stuck halfway into the motion, locking at the joints.

“son of a bitch.” you sighed, turning for one of your tools. “sit back down.”

boothill grumbled and went to hoist himself back onto the workbench.

“least one o’us can say it…” 

“do you want me to fix you or not?”

“i'm sittin’ ain’t i??”

you pulled boothill's shirt off his left shoulder and popped open a tiny panel on the curve of his neck, sliding your glasses back on to the bridge of your nose. with a lean forward you began carefully looking at a few thin wires that filled the space.

boothill tapped his fingers against the tabletop while you worked, that same oddity as before settling in his now repaired gut. he rarely got messed up enough for you and him to spend this much time together, or for you to have to really be in such close proximity.

it’s not uncomfortable, but the feeling is by no means familiar. it’s actually a little embarrassing– a galaxy ranger, a space cyborg and expert hunter, feeling almost flustered at some close contact like some kind of shy little girl.

“something the matter?”

boothill nearly jumped as you spoke up quietly to check on him, voice quiet and so close to his ear he had to refrain from leaning both closer and away.

“nah, everything’s just dandy.” boothill’s voice followed yours– quieter and a little softer as a result of the closeness.

“you’re sure?” you looked up from the small mess of wires, eyes glancing up at your cyborg over the rim of your glasses. “might as well fix anything else that’s bugging you while i’m here.”

boothill would have swallowed if he had the need to lubricate his throat. he shook his head, turning to look somewhere— anywhere else.

yours lingered on him, albeit briefly, observing the clench of his jaw and the way he tried to shift in his seat without being disruptive to your work. he didn’t see the little smirk tug at your lips as you refocused on the task at hand.

boothill’s cybernetic limbs felt almost human in their sensitivity, sending faux shivers up a spine he didn’t even have. the mechanics fingers running down his forearm are doing him no favours as they move to hold his hand again.

“close your fist…open it…two fingers up…”

each command was obeyed, ten gunmetal fingers finally holding up a little peace sign.

“that should be it, come see me if they start acting up again.”

you stood up, tentatively reaching out to fix boothill’s jacket and begin to zip it for him.

boothill didn’t protest the act, but it was…confusing, to say the least.

“reckon i’ll just start seein’ those auto bots again,” he leaned back on his palms as your fingers fixed his collar, straightening it out.  “much as i love our lil’ visits.”

you only hummed, smoothing out a few wrinkles and neatly tucking his scarf into it’s neckline, as he liked. “you could,” you mused, hooking your finger lightly into his collar and giving a gentle tug forward. “they don’t take as good care of you as i do, though.”

this time boothill caught the little smirk on your lips, clear as day and enough to make him question if short circuiting was possible.

you’re doing it on purpose, he knows. the careful touches to his hands and body against the sensors you put there, quiet voice leaving him with a frisson you made it possible for him to have.

boothill returned the smirk, albeit a little wobbly.

“you tryin’a rile me up, sugar plum?” 

he entertained you with a lean forward, two white crosshairs looking right at you while he considered if a hand on your waist was too forward or the perfect cornering move. 

“just like watching you squirm.”

you were gone as quickly as you’d arrived, finger unhooked and going to pick up his hat.

“but say i was,” you didn’t bother with a glance over as you made sure the brim was straight and unharmed. “i hardly have to try.” 

boothill hopped down from the table, following your path and offering a scruffy chuckle when you reached up to place it on his head.

“yeah? and what makes y’say that?” his hand found a place on his hip.

you didn’t respond— not verbally, anyway. a quick flick of your eyes downwards was all he received. 

so he followed, looking down as well, to the very appendage he had insisted you give him over and over again pushing against his trousers. 

his own dream, now his downfall. 

boothill pushed passed you, pushing his hat further down onto his head while he stomped away. the profanities that left his lips filled the air— or rather their replacements. something something i love you blah blah peach cobbler something cutie-pie or meow!

“remind me t’settle for them lovely auto bots next time!”

he opened the door with a firm kick of his boot, stomping out with a scowl. 

as if he wouldn’t be back. you took better care of him, after all.

⠀ 𑣲 MASTERLIST / GOT A REQUEST ?