#got way too invested in this

[mpekamitzii]

Various personal notes regarding Eurasian eagle owls and Great horned owls as a casual bird fan

[mari-lair]

AU where Gon was raised on Greed Island instead of Whale Island.

More info on it here

[uncanny-tranny]

Whenever people who are entrenched in diet culture talk about how terrible chemicals are, I just want to whip out this:

[sevenines]

i saw this tweet and found it interesting for two reasons. one is that some people base how good cartoon network would be to toh by how it treated su, and despite the fact that su’s treatment by the network was considered poor at the time, now its thought to be exceptionally good in comparison to modern shows.

two is how exactly su got impacted by a limited budget. a common criticism is how characters like connie, peridot, and lapis are left out of missions. but balancing a lot of characters is not only hard but also costly (extra animation, extra voices—it’s been revealed that the show is limited to a set number of characters per episode otherwise they’re over budget). animation mistakes are not uncommon since retakes cost extra. the entire reason the original show got cut short was due to loss of funding!

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[daiziesssart]

wanted to do some more detailed painting practice so here's miss lily

[matoitech]

tumblr annihilated the quality of this so i added a text free image of him so ppl could actually see him! the quality will probably hold up better on my FA lol. i wanted to use a text tool in paint or sai to write all that out but they were either crunchy or just straight up not working for me today

anyway i have had levels boyfriend-adjacent guy in my head for months (almost a year honestly i think) but i only had a fuzzy idea for his design itself in my head and the many attempts i made to just find smth by doodling weren't promising. so while i still think this is a little complex for him (probably kinda overdesigned especially cuz im still so pleased with levels design and her color blocking and she has a great 'looks more complicated than she actually is to draw' design to me) and ill likely mess w it a bit in the future, im happy with where i ended up this time! i have a lot less experience drawing robots than i do just normal furries so figuring out pleasing shapes, lines, and plating for more inorganic stuff isnt rly second nature to me, but i'll get there, and im happy with him for now :-)

one thing i was trying to translate w his design that i couldnt fit on the ref was that since he's level's mechanic and he also does as much of his own servicing as he can, i wanted some of their plating and (minimal) greebling to be similar. zag has some plating styles he likes i think.. i did want their colors to contrast but still look good together :) i had to fight everything in me to not make him just teal. i love you teal. level had enough teal in her design lol. zag got a greener teal for highlights than level's 'beachier' color scheme bcuz i cant resist at least a LITTLE bit

[plusultraetc]

I ended up having way too many unfinished fics to choose from for Shinsou's birthday, none of which were ao3-ready, so have this extra long snippet of my beloved ice cream shop au that I've spent way too much time on for a fic that might never actually get posted 😭

(the context here is that Shinsou & Kaminari are trying to get erasermic together, but Kaminari didn't know he was trying to set his teacher up with the music store guy bc he's only heard about him from Shinsou)

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

One of my favorite things that happened during my last mage Hawke playthrough was during the final battle against Meredith. Everything's going well. We're kicking her ass, she's got just this much health left, we're so close... but then everyone gets stunned dizzy.

Hawke is stumbling around all confused, seeing stars. The rest of his companions are stunned. I'm annoyed because I just want to end this fight. Don't know how or who did it, probably Meredith, but the situation's dire.

Meredith's standing by herself at the center of the Gallows, shouting nonsense and smugly believing the Maker's going to come down and make her his new bride after she murdered a bunch of innocent people.

Truly, this is the part of the story where Varric says they all thought hope was lost, that in the end, Meredith would pull a fast one on us and claim victory...

Until the REAL hero of dragon age 2 comes storming at her. I don't know why Carver was the only one to not be affected, but he literally jumped out of no where and just started bashing Meredith with his sword while everyone else was too dizzy to do anything until she was dead and the cutscene played.

"Hawke defeated Meredith-" LIES, VARRIC. I know the truth! I was there! Hawke didn't do shit! Carver Hawke was the main character all along! He got shit done and Varric gave Hawke all the credit!

I bring this up because last night I finished my warrior Hawke run and when we got to the fight with Meredith, I kind of hoped the same thing would happen where Bethany dashed in all heroic and got the killing blow on Meredith.

She did not.

She got squished by a statue.

But it's fine, Bethany Hawke was the true main character in my heart.

[cordyceparchment]

When you didn't immediately pick up on the fact that Guest was an American Tourist and you were too attached to the idea of "Romanian Monster Hunter on vacation, severely out of their depth in new monster territory" by the time it really comes up.

[rillette]

POV u are an annoying older brother

[crystal-verse]

Call Him By His Name

Thank you for fighting for this world. For believing. Fare you well, my friend -- my inspiration.

[ganondoodle]

there are multiple posts about there being made a deal with .. illumination ... to make a ....zelda movie..... over on twitter and i tweeted about me not being happy about it and hoping its not a thing (given how successful the mario one was ..... well, its gained alot more probabillity) and that yes i am 100% sure it will be bad and it WILL impact how i feel about the franchise bc i do care about it and dont want it to be bad-

it blew up over night and people got extremely upset about my opinion that i posted on my account so much so they either started insulting me over it, calling the zelda fandom toxic and insane (bc apparently i am the CEO of zelda fandom on twitter and am also toxic and insane) or start 20+ reply threads arguing with people while not untagging me on any of them

idk why it keeps happening that my random opinion posts blow up over there but maybe i finally reached a following size where i am in immediate danger of my harmless personal opinions to get passed around like i have some sort of authority over reality and i need to be rectified for it, but man its getting exhausting

so, hey tumblr!! thanks for not treating me like that for the most part! here goes my actually unfiltered opinion twitter would not be able to handle

i absolutely HATE the idea of a zelda movie, and i think it CANNOT be good unless you somehow get hayao miyazaki to do what he wants with it but we all know that aint happening and i also hate the thought of having to wade through and endless amount of screenshots of it bc it will make me see it, yes this time i actually do have a seething hatred for it, can you imagine crisp rat link????? i took psychic damage just wrtiting that and no its not even worth to have it just to make fun of it bc this isnt a funney ye olden times CDI crap but a modern billion dollar movie thats inevitably gonna be seen by millions of people and i will have to live with the knowledge most people will think of that first when i dare even mention liking zelda, i cannot express the shame i would feel i wish i actually had authority over reality to stop it from happening aaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[kyouka-supremacy]

OUCHI FUKUCHI VS. SHIN SOUKOKU - BUNGOU STRAY DOGS SEASON 5

[moonspirit]

Hi, moon! Following one of your posts:

Annie can't gossip for the life of her. She would just tell you the most basic info and be done with it. The juicy details? Nah. Go to the boys for that.

Hi hahaha xD

True! Annie simply does not give a fuck. In fact, spending three years running spy missions to the interior was not a job she wanted. Girl was tired and hated it!

I imagine a gossipy conversation to go something like this:

(Annie, on her way in after an emergency run to the bakery)

Some rando: Hey! Psst! Did you hear? They've eloped!

Annie, confused: Huh? Who's eloped?

Rando: Your neighbour's daughter and her younger lover!

Annie: ... So?

Rando: Her mother's livid! All her jewels are gone! Taken!

Annie: ... Didn't know she was rich.

Rando, shocked: What! But she's your neighbour?!

Annie: .... *shrugs*

Rando: She owns half the town!??

Annie: ....

Rando: Twenty years ago, she killed her husband!

Annie: ....

Rando: You can still see bloodstains on the carpet in her living room?!!

Annie: ....

Rando: There's rumours that her dead husband haunts their old bedroom?!!

Annie: ....

Rando: People are scared of her!! How did you not know? You live right next door!

Annie: .... *shrugging and bored of this conversation* Idk man. She gave me coconut biscuits that one time. THey were great.

Rando, looking like the Scream painting: ....???!!!!!!!!!!

Annie: .... I'll get going.

Rando, mumuring to himself: ... I wonder where her daughter and the lover eloped though... they've been missing since dawn... I thought you'd know but guess not haha...

Annie, pausing: Tell you what. Head down the street. Turn left. Then right. Then left. Then two rights. You'll come upon a house with an ivy roof. There's a man who lives there; he'll know.

Rando: Oh? Really? Thanks!

(Rando, walking up to the ivy cottage and spotting five guys sitting on the porch, chatting. Some of them are familiar. Blond haired... that one with the long face... oh that one with the short grey hair... and that scary short one always drinking tea! These are the Ambassador guys!)

Reiner, spotting him: Hi! Are you lost?

Rando: O-oh, oh no... it's just... I was told to come here for some information...

Reiner: Hm? You were?

Rando: A young lady with pale blonde hair who lives next to that house...

Armin, perking up brightly: That's Annie! Annie did ?! Hehe, she's my... My wife .. hehe... (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*

(Insert Ben Affleck smoking meme)

Rando, nervously eyeing the short guy in the middle who seems to be glaring at him: U-um, yeah... so you know the... eloping this morning...

(All guys go silent)

Rando: I was wondering where they might have gone off to and the blonde lady said I'd get answers if I came here...

(The guys exchange secretive 19th-century looks)

Armin, quietly: Well, it's not really for us to say...

Jean, quietly: It wouldn't be proper, of course...

Reiner, very grim: That's what they chose to do... we should respect it...

Connie, shaking his head: I feel sorry for the mother... but...

Levi, drinking tea, unimpressed, deadpanning: They were headed to the States of Dane by the 5am horse. Paid a whole 10 dunals for the trip. The coins were brand new. The boy looked nervous. The girl was wearing a cream dress-

Jean, interrupting quietly: Beige. Not cream. Beige.

Levi, irritated: FUcking hell-

Jean: Sorry.

Levi: Tch. Anyway. Before they got on the horse, they had an argument-

Armin, politely: It wasn't an argument, it was a 'mild disagreement'.

Levi, exasperated: Fu-

Armin, flustered: Sorry! Go on captain!

Levi: .... tch. Then they mounted the horse and took the long route by Northeast, the one without many people. The horse was a good one. Strong and patient, she was-

Connie, frowning: But they rode her too slow. Only 3 kilometers per hour, what the fuck is that huh? I mean if they were running away- mmpph!

(Armin slaps a hand over his mouth to shut him up)

Levi: ... They turned around the bend and then disappeared. I reckon they're halfway by now.

Rando, flabbergasted & speechless: ... and you guys... saw all this?

Reiner: I think the boy should've packed more underwear though.

(everyone turns to stare at him)

Everyone, including Rando: And how the fuck do you know that?!

Reiner: (⁠灬⁠º⁠‿⁠º⁠灬⁠)⁠♡

[ratinayellowbandana]

Hi! Number six of the drabble prompt list, and if I may suggest, with a sad jealous Laudna.

hi! I'm sorry this one took a few days. I um. got a little carried away with it again. these were only supposed to be like 500-word prompt fills, and this is uh, slightly more than that. so I hope that's ok.

for those who don't want to find the prompt, it was: "You just didn't look for me." naturally I went ep 64 with a healthy splash of canon divergence, some good old-fashioned hurt/comfort, and pate as a thinly veiled metaphor.

length: 2k

~~~

Laudna whirls on her, snaps, “We looked for you. And the others. Every fucking day.” She holds Imogen’s gaze, holds her piercing stare until Imogen tilts her head. “You just didn’t look for me,” she whispers. 

Imogen steps forward, quiet but insistent. “No, sweetheart, no, we did. I did. Every day.” She does not reach out, afraid, not of Laudna–never of Laudna–but of herself. Of what she might do if given the chance at the wrong time. Her heart pounds an unsteady rhythm.

“I want to believe you,” Laudna says. She toys with the brass ring on her left hand, twisting it around her finger anxiously, twin snakes coiling. “I do, truly, it’s just…” 

Imogen studies her, searching for answers in a frame both foreign and familiar. Laudna is pale and gaunt, cheeks drawn in, though that’s hardly unusual. Her stringy dark hair lacks luster in the eerie light of the red moon, crispy and clumped together in places by something Imogen can’t identify. Cast in the long shadows between buildings, Laudna is on edge, ready to claw and screech and lash out with those wicked talons if provoked. She is wild, and she is beautiful, and she is frightened.  

“I understand,” Imogen speaks slowly, gently, distinctly aware of each word’s weight. 

The others are still in the inn, consorting in the tavern. The Hells and their new friends, chatting, laughing, and drinking the night away, simply happy to be home. Introductions were made, and tales of grandeur waited to be spun. 

Laudna had been unnervingly quiet after the initial elation wore off. Her hands remained folded in her lap or picked intently at the skin around her nails. Pâté’s silence was even more concerning. He had been coaxed out of hiding in Laudna’s hair with the promise of scratches and nudged his beak into her wrist until she began stroking his greasy fur. 

She spoke when spoken to, adjusting in her seat and responding eagerly when prompted. The moment the attention shifted, though, her forced smile would drop. Every so often, she sent a furtive glance in Imogen’s direction as if to ensure she was still there, then looked away just as quickly. Exhaustion crept at the corners of her eyes, and her gaze would fall to her lap whenever the conversation turned to the adventures in Wildemount. 

The group from Issylra hadn’t said much about their travels, but Imogen gathered their transplantation had not been as, ah, pleasant wasn’t quite the right word. Illustrious, maybe, Imogen considered, fussing with a seam on her new dress. Laudna’s blouse was tattered and stained with a thick substance that did not match her ichor’s usual viscosity. 

Laudna had stood abruptly, muttering something about air, and disappeared outside. After making puzzled eye contact with Ashton, who tossed his head at the door and sighed heavily, Imogen followed her. 

She had found Laudna around the corner, curled into herself against the wall of the Spire by Fire. A feral thing, hardened and reshaped by whatever circumstances found her while they were apart. 

She has not calmed yet, and Imogen is reluctant to curb the swell of emotion that has Laudna dangling by a thread. She is tangled in it, ensnared in a knotted web, and Imogen is unsure how to extricate her. She is all jagged pieces and raw edges, a tempest of fury and loss that Imogen cannot rely on her mental connection to unravel. Laudna is something of a mystery to her now in a way she has never been, and it’s all Imogen can do to not toss her circlet to the winds. 

Instead, she waits. 

Laudna is muttering to herself, tugging at her clothes. Pâté flaps about her head, wings of sinew and bone making an abominably wet sound Imogen hadn’t realized she’d missed. The tip of one wing tangles in Laudna’s hair, and she swats at him irritably, sending him tumbling through the air until he manages to right himself. Imogen extends a hand, and he flies to her, settling in her palm on his hindquarters. He gives a disgruntled shake, and his wings squelch back into his body, tail coming to rest around his paws. He peers up at Imogen, then looks back to Laudna.  

“I tried,” he croaks in that gravelly way of his, and Imogen strokes his disgusting little head with one finger. 

“I know,” she assures gently. He could be referring to any number of moments across a lifetime, a few weeks, mere seconds ago. She sets him on her shoulder and feels pinprick claws pierce the fabric of her dress for stability. Crass and wretched as he is, Imogen can’t find it in herself to hate him. He is an extension of his maker, creepy and ungainly and off-putting, so Imogen must love him a tiny bit. She scratches under his chin, ignores the feeling of magic-touched bone, murmurs, “Thank you for keepin’ her safe.”

“Boss didn’t have the best of times without you.” He pipes up, a little rueful, in a manner Imogen assumes is meant to be quiet. Laudna, only a few feet away, catches it.

“Pâté,” she snarls. He squeaks and tucks himself into Imogen’s collar. 

“He’s just confirming what I had already guessed,” Imogen defends, an attempt at lightness that doesn’t quite land. “It’s not his fault you haven’t told me anything.” 

“He ought to have stayed in my head. Then he might leave well enough alone,” Launda warns. 

“You don’t mean that,” Imogen counters calmly. 

Laudna spits, “He should have stayed dead.”

“Hey.” 

She huffs a sardonic, dry laugh. “Not everyone deserves second chances.” 

Imogen inhales sharply.

There it is. 

“Laudna…” She softens. She cups Pâté protectively. His fur oddly damp against her skin. She takes a cautious step forward. 

The pieces begin slotting into place, building the frame for a jarring picture of something severe enough to reopen this old wound. 

The fight sapped from her limbs, Laudna slides her back down the wall until she sits in the filth and dirt of the alleyway with her knees drawn close to her chest. Imogen winces as rough stone drags across jutting bone and paper-thin skin. 

“Are you… Do you want to be alone?” She asks–because what else can she do?– and half-fears the answer. 

Laudna’s head jerks up, and something Imogen can’t decipher flashes in her eyes. After a moment, her head shakes minutely, and Imogen lets out a relieved sigh. 

Tense silence leaches from the pores of the building’s rocky exterior.  

“We tried to find you all. Every day. We didn’t–we didn’t know where we were. Where anyone was, and–” Laudna breathes at last. “Orym was… was angry. Vengeful. And Ashton…. He was our friend.”

“Ashton?”

“I hurt him,” Laudna continues as if Imogen hadn’t spoken at all.

“Hurt who?” 

She shudders. “I killed him, not Prism.” Inky tears well from eyes pressed shut. Her voice is impossibly soft, hollow, seeming to ask, Do you hate me yet?

The narrative is convoluted at best. Imogen fruitlessly attempts to splice together the fragments of memory slipping through Laudna’s teeth like snowflakes, to arrange them into a cohesive whole among the scraps she gathered at the table. The Issylra group returned rattled, apprehensive and tense, but this is deeper. Laudna is shaken. 

“Wasn’t he a member of the Ruby Vanguard?” 

“He was confused, just like the rest of us. Angry at the gods.” Laudna’s eyes flicker to the glowing red moon. Her fist, clenched in her hair, tightens. “And I killed him.” 

Imogen steps closer. “We’ve all killed people.”

Laudna shakes her head. Her voice hardens once more. “I don’t begrudge you the shopping or fraternizing with royalty or, or whatever else it was,” she says lowly, “But we didn’t have that. We didn’t save a toy store or home-cooked breakfasts. We spent every moment fighting to get back to you. And now,” she swallows, “we must reckon with the cost.” 

She is utterly exhausted; Imogen can see in the dim light. Although bone-weary and at her wits’ end, Laudna’s elegant cheekbones curl with shadows that twist and hide in her skirts. Hunched and fearful as she is, Laudna is still hauntingly beautiful. Something warms in Imogen’s chest. 

“You did what you had to do to survive,” she says, “No one can fault you for that.” 

“I’m sorry.” Laudna’s voice breaks, fracturing in tandem with Imogen’s heart, and she sobs. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Laud, no–” Imogen crouches next to her, yearning to touch, to take Laudna in her arms and bite and hiss and growl at anyone who dares approach. She restrains herself, carefully plucking Pâté from her shoulder and setting him on the ground between them. He turns to her skeptically as if to say, Really? After what she said? Imogen nudges him in Laudna’s direction. He sniffs, beak in the air, and ruffles his fur before bounding to Laudna’s ankles and putting his weird, cold little dead rat toes against her shin. She ignores the pawing fragment of her soul, ashamed. 

“I’m sorry,” Laudna mutters, “I must seem…I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

Laudna begins incredulously, “I–”

“You survived,” Imogen reiterates, “against gods and people powerful enough to destroy them.” She sighs, “I sent you a message every day, you know? Sometimes more than once, if I’m honest, ‘till my nose bled and Deanna had to patch me up.” Imogen offers a half-smile. “All I got was static. I just had to hope you were out there, somewhere, lookin’ for me, too.” 

Laudna looks as if she might melt into herself, refusing to look at Imogen. Her shoulders shake, and she confesses with a gasp, “She’s back. I brought her back.” 

Imogen’s blood chills, but her tone remains neutral. “Who, Laud?” 

At last, Laudna meets her gaze, eyes wide and wet and horror-struck. “Delilah.”

The name hangs between them like a stone ready to drop and shatter and bury itself into their flesh. Searing rage erupts in Imogen’s veins. 

“I’m sorry,” Laudna shrinks back, “I’m so sorry. To all of you. You all gave so much to–to find me. And–”

“It’s not your fault,” Imogen interjects.

“–and I wasn’t…I was weak. I lost control.” 

“Laudna,” Imogen cuts her off with the steely calm of a thunderstorm on the horizon. She cannot afford to process this now, not when Laudna is trembling in an alley. Not when Laudna, unmoored and terrified, needs her to be an anchor. No, Imogen will save her questions and unfiltered anger, for another time. A time when Laudna is safe and warm and at no risk of coming unraveled in her hands. When Laudna is in a place to know Imogen’s wrath is not, could never be, directed at her.

“Laudna,” Imogen repeats, because she cannot bear the thought of her not understanding, “this is not your fault. None of this.” She does reach out, then, offering a lifeline should Laudna choose to accept it. She does, hesitantly, as if waiting for Imogen to recoil. Her fingers are cool, bird-light against Imogen’s red-scarred palm. Laudna seems to notice at the same time.

“Imogen,” she exclaims, words still tear-tinged and quivering, “your hands. They’re–are you alright?”

“Oh, they–they don’t hurt, usually. Promise. I’m fine.”

“I should have–I’m sorry, I suppose I was–”

“Laudna,” Imogen interrupts again, not unkindly, “please.” 

It’s then that Laudna seems to notice Pâté clawing his way up her skirt. She scoops him up and holds him to her, murmuring apologies into his fur.

“‘S’okay, boss,” he rasps, squished against his maker’s chest, “I can’t hold a grudge.”

They sit like that, hand-in-hand, hand-on-rat, until the easy stroke of Imogen’s thumb against Laudna’s has smoothed out the worst of the jagged edges. Until the tension falls from Laudna’s spine and she relaxes into Imogen’s touch. 

“The others are surely wondering where we’ve gone.”

Imogen shrugs, snorts, “There’re so many people at that table I think they’d hardly notice two missing.”

“Still,” Laudna says, “we ought to get back.”

“Do you want to?” It’s her choice. It always will be if Imogen can help it.

Laudna considers. “I think I’d rather like to hear the end of Chetney’s story from the Savalirwood.”

“Oh gods,” Imogen groans, flushing at the memory, “no, you don’t.” 

“Fearne and Deanna, hm?” 

“Best to let them tell it.”