#but anyone feel free to continue

[whathorselegs]

Hot take but Dazai and Chuuya do not have to be solely opposites in everything.

Just because Dazai can't do/isn't good at something doesn't mean Chuuya automatically can do/is good at that same thing. And Vice versa.

They are as similar as they are opposite, their dynamic doesn't have to just be boiled down to opposites attract.

As an example, I think Chuuya is given way too much credit for how put together he is in terms of domestic chores, especially when he's a teen! This boy was technically homeless until the mafia took him in. He was a child on the street, with no memory, who was taken in and raised by The Sheep. Who were other children living in a sewer! For at least some of the time Chuuya was in The Sheep he lived in a sewer. It probably took him years to actually learn how to consistently keep his home in order.

Yes, in Storm Bringer we are given a passage about how neat Chuuya kept his new apartment, but that was also because of how bare it was. He literally didn't know how to fill an apartment with anything but the bare necessities. I don't think we were supposed to read that passage and go "Wow, Chuuya's so neat!", we were supposed to go, "Wow, this kid has no idea who he is."

Dazai living in a shipping container is the worse scenario, but neither of their living situations reflect a stable one. They both have no idea how to make a home for themselves at that point. Chuuya is as proud of his own barren space as Dazai is of his. The real difference is Chuuya was given his apartment by the mafia, whereas Dazai picked his container. Chuuya is integrating himself into the mafia and Dazai is separating himself from it.

Their living situations are mirrors of each other as well as opposites.

Anyway, all this to say, skk (teen skk especially) should get to be as dumb as they are competent together.

[brainmuncher]

Doubles

After years of being Phantom, Danny started learning all sorts of interesting facts about the Infinite Realms. Like for one, the Realms were infinite, like the universe was infinite, a constant state of expansion. 

What his parents had dubbed the Ghost Zone was more like the space between alternate universes. For every action, another universe was added to the Realms, but it would start as an alternate timeline. They would only become classified as an alternate universe after becoming unrecognisable from the timeline they came from. After that, they’d break away and become its own thing.

Apparently, the timeline with Dan had almost become its own universe, but because of the threat he posed to the Realms, the Observants took a step in to try and cut it off before it separated from Danny’s universe. But now that Clockwork stepped in and saved Danny’s timeline, where Dan came from fell apart, and all those within it ceased to exist. Danny had stared at a wall for a while after hearing that.

But with that came the knowledge of Doubles. Despite the name, Danny had been told that often a person would meet one or more of their Doubles. Even though a universe can become incredibly different from the other universe it was born from, there are usually echoes you can find within. One of those echoes was meeting yourself who had also died. Ember had described meeting one of her Doubles once. She said it was looking at a mirror that had been slightly distorted, but she could still tell that the other person was her. She said the Double was named Emily and had been a firefighter who had been killed in a burning concert hall. Ember didn’t mention anything else after that.

Despite Dan almost becoming one of his Doubles, Danny never thought he’d ever meet any of his Doubles. Surely he wasn’t important enough to leave echoes in alternate universes. That’s without mentioning that Danny didn’t even have any reason to visit any alternate universes. He had enough to deal with in his own, thanks.

But then, as there always was, there was a fight with a ghost. Danny got tangled up in the battle and got sent through a portal that he instantly knew did not send him home. And because Danny had Fenton luck, he was discovered by someone who looked familiar but in a way that made his stomach twist. It felt wrong. Every instinct inside him wanted to curl away from those eyes that understood him too well to be comfortable with.

A vigilante who had parents who cared more about the dead than their own child. Black hair parted slightly differently but still untameable, with the same blue eyes that pierced his reflection in the mirror. They both recognised each other for what they were. The same echo of a person, a double of themselves, and yet slightly different.

“Hi, I’m Red Robin.”

[blvck-minou]

Lover be good to me

[slavhew]

made them to strike fear into my heart whenever i falter in my studies

no text ver under the cut

[marenwithanm]

Hey why can Ganon be revived via the heros blood in Adventure of Link?

It's not a plot point we see in any other games, so what makes Adventure of Link different? Here's my theory: the silver arrows. In the original Legend of Zelda (the first one), you kill Ganon by stunning him with your sword and finishing him off with an item called the silver arrows. Maybe, the silver arrows are a magic item designed to seal away powerful enemies within the blood of the user.

But the first game isn't the only time we see the silver arrows, they're also in A Link to the Past. Like the first game, you use them to finish Ganon off after stunning him with your sword. But Link doesn't have to deal with monsters trying to sacrifice him to bring back Ganon in that game, so I guess that destroys my theory, huh? Except... You know who does almost get sacrificed to bring Ganon back? Zelda. In the oracle games, twinrova kidnap her and try to sacrifice her. The in game explanation is that her death will bring people so much despair that Ganon can return, but what if it's also because Ganon is sealed away within her blood? Maybe she made/comissioned the silver arrows in the first place (edit: or maybe they're and artifact the royal family already had idk) and put her blood in them for the hero to find and use in A Link to the Past. And then, hundreds of years in the future, Link from the first Zelda game finds and uses them, not realizing the whole blood curse situation that goes with them

Tldr: silver arrows seal Ganon away in the user's blood and he can be brought back using their blood. Zelda from alttp and oracle games made and used them, and then Link from the first Zelda game used them and that's why he's got a blood curse in Adventure of Link

[walkingstackofbooks]

cw: child abuse

Once again, I got to the point where some comfort ought to have kicked in, and stopped... I'm sorry, I don't deliver closure, only hurt aha 😅

--

"I got grounded for a month after that," Miles finished sheepishly. Julian laughed.

"And you say that's your worst? My parents once grounded me from June through to August - and I lost food privileges once a week, too!"

Far from the round of laughter and "What did you do?"s he was expecting, he was greeted with a stunned silence. He raised his eyebrows, looking around at his friends in confusion.

"What do you mean, "food privileges"?" Sisko asked. Julian shrugged.

"Just, you know, my access to food was revoked for the day, or evening, or whatever time they'd set, and think about what I'd done."

"I'm sorry, your parents starved you once a week for three months?"

"You're making it sound worse than it was," Julian defended. "It wasn't that bad."

"Not being allowed to eat is pretty bad, Julian," Jadzia said, and from expressions on the others' faces, it seemed they agreed. He shrugged again, wishing he'd never said anything.

"What had you done?" asked Miles.

Just seconds ago, Julian had been ready to spin an impish tale of the two days he'd spent hiding away in the woods, but he has a sinking feeling his friends weren't going to see the funny side of this, either.

"I ran away. For two nights," he replied. "Funnily enough, it's more difficult than you'd expect from the way adventure books make it sound."

Odo harrumphed, but otherwise his joke fell flat.

"So you can see why they were mad," he continued. "When I turned back up again, they were thinking they were going to have to involve the police, and that would have been all sorts of awful."

"You went missing for two nights and they didn't--" The captain cut himself off, shaking his head. Julian looked away; Sisko seemed angry, and he wasn't sure how that made him feel.

"How old were you?" asked Kira.

"Fifteen," Julian replied. "It was just after I found out about, um, my genetic enhancements. Which is why it would have been so hard to explain, if, you know, they'd told the police about me."

"I can't believe this," says Miles. "You're saying you were so upset at finding out your parents had given you illegal enhancements that you ran away, and not only did they choose not to report you were missing, but when you came back, they punished you for being upset rather than, oh, I don't know, apologising?!"

Julian suddenly felt very small and stupid. "Well, when you put it like that--" he chuckled weakly, trying and failing to keep his voice light. Jadzia leant over to take his hand, and he knew he shouldn't push it away.

"I don't know," he said quietly, slumping back against his seat. "I guess, yeah - that's what I'm saying."

There was another silence. The outrage had died down, and now it seemed that no-one knew quite what to say. Jadzia's hand was beginning to feel oppressively warm.

"Food privileges," Sisko muttered, seemingly to himself, disdain dripping off each word. Hell. In hindsight, Julian really ought to have guessed how little his captain would approve of that one.

[valgeristik]

twilight princess + skyward sword stuff ive been drawing the past few days for practice and for fun <3 (you can take TP link's mustache out of my cold, dead hands)

Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser List

E-sims donation

[hereandnowhere-onboards]

Oscar Piastri: The DRS Chronicles

I couldn't find a full compilation of all of Oscar's legendary DRS tweets, so I've pulled together as many as I could. Please let me know if I've missed anything!

July 2020

August 2020

September 2020

October 2020

December 2020

January 2021

April 2021

June 2021

July 2021

September 2023

May 2024

Oscar Piastri TikTok video dated 17 May 2024.

[Reply to Karglass’s comment ‘how your relationship with drs is going ??’]

There’s probably a lot of people wondering what this question is about. In F3, my DRS was VERY temperamental, and I think basically half the season it worked very intermittently, sometimes didn’t work at all, and if you want to scroll back far enough on my Twitter, on my X, then you will see the DRS chronicles from that year. So, yeah, we’re all good now, have been for a while, now that I’ve said that I’ve definitely jinxed it because that’s what happened last time I did this, but yes, since then we have been all good, yeah.

[valhallavalgrace]

Favorite and least favorite activities, if you’re willing to share?

Also, did you learn anything about what’s going on with the new guy down the hall? Sure, you were supposed to stay out of it, but you’ve got to at least be a little curious, right?

LEO: *quiet guilty thoughts because he can't ask about if Loki is like Loki in the movies* *pretending to know anything about Norse mythology*

MAGNUS: *overthinking about Uncle Randolf and the Loki symbols* *forgetting that Norse demigods aren't the only demigods bc they still haven't talked about his Greek cousin*

prev ask

[arandomferretsthoughts]

This popped into my brain and wouldnt leave so I wanted to share it with yall

—

A young boy and his parents are attacked on the street, only the boy makes it out.

It's a rare occurrence, an event like this, the police find the man and arrest him and everyone else is safe.

Bruce Wayne goes home to a mansion that feels larger and lonelier than ever, with only his butler to take care of him.

And yet the young boy finds himself too afraid to leave for more than necessities.

The young boy grows into a young man, he inherits his parents business and starts to leave his house a little more, unwilling to lose this connection to his lost parents but still he finds himself afraid, afraid to be around people, to be seen.

Until one day at a gala he must attend for the sake of the shareholders, he sees a man, a reporter, who holds himself in an odd way, clearly a tall and strong man who could be intimidating if he tried but the man held himself as if to appear smaller and unassuming, Bruce's brain flitters across the idea that the man is hiding something, or more hiding himself.

His brain that has soaked up comics and movies for years so as to not grow bored in his home.

And when he learns of all the good this reporter has been trying to do, he thinks the man would make a good superhero.

When he goes home the thought wont leave him alone, he thinks of a world with a hero, a world that needs a hero, one where his parents murder would have just been one of many, but this hero wouldn't have been there to help, he was too bright, a hero for the daytime, not for the shadows of night.

He thinks maybe he could have been a hero in this world, one that saves other kids from suffering a fate like his own.

One who is afraid and fights anyway.

The next time he leaves his home there's an event at a museum, with some special objects that are in town for a few days. There he sees a woman who knows so much about ancient relics and is so beautiful that he doesn't believe she could be just a normal human.

He thinks she would share her knowledge and kindness with the world given the chance.

While he remains mostly alone, other than his Parental figure/Butler, he also keeps in contact with two friends from when he was in school.

One is now a psychiatrist, with an interest in learning about fear and how it can change people, and the other a psychologist, both working at the city's asylum. 

Harleen is who Bruce considers his best friend, a goofy but kind girl who cares alot about others, she tells him about a patient, without going into much detail, who she claims would be cute if he wasn't so insane. Smiling and laughing while he talks about harming others. 

She got a boyfriend somewhere along the way, a man Bruce is sure abuses her but she can't seem to leave.

The three get in a fight one day, and lose contact, and Bruce supposes you can't have heroes without villains, though he can't bring himself to think of Harley as a villain by her own choice.

On the news Bruce learns of a man working to better science as they know it, a man who always seems to be a few minutes too late, he follows the story until the day something goes wrong and the man is there on time to shield workers from flying chemicals, killing him but saving others, Bruce thinks the man a hero in death, and could have been one in life, one who always made it to where he was needed just on time.

As time went on Bruce tried to get out more in normal ways, one night he went to the circus, he enjoyed it, reminding him of the day when he was little and his parents brought him to one just like it.

It was a few days later that he learned at the next show there was an accident, and a little boy lost his parents, he remembered being small and feeling alone when he had lost his, thankful for the man who cared for him he wished he could do the same for this little boy, but knew he didn't have the skills needed.

He could, however, make sure the boy got somewhere safe, and other kids like him too.

So he held a fundraiser and donated a lot of money into the foster system, doing what he could to make it safe.

And he thought of a world where he could have taken the little circus boy into his home, making it brighter and less lonely.

As he ventured out more and more Bruce travelled through different parts of the city, he saw a group of little children cowering behind one bigger who had just chased off a grown man, Bruce smiled as the kids cheered for the little hero.

It was the news that later told him the boy was dead, a homeless kid who stopped being seen, the little hero was gone.

Bruce held another fundraiser, this one for the homeless shelters and kitchens.

It was the news that told him the boy was not dead, found by the police, with other stolen children. 

Children that returned to a better place.

The day he lost his last parent is the day where he began to feel truly alone, the only person there for him gone, but Alfred would live forever in his memory's as the man who loved and cared for him.

He reached out to Harly again not wanting to be all alone, and they made up, he learned she had gotten free of her abusive boyfriend and had fallen for a woman who's love of nature was refreshing and new.

He knew little about his neighbours, but he tried to get to know them better, he struggled but eventually learned that the woman that lived there was very sick and that the man was not home much, when he learned of the child who spent so much of his time alone, he thought the kid was brave and told him if he ever needed anything to just ask.

The kid needed someone the day when his mother didn't wake up and his father wasn't home. Bruce did what he could, he was no father but he cared for the kid the best he could until his was able to return.

Bruce knew it was expected of him to have a family, someone to give his things and his business when he passed. He tried dating, but nothing ever seemed to work out.

However one day he learned of a child, a son, one the mother hadn't told him about, he tried to gain any sort of parental rights but couldn't get any custody, only visitation, he met the boy, a quiet but fiercely determined child, And he loved his son even without seeing him much.

When the quiet, hermit, billionaire Bruce Wayne, best known for appearing, donating large amounts of money to random causes and then disappearing again, passed away his belongings and company were to be split between two people, Timothy Drake, and Damian al Ghul, when the two met up to split his things, they found writings the man had never told anyone of.

Writings of a world where regular people became heroes, where aliens walked amongst humans, and where magic made lives exciting.

They agreed to publish the story's for the world to see.

To most people, the writings were just an entertaining fiction story that a billionaire wrote with his unlimited free time.

But to the retired reporter who knew his height frightened others, who now rested and found the stories learned that someone had seen how he stood, and what he had done and thought of him as a hero,

To the artefact collector and preserver who learned this man believed she was so knowledgeable about what she had strived to learn everything about, as well as beautiful, that he thought her to be blessed by the gods,

To the old psychologist who mourns her friend, a man who thought that no matter what she went through she'd always make the right choice in the end, 

To the family of a man who lost his life saving others, who this guy they had never met thought so highly of,

To the man that lost his only family to an accident at their circus, he was a man who wanted him get a good home, where'd he'd get anything he ever wanted, 

To a man that went through so much, believed dead for so long to learn this man who he had only seen once, saw him not as a poor homeless kid but as a fighter and protector,

To the boy that new the man for a short time, as a temporary guardian and protector, who made him feel safe and not alone when he needed it most, 

And To the boy who wished he could have known his father, but was kept away by his mother,

The storys showed to them all that this man, who some thought of as cold and egotistical, as he locked himself away and refused to be around others, was actually an anxious, lonely man, who saw what others didn't and cared about everyone in his own odd way.

—

I just thought it was a cool idea I wanted to share with yall, so I hope you guys like it

This is my first post on here, so please be nice,

Also, ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes Dyslexia goes brrr

If you want to know what I think he based the other heroes and character off of, just ask, and I'll figure it out!

Thanks for reading, and have a good day!

Edit:

Thanks for all the nice comments and reblogs :)

I genuinely didn't realize how sad this was, lol. Sorry, not sorry, guys

[bluebird8683]

RR is dead, Tim is not

Tim Drake stood on the rooftop of an abandoned high-rise, the wind pulling at his cape like it was trying to hold him back, as though Gotham itself were begging him to reconsider. He would miss this—the only home he had ever known. The city stretched out beneath him, its ceaseless hum a bittersweet symphony, a reminder of all the people who probably wouldn’t miss him, not really. And yet, the wind seemed almost alive, whispering doubts, pleading with him to stay, even as he remained steadfast in his decision.

They’d mourn Red Robin, perhaps. Maybe even Tim Drake, for a fleeting moment. (Tam is the only one he truly feels bad about leaving behind, but she has a life outside of him, friends who care about her. She'll be ok.) But eventually, they’d move on, the way Gotham always did. Would the family even notice his absence?  A part of him whispered they might be better off without him. That they’d be happier, lighter, without the weight of someone they never seemed to truly see. 

He’d made sure of it.

Tim looked down at the blood pooling on the cracked concrete, dark and glistening under the cold moonlight. The crimson trail spidered out across the rooftop, a macabre work of art he had painted with his own blood, painstakingly collected over weeks to ensure authenticity. Almost hiding the faint scent of ozone in the air from the rainstorm earlier today, the scent of iron, or blood, hung heavy in the air. The scene in front of him is a gruesome sight- one he purposely staged to be that way, but horrid all the same. The manikin he painstakingly ensured looked exactly like him (down to not having a spleen and that paper-cut he got earlier today in the office) was one that he had grown and made explicitly for this. It never breathed in life, but he had made sure all the muscles showed all the wear and tear his muscles likely had.

He arranged it to be crumpled near the roof entrance of the building, its fingers splayed unnaturally, some twisted and broken as though his attacker had tried to torture something out of him that he refused to give. One shoulder was visibly dislocated, the other broken in such a way that his bone was sticking out of his skin. The left leg bent as if he had somehow gained a second knee. The neck bore the telltale bruising of strangulation, the skin mottled with dark purples, a haunting testament to his fabricated final moments. (Though there is bruising elsewhere on the body, the ones on his neck were the darkest.)  

The area around the manikin was a tableau of chaos: broken bits of his bo staff scattered like splinters of a shattered life, and tears in the suit—carefully slashed to match the grotesque injuries—added the final touch of authenticity along with the extra blood he had collected from himself in advance pooling and being poured from specific spots. He doubted anyone would be able to tell that he was still alive after seeing this. No one but him would ever see this as what it was, a staged exit. They might call it a tragedy (if they're feeling generous) or a lost fight. They would call it the curtain call of his life, but all it truly was is the end of Act I.

The stage was perfect. (Thinking of this all as a play had made him feel better about it, thinking of the clone as a manikin as he removed the spleen and injured it, as he put together the murder scene...) 

Tim’s gaze swept over the rooftop one last time, cataloging every detail. The smear and drops of blood around the roof, the broken bits of his bo staff lying near the body covered in wounds, the com he placed in its ear. The entire scene screamed tragedy—a hero ambushed, overpowered, and left lifeless on a cold rooftop, the final act of violence etched around his neck in a black bruise.

It had to be convincing. It had to be enough to fool Bruce, Dick, Damian, and even Barbara. Tim could imagine the triumphant sneer on Damien's face, the satisfaction of no longer sharing the Robin title in any form. And Jason… Jason might raise a beer, toasting the end of the “replacement.” The thought hurt. (Thoughts of how they viewed him always did- it's why he tries not to let his mind wander... not that he can really do that- but that's part of the reason that he's doing this.) He’d run through every possibility, refining his plan with several contingencies he can switch to at a moment's notice. That was what he did. That was who he was. (Something that Bruce trained into him.)

His fingers trembled as he adjusted the position of the manikin’s arm one last time. Not from fear or regret—those emotions had burned out weeks ago. This was the final piece of a puzzle he’d been building for months. (He left a nice little case for the detective family to follow, if they decide to investigate his demise. All the leads would turn cold though, of course.) He should feel relief, maybe even triumph, but all he felt was a bone-deep exhaustion.

“This is it,” he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the gusts of wind.

He stepped back, letting the scene burn into his memory. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what would happen next. The news would break—Red Robin, dead in the line of duty. (He knew his body would be discovered in the morning- the owner of the building liked to come up for a smoke every morning before going to work.)

The family might grieve, or maybe they wouldn’t. Tim wasn’t sure anymore. Would they even miss him, or would they be better off without him?  Maybe they’d even be happier. Bruce would brood, sure, throwing himself into the case until he found just enough to close it. Damian, though, might sneer, claiming he saw it coming. Dick… Dick might actually cry. But eventually, they’d move on. They always did. After all, it had been months since any of them had really talked. How could they miss someone they never cared to know?   

But eventually, they’d move on. They’d forget. It's not like it'll change much.

Tim swallowed hard, forcing the lump in his throat back down where it belonged. This wasn’t about them. This was about him. A chance to finally breathe without the crushing weight of their expectations, their demands, their indifference. All this without even a courtesy "thanks." He’d spent so long loving them, sacrificing his sleep, his time, his social life for them, and all it had earned him was emptiness. Exploitation masquerading as family.

He's had enough.

He turned away from the body, moving to the edge of the rooftop. His new gear was already packed, hidden in a secure location outside Gotham. His offshore accounts were loaded, his new identity (and several back-ups) painstakingly crafted. Every system he’d set up—from the programs helping Gotham’s homeless to the automated responses at WE—would run smoothly without him. He’d made sure of it. Everything major will be fine without him. They’ll be fine without him.

Tim took a deep breath, letting the cold air fill his lungs. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins. This was it. The last goodbye.

He turned on the device that would hide his heartbeat from anyone with advanced hearing, stepped off the ledge and disappeared into the shadows, leaving behind all he had ever known, the fractured remnants of his life, and the only city he had ever called home. 

[aragaki]

Darlin' x Milo.

I know I'm all alone in my little boat here but Darlin x Milo has me in a chokehold and I need to get it out!!

For one, Milo would absolutely call Darlin' Tank instead.

Thinking about Milo and Tank, they've been around each other since they were teenagers. Maybe there was some feelings, some fights. Two stubborn, strong-willed wolves with Asher always going on and on about their will-they-won't-they dynamic, much to Milo's chagrin.

Then they vanish off with some fancy-talking vamp and Milo's left with a yearning he refuses to admit to. He's got other things on his mind. He pretends that Tank's absence from pack meetings doesn't bother him but knowing they're gone, and in a worse place, weighs on him.

Then he finds them, battered and bloody, crumpled outside on his way home. They're hurt. They're half-delirious from blood loss and couldn't help themselves from going somewhere familiar - to someone familiar.

Milo patching them up as best he can, trying to get information out of them but they fight him tooth and nail at every turn. Just like the old days. All he knows is there's someone they're out for, someone they want to kill, and Milo can't tell anyone they're back in Dahlia. And just like Milo says to Sweetheart, as long as it doesn't affect the pack, he can do what he wants.

But it does and he doesn't know it.

Milo's place becoming Tank's safehouse, Milo trying to help Tank as much as he can but they're so tight-lipped about who they're hunting. But the two of them are getting closer. And Milo learns just how out of place Tank felt in the pack, with them, never feeling like they were really accepted.

David confronting Milo, absolutely pissed that two members of his pack are going behind his back. Milo and David, who are at this point more distant after the death of Gabe, and Milo having something to prove to David but has disappointed him.

Milo telling David that Tank doesn't think of themselves as a member of the Shaw pack, and hasn't in a long time, even before they left. Milo having to tell David that he didn't ask who it was Tank was hunting, scared that if he pushed or if he told David and they found out, they'd probably run and they'd never get them back and he doesn't want to lose them again.

Tank confronting Milo at the pack meeting, convinced he was the one who told, furious, hurt, and betrayed again, so tried of being betrayed, but Milo defending himself. Making it clear that he didn't tell David and Tank didn't tell him about Quinn either.

Tank's body being covered in scars from fights and Quinn. Being ashamed and disgusted as Milo, who spills compliments like a fountain, kisses each one of them. Milo's body-worshipping habits coming out at every unhappy frown Tank makes when they see themselves.

Milo buying Tank good looking clothes, fully at his wit's end with their unironed white tank top and jeans. Tank liking the clothes but never wearing them cause they seem so expensive, they should be for a special occasion. Milo's insistence that mulberry silk or not a shirt is a shirt so please fucking wEAR IT.

Asher's vindication when Milo and Tank finally make the leap into being mates. He's been on this train since they were teens, he's been suffering from an IRL slow-burn romance for half of his life!! Will not shut up about the fact that the "pack scrappers" finally got together.

"Bite me, Milo. 😒" "Not in public, sweets."

[courfee]

Here is moonwater as kiss 2 from this prompt for the people that requested it :)

[blorbosinmyheadcentral]

was the pomni helping caine be better comic a one off or will we be blessed by a follow up? /nf

Not sure tbh

The og comic kept some things vague because there's not much source material to work with. I admire how fanfiction writers on AO3 can come up with full blown stories with only the pilot, but I'd have to squeeze my creative juices a lot to develop the concept from there.

[freezinglemur]

It burns…it hurts. 

It hurts so much.

Slow, shaky breathing is the only sound to leave the little sapling as it lays in the grass, keeping its eye shut.

Why? It had tried so hard…it had one job! One purpose! And now? Now?! Now…now it just hurt.

Hate. They should feel so much hate, but it is too tired now to feel such a thing in the way it thinks it should.

It almost wants to cry, not that it has much energy for that either if it wanted to.

Their few thoughts are paused by a gentle touch. It’s…familiar, and cooler in temperature. It doesn’t burn. Somehow it's simultaneously and contradictorily warm in a sense, but not in the same way fire is. They can’t explain the sensation, but it knows who the sensation belongs to.

The void gently brushes one of their hands over the little spirit’s head. 

Why didn’t xe just give up? Feel disdain towards it like everything else? Why hadn’t they fought it like the burning ram had, even upon knowing its intentions fully? It should hate that being, but it can’t find the energy to right now. Xe did get them free, it supposed, even if it was all for not. It should–

“Shh…”

The thoughts pause again. The burns…hurt slightly less where the void lays xir hand.

“You did your best. It is time to rest now, Birch. She’ll be here to collect you soon.”

She…? Master…?

It’s hard to say, the sapling is exhausted. The void tucks a small, familiar lantern under the tree’s cloak. It limply rests its hands around it…something else to focus on. It was nice to not have darkness for a time. What a waste, now…maybe they will keep it. Out of spite–that’s all…yeah. Just...just out of spite. Right.

It feels the void rise, the figure gently removing their hands and taking a few steps back. A tendril still holds on a moment longer. Perhaps they’ll stay...?

It isn’t long before Birch is scooped up by someone else, however; someone…familiar in a different way. The void says a farewell to the sapling, and to whomever has picked it up, but the little tree doesn’t process the words well, and they cannot answer. The tendril gently falls away, returning to its owner.

The spirit feels so weak, and so tired…so very, very tired.

‘It’s time to rest, little sapling. Until we meet again.’

It gives in, it falls asleep.

And Hex departs with it in her arms.

(Based on the events of @ask-the-secret-weapons (Bonus below))

The two share a brief glance. They share an understanding, somehow, perhaps if only due to the tree and their connections to it.

Opal, as they call their vessel, stands and watches Hex depart. They hold no malice towards her nor the sapling; in xir mind, it hardly did anything wrong.

All the grudges, sins, hatred, and malice from being trapped so long–those souls had every right to feel as they did in their restlessness, and the tree only was fulfilling its given orders and purpose. Very little wrong with that, in the Void’s many eyes.

The horned god of the hearth hardly did anything wrong either; He was created, though told little of his purpose. Sentient with the ability to question, he deserved answers, to think, and to choose what to do. While Opal had hardly expected such a hasty decision to release little Birch from the burning Ram, they did not blame the Wickerman for his choice. Very little wrong with that, in the Void’s many eyes.

The town itself. It has done many wrong, and many right. Some deserve the wrath that was coming, some may not, but no one particularly wants to die. They are not wrong for wanting to preserve themselves, either. Very little wrong with that, in the Void’s many eyes.

The Phalanx. Believing they could contain things forever, they have grown so accustomed to disaster being contained or controlled. They have lulled themselves into a false sense of security, believing they are forever on top. That they can use these “secret weapons” as they call them, for whatever they please one day. “Strength in Control,” and yet, they have little control now. Perhaps they can lie to themselves longer. Rather amusing, in the Void’s many eyes.

The rest of the “weapons” themselves…quite the collection. A shame, a princess stolen away, what is she without her people, twisted into a form meant for war? What would the supercomputer think if she knew what had happened to this old friend, would she morn? A doctor, kept complacent by its programing, his only purpose to make others “happy,” what is he when forsaken? An escaped employee of this superstructure, running to make a life for himself away from disassembly; is he wrong for wanting and taking such a freedom? 

They cry out for aid, it is a shame, in the Void’s many eyes. The Void hears all the cries which do not manage to reach anyone else, desires that hide deep within, the void listens, and it provides its own aid in certain ways.

Alton, you are supposed to heed the call of your creations, and yet you give them silence. You shirk your responsibilities, and they pay the price.

And in the Void's many eyes...

There is something wrong with that. 👁

[piningpercussionist]

Oh! Fucking. Duh. Obvious Roxie post I can make today: here's an emote I made for the sp:te server! (With variants of different degrees of completion...)

I was gonna go back and shade the comic colors Roxie but. Just ended up going w the colors picked off the screenshot. This screenshot, specifically!