#also sorry about the length

[denverneumann]

Alpha and Omega was Denver's immediate thought when she saw the establishing shots of the Arena on the monitor. First and last. If Denver were to have designed an Arena, the final Hunger Games Arena, she would have done exactly this. Weak-kneed, she fell backward from the shock, the edge of a chair she just missed scraping her back as she slid to the floor.

"Holy shit," was all she could get out. Her ears rang as she stared at the screen in front of her, unable to make out the words of the countdown. Two cannons sounded before the buzzer even went off.

This was her Arena. It had been her second home for two years. She'd spent more time in those tunnels than in her own apartment. She'd stood in that very amphitheater when the Vox came, and faced Enna Lydonsbee with a knife she could never have used. Those ruins on which the tributes would inevitably fight and die were the same she'd insisted children not climb until parents yelled at her for ruining their child's visit.

Another cannon was fired, another fallen tribute in the uniform of the fallen soldiers she'd reported each day for months. A figure appeared next to Denver, and she instinctively reached out, grasping for a hand, for something, anything to hold her, to ground her to the here and now.

@cain-gunn

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The Murderbot TV show is finally here!

[ohmypuckingod]

NJ vs. UTA | 400th Career Point for Nico

[sweetmapple]

Mostly Hiring manager, but HR manager and PR manager too

[pngheavy]

[egophiliac]

Okay so I've been wanting to tell you that you're literally my favourite twst artist 😭🩷

So my question is, how do you manage to come up with these funny comics? CUZ I LOVE THEM SO MUCH

(P.s: Lovin' the art style ✨)

oh geeze, thanks! 💚💚💚 I'm really glad people enjoy my stupid sense of humor; mostly I just draw things to make myself laugh, and if it makes other people laugh too, then bonus points! usually it's just one joke or mental image that gets stuck in my head (every time I saw Fellow spin his cane, all I could think about was him go-go-gadgeting away on it...) and in my quest to justify it, it picks up other jokes and bits along the way and usually doesn't even end up as the main focus anymore. entire narrative arcs have spun out just so I could use a single bad pun in a throwaway line. this is a terrible way to explain it but I'm not sure how else to put it into words!

and sometimes it's just "weird things my sister has said that I make fun of her for"

[a-most-beloved-fool]

For the ask prompt game...

Spirk #17 to distract

"Report," Kirk ordered. The word buzzed low against Spock's ear, quiet and audibly tense.

"Less than two minutes until they reach our location, Captain," Spock replied promptly. "Commander Scott will need at least another eight before the transporter is operable again." His voice was equally hush, despite their perceived solitude. He had seen carelessness take far too many lives during his time in Starfleet; he would not allow it to take his captain as well - and, illogically, Spock could not quite dispense of the phantom sensation of eyes on the back of his neck.

"We'll need to bluff it," Kirk decided, looking grim.

His gaze was strangely intense against Spock, full of rioting emotion, and, almost, Spock wished to look away. He did not. Instead, he nodded, holding steady eye contact.

The odds, Spock knew, that Kirk's gambit - whatever it may be - would succeed were... poor. The guards had, after all, seen their faces. But Kirk would keep fighting right until the bitter end, and Spock, of course, would be right beside him.

Solemn, he vowed, "I shall follow your lead," though he knew Kirk would not have doubted it. Still, the unnecessary words were well worth the way the tension around Kirk's eyes melted away, the somber set of his mouth slipping instead into a golden-edged smile.

Almost wonderingly, a soft chuckle fell from those lips, incongruous in their surroundings and entirely treasured. "What would I do without you?" Kirk asked, reaching up to exert gentle pressure on Spock's bicep.

I pray you never need find out, Spock made to say, getting only so far as drawing in breath before the sound of distant footsteps drew them both from their quiet moment, snuffing the words before they could take shape. "Eighteen seconds," he said instead, after rapidly adjusting his calculations. Faster than anticipated.

Kirk nodded, some unreadable emotion hiding in the soft crease between his brows.

"Forgive me, Mr. Spock," Kirk said softly, and Spock did not have time to question what he meant before Kirk was pulling him down by his shirt, dragging their lips together with great urgency.

Quite suddenly, Spock found that his mind was entirely blank. Strange heat flickered through his whole form, and his universe narrowed to only Kirk, all soft and human-warm, who was pressed flush to his chest and kissing him.

One, then two seconds stuttered by in which Spock thought no thoughts at all, struck utterly motionless in the face of such unexpected attentions. He only felt, swept away by the sensation of pliant lips against his own and warm fingers stroking through his hair, gently mussing.

The very first thought to break to the surface was simply, Jim. A wave of emotion flooded in with it, astonishment and affection sweeping over him in such quantities that he felt nearly lightheaded.

The second was, We will be caught, and Spock jolted as something near to panic rose up inside his gullet, urging him to take Jim into his arms and run.

The third, however, was not his own; it was pressed into his katra from the outside by Jim's careful fingers, his clever mind slipping easily past Spock's shields. Play along, he said, projecting deliberate calm through their connection. Still, Jim was unpracticed in telepathic arts, and beneath that false serenity Spock could feel a tangle of guilt and determination, bitter and writhing.

The truth came to Spock in one fell swoop.

Jim's gambit... was this.

His lips and his hands, which pressed themselves so tenderly to Spock's skin, were not for him.

It was not love which had drawn his captain into his arms, but mere utility. Jim had realized what Spock had not: though they could not hide themselves, they could, perhaps, distract from themselves.

Two men attempting to look inconspicuous would only draw suspicion. Two men locked in a romantic embrace, however, may be overlooked - or even deliberately ignored. Few were comfortable with looking closely at the private passions of strangers, and fewer still would see reason to. Those searching for them, Spock hoped, would not. There would be no logic in halting an escape attempt solely for a kiss, after all.

Therefore, in order to escape unnoticed, they must be convincing.

They must seem, to any observers, to be completely and entirely immersed in one another, with no care for anything going on in their surroundings, and no fear of discovery.

Two lives, purchased with a kiss.

It was entirely logical, then, for Spock to part his lips, inviting Jim's tongue to dip inside of the wet cave of his mouth and meeting it with his own. If a groan rumbled deep within his chest, it could surely only help their cause; there was no need to swallow it down.

This disguise would, Spock observed as Jim's tongue flicked gently at his mouth, be far easier to maintain than it had any right to be.

It was a terribly simple matter for a man in love to behave as though he were a man in love.

The difficult part, then, would be remembering that it was a ruse. Already, heat bubbled deep within Spock, aching want suffusing his every neuron. Every faint brush of flesh sent golden tendrils of telepathic energy sparking across his skin, and it was all Spock could manage to hold himself back from pressing hungry fingers to Jim's meldpoints and sinking into that wonderfully enticing mind.

Instead, Spock slipped a hand beneath the hem of Jim's shirt, rucking up the cloth until he was tracing patterns across a smooth expanse of golden skin. He flexed his hand, allowing his nails to scratch carefully along Jim's spine, and did not permit himself to consider reaching upwards, to Jim's face - or worse: downwards, beyond the waistband of his pants.

He wondered if Jim would have chosen this, had he known how very much Spock wanted.

Perhaps it was selfish of Spock to allow it.

Still, he could not force himself away - not when Jim's life was at stake. The kiss was his lifeline, and so the kiss must remain.

The touch of their minds, however, did nothing to aid Jim. It was solely for Spock's benefit, taken from Jim without his knowledge or intent.

That, Spock could end.

If Jim was to unknowingly place himself into the hands of someone who wanted more than he would wish to give, then Spock would take it upon himself to be his protector - even if the one he must protect against was himself.

And so, Spock opened himself to every offered touch, and girded his mind against every stray thought, until not a single wisp of golden energy could find its way past his defenses.

When Jim's thigh nudged its way between Spock's legs, Spock spread his stance wider, allowing him to press closer, and did not let himself feel. His hands grasped and squeezed at the soft flesh beneath them, drawing quiet gasps from a pink-flushed throat, and no pleasant hum buzzed against his fingertips, carrying with it the flavor of human emotion. Jim nipped at his lips and pet at his hair, and Spock pressed every scrap of yearning deep down within himself to where they couldn't emerge.

Eyes closed and spirit aching, Spock kissed him.

_____________

from this ask game

[god-of-this-new-blog]

What if the two worst guys in the whole world were madly in love with each other?

[devotion-disorder]

https://www.youtube.com/shorts/3dFHa31qxQ8?feature=share

10/10 would smash Yuri buuuuut this vid lived rent free in my head, I don't wanna skip to my next life just yet-

no because i can vouch that she is 100% correct. of course everyone's built different but i have almost the exact same opinions as her...they dont call it rearranging your guts for no reason yall.

BUT you can also make a lot work with a bit of time and patience :D and when you're sequestered in the deepest part of the woods, trapped in a village that most people that don't even know exists, there is definitely more than plenty of time :) though Yuri also tends to be impatient, so......................... good luck? ^^;

[kkachis]

the parasitic brain moss has taken me (pilgrim's progress fanart dump)

@antares-8 i didn't finish any Big things but at least i have some sketches and character models and such... and one (1) storyboard! i figured it was high time i finally unload all this art.

i really want to do an animatic to the song soldier poet king by the oh hellos (i even made a special remix version of it for the project) but i don't know if i have the juice in me for the whole project. but regardless! art will be made! rejoice!

here's me trying to figure out a background art style for the animatic:

here's a pretty tree while i was doing style explorations and also the Characters singing under the tree:

here's some edelflower thoughts:

and here are some smaller sketchies under the cut:

some face shapes! also maybe he can wear it in a braid when it gets long.

and a Perturbed Bird

and here are some of my earliest sketch pages!

i hope you enjoy seeing these even if i never finish a single shot. i think i can definitely do the very first storyboard, though... we shall see!

[gunpowder-gemini]

My heart goes out to everyone finally figuring out that we aren't getting the death worm this season, I am really excited to see it animated too. But tbh there was never any way it would fit

Like think about everything that happens in the cursed house arc. There is SO MUCH there that I personally think just the death worm stuff is going to be 5-6 episodes on it's own to get through it. They didn't have enough episodes left even if they completely skipped the serpo arc.

Personally I've always figured the episodes are gonna shake out like this:

Ep 8 - shenanigans with Okarun/Aira and getting in to empty space (I was right! though I wasn't sure we'd get to Acro Aira but in hindsight that's a perfect cliffhanger cut point)

Ep 9 - the fight, probably ending with the big final blow

Ep 10 - public humiliation and mr. shrimp joins the team, Jiji appears at the end!

Ep 11 - Jiji is actually introduced and goes to school with them, ending with Taro appearing "chasing" Okarun

Ep 12 - anatomical dummies shenanigans and a sort of cliffhanger teasing the cursed house arc next season

I think people forget that it takes seconds to read a fight scene when it's just a few sequential images but several MINUTES to show that same fight scene animated. The Serpo arc is largely action, so it's no suprise it's taking a couple episodes. Also dialogue! Dialogue takes longer to voice act than it does to read. There's only so much you can fit into like, 25 mins

[certifiedlibraryposts]

Any of you who feel bad about having overdue materials, just know that I, Library Enthusiast Nerdass Blog Runner, just realized i have accidentally kept the first two Dungeon Meshi books hostage for a week.

[midnightrings]

SIENA ROSSO and ANTHONY BRIDGERTON

-> Bridgerton 1.08: After the Rain (1/3)

[rings-of-power-realm]

Thank you Robert Aramayo for being a better person than the entire internet. It was a beautiful scene and you and Morfydd handled it perfectly 💚

[tunastime]

hiccuping tears into the shoulder + ranchers by chance?

hiccuping tears into their shoulder (1087 words) (x)

For the first time in a good, long portion of his life, Tango despises how silent the night gets. It's not without its natural noise—the balmy, sticky humidity and breeze in the grass, or the crickets, the cicadas quieting down, the sounds of animals rearranging themselves to a comfier sleeping arrangement. He should be doing the same, but he's sitting on the edge of the bed, his spine a rigid line. He can feel the blood in his body, he can feel the spaces where his muscles connect to each other, with every breath he can feel his lungs separate out the oxygen. It's at the very least startling, and at the very most, he feels like he might dissolve on the spot if touched. 

Tango knows how death feels—painless respawn and a few seasons of a life game behind him, but to feel someone else die, too. The echo of death alongside your own. He didn't like that! Not good at all. All his blood and heartbeat-y things are rushing around in his ears. He doesn't even hear Jimmy the first time he speaks up from the other side of the bed, with how his voice scrapes out.

"I didn't know they were aiming for us," Jimmy says.

"Of course not," Tango says, furrowing his eyebrows. "I know you didn't."

He's still looking at his hands, running his thumb over the lines in his palm and pushing into the tiny bones and muscle there. Jimmy flexes his hands like he can feel the pressure and bones moving around. He watches him fold his hand tight around each other and slump, pulling his shoulders to his chest. His breath squeezes in his chest as Jimmy deflates tiredly.

"I just don't want you to think—"

"I'm not gonna think this is your fault, alright?" Tango says, frowning at him. "Why would I?"

Jimmy sighs. His jaw works.

"Cause it usually is," he grits. Tango scrunches his nose on instinct, recoiling out of habit before he manages:

"That's not fair, man."

"This whole game isn't far!" Jimmy huffs, waving a hand about.

"Sure but—"

"But nothing, Tango. I just—I can't lose and drag you with me. That's more than not fair."

"I don't care."

"I care."

Before Tango can argue, though, he tastes the faintest hints of anger and frustration at the back of his mouth fade. He watches Jimmy's face contort as he tries to come up with a better sentence, something he probably thinks Tango deserves. Maybe an apology. 

Tango just looks at him. He kind of feels bad, that little bit of gut wrenching cold that trickles in, but mostly he's just confused. Jimmy's words bat around in his brain like dust particles. Dust bunnies. He definitely assumed they were done with this. That maybe Jimmy made peace like he did—though really he hadn't had that much time to make peace, if he's being honest. He's still bitter. He's sure a lot of people are still bitter. But in terms of Jimmy's whole situation? It's not like it could be helped. They just had to be careful. So Tango was being careful, and Jimmy was taking what Tango thought was a calculated risk, so he was mad, sure, but he couldn't really stay mad for a long time. So he takes a long breath and sighs it out his nose. It still tastes surprisingly reminiscent of smoke.

"So what are we going to do?" he asks softly. Jimmy inhales.

"I don't know," he says. "Go to bed? Wake up and start planning?"

Tango hums plainly. He likes that idea. The small spool of feeling in his chest that must belong to Jimmy gives a little tug, like it wanted to take him down with it. 

"Yeah," Tango says, voice coming hoarse. "Yeah, I think so."

For a moment, Tango runs his tongue over his teeth, runs his thumbs over the seams of his knees. He sighs, and then he leans into Jimmy's shoulder with a definitive huff. He's tired. From the ache in his bones, to the breathlessness of dying, to just taking in Jimmy's stress. Man. He's exhausted. Jimmy snorts quietly. He feels him press his cheek against Tango's head. The hand Jimmy had been fiddling with in his lap ends up at the base of his spine, splayed over the fabric. Tango squeezes his eyes shut.

"Thanks Tango," Jimmy says shakily. He sounds like he's on the knife's edge of crying, so Tango fumbles out a hand and lands it solidly on his knee. It's not a terribly comfortable thing to stretch one of his achy shoulders or biceps that far but he does anyway, and Jimmy huffs out a damp laugh. "Guess I'm just... pissed off."

Tango snorts.

"If you think you're pissed, just wait until they rile me up," he says into the fabric of Jimmy's shirt. Jimmy laughs. Tango tries to hold in a grin that he also smothers into his shoulder, but fails. Jimmy's hand skips over his knuckles and squeezes the hand on his knee.

"Sure thing, Rancher," he teases. Tango makes a half-suppressed noise of indignation, squeaking as he bolts upright. He nearly knocks into Jimmy's jaw as he untangles himself with all the grace of a cat trying to weasel out of someone's arms. 

"I'm just sayin'," he grumbles, crinkling his nose. "You seem like you're in a better mood though."

Jimmy sighs, rounding out his shoulders. 

"Think so," he says, working his cheek between his teeth. Tango feels the sensation of prodding in his mouth. Bleh. "Think so."

"Probably a good idea to make good on that sleeping... thing,” he says, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. He barely stifles a yawn as Jimmy stretches, twisting his tall body around in a way that feels surprisingly pleasant to Tango’s stiff muscles. He can’t imagine, especially with the way Jimmy holds all his emotions in his shoulders, that his upper back is doing him any favors. Jimmy makes a little noise in confirmation as Tango turns, attempting to make ample space for him in the small bed. He knows they’ll end up back to back at some point, but as he lies down, shoulder to shoulder, an easy comfort rolls over him. Sure there’s all the red blood rushing around in his ears, and sure he feels it right up on his skin like a bad rash, but for now, next to Jimmy, he shuts his eyes.

They’ll make this time count for something, at least.

[bread-is-my-life]

Fem stainmight 🔥🔥🔥

And some newer sketches lol