#So I really wanted to put this somewhere

[heartorbit]

figure skating set right now please. thanks

[torsamors]

Patrick and Pete throughout the years

"I remember looking at Pete and Patrick and telling Pete, “You're the luckiest guy in the world because you found this guy." Patrick laughed. Then I turned to Patrick and said the same thing to him. They fit together so perfectly. Pete listens to electronic music and pop. He DJs. Patrick likes old soul and classic R&B. The fact that Patrick found this guy with this vision; Pete had everything for the band laid out in his mind. And the fact that Pete found a guy who can sing like that and take his lyrics and work with them - which is an art unto itself. It's really the combination of those two that really creates the sound and the songs. They're just really lucky they found each other."

- Bob McLynn

[thelastunison]

forgot to mention it before but hi I finally started reading Dungeon Meshi like a week ago and now I decided to color in one of my favorite pages so far

[soni-dragon]

the jacket crew is on the case!

[red-moon-at-night]

After doing some research on the types of pets people had in ancient Greece, I'd like to imagine that Helen is the sort of person who has a whole menagerie of birds — and she loves each and every one of them very, very much.

It fits well with her being good at mimicry, you know. Talking and imitating and singing with her beloved birds ����

Close up under the read more:

I had to include that one necklace from the minoan 'saffron goddess' fresco because it's my favourite thing Ever

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Swiss hurt/comfort because I love him. So, so much. Featuring Dew being the absolute best.

It's a peculiar feeling, being the only multi ghoul in the Ministry. Sure, there are some who come close, like three-elemental hybrid Aurora, but Swiss remains, to this day, the only ghoul to detain control of all five elements. Well. "Control" might be a strong word.

He is good with fire, has always been drawn to this element specifically. Quickly started hanging out with the fire ghoul bunch after his summoning, feeling like he might fit in best with them. He is good, yes, but no more than that. Good. Average good. Nothing like the effortless and precise mastery of the element displayed by the fire ghouls.

Air comes relatively easily to Swiss. He has Cumulus and Cirrus to thank for that. Summoned at the same time as them, he remains very close to the girls, and spent countless afternoon practicing with them, learning how to weave breezes and gusts of wind, earning countless praises and kisses whenever he made progress. Still, Swiss has none of the girls' grace or range when it comes to manipulating their common element.

Surprisingly, he is quite good with quintessence as well. Quintessence, this mysterious, elusive element that's known to be so hard to control, somehow doesn't give Swiss as much troubles as he'd expected. In Aether's opinion, it might be that Swiss is so very curious of people, his mind craving connection, which would encourage the spark of quintessence within his grasp. But of course, because there always is a "but", Swiss is far from fully in control of it. He would never try what Aether successfully does to calm pain, soothe nerves or various other things.

When it comes to water...well. Swiss can, with a lot of focus, fuck around with weak currents, direct some droplets to splash someone in the face, or even, thanks to Rain's patient efforts, developpe small gills which allow him to breath semi-decently underneath the surface of the lake, but that's about it. Swiss, as much as he sometimes wishes he could, will never slink through the currents with the water ghouls' elegancy, silent and blending in so very well with their element.

Which leaves earth. Ah, earth. Swiss can feel it, the thrumming under his skin whenever he's surrounded by the element, in the forest guarding the Ministry's grounds or even Primo's beautiful rose garden. Yet Swiss can barely access to that power keeping itself just out of grasp, almost as if it was taunting him. No amount of time spent in the greenhouses helping Mountain, listening to his advice or copying his careful gestures can change that. But Swiss knows it's there, can feel it, and, on rare occasions, has his suspicions confirmed when flowers sprouts around his horns after being subjected to especially intense emotions.

So that is what Swiss is. Jack of all trades, master of none. And it gets to him, sometimes. He knows, realistically speaking, that people like him. That the Clergy sees him as a blessing, the Siblings are irresistibly drawn to him, that the ghouls are all over him. And yet, sometimes, he cannot help but feel like an outsider, a freak, something that shouldn't be, or at least shouldn't be that way.

It's often Dew who notices first when Swiss starts spiralling that way. Everyone always underestimates how perceptive and attentive to others the fire ghoul is, but Swiss has been on the receiving end of his quiet comfort enough times to know Dew cares, a lot. And somehow, when Swiss is overwhelmed by the objectively speaking irrationnal feeling of not belonging, Dew always manages to reassure him.

Maybe it's because the fire ghoul remembers his water days, when he struggled to connect with his element and felt like a disappointment, even with Mist always fiercely supporting him and expressing her pride in what Dew grew to become. In any case, he always find the words to appease Swiss, or, when words aren't what he needs, what to do to make him feel better.

A hand slipping in Swiss', an arm slung around his shoulders. A press of forehead against his, a cheeky kiss at the corner of his mouth. Sometimes, understanding that all Swiss needs is to be smothered with affection, Dew simply throws himself at the multi ghoul and wrestles him onto his back with surprising strenght before calling for a cuddle pile.

It's harder to feel like an outsider when your packmates are all purring and making happy noises on top of you.

[biscuitscheesebiscuits]

Reading physical copies of The Queen's Thief series for the first time and realizing that the maps in them are inconsistent???

[fisheito]

hello... please consider... yakumo in:

the classic traditional style qipaos

the modernised and modified ones

bonus: modified hanfu

he would look wonderful wouldn't he? all the more delectable and sashimiable?

ahaha...ahah...AHAHHAH.AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

[tvckerwash]

you know, an interpretation of ct that I don't see that I personally really love is that she's a fuck up. like yes she's cool and she has some good fight scenes, but a huge part of her character is that she makes mistakes. the mistakes that she makes are ones that on their own aren't the end of the world, but she keeps making these little mistakes, and they eventually add up until she's out of room to make any more.

a really good example of this phenomenon in action is the actions she took leading up to her final confrontation with carolina and tex.

strike one, she thought she saw something in the water, but when asked by the leader what it was, she brushed it off as nothing when even if it had been nothing, it would've been smart to tell him what she thought she saw.

strike two, she didn't sense or notice florida's presence when the leader did, and she looks at the leader twice, once as she pulled out her magnums, and again after she did a scan of the room, almost like she was looking at him for guidance before he finds florida and takes him out with one good axe throw.

strike three, she couldn't convince the leader to leave when they had the chance to get away, and her cheap tricks were not enough to hold off either tex or carolina in a fight. they were only good for incapacitating her opponents enough for her to get away, which doesn't work when she has no escape.

ct is not tex, or carolina, or south. she is not a one woman army who can get herself out of trouble when she's stuck in tough situations. she needs people who can watch her back, she need a team who can cover her when she does mess up, and the leader and his team were not those people. she couldn't bring herself to trust them, and they couldn't bring themselves to trust her, and that cost all of them their lives.

[secondstar-acorn]

can’t think of anything to say other than it was everything I could have ever expected and wanted and hoped for. seeing them perform truly is an electric experience and I am so, so grateful I got to be there. I’ve never felt such overflowing joy and love in one room before and that truly is down to what a one-of-a-kind group Starkid is. I’m so happy and a little emotional that it’s over but like it’s sung in days of summer, “don’t wanna see you go but it’s not forever, not forever” ⭐️💜

[tapakah0]

You know

We had the canon story with where they could at least save another timeline

You did a story where they managed to have their happy ending

And now, I suspect

It's time for the complete failure?

Nope, I've mentioned before that it will be good for one person, don't worry

[becauseplot]

Penciled Lines

(Cross-posted on ao3, if you prefer to read it there. Reblogs still appreciated!)

Missa wakes up, and he thinks he might be doomed. This doesn’t scare him nearly as much as it should.

Missa is awake early—by his own metric, anyway. His nocturnal nature causes “early” for him to mean “early night” and not “early morning.” Regardless, “early” means that Philza is not asleep yet, still going through his nightly rituals. “Early” means that Philza is sitting up in (his? their?) the bed, pillows propped up behind him, notebook in his lap, sketching away.

And when Missa wakes up to the soft scritch-scratch of a charcoal pencil on textured paper, his forehead just so happens to be brushing Philza’s hip.

Missa can hardly breathe.

Oh no.

He knows that if he gives any indication that he is awake, Philza will stop sketching, close his notebook, shift himself over until he is politely seated on his side of the bed, and greet Missa with a friendly smile. Philza has done it before, when Missa wakes up early. That’s how Missa knows he’ll do it again.

Thus, Missa can hardly breathe—his breaths have to be the slow in-out of sleep. He can’t so much as twitch, either. He has to keep quiet and play dead or else he’ll be found out. Seen. Caught living the lie.

“Husband,” Philza calls him. They’re not married. They share a bed. They’re hardly ever in it at the same time. They have a son and a daughter. Neither of them know Missa very well. Philza has had an extra set of armor and a skull on his backpack for months, waiting for Missa. Missa doesn’t even know Philza’s last name.

Philza is a good man and a good friend—and Missa doesn't deserve him. Still, he takes what he can get. Curls around it. Hoarding every innocent kindness Philza extends like a starving creature: the generosity of a backpack fully stocked with equipment; the trust Philza places in Missa to watch the kids when he’s asleep; and now, the courtesy of not moving his hip from Missa’s forehead to ensure his “sleeping” isn’t disturbed. Missa clutches all of these little offerings in his greedy claws and hugs them into his chest, even as the guilt eats away at him.

Because, regardless of the lack of mutual feeling, he loves Philza. He loves him so, so much, and that is why he is doomed. He can’t afford to lose what little he has. He can’t cross that line. 

So Missa lies beside Philza, forehead pressed against Philza’s hip, pretending to sleep so he can imagine that they’re not just lying in bed together, but lying in bed, together; and later, when Missa truly wakes, he will sit on his side of the bed and look at Philza’s face soft with sleep and think about how lucky he is that he still has a side-of-the-bed to begin with.

Missa doesn’t mean to drift off. When it starts to happen, he’s hopelessly torn between shaking himself awake and thus giving himself away, or remaining how he is, silently fending off the inevitable. In the end, Missa clings to that scritch-scratch sound of Philza’s pencil on the paper for as long as he can before the fog at last pulls him under. 

Eventually, he dreams. In fact, he dreams of the calloused fingers he dreams of every night, hands like his own, an artist of Death, cradling and shading the contours of his face—a softness dashing charcoal across his jaw, and over his cheekbones, and perhaps on his lips, too, if he’s lucky. Defining every edge of him.

~*~

A deep sigh. Phil stops sketching as Missa shifts in his sleep. He tilts his head up so that the tip of his nose is now just nearly brushing against Phil’s hip. The motion disturbs the wild splay of his dark hair, revealing more of his face: eyelashes, cheeks, warmth. Tender blush of something Stygian and otherworldly. New.

Phil’s lips tilt upwards. He turns to a fresh page, and he starts again.

[lialuvsaven]

Just saying but with this being revealed

Did anyone think of the stuff we're gonna be able to put up? If it's anything like Genshin teapot, we'll be able to put these in our rooms—

I'm very happy about it 😋

[piningpercussionist]

Oh! Fucking. Duh. Obvious Roxie post I can make today: here's an emote I made for the sp:te server! (With variants of different degrees of completion...)

I was gonna go back and shade the comic colors Roxie but. Just ended up going w the colors picked off the screenshot. This screenshot, specifically!

[hellenhighwater]

Wait is that actually your ex-boyfriend's hand? What happened to him?

He works with real live dinosaurs so....

Nah, he and are are super good friends--we were before we dated, and remained so after, because the breakup was extremely amicable, and he's one of those people who's a terribly good gift-giver. Most years we still exchange gifts sometime between our respective birthdays and christmas, and he sent me that hand (it's a replica) as a gift one year. I made him the archaeopteryx fossil bowl this year.

Just because this is the OG bone-stealing witch website, I will clearly state that the only real human bones I possess are my own. My animal bones are all either scavenged myself or gifted to me by the people that scavenged them. (I have a sort of energy that consistently makes people go "I saw this dead thing and thought of you!")

I don't have a problem with owning human remains that are ethically sourced, but the reality is that unless you can very precisely trace the origin of human remains to the specific person who clearly and unequivocally stated in life that they're cool with someone keeping and displaying their now-unused crunchy bits, it's...probably not ethical. So if someone has some of their own bones that they're done using that they want to send my way: cool, let's talk, ideally before it's necessary to have the conversation by seance. Otherwise, I will continue to be perfectly happy with my replica remains.

I'd like to will my crunchy bits to someone who will make dramatic monologues to my noggin, but hopefully that's not an issue I'll need to deal with for a while yet.

[crownedwille]

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