#content waring

[kurogenesis]

Alright, time for more catch-up. This story is Magicka Amarantha, a high-fantasy story set in a world of myth and monsters, complete with its own legends, religions, and I even made a goddamn calendar system for it! One of the things that originally sparked the idea of this story was - I'll admit it - Fairy Tail. I enjoyed the first season of it, and that kind of planted the seeds of this idea. But it was several years before I really had anything set for it. This is definitely going to be a long ride, but I hope you can enjoy it!

A quick content warning: There are some descriptions of mild blood and gore in this chapter, around page 3. Just putting that out there.

[stupidhany]

Soo I have decided what if I posted some content of a specific fandom again cause yknow I have missed yall :]

So have mice

Like it has been some time ago hasn't it?XD

[whiskykitteeeeee]

Wishing you plentiful nanners! All the nanners you want, I hope you have them. If that number is zero, may you have zero! If it is 100, may they rain down upon you!

acrylic on canvas, 8x10, sold

[luvsimskaos]

Elijah is a relatively easy baby, through he's an early riser. Ready to start the day before the sun is over the horizon.

As Elijah grows up and gaining skills, he start moving around the cabin.

It seems that farm is already Elijah's adventure land, exploring everything and looking at everything.

And despite being an early riser, with all the energy he uses during the day, he's quick to sleep.

[abyssmalice]

( HAND ) kissing mine’s hand. [Capi for Freyja]

seduction/pinning prompts

The Abyss is no place for merry visits and idle sightseeing - but that doesn't appear to have stopped one of her rare guests from making the trip anyway, and more than once at that.

Freyja is used to every face she has met becoming like a ghost, a fleeting encounter that comes and goes forever; she will not admit it in any way that matters, but it is both a pleasant surprise and an unexpectedly warm satisfaction to have such standards defied.

"Lord Capitano," she greets him, smiling her ever-placid smile, though there's a slight twinkle in her eye; there is no need for formalities after so many visits, but she always insists on the first greeting to be overly courteous. It's only polite in her personal opinion.

Her expression doesn't change, remaining pleasant and polite even when the towering Harbinger takes her hand after removing his helmet, gracing her knuckles with a light kiss. Of course, the first time had been a little surprising, but after many such greetings and partings in the same vein, it's not a particularly strange sight.

In fact, she finds it rather charming nowadays. Freyja is quite sure that an outsider to this scene could easily interpret this as a moment from fairytales, when the regal prince or the gallant knight meets the lovely princess of the story, and greets her with a most courteous but romantic gesture!

She is no princess in comparison, but she thinks that it is very sweet and endearingly silly of him to always act the part like this. What a nice young man, as always.

The lady tilts her head, her distant smile turning a few degrees warmer and amused. "Nikolas," she finally says, with a soft giggle - "It is good to see you again. What brings you so far into the depths once more? Nothing difficult for you, I would presume, but I still hope it is not worrying nonetheless."

[chiosblog]

Here some juicy A-Team outtakes

In the 80s they didnt gave a damn about continuity lol

A-Team and their motto 'it is what it is'

[dawns-beauty]

I think I'm going to cut back on the work I put into mods and especially making patches for them.

If so few people bother to come back and endorse mods, why should I even think they liked them enough to actually use them?

[peaches2217]

Me: “Alright! We’ll cut back on original posts for a bit!”

Me, but in all black and sunglasses: “Toadsworth caring for and doting on Peach while she’s expecting”

Me: “Dammit not NOW”

[kurogenesis]

Today's post is Chapter - or Track - 1 of Song of the Elements. An urban fantasy tale that's gone through many changes to reach the form it has now. A city of dreams, full of strange and wonderful individuals... but does the heart still beat? Does the soul of the city still live? Music is - obviously - a significant factor in this story. It's referenced frequently and is the medium through which the protagonists are going to be trying to reach the hearts of the people. Such to the point that the Tracks (as I will insist on referring to them for this work) are all named after actual songs - some famous, some not, but all had something that stuck out to me lyrically.

This one is named for the opening track of Hammerfall's 2002 album Crimson Thunder. The bit of the lyrics that always stuck with me was just before the second chorus. We dream of a genesis reborn Where our spirits are free Let us choose our own destiny

I'm... definitely a highly individualistic person and I value people's personal freedoms, it's something that's going to reflect in the writing for sure. And yes, the "dream" part of the lyrics is why the story started off with the dream sequence.

OH, and one final thing. Content Warning for some sexually suggestive content near the end of the chapter. It's not explicit, but it's... pretty obvious what the two protagonists are getting up to. ENJOY!

[stupidhany]

a spongebob and warioware enjoyer? Instant follow /gen /pos

(your art style is so so cute! its funky i love it)

Aww thank you sm!!^^

[g0thiclem0nade]

So far this has been my favorite addition lol

[deceptive-yogs]

I have a couple draft posts of art and writing but I'm doing that thing again where I get really nervous Abt sharing AU stuff publicly.

Probably in part to the fact family thinks all my interests are dumb and I kind of connect what their reactions would definitely be to what this is to what stranger would react like.

It's funny because it's not even an insecurity about my writing or really even the art I'm doing. I am actually feeling confident in my storytelling and the art I'm doing for this.

There is also the fact that I know some of the IRL members do lurk and even less-than-lurk on this website and in the fanart tags. The insecurity Abt sharing is definitely more worried Abt outsider reactions rather than thinking it's not good enough. Which surprisingly isn't connected??? Because I really like and enjoy what I've been doing???

I'm definitely thinking Abt blocking some of the content creators that I know are around on Tumblr that the characters of the au share a namesake and possible appearance with.

But I'm also like "That's rude what if they like it?"

This au is such a mash of content and then just original ideas that it really only vaguely feels like the sources. But there's some obvious pulls and references.

Ahdjjsbsb Social Anxiety haver spotted in the wild real not click bait.

[luvsimskaos]

In the middle of a clear night, Sable finds herself in Labor again. She thought it'd be easier since it was the second time but it wasn't.

Ishmael holds his wife as the labor pains shakes her body. He finds himself worried, it seems that this time the pain is almost dragging Sable under.

He does his best to reassure her, and give her comfort.

Finally as dawn breaks, Sable gives birth. It's twin boys! Sable and Ishmael are surprised, nervous, and excited at the same time. They not sure if they're be able to keep up with the new twins needs especially with so little money but they know they'll try their best. The older twin is named Casper while the younger is Cato.

[awesomecooperlove]

⚠️⚠️⚠️

[burythecarnival]

anyone who donates or makes a purchase of at least $10 can message me proof for a few sexy thank yous! pleeeease help the king 💜

Hello,

I need about $100 until I get paid again.

My gas was turned off unexpectedly and they can’t turn it back on (I asked. multiple times) so my meals are limited to what can be eaten straight out the fridge, microwaved, air fried or delivered. Additionally I have no heat (because of the gas thing) and the nights and days have been cold.

Direct donations + purchases are appreciated!

Ko-Fi shop

Paypal or Cash App

Art Store

[foldingfittedsheets]

I am a little creature largely made up of anxieties. There have been times in my life when it was worse. It’s currently significantly better. This story takes place at a time when it was pretty bad.

Food was a prison for me. I moved out early with very little idea of how to feed or care for myself. Every meal was a question mark. For three years I had Brendan doing most of the cooking but when things ended between us I moved in with some other friends. I suddenly had no way to feed myself again.

I was working at the sex shop and living with all my coworkers; a premise that would make sitcom writers weep. In that house, at the age of 24, I learned how to fry an egg. It was the only thing I knew how to do but by god, I mastered egg frying. I was so proud. I could now have one stress free meal a day of an egg on toast.

The problem was my roommates. Living with three other people is already tough but messes pile up alarmingly fast, especially in the kitchen. No one sees the whole mess as their responsibility but the one person who’s responsibility it absolutely wasn’t was mine, as I only ever cooked eggs. Glaciers moved quicker than the dishes got done, mountains of greasy unwashed dish ware were fixtures across the counters.

My friends occasionally cooked for me and each time I happily cleaned all the resulting dishes. This seemed fair.

But on my own I only used three implements for my egg. When I finished with my spatula, pan, and plate, I carefully washed them and set them to dry. Every time I came back to the kitchen there was nothing clean.

Crusted on ketchup, dried food, and unsavory residues plagued everything I needed to touch. So I ended up doing all the dishes twice, once to use my three implements and again once I was done.

I started to realize I’d come home, see the filthy pile of dishes, then go to bed without eating because I didn’t have the energy to wash it all. So I finally addressed my roommates about it. Please, I beseeched them, can these three things always be clean. I cannot function like this, and eating is already hard for me.

The answer returned: no. My request was deemed unreasonable and a counteroffer was made to turn off the small space heater I ran in my room in exchange for them magnanimously cleaning up after themselves. I declined, as my bones ached with cold everywhere except my room since no one else wanted the heat on. The impasse continued. I went to be hungry.

I noodled on it. I schemed. I plotted. And on my day off I went to a thrift shop and acquired a nice little pan and spatula. I squirreled them away into my closet. The plan was just to wash and dry it after meals and keep it in my room.

This is not how it went down. On day one of my pan coming home one of my roommates popped into my room to chat, glanced into my three quarters shut closet and immediately said, “What is that?”

I sighed and admitted my plan. All three roommates roundly condemned my plan as extremely passive aggressive. I tried once again to explain that I wasn’t eating, but my secret pan was now a source of contention, a precious resource held back from the collective.

Their discontent reached a fever pitch and I finally declared, “Fine! I will put my pan in the kitchen. On one condition. If I ever find this pan dirty, ever, I will scrape whatever is left on it into your bedding. I swear to god, if I ever come home to it being dirty there will be a reckoning.”

Terms were agreed.

The first month or two went okay. On the third month I awoke to eat breakfast and found my precious pan sullied. I grabbed it and marched upstairs. Betty was named as the culprit. I strode into Betty’s room and stood over her sleeping form like the vengeful ghost of dishes past.

“If you don’t get up and clean this right now I’m going to dump it on your bed.”

Betty groggily regarded me. “Seriously?”

“I have never been more serious.”

“It’s one time, can’t you just clean it yourself?”

“No. You promised.”

With much huffing and grousing Betty arose from bed and tromped downstairs, hastily cleaning my pan while I watched. “Happy?” She demanded.

I was. I made my egg, cheerfully cleaning the pan afterward, leaving it to dry.