#and he is holding her

[ephermalities]

Clarice Lispector, Near to the Wild Heart / Batgirl (2000) Issue #1

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Expertise can't help you here.

[iscariotapologist]

today in church one of the priests referred to trans people as "those who are growing into the gender they were called to be" and i'm kind of enjoying the idea of like....divinely ordained top surgery

[hinamie]

matching eye horror for u and ur back-from-the-dead bestie <333

[bacchuschucklefuck]

no more fan-ta-sizing about it! everything's already changed~

[demigods-posts]

percy doing better than annabeth in college is one my favorite developments in the rrverse. if we reflect on percy and annabeth's academic upbringing. annabeth living at camp allowed her to receive accommodations for her adhd and dyslexia and surround herself with like-minded campers who had the same limitations. whereas percy was ridiculed, belittled, and routinely humiliated because of his adhd and dyslexia. even more so, percy's friends and family leave him out of the loop on so many important issue (no chb orientation film, no information about the great prophecy) which perpetuates his subpar confidence and self-esteem in his skills as a student and a demigod. but going to college at NRU changes his mindset because he receives the accommodations he should have gotten years ago and fucking thrives to the point of getting higher grades than annabeth — a person he deems way smarter and more prepared than him in every way. the most important thing percy is learning now is that a supportive environment makes all the difference, and he is more capable than he initially thought.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Hear me out, Michael would think Roxy is SICK AF

[anbaisai]

Blep. (Sequel to the boop)

Or alternatively titled: Snake Jamil, but even larger noodle

The species that Jamil is based on here is called the Blood Python (special thanks to @kirexa for the information!), which can reach an average of 4-6 ft in length and up to 30 lbs in weight.

Bonus panel:

[humanityinahandbag]

In my mind, Robin has to tag along on most of Steve's hangouts with Eddie. Eddie thinks it's a SteveandRobin thing but really it's because she's the only line of defense between Eddie and Steve.

She just keeps telling Eddie that he should be grateful. He doesn't get it but whatever.

The actual problem?

If Eddie does anything in the vicinity of Steve that's funny or sweet or, even more dangerous, is really nice and attentive to any random child, Steve suddenly gets a look in his eye that means Casual Hangs Can Include a Marriage License, Right?

On Halloween, helping Steve give out candy, Eddie made a little girls night when he saw she was dressed as a princess and actually bowed and once she and her dad were gone Steve put down the bowl and casually said, "After this we need to swing by City Hall real quick."

Thankfully Robin was there to spray him with a water bottle and throw a full sized Milky Way at his head.

Meanwhile Eddie's standing in the background confused as hell wondering why Steve keeps suggesting bureaucracy as a fun activity and why Robin and Steve are whisper-yelling at once another in the kitchen like it's not even legal and you haven't even asked him out yet! and I'm wooing him, Robin, where's your sense of romance? When you know you know! Did you see how he is with kids? And that's quitter talk honestly Robin, I'll break City Hall's doors down and you can sign the papers it can't be that hard.

[muffinlance]

Hi ! prompt idea : What if Zuko was armed during the first episode and was stranded with the water tribe while the avatar left with Katara and Sokka, Iroh on his trail for white lotus reasons.

Oh we are going to have us some FUN with "stranded with the water tribe", say no more.

---

Zuko was dripping, and steaming, and staring down two dozen women and their gaggle of small children, plus that old not-the-Avatar crone from earlier. They were all cowering away from him. Which was--

Good. It was good. If they were cowering, then they hadn’t noticed how steam was not flames. He wasn’t sure he could make flames, not after the arctic water he’d landed in, with that last sight of the Avatar glowing; not after surfacing under the ice pack, after swimming, after kicking slamming breaking through and his ship was gone and there was only ocean all around and

and he’d made it back to this pathetic little camp of the Southern Water Tribe, because that was the only place he knew for sure would have shelter, and he wasn’t going to die just because they were all staring at him, even if felt like he would.

Even if the old not-the-Avatar woman could probably take him, right now. But she didn’t know that.

Zuko pulled himself up, taller than her by at least a few inches, and blew steam from his nose.

“I am commandeering one of your huts,” he said. And added, because Uncle said even a prince should be gracious: “You may choose which one.”

---

She choose her own.

...The only one without children that flames might scar, or younger women to catch a soldier’s interests.

Zuko sat by her fire and determinedly started struggling out of his wet clothes and she was still in here with him--

Zuko pulled one of her animal pelts over himself, and finished fighting off his clothes. When he stuck his head back out, cheeks still reddened from what was obviously the cold, she dropped a parka on his head.

“Dry clothes, Your Highness,” she said.

The parka was much bigger than he was. He fell asleep hoping that the camp’s men were on a long, long hunting trip.

---

He woke up again. Kanna tucked her favorite ulu knife away, newly sharpened, and stopped contemplating the alternative.

---

“I am commandeering a ship,” he said.

The crone led him across the village, all twenty paces of it, to a row of canoes.

“Take whichever one you want,” she said. “Will you need help getting it to the water?”

Zuko looked at the canoes. Looked at the ocean. Watched a leopard seal, easily the size of the largest canoe, dozing just past the ice his own ship had broken through the day before. It was frozen again, a great icy arrow pointing from the waves to the village, snow already starting to cover it over.

Beyond was blue sky and gray ocean and white ice, floating in blocks like stepping stones, like boulders, like cliffsides.

There wasn’t even a hint of gray steel, or smoke. Or any land, besides what they were standing on.

He looked down at the canoes again. Somehow, they seemed even smaller.

“I, uh,” Zuko cleared his throat. “I’ll require supplies. Before I go.”

---

They... did not have supplies. Not extra ones. This didn’t stop them from trying to give him supplies, food and blankets and anything else he could think to ask for. But each blanket was a pelt hunted by someone’s grandfather, had been inked with images and stories by someone’s mother, was the favorite of someone’s husband or brother or uncle or cousin--

They couldn’t go to the nearest market to replace things, here.

And when they talked about food, about what they could spare, they kept sneaking glances to their children, who were sneaking glances at Zuko from the huts, sticking their heads just over the snowy ledges like their fur-trimmed hoods would hide them. Their mothers and aunts shooed them away, and they crept back, like barnacle-crabs. Zuko glared, and they disappeared.

“When are your men coming back?” he asked. “They’re hunting, aren’t they?”

Oh. So that was what they looked like, when they weren’t trying to hide their hate.

---

Zuko wrapped himself up in the same blanket that night. It was printed inside with fine lines and images, telling a story he didn’t know. He wondered whose favorite it was.

---

Kanna wondered how quickly he’d wake—if he’d wake—if she built the fire up with wet driftwood and tundra grass, if she had one of the younger girls boost up a child to plug the air hole, if she let the smoke draw its own blanket down over this fire child.

---

It was hard to know when to wake up, because the sun never set. So everyone was up before him, and they all had spears and clubs and—and nets, and trap lines, and snow googles with their single slat to protect the eyes from snow blindness. Zuko had seen those once, at the Ember Island Museum of Ethnography, where they’d gone when it was too rainy for anything more exciting.

Oh. They were going hunting.

“Give me that,” Zuko said, and took a spear.

The women looked at him. One of them adjusted her googles.

“I can hunt,” he scowled.

He did not, in fact, know how to hunt.

---

“Give me that,” the Fire Prince said, and Kanna almost, almost gave him her ulu. Humans, like most animals, had an artery in their legs that would bleed them quick enough.

She kept skinning the rabbit-mink one of the women had snared.

“I can help,” he said, with less grace than most of their toddlers. Likely with the skinning skills of a toddler, too. She wasn’t going to let their unwanted visitor ruin a perfectly good pelt.

“Chop the meat,” she said, and gave him a different knife. “It’s dinner.”

“...This is really sharp,” he said a moment later, looking at the knife with some surprise.

“Is it,” said Kanna.

---

Things the Fire Prince was convinced he could do: hunt (until he realized he couldn’t tell the tracks of a rabbit-mink from a leopard-rabbit apart); spear fish (at least he could dry himself); pack snow for an igloo (frustrated princes ran hot); ice fish (the prince was a problem that kept coming close to solving itself).

Things the Fire Prince could actually do: mince meat, increasingly finely; gather berries and herbs, once he stopped trying to crush them; dig roots, under toddler supervision; mend nets, after the intermediary step of learning to braid hair loopies.

“Can’t I take him ice fishing again?” asked one of the women, as she watched Prince Zuko put as much apparent concentration into braiding her daughter’s hair as his people had into exterminating hers.

“Wait,” said another woman, sitting up straight. “Wait wait wait. I just had an idea.”

---

Three words: Infinite. Hot. Water.

---

Summer was coming to an end. The sun actually set, now, and the night was getting longer, and colder. The salmon-otter nets were mended and ready. The smoking racks were still full of cod-lemmings. The children were all a little older, the women all a little more used to doing both halves of their tribes’ chores; a little more used to not watching the horizon, waiting for help to come.

The Fire Prince was staring at the canoes again.

“Are you actually going to try leaving in one of those?” Kanna asked.

“...No.”

“Come on, then; someone needs to watch the kids while the women are hunting.”

She didn’t leave him alone with them, of course. But she could have.

---

Elsewhere, the war continued.

The moon turned red, for a moment none could sleep through; they did not learn why.

The comet came and went, leaving their castaway prince laying on the beach, his breath fogging up into the night sky above him, as the energy crashed from his system as quickly as it had come. Above, lights began to dance in the sky; Zuko pulled his hood up, so none of those spirits—children, dead too soon—got any ideas about kicking his head off to be their ball.

The war had ended. The world didn’t feel any different; no one in the south would know until spring came again.

---

Suffice it to say, Sokka and Katara were not prepared for this particular homecoming.

[swordmaid]

back to the shadows 🌑

inspired by the storm by pierre auguste cot, shri’iia and astarion running away from the sun bc he’s a vampire and she has sunlight sensitivity.

please zoom in to see the details! 🥹🫶

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The math just adds up!

[sevrinve]

bedtime

[saturdaysky]

Gale of Minrathous

Dragon Age AU where Gale is a Tevinter magister who accidentally infected himself with red lyrium. He's found a way to halt the lyrification. Mostly.

More tidbits:

Devout Andrastian with a bit of Leliana's "the Maker speaks to me" thing going, except it's "Andraste—so obviously a mage btw, I have 5000 words prepared and ready to go on this topic—sings to me, magic prodigy"

"therefore I am sure to be the one to unlock the secrets of this powerful, strange new lyrium that is singing to m—oh. golly. that went poorly"

joins the inquisition after he emerges from isolation and his former peers have all become Venatori. If his own folly has emptied the sand from his hourglass, why not spend the little time that remains to him serving Andraste's chosen?

0 moral qualms about blood magic except that all participants must be willing. All magic is neutral—its use determines whether it is good or bad

Tara is his possessed cat, who has lived far longer than a cat should, but Gale isn't complaining. who says abominations can't like chin scritches

talks about Minrathous, a lot

would break open the heavens to see the throne of the Maker, just for the experience

Final AU thoughts under the cut!

what the magisterium doesn't want you to see:

the staff that I know, deep in my heart, Gale uses and insists is artistic:

[hinamie]

itakugi sillies fr the soul

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Mike vs Vanny on ordering pizzaplex food