#but I never posted them anywhere

[radcalculator]

Yuris from a few years back 💕

[mistlovesxcas]

jolene

so this is jensen's pov

caption and song: jensen is begging jolene (jared) not to take his man (man =misha)

I love misha so much he confirmed cockles boyfriends on main💙💚 Keep going misha

Finally, Jensen got what he wanted Misha for himself look how happy he is🥹

[nbabycallie]

cute date idea

[dizzybizz]

an edyn design but i will most definitely futz with the outfit when i have brainjuice for it gill with pretzel babywrap inspired by my brother who listened to maybe half of ep1 and got it in his head that pretzel was tied to his stomach, not on his hip and i screamed when he told me no thoughts head empty sketch of gill pose

[s0fter-sin]

idk why it wouldn’t let me answer this @kissmesharman but i absolutely love this, ghost not knowing how to process his omegan traits, to allow himself to be the one who is vulnerable and be protected instead of protecting is so ‼️ being soft, being open and accepting always came with consequences; it was always met with pain and betrayal and you only have to learn a lesson so many times before it sticks

the insidious ways roba and his ilk tried to force him into complacency, using their pheromones and rumbling and scruffing to trick his instincts into submitting- all they did was make ghost bury his omega so deep inside, he almost laughed at the irony of his own burial. even after he’s exhumed, he doesn’t hear it for years; naturally doesn’t heat even without suppressants, doesn’t purr, doesn’t feel that innate safety an alpha’s presence is supposed to bring

just being near other designations calms you down, whether they’re family, pack or even strangers thrown together in too-cramped barracks. it levels out your hormones, gives you people to act your instincts out on, and it’s never a surprise to walk into the cherries’ barracks and find them all tucked inside the resident omega’s nest; discordant purrs and chuffs layering over each other, too-big feet tangled together, still young enough for the milky smell of pup to cling to the edges of their scent especially clumped together like this. a lot of them won’t make it through selection, won’t find pack in each other but it’d be cruel to strip them of this simple comfort

ghost hasn’t stepped inside a nest in almost a decade

hasn’t felt the desire to build up softness and safety, to spread that feeling of home to the 141 even after he admits to himself that they’re pack. even after months of rejection - growling at soap’s happy chuffs whenever he saw him, pumping off bitterly aggressive pheromones to drown out gaz’s pack?home?safe?good? scent until he knew the beta felt sick with the sour poison, avoiding price whenever he was in pre-rut despite it being the most tempting and warm time of year for an omega to be near an alpha, those days before the terrible need when alphas are all affection, rut drunk with the happiness and safety of pack - they still welcomed him with open arms and bared necks as if he were a second pack alpha and not an omega

he’ll posture and loom over any unfamiliar presence, anyone that could potentially be a threat to his pack; his growls a thunderous undercurrent that shakes the very ground and makes anyone who hears it submit on instinct. soap and gaz happily submit to him; almost vibrating in place when he scents them, enduring their appeasing nibbles and licks at his hidden mouth, falling to heel whenever he decides to take over a situation. price shows it in other ways; nose blind after too many breaks and too many cigars, he lets ghost gentle him when his stress reaches its peak, hangs his head and just breathes as ghost threads his fingers together and cups them around his neck, squeezing his scent glands with his palms. ghost bumps their temples together and they’ll just stand there until the burnt scent of tension leaks out of the air

they’re not shy with their submission until most people just assume ghost’s an alpha based purely on the actions of his pack

they’ll never point it out, but the 141 has never suffered for lack of a pack nest. bc ghost unknowingly makes individual nests wherever they go

he’ll push soap into the comfiest sofa cushion after scoping out a safe house, tug gaz’s jacket straight when he uses it as a pillow and eye mask in one, pace in front of the bedroom price claimed to ensure his pack alpha is safe inside his den. he divies out rations, always opens them and switches the desserts so gaz and soap don’t argue over who got the better one; takes the instinctual first bite of anything scavenged or hunted to know it’s safe just to wait until everyone’s done eating and full before taking his own portion. they all present themselves for ghost’s inspection after missions; lets him run his hands and nose over them to check for injuries and it’s ghost who more often than not ends up taking care of them instead of sending them down to medical

they’ll never tell him, never make him face his own behaviour before he’s ready to come to terms with it himself. as much as ghost’s convinced himself otherwise, his omega is alive and well and his pack will welcome his shy return whenever he feels ready to step back into the light

[datdolphin]

[nerdsandbabyteeth]

K & S

[tedlebred]

thought I'd share my splatoon drawing I posted in the square for pride month. I want to terrorise splatsville

[stiffyck]

Still occasionally think about that one online friend who just. Disappeared one day.

I hope wherever they are they're okay....

[dieselman42069]

You know those fics where the Avengers refuse to accept that Peter is a vigilante and knows other vigilantes and breaks up trafficking rings and has seen some really bad stuff, and the Avengers think he's out there only getting kittens out of trees and stopping bike thieves? Some real "You guys save the world, we save the people inhabiting that world," type shit? And the Avengers slowly come to understand that Peter is far more vigilante than hero?

Anyone got some of those type of fics to recommend (the length or status (WIP, completed, etc) doesnt matter)? Cause I've gone through so many fics on Ao3 and there truly aren't enough.

[cryptidclownz]

updated ref of my oc naryn!

no bg + scarred alternate

i tried my hand at writing a little scene of the whole naryn/lamb backstory!! im not super proud of it but i dont usually share my writing so i figured i might as well!

—

Another crusade through Darkwood gave the lamb time to think. To unwind. Slaughtering beasts and heretics was a favorite pastime of theirs, but their followers grew ever needy. Demanding. They dreaded a request for materials that would be better spent on medicine and worship, but the scolding their god would give them if they refused was just as infuriating. A leader must provide, he would tell them. Your followers will dissent without proper care. Coddling, more like. Lambert was not a gentle leader, and they had no intention to be one. As much as they wished they could toss their flock to the wolves and go on about their life, The Lamb knew Narinder was right. Their flock would be rewarded for hard work and good behavior, any recruits would find their new life comfortable as long as they behaved. If they didn’t, The One Who Waits had no issue if a follower appeared in his realm in the middle of the night now and then.

Although they were out to gather camellias for a follower desperate to win one of their disciple’s affection, Lambert felt right at home in the dungeons. They handled heretics and monsters with relative ease, well acquainted with the tricks enemy cultists thought would fool them.

The Lamb walked, bored, through another few clearings, only sometimes remembering their original task and picking a few flowers to toss into the crown’s infinite storage. A soft rustling in the trees, the telling shuffling of feet on the ground. The Lamb’s sword was drawn before the ambush had even landed around them.

Boring. Predictable.

They went after the boldest attacker first; a smaller hooded figure than the others who carried an unproportionately large axe. It swung at them, but the weight of the axe slowed it down. The blade of The Lamb’s sword hit the axe’s hilt, slamming it down just inches away from their hooves with unexpected power. The heretic wasn’t given the time to pry its weapon out of the dirt before the Lamb swung at its neck, slicing past muscle and bone with a sickening slap.

The Lamb didn’t behead it, leaving the near-dead heretic to scream in agony for a few moments before it finally died. They were unphased by the rest of the troop storming toward them, having learned by now that heretics don’t take the time to mourn their fallen.

The sword almost seemed to move on its own; slicing through the throats of some and gutting others. Lambert cast a curse in the direction of the two remaining, though the tentacles that rose from the ground only caught one. The Lamb didn’t mind. They preferred to do the work themselves, anyway.

They gripped the handle of the crown’s sword tightly, taking chase after the last remaining heretic. The Lamb moved with powerful, calculated steps, letting the runner think it had a chance to get away. It wasn’t every day that an attacker would try to run, after all.

–

The heretic bolted.

He ran with all of his might, adrenaline willing his trembling body forward despite the gash in his side and the blood of his troop that stained his person. The uniformed hood he wore fell back with every desperate leap forward, and the cold air that rushed past his fur made the tips of his ears burn. He didn’t dare look back, too afraid to see the figure of that monster behind him. The heretic hardly noticed the tears that whipped past his cheeks, wet and sticky like the rest of the blood that coated him. Not his blood. He was alive, even if his friends weren’t. Gods, they were gone, weren’t they? They were-

His foot caught on a slippery root. The cat was flat on the ground before he could feel the sharp sting of pain from his ankle.

“No,” He choked out, voice hoarse. “No, no, no, no-”

Slow, heavy footsteps cut off his thoughts. The heretic kicked and clawed desperately at the dirt beneath him, but his movements were frantic and uncoordinated. The Lamb would have found it funny if they weren’t irritated by the sticky residue coating their arms and fleece. They approached the hooded figure so slowly it was cruel, listening to the panicked breaths and gasps that came from it.

“Rise, heretic,” Their voice was horrifyingly level, and the hooded figure could spot the glint of their sword out of the corner of his eye as they lifted it towards him. He was going to die.

“P-Please,” The voice that sounded from the heretic was quiet and shaky, but his limbs trembled more violently as he propped himself up on his forearms and cautiously turned. With his ankle still caught on the root, the cat was forced to twist his body to look up. His hood slowly fell from his ears, no longer casting any shadows on his face. He was going to die. “Please, spare me.”

The Lamb froze.

They stared down at the heretic before them, eyes widening in a state of shock that was entirely foreign to them.

A black cat stared back, the dark amber of his tear-filled eyes glinting red in the sparse lighting of the Darkwood forest. His long, pointed ears pinned back against his skull, the tips nearly pressing together. His fur was blood-splattered and matting in the direction of the drying redness, but the Lamb could still see that perfect black beneath it. Their eyes shifted to the heretic’s forehead, where a discolored splatter of blood stained the fur. At least, that’s what they thought it was.

Their eyes narrowed.

The Lamb moved closer, stepping over the root that the cowardly heretic was trapped underneath. They stood in front of him, sword lowered but still pointed near the cat’s head. Unsatisfied by what they saw, the Lamb lowered to a squat, causing him to gasp and flinch back. His eyes screwed shut, awaiting the same agonizing pain that he’d just witnessed his troop suffer.

And yet, it never came. Instead, he felt a hand on the top of his head, firmly planted but not suggesting any malice. The Lamb took a moment to feel his fur. Soft, they realized. Such a familiar texture.

Their hand moved further down, landing on the red blood on the heretic’s forehead. They pressed down and slid their hand to the side, expecting it to smear or crumble off entirely. When that didn’t happen, their breath quickened. The cat didn’t know why. He pried his eyes slowly open, pupils dilated about as far as they would go. He searched the Lamb’s expression warily, but he was about as lost as they were. It was hard to distinguish exactly what this was. Excitement? Fear? Confusion? Maybe it was a mix of everything. The source of their confliction, however, was no question.

This heretic was the spitting image of The One Who Waits, down to the most subtle stripes in his fur and the red in his eyes. The red mark on his forehead was distinctly eye-shaped, like some sort of mimic of their god’s divine features. It was almost revolting, the fact that a lowly heretic would be blessed with such features–- such mockery. The Lamb’s expression hardened, and the heretic noticed. He wanted to pull away, to scream, to plead for his life, but the heretic’s throat ran dry. He could only watch as the Lamb continued to inspect him as if they were searching for just one inconsistency; one reason to kill the vile mimic that tried to fool them. There were none.

“You...” The Lamb began, dropping their hand to the underside of his jaw and jerking his head up. There was no telling what went on in their head, even as their sword warped back into the shape of a crown and sat atop their head. Their glare seemed to soften a moment later. “Where have you been?”

[thursdayinspace]

another random question but what do you think would have happened if scully had never gotten abducted?

i love this question. i mean, long-term, it would have changed *a lot*. no cancer arc, which would be the biggest and most obvious change. but what would it have changed right then and there? the abduction definitely impacted their partnership and their friendship.

in one way, it brought things to the surface, especially for mulder. he wasn't unaware of her importance in his life before the abduction. telling his tape recorder that he could only trust himself and now he can only trust her? telling her that the only reason he could see to stay with the fbi was if they were working together? he was already relying on her presence in his life. a lot. but when she was taken from him, i think he felt a fear and despair that he would not have anticipated. it's one thing to know you need someone who is right there, and who will set up secret meetings in a parking garage, and who, even if you *can't* right now, is someone you know deep down you *could* reach out to. it's another thing to need someone who is gone.

so in that way, i think he did become aware that he was feeling more than he had realized. and that realization definitely had an impact on their relationship. but there's another side to it:

the abduction was the first time he became aware of *his* role in *her* life. and what he saw there wasn't good. because mulder being mulder, of course he takes responsibility, of course he blames himself. the fact that none of it was his fault doesn't matter. this is when he realizes that their quest, *his* quest, is putting her in real, life-threatening danger. and that thought never leaves him again. we see that guilt that takes root in his mind there all the way up into the revival. so that is a huge thing. he would have eventually found other things to blame himself for. mulder takes things personally and holds himself accountable for things that are completely outside of his control. so if it hadn't been this, it would have been something else. because things would still have happened to her. but being abducted and being gone for that long and coming back on the brink of death? that, for lack of a better expression, really fucked them both up in a big way.

so, what is my answer to your question? i don't know. i mean, for one, scully's side of the story is still completely missing from this. i find that a lot harder to unpack. if anyone wants to analyze that, i'd love to hear your thoughts! but also, both these things i talked about could have affected them in any number of ways. it comes down to likelihoods and probabilities. in the end you never know for sure how a person will react to a situation until after they've done it. and you don't know how not going through an experience might change them. and no headcanon any of us might have will tell the story as it would have happened with 100% certainty because human behavior is simply too complex and complicated to predict with any kind of accuracy.

if mulder hadn't been pushed through external circumstances to confront his feelings in that way, if he hadn't carried her cross, held her hand fearing it might be the last time, that would have taken a huge weight off both of them. there might have been a greater ease to their relationship. mulder wouldn't be feeling that guilt. scully wouldn't have to deal with the aftermath of all of that. the abduction, in my opinion, brought them closer to each other, but also served as an obstacle on their way forward, because it's quite something to move on from, more so since it brought feelings to the surface that neither of them was ready for.

*i personally* think the abduction strengthened the bond between them but weakened the foundation of their relationship. because of that added guilt and the fact that they were not ready to confront certain feelings. i think his fear of losing her is something that came to define him. and he kept almost losing her. if that hadn't happened? things between them could have progressed at an easier pace. their friendship, and the love they feel for each other. but honestly, i have no idea. but i had a lot of fun thinking about this.

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Someone should make an analysis of Amphibia's geography for fanfic writing purposes and by someone I mean Oh god please let there be something out there so I won't be tempted to procastinate on studying for my finals working on a detailed world map for a fantasy Disney show about talking frogs and polyamorous lesbian divorce when the writers themselves probably didn't think much about it beyond what would be funny in each individual episode

[dizzybizz]

some doodles

[merimerz]

the best is yet to come

[deafeninggardenerpanda]

woke: thinking drawing the mages weapons is hard

woke: thinking drawing the mages bodies and clothes is hard

woke: thinking drawing the mages hair is hard someone please for the love of god give me a tutorial this isnt a joke im suffering so hard someone help