#LOTL ART???

[jaylee-is-here]

despite everything, it's still you

[cairafea]

On the idea of Theseus's Ship: in the end, it's still his, isn't it? It was known as Theseus's, and it will continue to be known as Theseus's.

Even after he has returned to the ground which grew the wood of the hammer used to nail the ship's frame, Even after generations of new wood have rotted and the sails are rags clinging to threads, Even after millennia,

it will still be Theseus's Ship.

Thank you for bringing us home.

Goodnight, Phosphophyllite.

[vertyd]

phoossss pospoppylickalick

[chocolatechipkraken]

Fool's Gold

(pyrite cubes made in Blender and Phos drawn in FireAlpaca)

[shimamom]

despite it all, there's still hope for a better future

[caramew-flan]

phosphophyllite✨

[mochike]

hi im not dead!! have a lapis from hnk

[squiidkiid]

This is a re-draw of one frame from the manga and it was really hard to render her hair but I like how it looks in the end

[shih-na]

Someone mentioned this on Youtube, I really like the idea of Dia using long ranged weapons. I think a sling with bunch of rocks could work. Or throwing knives, similar to Rutile.

[siphonharapeco]

[whiteminibeast]

PHOS

hihihi new post - HNK

[penebui]

Closeups of the promo banners for Houseki no Kuni's 13th volume in Shibuya Station, from @/ame-flash on twitter.

Ladra, the photographer from Party At The End can be seen in the party's illustration.

[Original Twitter Thread by Ame-Flash]

[rhiimera]

thank you and farewell

[twooftheluckyones]

Cult of the Lamb: Luck of the Lamb Part 4: Reap the Whirlwind

The physical body does not exist within the afterlife, instead the land is inhabited by the souls of the dead or departed. Resurrection repairs the mortal coil, but godly wounds ceaselessly weep. Thus, a god cannot survive death without the healing properties of a conduit crown. Despite this many have tried, though normally its not someone else's power keeping them clinging to the margins of life. A power now bonded through the sheer force of will to share a lonely throne. ~Previous/Next~ ~Start~ ~~~~ Story Segment Under Cut ~~~~

Rage. Betrayal. Vengeance.

Their fight filled the afterlife with destruction and violence. Two gods wrestling for the key to their power. Blade and blood met flame and fury.

Narinder was an old god, powerful beyond measure even in his imprisonment. He had commanded life and death, and weilded curses effortlessly. Una would not be the first god he'd killed.

Yet fate had other plans.

She crackled with divine energy, dancing around his attacks effortlessly.

Lucky.

It felt like ages, and yet before he knew it, it was over. Her blade, made of his crown, plunged into his chest, and his eldritch form crumbled. A god defeated, reduced to nothing.

And then...

Pain. Nothing but searing hot, agonizing pain. Narinder felt lost in a sea of torment, his body suddenly awash with screaming flesh. Through burning nerves he distantly noticed the world around him felt different, the brittle bone meal landscape of the gateway gone. Instead, he felt stone, grass, and chill air against his skin. His eyes felt like hot coals shoved in their sockets, and even trying to open them felt like a dagger to the skull. The sensations were nothing but a candle to the raging inferno of suffering. In another time, he wondered if this was what the mortals he damned in the afterlife felt like. Perhaps that was his fate now. Eternal pain. Fitting. Yet as he laid there, squirming weakly in the depths of agony, something approached. "Nrdnr?! Hly Shtt!" Muffled words reached his ears, soft hands scrambling over his skin. Some demonic tormentor, come to perpetuate or relish in his state? "Hld Stlll! Fgk Fgk!" It was impossible to think over the agony, and they pushed away his hands as he feebly tried to fend them off. The cold ground under him suddenly felt warm and sticky, the silken robes he wore suddenly wet with something. "Hre! Ths iz phor thg baain." His attacker grabbed his head, shoving some vial of something against his lips. The biter oily fluid hit the back of his throat, a spasm of coughs making his body jerk and flail, each one feeling like barbed wire was being flossed through his bones. This really was hell. Hands yanked his tattered robes off, exposing his skin to the cold air. Some kind of cloth wrapped around his arms, pulled tight against the angry nerves. More on his chest, pushed against the spaces in his ribs where an echo of betrayal now bled. Two betrayals. Twice now he'd trusted and lost for it. At least the last time he hadn't been alive to feel what dying was like. "Hold still! Where did all this blood come from?!" A sudden calmness entered his mind, and the fire of agony faded into a foggy, numb abyss. Narinder opened his eyes. Stars met him, the half moon's pale light shining down. He tilted his head up, the movement feeling like lifting a boulder. Some figure hunched over him, their hands covered in inky black liquid as they quickly unrolled another bandage and began wrapping it around his chest. Almost instantly the white fabric turned black. The fog around his head grew thicker, eyes fluttering heavily as consciousness became fleeting and fickle. The figure glanced at him, red meeting red. Despite his injuries, Narinder still possessed enough strength to recognize them.

"Narinder," Una's voice poured with grief. "I'm so sorry, please just hold on. Its going to be okay."

Another empty deceitful lie. "Una..." he muttered, voice a mere whisper through his scratchy and weak throat. "Narinder?" Her eyes wept a river of tears, the guilt in her words echoed across her face. The traitorous eye of his former crown gazed down from atop her head, watching with unending apathy. Rage bloomed in his oozing chest, a small surge of fury granting him some measure of energy. He summoned all of his remaining power, defiance filling his fading mind. "Fuck you." Darkness.

[rhythlart]

I don't want HnK to end

[r0nnn13]

Prayer