#You'll find him

[21ducky]

I have a transformers visual history book, right

Okok, so there's a little promotional thing that's really cute

I literally just found Starscream and-

Sword meme anyone?

[vaguely-concerned]

the fact that irving canonically survives through the end of asunder to be at wynne's funeral is so fucking funny to me. nothing but love and respect for MY unstoppable cockroach morally grey machiavellian mage dad!!! he's survived in his position through multiple attempted rites of annulment and blood mage plots popping up left right and center around him. the chantry keeps trying to stamp him out but his dodge game is simply out of this world, divine. civil wars, political machinations and minefields, chantry atrocities, this wily old motherfucker is dodging and weaving his way through it all, not-quite-no-hits-taken-running-it-but-honestly-close-enough-under-the-circumstances style. if solas does succeed in tearing down the veil I would fully believe that one of the like three people still alive at the end of it all would be a very weary 90 year old first enchanter irving going 'oh this shit again huh'. the maker has cursed him for his hubris and his paperwork is never finished (affectionate, it's fine he canonically loves paperwork)

[rjshope]

the brightest star

for @cosmicdreamgrl✨

[bethanysmiled]

Nikolai

[harrowharkwife]

i'm so used to there just being random unidentified bones laying around everywhere in these damn books that it finally occurred to me, just now, to wonder where the bones on new rho came from. y'know, the bones palamedes always tried to teach nona necromancy on.

they're his.

palamedes, who always loved teaching, living on borrowed time in a body that's not his own. palamedes, mentoring, teaching- parenting, by sixth standards, mind you. and that boy is sixth, through and through.

and the entire point of teaching nona necromancy in the first place was to try and determine if nona is, well, nonagesimus, right? so it has to be bones, it can't not be bones. bones are, like, her whole thing.

but they're not in the nine houses, anymore. things are different, on new rho.

they burn bones here. dig up the cemeteries. a society terrified of zombies will evolve to dispose of its dead differently.

the only bones he has access to now are his own. (camilla wouldn't let anyone take them- skull or hand, doesn't matter. they're still him, and she doesn't let go, remember? it's her one thing.)

palamedes woke up every morning wearing someone else's body to then gently place the shrapnel of his own in the cupped palms of a girl who's the closest thing he'll ever have to a daughter and try to teach her- how did the angel put it, again? normal school, as much as possible, for as long as possible.

(but hey, in a roundabout way, at least it's a chance for him to touch camilla again, right? nevermind that she's not there to feel any of it because he's in the driver's seat, that he can only stay for fifteen minutes at a time. it's atoms that belong to camilla touching atoms that used to belong to him, and that's close enough. he'll take what he can get, these days- if she can be their flesh, he can be the end. so what if holding his own bones is a mindfuck? so what if looking at them makes him nauseous? surely he can suck it up and deal with it for fifteen minutes. it's the least he can do— his poor camilla was the one who had to scrape the bloody pulp of them off the floors of canaan house.)

(speaking of, here's a fun fact: we actually only see nona practicing with the bones one time, on-page. camilla's final line in that scene, before palamedes takes over, is none other than: 'keep going. there are some bones left.' ow!)

remember, too, that the only part of dulcinea, the real dulcinea, that palamedes ever physically touched, was her tooth- the one that ianthe gave him, pulled from the ashes cytherea burnt her down to. he only ever touched dulcie once, and it wasn't until after she was already gone, but that doesn't matter- it still happened, and you can't take loved away.

in this same roundabout, bittersweet, by-proxy sort of way, palamedes has been physically touched by nona, too: the atoms she currently occupies, touching atoms that he used to occupy, and never will again.

the main interaction we've seen between palamedes and his mother took place back on the sixth, with her acting as mentor and him as pupil: the two of them studying a set of hand bones, juno encouraging him every step of the way.

we know that harrowhark's "most vivid memory of her mother was of her hands guiding harrow's over an inexpertly rendered portion of skull, her fingers encircling the fat baby bracelets of harrow's wrists, tightening this cuff to indicate correct technique."

they're still small for a nineteen year old, but the wrists are bigger, in this new set of memories nona's making. and it's not an inexpertly rendered portion of skull anymore- it's a hand, now, albeit one crafted from [a piece of skull reassembled (painstakingly—passionately—laboriously reassembled) from fragments, manually, and not by a bone magician, from the skull of someone who, soon after death or symptomatically during, had exploded.] and the identity and origin of these bones is no mystery at all. they belong to palamedes, and he's consented to their use for this purpose, and that matters.

but the details are just set dressing, really. the foundation of the memory is the same.

palamedes and his mother, juno and her son.

harrow and her mother; pelleamena and her daughter.

nona and her father-mother-teacher; palamedes and his daughter.

[furiosophie]

[cosmicdreamgrl]

𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘬 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴: (113/?)┃𝘤𝘳: 0613𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘢

[transgenderboobs]

something that really Gets Me about dungeon meshi is how like. the narrative is so Kind to everyone.

characters will fuck up and do unkind things and hurt each other and do things that are horrifying and the plot will still kind of hold out its hand to them all and say hey. let's share a meal together and talk it out. let's just rest for a minute. you deserve gentleness, we can figure this out together if we take care of ourselves

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Your posts about wen ning are making me very sad. He just wants a hug 😔 can we wrap him up in a weighted blanket instead of chains? Much more comforting and still deadly when thrown at others!

He has been blanketed and given a mug of hot coco.

[imjustapoorwayfaringgeek]

📸📸📸

[small-small-slime]

Colored sketches of living porcelain jester doll Moon from the absolutely wonderful fic As long as we are loved by @shirajellyfish

He was a little harder for me to draw than doll Sun was but I got there!!! The secret was that I had to draw him with a mischievous grin. He's delightful I love him

[vaguely-concerned]

fucking crying real tears of laughter at the idea of lucanis letting out a sigh of relief at finally leaving the endless wind-whipped halls of the grand necropolis behind only to find that rook has brought the cursed giant skeleton statues back home with them. and turning to look directly into the camera as only a man who has slept six hours altogether in the last week and is animated only by coffee and spite at this point could. the nevarran lighthouse decor my beloved.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

ok but Foul Legacy with a blind reader

you like going out of the Harbor for walks, to get away from the hubbub of the city. you're quite adept at navigating the plains and mountains of Liyue, even if you can't see them, having lived in the nation of Geo your whole life, and it's on one of these excursions that you come across a stranger in the forest.

or rather, you hear a stranger's footsteps when you're stopping to rest. you turn your head in the direction of the noise and the footsteps, heavy and slow, pause. for a moment you simply stare in that general direction, then face forward again- if this person wanted to harm you, they would've already done so, and you go back to enjoying the peace and quiet. the footsteps approach again, then stop as the dry grass crackles and bends, presumably as the stranger sits down beside you to admire the view you can't see.

it becomes a bit of a routine, as the curious presence continues to return whenever you walk that route, inching closer to you every time you sit. it's comforting in a way, and you find yourself growing more and more used to this mysterious someone, whoever they are. on days without wind you can hear them breathing deeply, relaxing- almost basking- in your company. occasionally you hum a song, quiet and absentminded, and you swear you hear a growling croon from your new friend, but you're not frightened in the slightest.

one day, the creature- you're sure it's a creature now- dares to even rest their hand over yours, all armor and claws compared to your soft flesh, and you smile, giving their hand a quick squeeze of affection.

Foul Legacy nearly squeaks in delight when you- the one human who doesn't fear or hunt him- lace your fingers with his, and he settles next to you as usual, a soft, steady purr running through him from sheer joy.

[itreference]

Richie Tozier had a strong stomach as a kid, he'd eat almost anything or everything without a stomach ache but as he got older his stomach just decided to bullshit him

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic September 8 - prompt 8: Patronus [word count 590]

They had been at it for two weeks now, and it had been exhausting. Still, Mary had to admit their DADA professor had been right about all the hard work paying off, since now most of them had been able to produce a fully-fledged Patronus. She leaned back on the desk, her silvery squirrel immediately running up her leg and settling on her shoulder, its eyes comically wide as if it had misplaced a walnut in the classroom, and looked around at the chaos of students and various animal-shaped clouds of silver light, some brighter, some dimmer. She had spent long hours poring over most of the literature on the Patronus charm, not only how to better obtain it, but also the endless academic discourse on what the singular shape a person obtained could have some deep meaning. She honestly wasn’t sure it had one, but she was glad hers was that cute, with its feather-like tail, even if she hadn’t expected a squirrel at all. Exactly like Marlene, who had worked really hard and now was staring at a Canada goose who just looked back at her before flying to the top of the professor’s desk.

“Is it because I like flying?” she asked as the goose started to peck at some papers left around.

“It’s a very elegant animal,” Mary said.

“And they mate for life, isn’t it romantic?” Lily added.

Lily had been very happy when her own Patronus had turned out to be the most elegant silver doe who was now moving around the classroom in dainty little steps.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” she sighed.

That enthusiasm ended up being short-lived when they turned around to loud cheers and saw James’s silvery stag prance around the boys.

“Called it!” Peter clapped James on the back.

“What can I say, I’m amazing,” James smirked.

“That you are, dear Prongs,” Sirius nodded, his own large dog already whirling around the stag.

Mary smiled, happy to see Sirius had managed to get a Patronus as well. He hadn’t said anything, at least not to her, but she knew he was terrified of not having a happy enough memory to cast the spell correctly. She then turned back to Lily and elbowed her.

“You know what they say about having similar Patronuses?”

“Don’t you dare, MacDonald,” Lily hissed, making the doe disappear with a flick of her wand before the boys could see it.

Mary rolled her eyes and looked back at the other group right in the moment when a silver Komodo Dragon shook its head to free itself of the skin it was shedding and turned back to Peter, affectionately bumping its head on the boy’s leg.

“Why always me?” Peter sighed while behind him James and Sirius almost collapsed with laughter for some reason.

“Same,” Remus muttered by his side.

Mary followed his gaze and her mouth dropped open as she saw the magnificent silver wolf quietly sniffing Sirius’s dog. The dog wagged his tail happily and soon enough the two had settled on the floor, the dog curled up between the wolf’s paws. Mary looked up from the lovely sight and  half the class cooing at it and saw Remus look at Sirius, the both of them staring at each other for a second before immediately looking away, a blush creeping on their faces. She rolled her eyes. Those two were absolutely lovesick, still dancing around each other and definitely not subtle at all. She might start considering locking them in a supply closet sooner or later.

[tomurakii]

I'm just reiterating this from the last post I reblogged but.

I find it so fucking telling that the same writers who bow for the Astarion stans and echo the sentiment that they aren't alone (a true and valid sentiment!) will also turn around and call Gale pathetic. What is it about relating to Gale that makes you not worthy of support to these people? Is it because he's a man abused by a woman? Because his traumas made him depressed instead of racist? Is the result of his identical ambition not sexy enough for you? The moral complexity you love to scream about got a little too complex? Are the autistic traits a little too noticeable?