#That he has grown up a bit

[oifaaa]

What do you think of the most recent wfa? (The tim&damian two-parter)

Oh I liked it i like how it didn't go down the demonise damian route that it could have but instead showed that both Tim and damian have insecurities and they don't need to sit there blaming each other but just have a conversation where they both acknowledge the past but try to move past it bc they can't change what happened I also like how they acknowledged how young damian was when he first came to the Manor like he was literally half timmys height

[seiwas]

you wear katsuki’s clothes to bed.

among all your cotton and silk pajamas, you prefer the thinning fabric of his faded tees. there are holes in some of them, just a few more seams away from their undoing as they fit far too large on you—but that’s why you love them.

they’re comfy and worn; lived in with love from the man that you love. when katsuki is gone for days or weeks at a time, you find his warmth intertwined within the threads of his t-shirts. when the fabric presses against your back, the bed doesn’t feel nearly as empty as it is.

(though it can never replace him. nothing can, you fear.)

“hoggin’ all my shirts,” he tuts, but you know it means nothing. the roll of white fabric is neatly folded unto itself, its crisp corners unfurling once handed over.

you giggle, shaking off its folds and fitting the hem right over your head. from the corner of your eye, you see katsuki’s gaze, watching you wrangle the fabric over you as the towel wrapped around your body slowly drops to the floor.

he turns away then, a little too quickly, a little too abruptly. if you look at him now, you’re sure you’ll find flushed cheeks and crimson eyes burning in shame for wanting you so inopportunely.

“guess you’ll just have to take me with it then.”

[sofusenpai]

it seems people really like woodwarder stuff so have some more (these r oldies but goodies)

[softichill]

Little freak on the brain again

[mellohiizz]

i need some of your parrot art very sad. like, make him very very sad, as sad as you can make it. horribly sad. depressingly tragic sadness.

oops. sorry, i think i traumatized your bird.

[createandconstruct]

Toshinori and Inko finding out their pregnant a year into marriage and just sitting staring at the test like...oh. This was not exactly in the plan...nor did they even think it was possible??

They tell Izuku first of course and when they do he actually thinks they're kidding! Haha! That's actually...pretty funny, guys...uhhh...why do you both look so serious.......oh, oh shit. OH. All Might and Mom are having a kid? He's going to be a brother? In his twenties??? HUH?

Cut to nine months later and Izuku's holding his little sister, Toshinori beside him, arm around his shoulder, as Inko watches on with love and pride, because their family feels even more complete than it was before.

[impulsive-fantasylander]

Thinking about an older C!Tommy, raising kids and being a good dad can be something so, healing. And fun and awesome

[headfullof-ideas]

Introducing the second original dragon species in my crossover AU, the Forktail! (Name pending, but for now I can’t think of anything else. Though I’m not opposed to the name)

The Forktail is a relatively uncommon dragon, or a relatively isolated from human settlements dragon, depending on who you ask. Regardless, Forktail dragons are hard to find, and not just because they avoid most humans. Forktails have the ability to camouflage, much like their far larger and more common relatives, the Changewings. Unlike their larger cousins, Forktails don’t have the ability to spit acid. However, over years of evolution they’ve developed a small defense mechanism when their camouflage fails. A brief electrical surge can run across their skin, shocking anyone who is touching them. Unlike Skrills or Shockjaw dragons, Forktails don’t shoot lightning bolts, simply having the lightning surge. It’s effective nonetheless, very few people being happy after being zapped by a Forktail.

Forktail dragons, like their cousins the Changewings and another dragon of similar heritage, only come in a certain number of colors. Forktails come in a variety of blues, greens, and purples, though they can come in practically every shade and combination of the colors possible. Forktails also have a bioluminescent pattern that they flash as communication or as a mating display, though they only glow when the bioluminescence is needed. It’s hard for a dragon refuted for camouflage to hide when they have bioluminescent patterns glowing all the time, after all. Forktails have light grey eyes no matter the sex, and have very little outward differences to determine the gender of a dragon.

Forktails are hard to come across, and usually unnerving to many who happen upon one. Most dragons show a sentience that most other animals don’t have, on par with human empathy. Forktails, while dragons, are a little different. They’re known for being seemingly detached emotionally, though no less intelligent or sentient than all the other breeds of dragon. Rumor has it that there’s a little something else in their genetic heritage beyond the blood they share with Changewings, something that’s more prominent in another, more dangerous cousin. This isn’t to say that, intelligence and empathy wise, they’re lesser than other dragons. Forktails are still just as intelligent and capable of complex, human levels of thought, that other species of dragons have. They’re even known for forming intense bonds with dragons of their own species and others.

Behold, the dragon that Alpheus is traveling with, a Forktail! I had to include ARIA in some way, since she’s such a big part of his story, but I wasn’t sure how to bring her in for a while. For starters, the technology required to make an AI doesn’t exist here. But I didn’t want to make her a person here either, and Alpheus having a dragon that he rode didn’t feel right either. Eventually, I settled on a smaller dragon, with abilities that were similar to his submarine. Sooo, did I make an entirely new species of dragon just so Alpheus can have ARIA? No, not entirely. Forktails are also part of a further world building effort, something that becomes relevant and important further into the series we go. The emotional detachment is meant to resemble how ARIA is an AI in The Deep, but it also connects to the world building and lore that the species she’s a part of has.

[otaku553]

3 of them!

The third and final part of turning me and my siblings into demon slayers: my brother! He’s the only one out of the three of us that exercises regularly and actually does martial arts so he gets to be the strongest :P he’s also the tallest, like 10 whole inches taller than both me and my sister but he’s actually the middle child! And he’s only a year and a half older than me :)

For his weapon I wanted something similar to a staff but also containing a blade, because he showed me some staff forms one time for his martial arts club and it was really cool :0 so I’m not sure how viable the twin-blade staff would actually be in battle or how it would be made (but if the sword smith village can make kanroji a whole whip out of a metal blade then I think they can definitely make a scabbard out of metal). The way it works is that when sheathed, the blade is a full staff, and either side individually can unsheathe to make a spear. It can also separate down the middle to become two swords, which is much more effective for traditional breathing styles. Shougen is the only one strong enough out of the siblings to fight effectively without the assistance of wisteria poison.

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

headcanon that scorpius was a sick child and was in and out of hospital constantly, perhaps related to astoria's blood curse but not directly. his immune system isnt very strong, and everytime he gets sick they're terrified that it's the blood curse but also whatever else it could be, because it's always so sudden and so intense and they call healers over to the house who recommend this delirious feverish 4 year old is hospitalised immediately, and you'd think it'd get easier to some extent because they'd be used to it, but everytime they feel like this is it, this is the time he'll walk in to the hospital and not walk out again

[movedtodykedvonte]

I think it’s be funny to have a Spider-Man that is genuinely just a kid, not like a teenager or a kid who understands the gravity of his abilities but a kid who does heroics simply because that’s cool to a kid.

The gimmick is that the villains think it’s a gimmick and Spider-Man(?) fucks with them by acting like a kid to make ‘em feel bad or embarrass them only for them to realize he’s a literal child due to a forced team up where they like offer him a brewski afterwards and he’s legitimately like “Mr I am 9 years old, I just do this cause my aunt can’t take me to the park every afternoon.” And they grill him on adult things and he sits there just blanking cause he’s fucking 9.

[recitedemise]

𝗠𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗼𝗳 𝗚𝗮𝗹𝗲'𝘀 𝘃𝘂𝗹𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗼𝗽 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘂𝗺𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀, 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗻𝘀𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗠𝘆𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗹𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗽𝗮𝗯𝗶𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆 𝗳𝗼𝗿. This lengthy headcanon will refer to canon dialogue from mostly Gale, sometimes others. Reader's discretion is advised. There will be in depth explorations into grooming, emotional abuse, heavy manipulation, and suicide.

First, let it be said that Gale, a mortal man, will always be the powerless one in his dynamic with Mystra. Of course, nearing forty years of age, he remains entirely responsible for his own actions, his own blunders and every hurt he'll cause, but it's important to remember who formed much of who he is: his goddess, his deity, and egregiously, his lover.

Mystra is power. Mystra is possibility. She knows what sway she holds over her Ioyal, vulnerable, and entirely mortal followers. In all ways that matter, they are but lambs she can steer and herd as she sees fit. She knows they can't deny her and knows they'll never want to. Gale's sheer servitude and complete devotion. Mystra, knowing that, used him to filth.

Gale: I was just... practising an incantation. Player Character: No, there's more to it than that. I know devotion when I see it. Gale: What can I say? She's—she's Mystra. I can't describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her - to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence... Mystra is all magic. And as far as I'm concerned, she is all creation. Player Character: I didn't realize the depth of your devotion. Gale: Magic is... my life. I've been touched with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There's nothing like it.

Gale, orb in his chest, doomed to be eaten by the very thing he loves the most, still speaks so reverently of the goddess, of his lover that has left him to die. He conjures images of her memory—and she is all the while forgetting about his.

Minsc: Gale reminds me of vremyonni of my homeland. The man-mages of Rasheman. While the girl-folk go on to rule as wychlaran, Weave-touched boys were hidden away. Trained to work their craft in silence and secrecy. It is an old custom, not well-observed. In truth, I thought it born of caution after some catastrophe of wizardly men-folk of old. Now, I wonder if it was not done to hide them from Mystra, and the snares she sets for young and prideful boys, hm?

Tales of Mystra's treachery spreads far, leaving those familiar waters surrounding Gale's tower in Waterdeep. They whisper her name, afraid to utter it one time too many, suspecting, perhaps, that she'll show in their mirror like some Faerûnian Bloody Mary.

Talent rouses Mystra. She can see who uses the gift of the Weave and feel them, sampling whatever delight sings their veins as they pull from her domain. Not unlike a spider, she'll follows every tremor that strikes her as just a sliver more profound; and Gale, a prodigy, plucked the Weave's web to so garner her focus. And like some black widow scurrying, she surged down that ripple to prey on a boy. There, Gale, so impressionable, was just a mite older than twelve whole summers. He sat so stunned, beholding Mystra as she lured him into the cradle of her Astral domain. Bathed in her magic, pleasantly coddled within that glittering cosmos, Gale felt blessed in a way he'll struggle always to recount, no word, no language, fit to describe it. He felt chosen. He felt seen. And potently, to a child, he felt loved. Now, imagine a child experiencing something like that. Imagine what they'd think, how brilliant they must be when stood beside the rest. She told him he was gifted, made his heart swell not unlike a child's appetite for praise. She knew what she was doing by offering these morsels, by preying on a child's most delicate mind, and Gale, child prodigy, was already so awash in the idea that his value was in magic. Unfortunately, Gale, susceptible, had no way of squirming out of his goddess' grasp.

Reality: She's laid down the seeds to creep into his heart. When he's just old enough—seventeen's sufficient, she thinks—she stakes her claim and makes him hers.

Gale: My virtuosic talent once caught the eye of the goddess of magic herself, Mystra, who named me her chosen and her lover.

Gale is stunned when she takes him to bed the first time. (Is this really happening?) Mystra claims his mouth in a kiss, taking everything she knows he offers so willingly. Mystra, of course, is not so stunned.

Dream Visitor: An elder brain... one of the cruelest and most powerful creatures in existence, enslaved by mere mortals. Gale, tasked with Mystra's missive to sacrifice himself: This is it... I must do as Mystra commands.

Gale has worryingly low self-esteem beyond his magic. As already explored, his entire worth as a man hinged on and was built entirely off his talent as a wizard. He fought tooth and nail for any crumb of affection Mystra would offer his way, something she only gave him at all seeing his gift as a child. He wants her forgiveness. He desires it genuinely. He believes so firmly that he has wronged his goddess, buying into the idea that sacrificing himself will right his wrong. She holds such dominion over him, making him reduce his confidence in himself into a mere, trifling pittance; after all, she wasn't just his lover, but the patron deity he prays to. And regardless, Gale is a people pleaser, his initial acceptance of her missive coming as no surprise.

After all, Gale, at times, goes to incredible lengths to appease his audience. This habit, compulsion, impulse, whatever you want to call it, is a quality that was relentlessly exacerbated in his relationship with his immortal paramour. He wanted to content her, felt all he did was never enough, for as a matter of principle, he was oceans, leagues, and entire galaxies beneath her. Gale figures: well, how can a short-lived dalliance satisfy a god? He had to make her happy. Indeed, he'd done everything she'd ask. He'd bedded her how she liked, kissed her how she wanted, and of course, even said those words she'd said tasted best. She was his lover, a lover that never tended to his own needs and pleasures, and he fooled himself into thinking that's enough. He won't bend backwards for everyone, mind you, but if you're of the ones he would, he would stop at nothing to make you happy. After all, people pleasing is a way to keep oneself safe, a trauma response to sidestep discomfort, and though it achieves only a direly tentative peace, when that is all you've been fed, you will pursue it.

Gale did not want to lose Mystra; he couldn't bare the sting of it. And so, when Elminster visited him, Mystra's call for his death offered oh so callously, Gale, heartbroken, felt that part of him kick up. He couldn't endure the guilt, was so hungry for a chance to let his weighty heart breathe, even if it meant dying in the process.

At least this way, he'll finally do something right. At least this way, Mystra will forgive him, and all his friends will survive.

Gale: After I was afflicted with my condition, I locked myself in my tower for an entire year. I was inconsolable, wallowing in my self-inflicted tragedy. I'd given up on myself.

As a byproduct of people pleasing, Gale, too, is all too quick to accept all guilt. He self-deprecates, gaslights himself to a venomous degree, and twists his reality in so cruel a way as to make him the villain Mystra'd led him to believe. He self-flagellates himself, the first one in the world who will throw Gale of Waterdeep a mental punishment. Mystra's a goddess, after all, seen as utterly faultless, and twined so tightly with a being so mighty in esteem, Gale slipped into the role of the guilty often. When tied with anyone with grandeur like this, so immeasurable in their own self worth, it's important to keep in mind this: you are nothing but a prop in which to fulfill their ego. Gale was not Mystra's, not by a long shot. Rather, Gale was a tool, simply her mortal extension.

And he took every blow meant for her... a common and terrible habit for many people in imbalanced, ego-fueled relationships.

Gale's life beyond her wasn't something that interested her. She took most of Gale's devotion, manipulated his life to be her sole mantle of attention, for Mystra is not a goddess that shares very happily.

Indeed, long before his self-imposed isolation, this jealous deity did well at keeping him isolated.

Player Character: Picture kissing him. With tenderness. Then, with passion. Gale: I... I didn't think— Narrator: You perceive quick-fire embarrassment, trepidation, and finally... elation.

And so, cheated out of love, so reduced in his value as a man and lover both, suffice to say, Gale's slow to believe he can ever be loved. That's what happens when you're with someone so cold, consistent only in their infinite lack of respect. Gale looks at fondness, and he feels—confounded, to be sure. He thinks, is this truly mine to have? He doesn't know what to do, is nearly forty in game, and despite having lived decades devoted to one relationship, he feels, at the same time, entirely out of depth. To be frank, he greets it with embarrassment, like he's been caught red handed with something not his at all. He's like a child caught rummaging with his hand in a cookie jar, all this isn't mine to enjoy, not mine to indulge in, but he thinks, startled, but god, do I want. He wars with disbelief, uncertainty, and need, and in so many ways feeling utterly starved, with just a glimmer of affection, he falls fast into love.

Scenario: (And if properly romanced, it changes his world.)

Gale: In her (Mystra's) likeness, I used to read a thousand stories. She was beauty, wisdom, elegance, power... she contained universes. But now... it is hard to see any redeeming qualities in a lover who condemned you to death. I'd much rather gaze into your eyes than hers. Yours are capable of tenderness and feeling... No god could ever compare.

He says it with sincerity. There is such wonder, such love, and such awe in his eyes. He makes the act of kissing him feel like you've just reached into the trenches to but pluck him soundly from his ruin and despair. You think, Gale Dekarios, how unloved have you been all this time?

Gale: To know you love me for the man I am, and not the magic I command… none have loved me so purely before.

The answer is: entirely.

For so long, Gale thought love was simply being chosen. He knew nothing of being favored for the quality of his character, to be cherished and accepted even in those ways he fumbles and lacks. Again, his needs were seldom met, often treated with utter indifference by Mystra herself, and to meet someone so eager to treasure him, dote on him in a way his heart, his body is somberly new to, raptures his spirit and captures his soul. He's seen for who he is. He's... loved, desired for his silly quips, his easy smiles, and his growing affections. He bares himself to them, and in turn, they cradle his heart like something entirely precious. Gale thinks this has to be dream. He says, at times, you are more than I deserve.

Scenario: (But sometimes, he hopes too strongly and loves too greatly. As it always does, then, like he's once more wanted too much, he watches something beautiful slip right through his fingers. Of course, Gale Dekarios. Of course it does.)

Player Character: I didn't know you felt so strongly, Gale. Gale: Perhaps I should have done more. Been more charming, more flattering, harder to reach... but I was only myself, and sometimes that isn't enough.

They don't love him anymore. It breaks his heart. He hurts so much, so profoundly and deeply, and he doesn't realize that he breaks their heart in turn.

Unable to ever voice his feelings with Mystra in any way that amounted to much, Gale's a tendency to wallow, expressions coming off as potentially 'guilt-tripping' and even, on occasion, passive aggressive. Firstly: Gale NEVER means to manipulate emotions, and he's no intention of twisting anyone's arm, either. Fact is, Gale, never taken seriously when he'd bared his vulnerabilities to the Mother of the Weave, can end up saying just a little too much. He feels very deeply, and for most his life, seldom had an outlet for these weeping sentiments. He sometimes lets slip raw words and oftentimes heart-wrenching expressions; all the same, it's not so pitiful as to shepherd an outcome, but rather, is a gesture taken by a man so desperate to be heard. It may feel like scheming, but the truth is far, far greyer: feeling as though he's no right to share the depth of his heart, Gale simply lets it geyser out in a way he can't cork up. In ways he doesn't realize, he's adapted to this ache, passively reacting so his feelings can at least be seen and recognized—no matter how pitifully unwhole. With someone who values so little his thoughts... well, when he slips into these moods, one can hardly feign shock.

Situation: (And if no one shows him trust and tenderness, any true care in his character or worth, Gale gets swallowed up by how wronged he was.

He thinks: Let me be a god. Let no one hurt like me anymore.)

Gale: They only want us to serve them, pray to them...and ultimately, to die for them. But what if we didn't need them? What if we wielded their power instead and helped ourselves in all the ways they refuse to? I could make that happen.

Gale is not above anger, and as stated, he is not above pettiness; however, more than that, he is not above righting himself whatever wound he was struck. Gale, if not offered much by ways of affection, understanding, is made to believe that one idea that's lived growing in his mind: Gale Dekarios is far from sufficient; he has to be more. He has to be better. Gale, in such an unkind ending for himself, sips too desperately—and perhaps greedily, too, but desperately serves as a far better word—at that idea that he needs power. And so, wresting the Crown of Karsus for himself, he spites Mystra in his own way, becoming a god he feels is leagues better than she will ever be. Damn her thoroughly. Damn her ego, her power, and her endless indifference. He will serve the people, protect them, and in ways Mystra never could, better the world.

Situation: But as a god, he loses all sense of his kindness. Humanity. All who loved him leave him, and even Tara spurns the image he's become. With power, he's gained the respect he thought he always wanted... but in turn, he lost in even greater measure all the love he's known.

Endnote: But healing, knowing to forgive himself and knowing he's deserving of care simply for being Gale Dekarios will remain, always, the best path for him.

[losersimonriley]

I know some of us like to pepper Gaelic endearments into our ghostsoap from time to time and I thought hey! Maybe I should finally share my little headcanon as to how Soap even came about knowing the language in the first place:

I like to think that his granny (who raised him and his siblings) was from the Inner Hebrides and grew up using it. She moved to the lowlands after marrying, became a Gaelic-medium teacher. Thus, Soap attended the school she taught at and had a Gaelic-medium education throughout primary. (Gme students are taught completely in Gaelic from p1-p3 with English being incorporated later.) While not continuing it in secondary, he still had a fluent adult at home keeping the language fresh in his mind. That’s. The bare bones of it anyway.

Anyway I wanted to share this because I’ve seen the occasional person say it’s ridiculous to suddenly see him speaking Gaelic in fics (which is a very fair point of course. few people are immersed in it, it remains a threatened language) but the thought of someone who wanted to include it in their work who then might not because of this is disheartening. Should they do the proper research beforehand, it is plausible when given the right ingredients.

It’s a language that should be celebrated, not discouraged, especially given the history. Having a character know it just really depends on the different factors you throw into their backstory. Even if the author doesn’t explain it, it should then be up to the reader to assume he’s not just pulling the language out of thin air. Idk, if call of duty fanfic of all things can expose people to Gàidhlig and garner interest in some to learn a bit of the language, I just. That is a good thing

[crystal-verse]

that promised guide on how i draw g'raha's face, feat. notes in the upper right corner and my own little specbio/au way of drawing him in the lower left

(shoutout to @fell-court for providing the reference screenshots!)

[graff-aganda]

No no ikr. The ENT fandom is so quiet around here. And honestly I'm just excited to see art of my favourite dudes, because we rarely get fanart around here, and when we do it's usually Trip or T'Pol solely. Malcolm gets left in the dust quite a lot so I'm happy you drew him as well - and so well done too!

Anyway, ramble over, lol.

OMG... Well I think I can see why a lot of fanart is of Trip and/or T'pol (those two seem like they're doing some heavy lifting for the show/are just a lot of people's faves. I've got a few half baked ideas in mind for them myself.) but the rest of the crew as a whole do deserve more love I think! :]

[birdricks]

getting sooooo emotional abt how like. when rick and bp meet again during the federation stuff its like theyre completely different ppl from who they were when they last saw each other. but it almost makes them become closer instead of driving them apart… until of course their values clash in the worst possible way