#for real though I do enjoy making these

[blaidd-gwyn]

Gullskier is back for the fourth year running! You brought this upon yourselves. I hope it's worth it :)

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[lucabyte]

On autonomy, and what it means to be Obliged to Help.

Bonus:

[syn4k]

to be, or not to be (romanticization of the inevitable)

[xxplastic-cubexx]

chat htey fuckin jumpscared me while im trying to do my assignment

[it-came-autumnally]

the event name wasn't lying, he really did burn his soul (and the people. rip vivid street akito set everything on fire)

(I am joking but some of the phrasing for the fire symbolism is almost comical... out of context it sounds like Akito’s literally starting fires)

[lightningidle]

Fig's line "I don't think I'm an artist, I think I'm just a good friend" has not left my head at all. Just...

You're Fig Faeth and your horns came in over the summer and you pick up the bard class as a form of adolescent rock 'n' roll rebellion, and it works! It's exactly the outlet you need! You give a guy you just met drumsticks and you start a band and it's good enough that within a year and a half you're touring. You are, in every sense, good at being a bard.

And then, finally, your junior year, you start to take it seriously. Your art goes from an outlet and a form of rebellion to a practice. A discipline. (Can rebellion exist within a discipline?) Your classmates know what they want to do with their work. They all have a thesis statement. And yeah, there's cohesion in the music you make, but you've never had to think about why you make it. You've never sat down and dissected what it is about bass that speaks to you. You've never poured over your lyrics to pick at any deeper meaning. Why should you? You don't play music for a grand design, you do it to... huh, why do you do it?

(Your art is the one form of self-expression that feels as safe as Disguise Self does, because even if you're pouring your heart onto the page and then screaming it in front of thousands of people, it's not like you're really making yourself known. You can sing I'm lonely, I'm scared, I'm furious, and your fans will sing it right back, and there will still be the distance between performer and audience to keep your heart safe.)

Now you're being asked to look inward to explain the artistic choices you're making, and you can't help but recoil at that, because you'd rather do anything than look inward. Meanwhile, your classmates have no problem with it, so you start to wonder if you're a real artist at all. Can your art be authentic if it only exists to bolster a thesis statement? Has your art been unauthentic this whole time because you've never really thought about a thesis statement before? Is that what makes it art, and not just the next track on somebody's teen angst playlist?

You can't think about yourself— acknowledging your own existence makes you want to puke. So if your music is an extension of yourself, (and it is, even if it's just because the spotlight reveals only what you want it to,) you can't think about your music. You can't. You have to. Your grade depends on it.

You're Fig Faeth, and you keep multiclassing because you'd rather be a good friend than a great artist. If introspection is what great art demands, then fuck it. You must not be a bard at all.

[moodlesmain]

I feel like Metal Sonic fans fall into two camps

Camp A - fans who believe Metal Sonic should have a chance to grow and become his own person completely separate from Sonic, and forge an identity all his own!!

Camp B - fans who believe Metal Sonic when he says he IS Sonic and think he should get the chance to prove himself RIGHT and prove everyone who doubted him or called him a copy DEAD WRONG (i’m Camp B)

Either way we can all agree Metal Sonic is trans as hell 🏳️‍⚧️🤝🏳️‍⚧️

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

Sophie Shepard & Kaidan Alenko (ME2) 1/?

MIRA'S MORE CANON ME2 "The wrong place at the right time..." AKA: The aftermath of Stealing Memory. Mass Effect 2: Legendary Edition (2021)

[bleue-flora]

Yo! Just noticed it’s the anniversary of when I finished my second fanfic Dreamcatcher, which is the work I actually started to lean into writing fanfiction (since my first work I really just wrote for myself before being encouraged to share it).

So, in honor of that, here is some of the original second nightmare which was actually written from Dream’s pov before I ended up changing it to Punz’s.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Referenced Torture, Blood, Death, Injuries, Profanity.

Dream is wet and panting, in a puddle of watery red flowing into an equally crimson pond to his side, where the non diluted liquid gets thicker.

There’s white fur stuck in it as the body of a dog, slashed to bits lies there next to him. Both sitting in the despairing silence of the box.

Tears form in the corners of his eyes and his vision gets blurry, but he doesn’t let them fall. He just exhales.

Why does everything die around him? Why does everything he dare to care a smidge about get taken from him?

As if to follow his thoughts, the white turns to black. The fluffy bloodied dog shifts into a cat that’s long since stopped breathing. Dream turns his head, and faintly smirks at the sight of the additional body sprawled out on the floor next to him.

He mutters to the corpse under his breath, rolling his eyes, “To be fair, you were being a bitch. Like don’t blame me, you know you d—deserved it… I mean I lasted like—how long before beating your head in? That’s pretty impressive—pretty fucking impressive, you know.”

Tommy’s body doesn’t respond, just stays there, unmoving and uncharacteristically quiet. His face swollen and bruised, not unlike the innocent cat he beat to death.

Then his body evaporates and Dream finds himself in a new room, accented with black walls and bedrock. It’s detail is perfectly ominous like he wanted.

He’s kneeling, unguarded by armor with an audience of people surrounding him. His heart beats rapidly threatening to burst out of his chest at the danger. But he ignores it.

Indignant, Tommy rips off the mask that always covers his face. Exposing his pale skin to the cool air and the venomously judging faces.

Despite the frustration at his denial of privacy, he doesn’t so much as dignify it with a flinch. It was expected. He was ready. He’s not about to show weakness in front of a crowd.

They are silent as the axe lands, and lands again before lady death finally embraces him.

They are silent as the sword finds its place in his chest and he falls to the ground, bleeding out into the cold stone beneath him.

It’s ok. He knew this would happen. It was expected, it was planned. He didn’t know they’d kill him twice, but it’s fine.

On one life, he makes his way back down with sharp pain running through his veins. Somehow it seems duller than the pain in the prison cell, though it can’t have been less excruciating.

Tommy once again stands above him savagely firing arrows away. As they pierce his flesh and bone, he searches the cold faces around him and listens intently, hoping to hear one sound of objection to his approaching final death.

Surely, someone will say something, right? Surely, someone will oppose his final death, right? Surely, they woundn’t let Tommy kill him off in cold blood. Would they?

But there’s nothing from them. Absolutely nothing. Standing there, dripping in blood, he feels his heart entirely disintegrate into nothing. Leaving only a hollow emptiness in its wake.

Then suddenly he’s freezing from more than just death and despondency. He’s surrounded by ice. Their pillars, tall and sharp, casting the land in a pointed terrain. Despite the bone chilling air and his frozen insides, he stands, planted to the ground, looking at a sign pinned to the glacier. The wood marking the death of his parrot that travelled so far only to die there.

A deep sigh is released from his lungs and the scene smears into broad strokes of colors. Until a well known bleak room encases him in lava and obsidian again.

Sitting there with nothing but the annoying sounds of the prison to keep him company, he wonders if he’s always destined to lose everything. Was it always going to end up like this? Was he always going to end up alone?

[dandelionsaremyfriends]

uh um UHHHH HAHAHD I DONT KNOW!!,!! I do not know how posts work or tumblr or anything and I am tired but tired art here you go??? I’m not great at drawing at all whomp whomp and I don’t really know designs or nothin but I’m already doing this so oh well. Alex does not happen to be my favourite nor do I even really know much about him (bad memory) but he fits the usual style of clothes I draw people in (he doesn’t but shush). So. This is mainly him :3

[klaissance]

indulgent established klance long-distance boyfriends coalition paladins/BOM keith reunion event GO:

keith gets to the dinner early

he had to ask kolivan to put him on the list as one of the BOM agents going and if that dude ever laughed at anything keith would swear he was laughing at him when he uninvited somebody else to put keith on the list

it's this gorgeous bigass hall with lovely vaulted ceilings and the biggest longest table keith has ever seen

aproned aliens are in set-up mode, scurrying around setting utensils and plates and namecards and chairs all around this table

keith has his mask up and everything and he nods respectfully at some of the staff as he starts to walk the length of the table

it's been too long since he saw the team he knows that and they know it too

he knows they miss him, knows it in his bones that they miss him at least some fragment as much as he aches for them (which is so much all the time)

pidge hacked a touchpad to let it transmit through the signal jammer outfitted at the BOM base so he does get to message and call home sometimes but tbh he's not on-base very often before he's jetting off to the next crazy mission halfway across the galaxy

anyway he's in this hall scanning the namecards and letting his mind wander while he waits for the guests--but mostly his former team--to show up

he finds his own card next to kolivan's, only it just says "blade of marmora guest" anonymous and replaceable, just like usual

allura is set to be seated at the head of the table with the other important people and key speakers

keith smiles despite himself at the thought of allura pacing the halls of the castleship this past week, running through versions of speeches for anyone who will listen

the smile turns into an ache when he thinks of lance, perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, or draped across the lounge couch, head tipped off the edge, listening and humming appraisingly at all the right moments

turning those warm brown eyes to the ceiling and pretending to think hard on it when allura asks him if he thinks she's ready

"of course princess" he'd say, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently

"I think you were born ready"

because lance has always been good at that, at making you feel like the most capable person in the Universe

halfway down the opposite side of this grandiose table, keith finds what he hadn't known he'd been looking for: four name placards right in a row, each labeled with a name and "Paladin of Voltron"

takashi shirogane, pidge holt, hunk garrett, and lance mcclain

keith frowns sourly at the next name, some alien duke or duchess or whatever the fuck, somebody important who has just won the diplomacy dinner lottery by being offered the seat next to the blue paladin

he looks across the table from here to his own seat, looming positively miles away across and down this long ass mcfreaking table

who made this chart anyway???

keith is still grumping about it as people begin to show up and he shrinks a little into himself, scanning the room for those familiar faces, the anticipation buzzing under his skin

he's so lost in the looking that he forgets himself and gets totally ambushed by a voice right up against his ear

"Getting on just as socially as usual, I see"

he whirls ready to FIGHT but it's allura !!! and the relief and joy at seeing her in person for the first time in multiple space-months is such whiplash that he pitches straight into her open arms and holds tight

when he recovers he takes down the mask and squirms awkwardly

allura is gentle and kind, knows he hates the diplomacy part, knows he's only here because he misses all of them, one of them in particular...

they do small talk for a bit, allura growing worse and worse at hiding her amusement as keith continues to turn and stare at the door with increasing frequency

her eyes are sparkling the way they do when she gossips and she asks him point blank "so, you must be excited to see your boyfriend again"

keith's mind goes blank "n-no" yknow like a liar

she's downright snickering at him and he still can't resist scanning the room

she throws him a bone, tells him the other paladins are running late coming back from the parade but will arrive soon

keith is like coolcoolcool no doubt no doubt but really cannot stop staring at the door and feeling like he might throw up and is his hair okay he didn't really think about this before he showed up, hasn't even seen it in actually days because he's had the suit on, and the suit is DUMB what the fUcK--

they get approached by other diplomats from various coalition planets and allura turns on the schmooze

keith checks his touchpad--there are three messages from lance

"SORRY BABE RUNNIGN LATE"

"c u so SOON :3 <33333333"

"*RUNNING"

" :D "

[aromanticasterisms]

okay act 3 was kind of nothing to me. setup and all that. but act 4 WOO. seelie lore. confirmed khaenri'ahn capitano. lore drop from the lord of night. i'm thriving

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have found a beautiful perfect humble rock specimen that is light yellow with a weird dark yellowy brown lining, somewhat resembling a chunk of smoked gouda cheese... effervescent

[oozeandgoo-art]

had an odd dream that i was reading a comic book. sketched a couple of the pages i could remember.

[totsfunkygroovynuggets]

HELLO

I’ve done a thing and I’m trying to push the button to post it.

Im cleaning up an old animatic and thought I’d play with the sketches like rag dolls. They are lil babies here, not actual toddlers, idk, like 7? 6? I don’t know I haven’t seen a kid in so long. But the animatic won’t be about well, Snufmin. But it will be cute. (And this ain’t leaving Tumblr I’m too scared)