#aaaand that's the last of them!

[myriadebleue]

the last of the tgcf text posts

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

[feelo-fick]

it can't be too hard right?

it's easy not to think about things, he tells me i don't think all the time! wait...

—

a scene from a fic that i have no clue if ill finish, let alone post, but look i made fanart of my own thing that doesnt even exist :D

[liebrenado]

@saimatsu-week Day 5: Touch.

"Compassion makes people trust you. If you offer them your hand, they'll reach for it..."

[marclef]

my art trade for @yo-kai123 done! here's a couple very good froggies for you!

fake might be a bit nervous, though.... he hasn't exactly seen many others like him before.

but hey i'm sure they'll get along after enough time 👍👍!!!

[raymoo--hackery]

I made a poll on twt asking which of the matriarchs is the hottest, and it's been SUPER CLOSE between Saki and Yachie

They've been tied, then Yachie gets slightly higher than Saki, then Saki gets slightly higher than Yachie, and it's just this constant back and forth

So, naturally, I drew this lol

[adylote]

I need, really NEED to write more about my Drifter —Dayn (her real name is Dylan like the Operator), who cut her name/variants of it all over her arms so she'll never forget it while she keeps being killed over and over again on Duviri, then she almost lost her mind because VOID WHAT THE FUCK WITH THAT SHIT, but thanks to Teshin/all the Ballas-New War shit she's starting to feel better somehow, tho she's forced to face her fears/past on the Zariman/what The Man in the Wall did to her (and secretly she hates that Dylan have "all": Ordis, Umbra, Lotus, a "home", friends, allies, not only people wanting her dead).

Then, while traveling to Narmer/The Origin System, Ordis becomes her very first friend —Umbra doesn't likes her becase he's still grieving thinking he lost her starchild and he couldn't do nothing against his supposed "exfriend"— AND, the cephalon is the first to understand why is she fighting so hard tor recover the system against Narmer, why she takes that place as her camp (instead of… idk, return to her "place"?), why she fights for the Lotus/Natah despite knowing almost nothing about her, and why she always returns to Duviri —to Teshin, the father who named her as "Dayn" because he knows "Dylan" is a name that brings pain and sorrow to that poor kid forced to grow isolated, traumatized and unable to act "properly" in a place FULL OF PEOPLE, REAL PEOPLE.

AND THEN, THEEEN, Dayn is chosen to travel to 1999, and there, oh there, she finds a place where she feels SHE BELONGS for real (kidnapping Umbra who now is okay with her but still obviously have a preference for his Ayatan because she is HIS Dylan/child/savior/everything in all meanings, and Dayn is oh— uhm, his buddy?)

BUT I'M SO SLOW O WRITE EVEN IN SPANISH

SPANISH! MY FUCKING MOTHER LANGUAGE!

[neutron-stars-collision]

remember when Joseph Quinn took a bland forest scene, improv’ed the hell out of it, charmed all of us in the process and created a ship?? yeah me too

[greenbean-4ever]

Lloyd HC list? If that's too much trouble, just give me a random one

ahh my first request!!😍🌱 this is no trouble at all! Lloyd is my favorite character so I have a few headcannons. hope you like them!♡

◇ his first pet ever was a turtle named Shifu

◇ his favorite candy are gummy bears, but mints are a close second

◇ in his time at Darkley's, he learned to jump start a car and pick a lock. amongst other things..

◇ his original hair color was brown like his parents, but as the years passed by, it turned into a really light brown

◇ when he first used his powers, his hair turned completely blond. turns out that his green energy bleaches his hair

◇ after crystallized, vengestone no longer affects him

◇ it subdues his powers but doesn't eliminate them

◇ his coping mechanism is buying comics

◇ has a whole album dedicated to random pictures about the shenanigans they all do when bored

◇ his closet is FULL of stuffed animals

◇ he's the living concept of smiling on the outside, dying on the inside

◇ don't tell Cole, but Kai's bro hugs are his favorites

◇ he radiates a confident vibe, but in reality, he's really shy when he's not with the ninja

◇ taking naps is his favorite hobby. he has an uncanny ability to be able to fall asleep ANYWHERE

◇ sometimes, Lloyd tries very hard not to lose himself in responsibilities when things get tough

◇ after all, he's just a teenager

[incognitomoustache]

Dr. Yuris: "The mind-meld was performed against her will." Dr. Oratt: "Can you verify this?" T'Pol: "Why? So you can perpetuate your double standard? Condemn the infected when they meld by choice and sympathize with them when they don't? ----------------------------------- Archer: "Dr. Yuris has been suspended." T'Pol: "...That was to be expected." Archer: "They offered him a hearing, but he refused. Oratt said he'll lose his standing with the Medical Exchange when they get back to Vulcan." T'Pol: "...Also to be expected."

'Stache's list of favourite Star Trek Episodes:

Star Trek: Enterprise (2001-2005) 2x14 – "Stigma"(6/6)

[hl-obsessed]

.

[lets-zofifi-stuff]

I made the appoitment *air trumpets*

Too too too TOOOOO!!! 🎉🎉🎉

Someone gimme a medal

[feelo-fick]

"it must be the caffiene."

"...? we didn't have anything caffinated?"

//

CHILAIOS WEEK DAY 2 : Changeling

HI THIS IS SUPER LATE BUT ART HAS BEEN. HARD. AND YES I SKIPPED ONE DAY THAT ONE IS GONNA GO LAST BECAUSE ITS TAKING SO LONG TO MAKE.... ill get to the others when i find the time.

Bonus :

[juliamccartney]

hypothesis: jon got split up and scattered in dimension travel following mag 200

voice = in computer

(some) memories & knowledge = in celia

body = ???

[foxclcves]

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒊𝒅 (𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒚 𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 01)

For all of my life, I was blind to the world as the world was blind to me. It had never occurred to me before how dark and quiet my state of existence was until I began to dream, and in my dreams I saw visions of monsters and flowers. And among them, my mother adorned a veil of spider webs.

I never felt the creases and hollows of her face in my infancy, and of course I never saw her the way many others see, but I knew her all the same. She called to me every night, and her somber lullabies coaxed me to sleep, and in my unconscious mind I bore witness to a forest of bone and ash; a living breathing thing lacking vibrancy and color. The evergreens were far from their deep green and every crow, rabbit, deer, and raven was pallid, as though drained of life and left to wander with their carcasses alone. Even those who traveled in throngs, herds, or packs, seemed isolated from one another and unaware of each others’ presence. But every single one of them was beautiful in their alienation as they wandered through trees as I did, alone. Though unlike me, their essences shimmered like freshly fallen snow under the light of the sun or the moon. Two eternal partners, of which, did not live here. A place so far from both the sun and moon could not be anything but a dream.

I walk on flowers. I tread through their stems and their petals tickle and coat my legs in pollen as if they wished to drain me of color as well. I briefly wondered if herbivores grazed these meadows and took from them, and then in turn the carnivores and scavengers devoured them not long after, and their own colors vanished. And if so, where did all the color end up? I felt I might have my answer but I did not risk replying to myself just yet. I continued my venture through the flowers, multi-headed, shape shifting, swelling and sinking. My feet were dusted by the earth, though I could not feel any traces of the ground at all.

And lo, I saw my mother, veiled and slight, but so tall and imposing. She was among the flowers as she always was, and in her presence I felt the unseen monsters feel slighted by such power and fade away, back into the trees. Arms opened wide to me, my legs moved on their own, and any semblance of caution or fear that bubbled up in my throat was conquered by an unknown numbing agent. I felt her arms embrace me, consume me. Her rib cage against mine felt like the teasing of teeth against my skin through my clothes, but I could not pull away. The trees around us a circle, the trees around us spun and spun and in the sky there was nothing, nothing at all. In her realm only, my mother was a god and one does not simply invite themselves into such an entity’s space. They must be beckoned; they must be summoned. I wondered not for the first time what sort of rituals my mother conducted to bring me here, or to keep such a dimension so well preserved and consistent. There was only birdsong when she willed it. The flowers knew no season or weather, and knew not what it was to be ripped from their roots. And certainly, things such as wolves were forbidden from the meadows. On occasion, I still found their footprints, testing the perimeters within the bounds of the thick, dark treeline.

My mother always used bone and cartilage to comb and brush my hair, and when she did, it rippled through many shades: gray, silver, white, dark purple, dark blue, shimmering gold. She cleansed my face with rosewater and readied my hands with soot from a fire I could not see, smell, or feel. Dark runes found their way to my crown, as always, and I found myself rejuvenated but with a small, nagging feeling that I was actually exhausted. This night or this day, soot and blood colored my brow. It made me recall my apparent origin story: how my mother did not birth me from her womb, but instead used the hollowed bones and hearts of doves, her own blood, and the most potent sprigs of hemlock. I was made by the materials of softness and devastation, but she insisted I was created in purest form. In essence of her… a piece of herself.

For all my life, I was blind to the world as the world was blind to me. It had never occurred to me before how dark and quiet my state of existence was until I began to dream, and in my dreams I saw visions of monsters and flowers. And among them, my mother adorned a veil of spider webs.

I never felt the creases and hollows of her face in my infancy, and of course I never saw her the way many others see, but I knew her all the same. She called to me every night, and her somber lullabies coaxed me to sleep, and in my unconscious mind I bore witness to a forest of bone and ash; a living breathing thing lacking vibrancy and color. The evergreens were far from their deep green and every crow, rabbit, deer, and raven was pallid, as though drained of life and left to wander with their carcasses alone. Even those who traveled in throngs, herds, or packs, seemed isolated from one another and unaware of each others’ presence. But every single one of them was beautiful in their alienation as they wandered through trees as I did, alone. Though unlike me, their essences shimmered like fresh fallen snow under the light of the sun or the moon. Two eternal partners, of which, did not live here. A place so far from both the sun and moon could not be anything but a dream.

I walk on flowers. I tread through their stems and their petals tickle and coat my legs in pollen as if they wished to drain me of color as well. I wondered if herbivores grazed these meadows and took from them, and then in turn the carnivores and scavengers devoured them not long after, and their own colors vanished. And if so, where did all the color end up? I felt I had my answer but I did not risk replying to myself yet. I continued my venture through the flowers, multi-headed, shape shifting, swelling and sinking. My feet covered with the earth, though I could not feel any traces of the ground at all.

And lo, I saw my mother, veiled and slight, but so tall and imposing. She was among the flowers as she always was, and in her presence I felt the unseen monsters feel slighted by such power and fade away, back into the trees. Arms opened wide to me, my legs moved on their own, and any semblance of caution or fear that bubbled up in my throat conquered by an unknown numbing agent. I felt her arms embrace me, consume me. Her rib cage against mine felt like the teasing of teeth against my skin through my clothes, but I could not pull away. The trees around us a circle, the trees around us spun and spun and in the sky there was nothing, nothing at all. In her realm only, my mother was a god and one does not invite themselves into such an entity’s space. They must be beckoned; they must be summoned. I wondered not for the first time what sort of rituals my mother conducted to bring me here, or to keep such a dimension so well preserved and consistent. There was only birdsong when she willed it. The flowers knew no season or weather, and knew not what it was to be ripped from their roots. And certainly, things such as wolves were forbidden from the meadows. On occasion, I still found their footprints, testing the perimeters within the bounds of the thick, dark treeline.

My mother always used bone and cartilage to comb and brush my hair, and when she did, it rippled through many shades: gray, silver, white, dark purple, dark blue, shimmering gold. She cleansed my face with rosewater and readied my hands with soot from a fire I could not see, smell, or feel. Dark runes found their way to my crown, as always, and I found myself rejuvenated but with a small, nagging feeling that I was actually exhausted. This night or this day, soot and blood colored my brow. It made me recall my origin: how my mother did not birth me from her womb, but instead used the hollowed bones and hearts of doves, her own blood, and the most potent sprigs of hemlock. I was made by the materials of softness and devastation, but she insisted I was created in purest form. In essence of her… a piece of herself.

I never know when I leave the dream. I imagine a scenario where I am led back through the woods, decorated in my circlet of cinder and vitae. Where I am lead by a procession of deer with my hands on their backs, and as my sight fades, ravens soar above my head clear a path. Where they lead me I know not, but I’m certain there is a door or a hollowed tree somewhere in this realm where I am allowed to come and go, but not of my own volition. And whenever I awake, I lie numb and heavy in my bed, my arms and legs disconnected from my mind and my might. I am only able to turn my head and see my veiled mother curled up in my bedroom doorway on the floor, holding back the occasional stifled sob, until her image recoils and fades from the rays of the morning sun.

[cowboyshit]

I’m working a show tomorrow (finally!) and it’s either going to be surprisingly awesome or a complete disaster and everyone including the owner is just like well we’ll see ig 🤷🏻‍♀️

[seekingthestars]

me, yesterday: i got some projects done so i am finally starting to feel a little less overwhelmed at work!

work, today: gives me 5 new projects in the span of 8 hours

me: well nevermind 🫠🫠🫠🫠