#heeey look at this!!

[lomlompurim]

IM BACK WITH MORE WHITE LOTUS BINGHE JAPAN EDITION BC I LOVE HIM SO MUCH 💕🪷💚

and some other bunhe sketches to warm up and draw some more

The prettiest boy that ever existed, I want to bite him until he squeaks

[kamabokobun]

I updated the designs of my depths race :) (+lore headcanon info stuff yayy)

[windsweptinred]

Morpheus and Daniel, The Sandman by rainesz

[imaredshirt]

“I should have killed you that night in Mexico City,” Ernesto says to Héctor as he holds up a half-empty bottle of tequila. “Should have killed you the very moment I had the chance.”

“Ah, you wouldn’t have had the guts,” Héctor says without missing a beat.

He never takes Ernesto’s grouchy threat seriously. Not when his friend has growled and grumbled and groaned the same empty words for years over any little inconvenience or annoyance he blames Héctor for.

When Héctor wakes him up to early to practice – “I'll kill you if you poke me again,” Ernesto gripes.

Héctor drinks all the coffee before Ernesto can get to it – “I should have killed you when I had the chance,” Ernesto whines in the middle of the kitchen.

Héctor embarrasses him in font of the Rivera family with another sappy tale of their childhood when Ernesto had moved Heaven and Earth to make sure his hermanito had something to eat at night – “Gah! I should have let you starve!” Ernesto  groans into his hands before adding a thousand embellishments to the story to make himself seem grander because his ego is just that big.

It’s an empty threat. It makes Héctor laugh sometimes.

Like now. He chortles to himself and nudges Ernesto’s empty shot glass closer to him. The movement sends Ernesto’s losing hand of playing cards sliding to the edge of the table. “Go on, you loser, drink up!”

Ernesto grumbles and pours himself his nth shot of clear liquor for the night.

Héctor can see Imelda over Ernesto’s shoulder, sitting at her desk by the window, head bowed over neatly arranged sheets of drawing paper. She’s singing to herself under breath as she works, sketching improvements to existing boot designs. A strand of silver hair falls over her brow.

Héctor begins to hum along to her beautiful voice until he hears Ernesto mutter, “I was planning to, you know.”

“Huh?” Héctor turns to him.

“Kill you,” Ernesto says. He’s shuffling the cards, lips twitching into something that’s not quite a snarl but close to it. “I planned it all for that night you left.”

Behind him, the sound of Imelda’s brothers laughing with Coco in the garden only vaguely catches Héctor’s attention. He leans forward on crossed arms, eyes the cards that Ernesto flicks across the table towards him. “The night I left?”

“When you left me in that cheap hotel in Mexico City ten years ago,” Ernesto says. “And took all your songs and your pinche guitar with you.” He’s done dealing out the cards when he meets Héctor’s eyes again. “I was going to kill you and take all of it for myself.”

Héctor narrows his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Yes. With rat poison, of all things,” Ernesto says. “But luck wasn’t on my side that night.”

Silence.

And then, as if on cue, they laugh. Héctor hugs his middle and tries not to send his cards flying. Ernesto’s shoulders are shaking and his head is bowed, laughing in that wheezy way of his that he’s only ever comfortable doing in the presence of people close to him.

Héctor says through his laughter, “I really piss you off that much, eh?”

“Every day,” Ernesto says. “Back then and even now – even now I still want to poison you.”

Any other man, and Héctor would blame the tequila for the harsh words. But this is Ernesto. The man just says things like that sometimes. Even his ridiculous jokes -even ones about abandoned murder attempts, apparently- sound charming with the way he speaks.

“You can try. But would the world really forgive you if you silenced this beautiful face forever?” Héctor gestures at his face with a flourish and gasps when Ernesto flicks a card at his nose. “Hey! Ouch!”

“Forget it,” Ernesto grouches. “I think if I try, Imelda will kill me a dozen times over.”

“I would enjoy that,” Imeda says without looking up from her work.

“I know.”

“Ah, well,” Héctor says. He pours them both shots of tequila and holds his glass up. “To failed plans and bright futures. Or, at least,” he adds, grinning lopsidedly at his friend. “At least to another ten years before you try again?”

He's had enough of the joke. He wants to end the night on a good note.

Ernesto stares at him for a long second before rolling his eyes with a scoff and raising his glass. “To bright futures and no more poison, I suppose. You’re too annoying to even get rid of at this point.”

“To being too annoying to get rid of!” Héctor crows and clinks their glasses together.

They drink, and get back to their game. Outside, the sun sets on a quiet evening at the Rivera home where everyone, at least for a good long time, lives happily.

[writingforfishes]

Hicvember A+B+C

So, I had this whole fic thing going and I was sort of brainstorming on how I could make it fit a little more into theme. Then I had this crazy idea of utilizing a sketchbook I specifically bought to draw hic stuff and see if I could art.

Then I had this even more wacky idea of A being Otto, B being Atticus and C being me, the writer, creeping on them.

Using some picrews as body and face references, I drew just that and edited some text on it in the MS art program so the sketchbook would still be ambiguous art in case anyone found it. (I love you, paranoia. You're my favorite anxiety and OCD trait!)

So, here. Have this thing I made.

(my signature is a little fountain pen with a line and hook on it)

[oh-shtars]

*breaks in and strategically places warm milk by Sueño*

*plays some lullaby music*

*puts a sign on the door saying I think I saw the star go twenty miles that way <-*

*sneaks out super carefully and quietly*

*leaves an apology note for the broken window*

Awwww, he appreciates it Bo <33

In fact, certain people snuck in and decided to keep him company. :))

[mirai-desu]

Miss Scarlet & The Duke » Series 4, Episode 1

[grandmaster-anne]

1963 Queen Elizabeth II and Prince Philip in Wellington, New Zealand

[a-lonely-dunedain]

12.............. with Corunir?

So you have chosen... Tur-Morva. *evil laughter* wherein the rescue instance goes horribly awry in a canon-compliant way

“Eth… Help me” Ethedis hears a weak but familiar voice behind her, one that she would be overjoyed to hear in any other circumstances and speaking any other words. She was a split moment from sprinting down the tunnel, where she had heard Bregadir frantically calling for a healer mere seconds ago. 

Instead, she stops and pivots around to see Corunir collapsed on one knee, breathing heavily and bleeding more so, a deep shadow of crimson growing beneath him. Horror sets in the pit of her stomach.

She stoops to steady him just in time as he falls forward into her arms. “I think… wounds reopened…” he mutters faintly as Ethedis struggles to reposition him to asses his injury. 

“Corunir…?” No response “…Corunir!” She calls frantically, still to no avail. He’s fading fast. She fights to bury the panic welling up in her heart. She has to stay calm if she is to have any hope of saving him. She prays someone else heard Bregadir’s call for a healer, she cannot help both of them.

There is a long cut on his stomach, that seems to be the primary source of the blood. The wound is not fresh, seeming days old yet healing very poorly. No doubt an injury sustained during the Grey Company’s capture and left to fester after he was thrown into that dark cell, just beyond the reach of his kin. It seems to have reopened in the battle. His strength has already been long spent, and this rapid loss of blood would be enough to push him over the edge. His face is pale and his breath slows with each moment, he is minutes away from death.

She puts her hand to the wound, applying as much pressure as she can in her already weakened state. “Please… just hang on. Just a little longer…” she pleads, blinking away tears. He cannot hear her. 

She takes a deep breath and turns her mind outwards, beyond herself and this small corridor. She does not know how deep below the earth they are, but deep enough that she cannot hear the slumbering trees or even reach their roots, but she doubts they would be willing to lend her their power anyway, not while it’s still winter. She keeps searching. She finds some moss, it wants to help, but it is too small for this task. 

After a search that, in reality, barely lasted a moment yet it felt like hours, she finally finds something. An underground river, flowing swift and strong beneath the earth, unaffected and uncaring of all else, yet holding great power. She begs the dark cold waters for aid, to lend her its strength and grant this dying man in her arms new life. 

‘Please. Please just buy him a little more time. Let me save him. It isn’t his time yet. Not here. Please.’

There is nothing. The river has no reason to care. She fears it will give her nothing.

Nothing, and then the sound of rushing water thundering in Ethedis’ ears alone, the shock of cold water in her veins, and an unfamiliar power flowing through her hands. Flowing like a torrent of water too powerful for her to tread in such a weakened state, yet tread it she must. She sends it into Corunir’s near-lifeless body. Close the wound, stop the bleeding, give him the strength to survive. 

There is water now, but not from the river, it flows from Ethedis’ eyes. Her hands tremble and her arms burn as though she has been swimming against the current of an ocean. Acting as a conduit of power such as this would test her limits even on a good day, and this was anything but ‘a good day’. 

She cannot do this. She cannot hold onto this river. Corunir is still bleeding. If she stops now it will not be enough to save him, but she cannot hold on. More water escapes her eyes, a sob from her throat.

Suddenly she feels another set of hands atop her own, calloused, worn, and strong. A familiar voice beside her, it belongs to Golodir.

“Easy, Ethedis, easy. You’re doing well. It will be alright.” If he is afraid, his voice will not betray it, and that is all the better for Ethedis. 

With the practiced confidence only an experienced captain could possess, he manages to steady her. She can hold on a little longer, she is not fighting alone, Golodir found them. He says it’s going to be ok, and she believes him.

She keeps it up just long enough, but not a moment more. She cracks open one eye and sees Corunir's bleeding has finally slowed, if not stopped altogether. Some color has returned to his face as well. She thinks it is safe to stop now. She looks over to Golodir and sees worry in his eyes, but no fear. He simply nods at her, she thinks she hears him say something, but she cannot make out the words. She lets go and collapses. She thinks Golodir caught her, but her body is numb with cold and she can’t feel much of anything. He calls out to her, but she lacks the strength to respond and consciousness quickly abandons her. Corunir is alright at least. Golodir found them, everything will be alright.

(Yaaay Golodad to the rescue! there was meant to be another part to this, where Corunir comes to later and actually has the chance to talk to Ethedis, but it wasn't coming together fast enough so I'll probably just add that part *gestures vaguely* "later". I DO like what I had so far, but it was my first time actually properly writing dialog between those two and I wanted to make sure I did a good job, ya can't rush it. you'll see it later.)

[angelfoodscake]

baby cherry yaayy

[braceletofteeth]

All this time I've been waiting to see Kluen as a dentistry student in action, and the first time they show him doing anything related to the medical field is when he's applying Rifocina to a junior's ankle 😀😀

[convxction]

ooc. not gonna let you forget how seggsy chrom's beefy arms in his chromas outfit. come get yo giftu. perhapseee.

[kissentz]

sometimes i think i should left only tumblr and left deviantart/instagram because i'm not very active here

but i idk

[apocalypta-secundus]

[butchyena]

T is changing my fucking voice confirmed but the only way to stop it from cracking constantly is to mumble or speak very loudly so sorry to anyone whos been in public w me and had to go “WHAT? HUH?” or anyone whos been w me indoors and had to tel me i was shouting 😭

[grantairezee]

this duck walked right up to me when i was at a cracker barrel yesterday