#ancestor tag

[lacewings-and-lavender]

learning more about family history and I just. I wish I could hug my ancestors man. Some of them went through hell in life and they really should receive hugs. I need to clean up my ancestor altar and put some plushies and other comforting items on it or something

[teisubrainrot]

[pastabaguette]

the title of this piece is “h8”

i’m really kind of forcing the 8 up there in her diary entry, i know, but i just really wanted it there

[mythalism]

genuinely curious how the writers and larger dragon age audience would treat thom rainier if instead of being appropriately* repentant and putting himself in prison he blew up a major orlesian government building to instigate a chevalier rebellion or tried to have someone do some necromantic blood magic ritual involving uncertain danger and possible sacrifices to bring the innocent children he ordered killed back to life

[okmyguy]

always on the hunt

[littledemo0n]

Excuse me im just gonna spam all of these over here...(part 1 [yes there's more])

[nekropsii]

Ranked these little bitches based on how likely I think they are to shave their head - or at least give themself a terrible haircut - in the midst of a mental crisis.

[alcordraws]

ideal situation. to me. idk how to draw arceus

[serpentface]

Meet cute

[At this point Brakul is a prisoner of war, speaks very little Wardi, and understands just enough to get that Janeys is A) asking for him to expand on his given name and B) being mad annoying. So he’s listing off his entire ancestry.]

[TEXT]

Janeys: You must have a name. Mine is Haidamane. "jay-nees hai-dah-mah-nay". You might have heard of it? My father funds the entire Yellowtail route.

Brakul: ...Ok.

Janeys: So you haven't. Well I guess that's to be expected. What's your name then? Your name?

Brakul: Brakul.

Janeys: Brakul what?

Brakul: ...Brakul?

Janeys: What's after that? Don't tell me you don't have a surname.

Brakul: I have.

Janeys: So what is it?

Brakul: Brakul virsum Kuligan, et Dirunys et Fetken et Brakul et Gornaid et Ultarnaith et Bril et Finntaigr et Kulsagh et Guimír et Magdenarch et Ailahstaigr et Fírudai et Borunil

Janeys: Ok.

Brakul: et Kulniad et Brinsaid et Ullyos et Bruníl

Janeys: Ok I get it.

Brakul: et Áibethil et Findelaithe et Bratuvhed

Janeys: Ok yeah you're-. You're fucking with me. That's hilarious.

Brakul: et Maebra

Janeys: You're so funny. You're-. Uh.

Brakul: et Damaekul et Bisheldir

Janeys: STOP.

Brakul: et Ludseig

[backhurtyy]

the pain in my vein is hereditary dynasty by rina sawayama // the hobbit + the lord of the rings

[theboredhooman]

yaoi? in MY yuri game??

[untitled-tmnt-blog]

Rise August 2024

-- Day 2/17: Karai + Ancestors --

Days 2 + 17 of Rise August! Was this a good use of the last 16 pages in my sketchbook? Idk, but drawing little animations with pen & paper is a fun challenge sometimes! This is a redrawn scene, from the season 2 finale.

(Rise August 2024 Masterpost)

[chthonicarcher]

it isn’t the first time you’ve had this dream.

(that’s how you already know it’s a dream, you guess.)

the small, almost claustrophobic dwelling you find yourself standing in is dimly lit with lamplight; it’s been kept tidy enough, but the mismatched chairs and the ragged rug and the wooden shelves and all the odd little things on the shelves are just a bit too bent and banged and tattered, and everything seems dingy at the edges; the spare concrete floor and the thick windowpanes are encrusted with salt, making the scenery appear as an abstract blur, only really discernible from the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.

it’s a sound you’re very familiar with. whenever you aren’t dreaming, you live in a hive by the sea, too.

you take a seat by the dying fire, glancing at the pages of the open book that’s been left there. you won’t be able to read the looping words scrawled there by some unsteady hand—you already know that from the many other times you’ve had this dream. that doesn’t stop you from trying, though.

there is a distinct feeling of absence here, you think, after you give up and settle deeper into the comfortably worn chair. it’s too big for you. you aren’t short by any means, but your feet almost don’t reach the floor.

absence—as if someone was here just moments ago, just before you arrived. you can’t explain it, only feel it: a charge in the air, someone’s unbreathed breath left behind, somebody’s trail of thought you’ve tripped across. something infuriatingly intangible that’s here but that isn’t yours.

from the small adjacent kitchen comes a wavering scream, steadily increasing in volume—shit, that always happens after you sit down in the chair and try to read the writing. somehow, it still manages to startle you, just like it did the first time.

even now, you are far too nervous to laugh at yourself for it, even though you know it’s only the kettle.

dutifully, you get up to turn off the hob. the scream dies down to a sigh.

you follow the same steps you always do when you visit this place. one by one, you examine the items carefully laid out there in the kitchen: the chipped mug, the leaf juice bag, the spoon and the small bowl of sugar.

(what if you tried something different this time?)

so, ignoring the arrhythmic banging sound coming from behind you—you know it’s only the door, left ajar and caught by the wind—you fix yourself a cup of tea. there’s no grub milk to be found anywhere, but you suppose you can do without it, under the circumstances.

normally, after turning off the kettle, you’d retreat away from the kitchen, further inside—away from that repeatedly slamming door. you would find your way to a long spiraling staircase made of thick rusting metal and begin to climb, up and up, toward the steadily turning light at the very top, driven there by a burning curiosity.

and just before you would reach it, you would wake up, pump biscuit thumping hard in your chest from the long, strenuous climb, and you would go find your lusus and tell him about it, maybe, or just go back to sleep, or give up and just get out of your recuperacoon for the night—see if maybe anybody was online to troll yet.

well, not this time. this time, you stand in the cramped kitchen and sip your tea, and you wonder about the writing in the book, and the absence.

(why not try going through the open door?)

you stand rooted to the spot, leaning against the counter oh so casually, and warily watch that door slam itself against its frame again and again while you drink the tea.

a little shiver tears through your body, though you aren’t cold. you wonder if Einnal would make fun of you for being afraid, if he was here. that’d be rich. he’s probably the biggest coward you know.

you set the mug down decisively and stride toward the door, catching it mid-swing.

the waves are high, but not the worst you’ve ever seen. the salt spray catches you in the face as you lean out the door. it’s nice, though, familiar.

from a glance, it’s maybe an hour before dawnfall. the clouds are boiling, tumultuous as the sea, the sky beyond them still dark as a bruise. every half minute or so, the sweeping beam of the lighthouse briefly illuminates the stormclouds. every time, though, it’s gone too soon, leaving only a bright afterimage behind.

you lean further out of the doorframe, into the chill wind, to squint up at the pale shapes lurking among the clouds. they’re big—very big. that’s about as much as you can see from here.

there’s nobody else out here. you are alone.

you grip the edges of the doorframe tightly when your feet begin to leave the ground, but it’s no use. you’re airborne in moments, along with several sizeable chunks of rocky coastline.

(it’s easy enough to keep yourself calm. it’s only a dream, after all.)

slowly, you float up and up and up, parallel to the lighthouse tower. it’s massive, yet still dwarfed by the jagged, rocky landscape it’s nailed into like a stake. you don’t recognize this shoreline at all.

fleetingly, through the windows, you can see a shadowy figure inside the tower, steadily climbing up those spiral stairs—he looks like you, could that really be you? yourself, dreaming a different dream? or…

you’ve lost sight of him. you can’t see through the windows at this angle.

you look down. the sea is wild beneath you. it’s colder now, up here, caught as you are in the whims of the wind. you sort of wish you had worn a sweater to sleep.

at last, your flight has brought you level with that massive beacon at the top of the lighthouse—and then higher still, with no way to stop or slow down.

the figure emerges from the staircase, stepping out onto the top level.

it can’t be you, after all. it’s someone else, someone—older, maybe, though there certainly is a resemblance.

his long cloak billows dramatically in the wind.

he’s missing his right arm.

he’s looking right at you.

you stare back at him as he gradually recedes into the distance, smaller and smaller, until he’s no more than a speck.

you’ve flown so high—you’re about to be swallowed by the turbulent swirl of thick, dark clouds above you. for some reason, you find yourself holding your breath, as though you’re afraid you might drown in them, but no such thing happens. the moment you’re submerged into the sea of clouds is perfectly painless.

you can’t see anything anymore, though. you have no sense of direction left at all. even the sounds of the ocean are significantly muted, way up here.

a few minutes pass before you realize

(you’re not alone)

there are gigantic creatures circling you from a distance—the same ones you saw from the ground, perhaps.

that distance is rapidly shrinking, though. they’re swimming closer every minute. dream or not, you’re finding it more and more difficult not to outright panic—you have nothing here to defend yourself with, you’re not even wearing shoes, for fuck’s sake—

but then—then—

you emerge from the dark clouds entirely, abruptly, clumsily. you’re still ascending, Alternia’s ever so slight curvature now visible to you at this dizzying height. the impending dawn is threatening the horizon in earnest now.

the sharks don’t follow you out into the open air, preferring to remain half-concealed in the clouds instead. you almost can’t believe your luck. you watch their fins circling below and can’t help but exhale a shaky breath, but…

but before you can feel too great a sense of relief, you look up,

and see a creature there far larger than any shark, of either the sea or sky variety: a giant sky-squid, white as bone. its tentacles alone seem to span half (maybe more) of the length of the shoreline, far below.

it’s marked with countless scars, from countless battles. there are thousands of tridents and spears and harpoons stuck in its massive body, the great majority of them broken, it seems. one of its tentacles has been entirely blown apart, the ragged stump now long-healed, by the looks of it.

it’s seen you now. it seems to regard you not only with blank, stupid, wild-animal hostility, but…with caution. maybe you’re only imagining it.

one thing you know for certain, though, as you stare unblinking into its huge and ancient eye: this is the bastard that took your arm.

no doubt about that.

in spite of its great size, it’s fast, and you’re unarmed. you never stood a chance.

you scramble for one of the weapons stuck in its mantle, anything—but none are even close enough to reach, let alone to pry loose. the last thing you see before you’re swallowed whole is the lighthouse, far below, still signaling steadily across the waves as the sun begins to rise.

---

[cgtg]

ko-fi rq for @chthonicarcher of oc jonnas taking care of his lighthouse. rlly happy w the perspective / ambience i got going on here. it's the least he deserve...

high-res on da ko-fi (+ bonus char sketches i did b4 starting)

& timelapse as per request under cut

[birchbow]

Chapters: 1/17 Rating: Mature Relationships: Gamzee Makara & Karkat Vantas, Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Minor or Background Relationship(s) Characters: Karkat Vantas, Gamzee Makara, Lord English (Homestuck), Doc Scratch (Homestuck), Homestuck Ensemble, Calliope (Homestuck), The Felt (Homestuck), It's really a 'everybody is around doing things' fic I genuinely don't know how to tag this Additional Tags: Winter Soldier Pastiche, with everything that entails so read carefully!, Humanstuck, Urban Fantasy, Home-Brew Magic System Shit Don't @ Me, Time Shenanigans, Karkat Vantas Makes Bad Decisions This Is A Forewarning, Polyamory Negotiations, Hurt/Comfort, Lord English's Fun-Time Brainwashing Time-Travel Torture Gang, Aftermath Of...... Everything....., Past Torture, (physical/psychological/spiritual/emotional--largely inexplicit but not entirely), Past Brainwashing, Possession, implied/referenced past rape/non-con, (implied sexually as well but only shown in nonsexual Cal-flavored intimacy/tenderness), God Finds It Funny To Hurt You But He Also Won't Let You Die, Let's be real: plotty gamzee whump with a, Happy Ending

Summary:

Your name is Karkat Vantas. You've got a vigilante team of freaks and weirdos to run, and a city to protect, and a long-dead crab-god under your skin, and a ring on a chain around your neck, and an axe to grind with Alternia City's most infamous gang. You're going to hunt the Scratch down, come hell or high water, and make them pay. And whoever their new pet murderer is, he's not going to stop you.

AKA Winter Soldier Gamkar Fic, Work of Many Decades, Pride and Joy!!!!!!  This is for the folks who have consistently matched my clown-related freak all this time! I love you!! Mind the tags but also enjoy!!!

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

For a game with central themes such as „every being should have a right to self-determination and autonomy“, „inclusionary communities forms bonds strong enough to protect themselves from forces that seek to prey on it“, „free will, though scary and potentially leading to harmful actions, is something worth defending for every being“, and „the cruelty the universe can spawn can be overcome with the will to continue on and do better for your people“, I find it so disappointing we‘ve had little lore that give psions the spotlight, let alone a narrative that focuses on their struggle to build back their culture and lives after who-knows-how-many-years of servitude.

I feel like the psions are the most underdeveloped in-game species, and when we do get development for them, it’s always in the context of them serving the cabal empire or the Conclave taking on antagonistic roles to sabotage the efforts of the Vanguard. I love the development of the eliksni and how in recent years, the game has really been pushing stories that humanize them, validates their struggles, and gives them hope for the future of their species, I just wish psions got the same courtesy.

Yes, they were freed under Caiatl‘s rule, but that wasn‘t given much narrative emphasis as they either continued to act for the empire or joined the Conclave, neither of which gave them a stronger presence in the story or a character that joins our cast of allies .

What was their servitude like? How much cruelty and discrimination did they face? Were there revolutions and movements for better legal protections? What parts of their culture, besides religion, did they bring with them when they were taken by the empire? Is there still anti-psion sentiments present in Uluran culture? What was their home planet like and do elder psions remember it like Riis-born eliksni remember Riis?

The psions have been influenced by Nezarec/the Witness, have been a part of the cabal empire and it’s turmoils for an extended period of time, posses incredible intelligence and psionic powers (that may have connections to the darkness), have a religious schism that was affected by Nezarec’s disappearance and the empire preventing open practices of their beliefs, and yet they are always treated as an afterthought (usually antagonistic), a one-off character in lore, or given a subservient role.

Psions are so cool and deserve the universe, yet we are given crumbs when we could have meals that accentuate the messages Destiny is trying to craft, such as respecting the right of others to have beliefs and perceptions of their own. Psions feel less like people and more like characters playing side roles to progress smaller story beats. It’s so infuriating and I don’t know if Bungie is just too timid to tackle a story involving slavery, there wasn’t enough time to develop them, or Bungie never intended for them to be more than what they currently are. I have hope we will get something soon though!!!

Acasia I haven’t forgotten about you and I never will!!