#but i'll be back i have a plan

[lady-bluebird-luv]

I'M GOING TO FINISH MY SNK FICS I PROMISE

[spookyspeks]

Pretty Jon rights

Speedpaint:

Please check out the speedpaint! It also has an announcement, as my channel is pretty dead these days but I'm planning on doing more with it, so I'd really appreciate some traction!

[scintillating-scales]

Dude I need claws SO bad. Except I need prosthetics to be really sturdy, so I can actually like. Use them for shit. Like I wanna be able to wear them to help me climb or claw at stuff or whatever I need them for. But people only make like plastic or foam or resin claws. It's not STRONG enough. I need like. IRON claws. STEEL claws. Claws I can climb trees and rock faces with. Claws that could kill a man if I wanted them to. It's a fucking TRAGEDY these aren't a thing, and I swear to God I'm about to learn metalworking just so I can make myself a suitable set.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?

webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.

it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere

[marblerose-rue]

new lioden king except ive had him for a couple weeks :-)

[shopwitchvamp]

The Fall Collection - Witch Vamp design thumbnails

[italyveneziano]

Obsessed with what America and England have going on in HetaOni. America's like "I keep having to watch my dad die from overusing his magic in past timelines and not knowing how to stop it is killing me inside but I'm not going to talk to him about it" and England's like "I can't seem to hold a conversation with my son without insulting him but I won't hesitate to use my dying breath to ensure I can protect him from beyond the grave"

[ghosthoard]

PART 9

parts 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09

Time’s armor was convoluted. 

He had perfected the art of getting it on on his own years ago, but he always appreciated a helping hand, usually Malon, but recently one of his boys, or his big brother would take the time to help him.

Right now though, Twilight was still sitting by Wild while the camp was dismantled around him and the others set about getting themselves ready. So, Time went through the motions of putting on his chainmail, his tasses, and his fauld alone first.

It had so many pieces and so many straps, heavy and unbendable. Armor such as this made the impression that there were no weaknesses to the wearer nor any openings, but there could never be a perfect armor set if it wanted to allow freedom to its bearer. He remembered learning the hard way that he needed to be aware of where he was vulnerable, where the armor was left open so that he could bend his knees, his arms, have maneuverability of his groin, his neck. 

It was a statement, it was formidable, and it was an old friend.

Every now and then, however, he missed when he was young and spry, when his fighting style relied on speed and being small without being weighed down by all this armor. But he also remembers when he was young and spry wishing he could deal more damage then he did with one strike, to be more of a force to be reckoned with to protect the Captain and Tune’s back. It was a wish he made every time he had donned the Fierce Deity mask.

If he wanted to do sweeping, debilitating damage in one swing of his Biggoron sword, then the armor was a necessity. 

In the process of donning the set, it was his chest piece and his pauldrons where things got more difficult. He used his teeth to hold straps while he maneuvered his arms around locking everything in place. 

But he must be out of practice, too spoiled by the helping hands around him, because the chest piece started to slip and he went to catch it knowing he wouldn’t be fast enough. 

The chest piece stopped falling in midair, and Time blinked.

“Let me help.”

The Captain had caught it, of course, that made more sense.  

Warriors was smiling when Time looked at him. 

“You’re wearing makeup,” shock spilled the words out of him. 

It wasn’t the type of makeup Warriors would put on when he was feeling especially happy, where it made him prettier doing something with charcoal to make his eyelashes more prominent or more playful with colors and patterns. It was the natural, utilitarian style he used during the war when he didn’t want his men or enemies hidden among friends to see him weakening, or when he covered up bruises and scratches and scars. 

Warriors’s eyes dulled slightly but the smile was one made for him and it was patient and loving. “Arms up.” 

Time didn’t listen. The Captain must be getting slow if he expected him to just accept the drop in conversation. He stared and waited. 

Wars sighed, muttering something like, “always been stubborn,” before forcing the chest piece against Time’s chest and instructing him to hold it while he grabbed the back piece. 

Time obediently held the armor in place while Wars set about tightening the straps and speaking, “I thought it wouldn’t be great for our remaining morale if I looked ugly.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Time said immediately. “You don’t have to pretend with us.”

“I know. But I guess old habits die hard. This makes me feel more secure.” Warriors patted him on his pauldron to punctuate his point. 

Before Time could organize his thoughts enough to respond, the Captain asked, “What were you thinking about before I came over?”

Twilight still hadn’t moved. 

Legend was right. They did look like two corpses. 

“I was thinking about how much my fighting style has changed over the years,” he was saying, “How speed was a familiar weapon but something I can no longer wield. How I’m now weighed down by this armor.”

“I’m relieved that you wear it now,” the Captain said with a fond, wistfulness in his voice. “Do you know how stressed I was seeing you on the battlefield without any sort of armor? I’ve thought about scooping you up and dumping you into a full set so often I had dreams about it. But I knew you’d be a little brat about it if I ever brought the idea up.” 

A little bit of childish indignance made him frown. “Tune didn’t wear any either back then.”

“Yeah, well. He at least was mature enough to ask for leather armor as the years passed and he grew bigger.”

Time remembered that. Remembered being jealous when the Captain gifted Tune specially crafted leather armor he had bought just for him and then took the time to spar with the sailor for a couple of days to get used to fighting in it. So jealous in fact that when he was asked if he wanted his own, instead of the truth, he told them it looked dumb and that he was good enough to fight without it unlike some people.  

A funny look had twisted Tune’s face. Back then, Time thought he was laughing at him, but now he knew exactly why. How silly it would be to see a man you had looked up to acting as spoiled and childish as he had been. 

“You were our armor, shield, and sword back then,” Time told the Captain as he now looked over at where Wind was speaking with Sky. “I was never afraid when you were around. Maybe more afraid of what would happen to you.”

“And that was never your burden,” the Captain went to stand in front of him, finished with the armor. The weight was comforting and secure. Time looked at how the foundation was caked on below the Captain’s eyes. “I’m a hero. And so are the rest. You can’t take responsibility for us and our pains,” a knowing look, “or our deaths.”

Time met his gaze daringly. “You didn’t fail us.”

“It was a miracle, and not by my hand that you two outlived the war,” the Captain said sternly, the grain of the powder lessening the lines of his frown. “Don’t hold yourself up against me in comparison.”

“Twilight almost died, Wild has died under my leadership, under my protection. If I had died—”

The Captain closed his eyes and turned away as if the thought physically pained him.

Time continued to land the blow, “—you would have blamed yourself.” 

His brother’s voice was fragile and quiet when he said, “Would you have wanted me to? Would you have agreed if I did?”

“You would believe it no matter what I thought,” he said ruthlessly. “You blame yourself even now for Wild.”

Time saw exactly when the Captain’s walls came up. The makeup looked at home on this expression. “This isn’t about me.”

Hypocrite. Time wanted to shout. You would have me blameless while you wore the same blame on your face! When it was my burden, my son, a curse I set upon my own flesh and blood for being so inadequate my descendants had to make up for it! Even when I am with them I can’t protect them! This was anger, this was grief, this was …uncalled for.

Time rubbed a hand down his face, taking a steadying breath. This was a moment where he needed to step back and get some space. He started to walk away. The Captain didn’t deserve this, his big brother only meant to comfort him and here Time was attacking him like a child. He just needed a moment.

“You decided not to use the ocarina.” 

The words stopped him in his tracks.

The ocarina used to be an easy fix. Goddess knows how many times he’s played the song when he was a child. 

The moment he saw Wild’s body, it had been a burning presence in his pouch. Always there.

It was a possibility that had taken over Time as he sat there for hours beside Wild and Twilight. Not really in his body, not really out of it. He had listened to Twilight’s whining, his howling. The answering silence of Wild’s body. How many more times must he sit helplessly by a loved one?

“If I used it,” Time said carefully, “I don’t know if it’ll rewind for all of us, or split the timeline again. I could disappear from this time, leaving you all behind.”

He would never know. If he used the ocarina, he would never know if the timeline split or if he rewound time for all of them. He’d die never knowing for sure. He would’ve died ignorant of split timelines—of the timeline he abandoned —in the first place if it weren’t for this goddess-given mission. But regardless, there’d be a life where Wild was alive. He could make sure of it. What use was the title the Hero of Time if he couldn’t even make this right?

“I think,” the Captain replied from behind him, just as carefully, “I would rather grieve with you, than to try to undo something without knowing a hundred percent if it’ll work.”

Even with so many secrets shared among their family, not everyone knew about the ocarina, Time wasn’t the type to flaunt the instrument around after all. Wind, Sky, and Wild were there when they talked about the possibility of a split timeline. One less person who knew his secret.  And he had confided in the Captain after the revelation.

Twilight didn’t know.

After that life-altering conversation, before Twilight almost died, Wild had sought him out. The young man had plopped down next to him on the ground, looking at him with those unnerving, blue eyes of his that seemed to see things in Time that even he didn’t know about. 

“I was thinking,” Wild had said, “I was so ready to go back in time when I thought you had the power to. It was a dream come true for a moment, I could go back, fix everything and things would be right again.” 

Something wistful and wise settled around Wild like peace. “But if it meant that I would have to leave you all behind, leave this timeline behind, I don’t think I could do it. After meeting all of you and hearing about all the other adventures you’ve gone on, I can’t expect that my job is done. I abandoned them once before,” Time still remembered Wild’s small smile, “what if they still need me?”

Back at the inn, back in that room where Twilight lay dying, Four had told Time the confrontation he had with Wild outside of Twilight’s sickbed like the guilt of it was killing him. Time remembered being ready for Wild to storm in and demand he use the ocarina should Twilight die. But when, instead of a grief driven little brother, an insightful and inspirational hero came to them, Time realized he was using Wild as an excuse. It wasn’t Wild who would’ve used the ocarina, but him that was tempted in the first place. He was anticipating it, hoping for Wild to give him a reason to. 

“But there’s a chance,” Time continued, turning around to look at his big brother as the man walked over to close the gap he’d made, “if I decide not to take that chance, how could I bear to face him?”

If Twilight knew about the ocarina, would he be the one to demand Time use it? 

Time had never been good at moving on. 

As always, the Captain seemed to know exactly what ailed him, “Twilight wouldn’t risk losing you too. It’d kill him to ask you to use that ocarina as much as it’d kill him if you actually did. And, goddess dammit, Sprite,” a small crack in the Captain’s voice, “I can’t bear to lose you again. And maybe that’s selfish. I would give anything to have Wild back, but—” 

Time reached out as his brother bit his bottom lip and looked away, trying to pull it together. He held onto his Warriors’s wrist and saw how he could completely wrap around it now. He hadn’t been able to before. 

“But not you,” Warriors finished quietly, like the words were poison, like he was disgusted with himself. “I’m asking you to stay.”

“I want to stay,” he had cried through angry, scared tears, clinging to the Captain’s scarf and glaring up at his big brother, the portal that was to take him home a sickly cold presence behind him. “You can’t make me leave. You still need me and you know it.”

“Anyway” Wild’s small smile had stretched into a mischievous grin, “what would you all do without me and my food if I up and vanished? Wouldn’t last a day, I bet.”

His silence must have gone on for too long, because the Captain took a step back from him, pulling out of his grip.

Warriors had schooled his expression back, smoothed the cracks out on his porcelain face. He was looking past Time’s shoulder. “You should talk to him. Then you’ll know that he loves you just as much as Wild and you can forget about this misplaced guilt.”

Warriors was the one to walk away this time. Time didn’t stop him.

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@naxamiss @theyellowfriend @st0rmyskies @chaos-advocate @mothielad @jenniferchaulam @originsofevil @links-in-time @homewardwander @gothroughthelookingglass @seaotter-17 @alicewritingstories @silvrash-797 @niffty24

wanted to get one last part out before the end of the year!!! thanks as always for all the comments, reblogs, and likes! see you guys in 2025!

[introspectivememories]

timbern interconnected fates but not like by chance but like bernard wrestling with destiny to make sure he gets to have tim in his life

[hotasfahrenheit]

i know there's been a lot of discussion going around about some people thinking that sex scenes in BL or other shows are too much or extraneous or only there to be salacious vs people making arguments and examples of the ways in which they can serve the plot and character development, but the VAST DIFFERENCES between the three scenes in this week's episode of 4Minutes are INSANELY GOOD examples for the advancing plot and character arguments and the way that sex scenes can be used to do actual very very valid storytelling because holllllly shit were they diverse and telling in so many ways

[elguritch-art]

Silfr Life Stages

Wanted to do a bit of a lineup through the prominent points in time that Silfr's gone through, the guy's been through A Lot.

Some more in depth explanations/lore ramblings below:

"Birth"

Silfr was born of a profaned ritual of a heretical branch of the Dragon Cult, from the soul of a stillborn infant "Dragon God", and the body of a discarded Warrior.

Silfr's first memories are the scent of blood, jumbled mixtures of knowing this body was too big, but the soul within too small, the body too weak but the mind too strong, everything, everything, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Scales were barely visible and only a stripe across the eyes, the fingers, and a barely formed tail originally, along with visible scarring and a blind eye!

Pre ER

Healing and growing stronger under the care of the Cult, Silfr, at the time referred to only as the "Dragon God", was put on a pedestal, cared for as more of an object of worship then a person.

Silfr knew very little, for the most part following the Cult's dictations, but still something deep within knew this was not right. Silfr ated the weight of responsibility and worship put into the air Silfr breathed, and began to question if the Dragon God had really been reborn into this inhabited flesh, or if it was something worse.

Scales over the top half of Silfr's face, but not quite onto the ears yet, along with fully covered hands, a slightly longer tail, and scars starting to shrink and fade.

Start of ER

Silfr finally worked up the courage to flee the Dragon Cult after waiting for the flesh to grow strong enough to swing a blade, a gesture both extremely foreign and new, and something deeply buried as a comforting, welcome motion.

The garb of a Confessor was the first and only thing Silfr was able to find to escape the Cult, and very early on picked up the Reduvia as a first weapon after receiving aid from Yura upon being attacked by Nejirus not long after escaping.

Scales cover the top half of Silfr's face, ears, and up to the elbows, tail is almost as long as Silfr's legs, and scars are fully gone. Left eye is still blind. About 5'8" tall.

Mid-Late ER

Growing in confidence as a warrior, Silfr's buried frustrations, mixed with the constant fear and paranoia, and the newly consumed Dragon Hearts culminates in Silfr becoming a creature of wrath and silent anger, taking everything out on almost every living thing crossing Silfr's path.

The Dragon Heart Communion starts awakening and unlocking Silfr's inherent draconic abilities, increasing Silfr's already existing abilities for fire breath, along with allowing magic, scarlet rot, and frost breaths as well, and slight transformations with claws, horns when emotional, and the start of the half-transformation.

Scales more prominent on face, covers up to shoulders, and tail is noticeably larger and harder to hide. Slitted pupils and sharp teeth emerge, and Silfr more commonly has smoke breath when speaking. About 7' tall.

Post SOTE

Now a calmer, serious, more confident warrior, though still has moments of a temper flaring and draconic behaviors. Silfr still fears the Cult and it's attempts to reclaim their Dragon God, but has grown massively in both size and strength, along with finding refuge in the Shadow Keep, finally granting a semblance of peace.

Has also grown into an identity Silfr finally considers a unique identity that Silfr owns, and was not created by someone else. Silfr, the Dragonblooded. Silfr, the Dragon of the Shadow Keep. Silfr, The Impaler's Consort. All titles Silfr forged without the Cult, and identities Silfr holds dear.

Post-Bayle and the consumption of Bayle's heart, Silfr fully entered the form of the Dragon God (or what could be it), for the first time. It was through the efforts of Messmer, enlisting the aid of the Dragon Priestess, that after twenty-four days of agonizing reverting of the transformation, bit by bit, that Silfr returned to a familiar form, though not unscathed.

Scales fully cover top half of face, with permanent two sets of horns, and pointed ears. Small scale spikes on jaw, and small tusks. Scales fully cover shoulders and up to mid thigh, collarbones, and Silfr's entire neck and throat. Tail is quite large and often drags on the floor, and Silfr has a pair of infantile, underdeveloped wings that are kept bound due to chronic pain (With Messmer's help for it.) About 8' tall.

:) The little bracelet is one of Messmer's and was gifted to Silfr upon accepting the offer to become a consort to Messmer's claims of Lordship.

[satoruxx]

Wait did the reader get cheated on omg I could be thinking wayyyyy too deeply into this but 🤷‍♀️ also ! Wow I loved all the details in tojis backstory, do you think we’ll meet sukuna again?

omg...LOWKEY I DIDN'T REALIZE HOW MUCH THAT COULD BE IMPLIED BUT NO I DIDN'T PLAN ON IT !!!! but i def see where you got that idea from with the way reader was talking about it and getting angry :33

(lowkey tho adding that in would probably just make toji even angrier than usual. like said in the latest chapter, toji values loyalty—it's the dog in him. so if he ever found out that not only has there been a man in the past, but one that cheated?? on you??? oh he'd lose his mind for sure. suddenly he doesn't mind getting in trouble for having human blood on his hands...)

anyways sorry for going on a tangent !! adding the details to his backstory was so much fun omg i'm so glad you enjoyed them :33 also as for sukuna...well if i'm being so honest he was literally just meant to be a side character in this so i have no clue what to bring him back for... BUT i'll see what i can do hehe :333

thank you for dropping by nonnie !! have a wonderful day <33

[rosemaryreality]

Random poll because i was curious about other people's headcanons about Yuuji's feelings. Personally I'm inclined towards either chapter 143 or Yuuji realizing he loved Megumi just as (or after) he lost him (temporarily. He will be back), because i like the angst of it. But idk, what are your thoughts?

[xx-akubara-xx]

[spooky-spextre-arts]

Happy Birthday, Dolores!! ❤️🔉🎀🦋

[becca-e-barnes]

I think too much in real life to fully let myself enjoy some activities so I'm going to live vicariously through the characters I write 🙃

He's here for pleasure. You're not under any illusion about his intentions. Sure, he'll let you snuggle up beside him afterwards, playing with the little soft curls on his chest. He'll kiss your forehead and smooth your hair and you'll laugh together about the silliest things but it's no secret that it's the sex that keeps him coming back.

Secretly, it's exactly what you need too. It works well for both of you. You get someone who has the confidence and experience to show you things you didn't even think you'd be into and you get to simply enjoy the way he gets off on pleasuring you. There's no need to feel shy around a man who's told you his secret filthy fantasies.

"What's one thing you've always wanted to do but have never had a chance to?" You probe one evening, taking your necklace off and placing it on the bedside table, well aware he's probably wearing more of your lipgloss that you are after the way he greeted you at the hotel room door.

You hop onto the bed to take your shoes off, enjoying how the mattress bounces you slightly.

He doesn't answer right away, pouring two glasses of a sweet, chilled Riesling before handing one to you. You take a sip, trying not to put him under pressure but the time he's taking to consider your question makes you even more curious.

"If I tell you, I'd like you to try it with me. So how badly do you want to know?" He stands in front of you and places the glass to his lips and in that moment, you couldn't want anything more than you want to fulfil a fantasy for him. You want to be something he's never had and offer him opportunities to enjoy your body that he might never have again.

"Tell me. We'll do it." You hardly even have to think about it.

"I'd like to lick you. All of you. Run my tongue all over your body. Find what makes you shiver. Find what makes you moan. Find the places that are so ticklish you need me to stop. I want to lick all the places you've never been licked before. If you'll let me." He really could make anything sound appealing.

Excitement fizzles in your core and a real desperation begins to build. Just being around this man makes you wet so you can't help the fact you're ready for him already.

"If that's what you want to do, I'll let you." If you're honest with yourself, you'd probably agree no matter what he asked for. You trust him enough to know he won't take you further than you're comfortable with.

~~~

You knew what you were signing up for but you didn't think it'd feel like this. Why the hell haven't you tried this before?

He's kneeling at the end of the bed, stroking his cock while his hot, wet, stiff tongue flicks gently against your asshole and there's no denying how much you're enjoying the pressure there. You couldn't hide it if you tried. You're so wet, you're practically dripping and it only spurs him on. It's intimate in a way you don't think you'll ever recover from while being one of the most erotic things you think he's ever done. There's nothing to be embarrassed about it when it's clear he's enjoying it just as much as you are. Maybe more.

The way you're gripping his hair has you wondering whether the strain on his tongue or his neck will overwhelm him first but he shows no signs of relenting. That is until he stands up, already looking delightfully over-pleasured and sinks his cock into your fluttering, neglected cunt without a word.

If he goes too fast it's all over and he knows it but he can't resist holding both of your ankles, watching you while he places open mouthed kisses to the soles of your feet, thrusting into you with slow, calculated strokes.