#his chin is taking over

[hayaku14]

shinco brothers + kaishin au where conan grows taller than both shinichi and kaito

[thebramblewood]

Apologies for ruining your weekend.

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It's not necessary, but if you want to learn more about the events Grace is describing (particularly the spellcaster who sacrificed herself), it originated in another story you can read here (chrono link for desktop only). I'm sure there are some inconsistencies because I had no idea I'd be doing more with it and my storytelling was more casual and gameplay-oriented then, but it might help fill in some gaps.

[rapid knocking at the door]

Caleb: …Morgyn? 

Grace: Caleb-

Caleb: Why are you in your nightgown? Are you crying?

Grace: Caleb, I-

Caleb: Where’s Morgyn? Council meetings never go this late.

Grace: [sniffling] Oh, Caleb… The Sages, they’re… they’re…

Caleb: What happened?

Grace: [strangely detached] I’d already gone home. Almost everyone had. There was an… attack. No one saw it coming. Dark magic… ancient spells… malicious… forbidden. How did he even find them?

Caleb: [impatiently] Grace, you’re not making any sense.

Grace: [distantly] The Realm is secured. Someone stopped him before he could tamper with the portals. A teacher, I think, from the children’s school. She sacrificed herself to drain his power.

Caleb: I don’t care about the goddamn Realm! What about Morgyn?

Grace: [sobbing] I’m sorry, Caleb. I’m so sorry. They were ambushed. They had no chance to defend themselves. Faba, Simeon, Morgyn… The entire Council is… dead. Oh my god. Caleb, are you okay?

Caleb: Stay back!

Grace: But-Caleb: I mean it! You’re not safe around me like this. Go home, Grace! Now.

[hello-galad]

[wildsaltair]

MY ONE AND ONLY, MY BELOVED, MY JOY, THE TREASURE OF MY HEART

[acourtofquestions]

"You'll come back," Manon said.

It sounded like more of a threat than anything

Dorian smirked. "Would you miss me if I didn't?"

Manon didn't reply. He didn't know why he expected her to.

He'd taken all of a step, when Asterin clasped his shoulder. "In and out, quick as you can," she warned him. "Take care of Narene." Worry indeed shone in the Second's gold-flecked black eyes. Dorian bowed his head. "With my life," he promised as he approached her mount and grasped the dangling reins. He didn't fail to miss the gratitude that softened Asterin's features. Or that Manon had already turned away from him.

A fool to start down this path with her. He should have known better.

The hours that passed were some of the longest of Manon's existence.

From anticipation, she told herself. Of what she had to do.

Abraxos, unsurprisingly, found them within an hour, his reins sliced from the struggle he'd no doubt waged and won with Sorrel. He waited, however, beside Manon in silence, wholly focused upon the gate where Dorian and Narene had vanished.

Time dripped by. The king's sword was constant weight at her side. She cursed herself for needing to prove-to him, to herself-that she refused to let him go into Morath for practical, ordinary reasons. Erawan wasn't at the Ferian Gap. It'd be safer. Somewhat. But if the Matrons were there … That was why he'd gone. To learn if they were. To see if Petrah truly commanded the host there, and how many Ironteeth were present. He had not been trained as a spy, but he'd grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see. She'd sent Elide into the dungeons of Morath, Darkness damn her. Sending the King of Adarlan into the Ferian Gap was no different.

It didn't stop her breath from escaping when Abraxos stiffened, scanning the sky. As if he heard something they couldn't.

And it was the joy that sparked in her mount's eyes that told her.

Moments later, Narene sailed toward them, making a lazy path over the mountains, a dark-haired, pale-skinned rider atop her. He'd truly been able to change parts of himself. Had made his face nearly unrecognizable. And kept it that way.

Asterin rushed toward the mare, and even Manon blinked as her Second threw her arms around Narene's neck. Holding her tight. The mare only leaned her head against Asterin's back and huffed.

Manon hadn't dwelled long on what she'd say.

And as the three hundred Ironteeth witches filed into the hall, some coming off their patrols, Manon half wondered if she should have. They watched her, watched the Thirteen, with a wary disdain.

Their disgraced Wing Leader; their fallen Heir.

When all were gathered, Petrah, still standing in the doorway where she'd appeared, merely said, "My life debt for an audience, Blackbeak."

Manon swallowed, her tongue as dry as paper. Seated atop Abraxos, she could see every shifting movement in the crowd, the wide eyes or hands gripping swords.

"I will not tell you the particulars of who I am," Manon said at last. "For I think you have already heard them."

"Crochan bitch," someone spat.

Manon set her eyes on the Blackbeaks, stone-faced where the others bristled with hatred. It was for them she spoke, for them she had come here.

jacket, then hoisting up her white shirt. Rising in the stirrups to bare her scarred, brutalized abdomen. "She does not lie."

UNCLEAN

There, the word remained stamped. Would always be stamped.

"How many of you," Asterin called out, "have been similarly branded? By your Matron, by your coven leader? How many of you have had your stillborn witchlings burned before you might hold them?"

The silence that fell now was different from before. Shaking shuddering.

Manon glanced at the Thirteen to find tears in Ghislaine's eyes as she took in the brand on Asterin's womb. Tears in the eyes of all of them, who had not known. And it was for those tears, which Manon had never seen, that she faced the host again.

"You will be killed in this war, or after it. And you will never see our homeland again."

"What is it that you want, Blackbeak?" Petrah asked from the archway.

"Ride with us," Manon breathed. "Fly with us.

Against Morath. Against the people who would keep you from your homeland, your future." Murmuring broke out again. Manon pushed ahead, "An Ironteeth-Crochan alliance. Perhaps one to break our curse at last."

Again, that shuddering silence. Like a storm about to break Asterin sat back in the saddle, but kept her shirt open.

"The choice of how our people's future shall be shaped is yours," Manon told each of the witches assembled, all the Blackbeaks who might fly to war and never return. "But I will tell you this." Her hands shook, and she fisted them on her thighs. "There is a better world out there. And I have seen it."

Even the Thirteen looked toward her now.

"I have seen witch and human and Fae dwell together in peace. And it is not weakness to do so, but a strength. I have met kings and queens whose love for their kingdoms, their peoples, is so great that the self is secondary. Whose love for their people is so strong that even in the face of unthinkable odds, they do the impossible."

Manon lifted her chin. "You are my people. Whether my grandmother decrees it so or not, you are my people, and always will be. But I will fly against you, if need be, to ensure that there is a future for those who cannot fight for it themselves. Too long have we preyed on the weak, relished doing so. It is time that we became better than our foremothers." The words she had given the Thirteen months ago. "There is a better world out there," she said again. "And I will fight for it." She turned Abraxos away, toward the plunge behind them. "Will you?"

Manon nodded to Petrah. Eyes bright, the Heir only nodded back. They would be permitted to leave as they had arrived: unharmed.

So Manon nudged Abraxos, and he leaped into the sky, the Thirteen following suit.

Not a child of war. But of peace.

[black-and-yellow]

i must tell you and others about this discovery….. hizashi or shouta with a toothgap

I feel like he could have had a tooth gap when he was younger. He looks like the kinda kid to have a tooth gap.

[volfoss]

cant stop thinking about the insane experience that bill everett had to have had. created namor, wrote him for a decent amt of time, left to fight in wwii, and came back to his creation having a massive triangular head for quite literally no reason.

[ID: Two comic panels depicting close ups on Namor's face. He has a similar facial structure with very angular features on both panels. The first shows him with a thin angular head and the second shows him with a very triangular head (to the point it looks inhuman). /end ID]

[hood-ex]

girl have u heard of the great zouis reunion of 2025?!?!just making sure that u r aware

I heard!! I saw the concert vids at like 2am!! It was in, what, 2019? that Louis said neither he nor Zayn were mature enough to have that healing conversation. And now here we are 🥹. Bros are prob geeking on grass together again 😭.

[vyoongi]

hear me out: carageta + cannibalism as a metaphor for love

[koerinz]

Almost rendered art - I haven’t done something like this is a while frr

[wraithsoutlaws]

Honestly I'd like to ask you about the thought behind all of Dagger's design cus it's so fuckin' sick and your art is sick (I'd buy an art book of Ur art) I'm like actually slightly ignoring the ask prompt thing u reblogged so I hope you don't mind but do Dagger's tattoos have any meaning? They're all very cool and I'm going to stop talking now before I ramble about how sick (positive) your art is

aaaaaAh omg i don't mind at all this made me so happy :') thank you so much i'm!! really flattered and happy you like 'em!! there is some meaning behind some of them, and some of them are just a little silly. i've also been in the process of actually trying to fully finalize them (they've sort of been ~up in the air~ for a long time/subject to change)

his most important tattoo is the heart/snake/dagger on his torso:

i've messed with the look of it a lot. originally the dagger went straight up his torso, but i think the angled placement works a little better. the right side is still a WIP, but it's probably more in line with what i want (partially because he's /also/ supposed to have a really big "M" shaped scar that covers his torso as well, and i think it looks really messy with all these elements running vertical on him which is why it hardly makes it into my art). ANYWAY, this one is meant to signify his self-transformation into the "Dagger" persona. the heart in the middle is representative of his humanity, or who he once was as a child. the snake is who he grew into and what generally harbors a lot of his self-hatred and guilt (which is sort of another post worth of Lore so I won't go there rn), and the knife represents who he makes himself, choosing to kill the other parts of who he is and severing himself from the past (including that humanity and guilt). It's his self-made rebirth, no longer beholden to the cycles and feelings of the person he used to be. the "unkillable" beneath the handle is a newer addition, but it's just edgelord enough that i know he'd have it. in a sense, he's killed himself already and now nobody else gets the pleasure of doing so.

now the rest of his tattoos are just kinda stupid and that's why i love them.

the "FVCK" tattoo on his left arm was the first one he got and he gave it to himself stick-n-poke style when he was 16.

the abomination on the right hasn't made it into artwork yet because i'm constantly changing my mind of where i want it. most likely it's on his left shoulder blade and it's pretty self-explanatory. the man loves cigarettes. he got this one in his late teens when he was riding with a group of smugglers between texas and mexico, drunk in front of a campfire, and of course, smoking. (it's worth mentioning that i haven't gotten tattoo mods for him, and though he keeps a big portion of the vanilla tattoos on the front, none of the back piece is canon for him.)

he has a rat king on his thigh (also self-explanatory), as well as cockroach's little rat prints running up the side of his leg.

the last Definite tattoo he has is a small scorpion on his back (as reference to the scorpion and the frog. dagger's in a constant cycle of self-destruction. he's both the scorpion and the frog).

[weldfists]

ace of hearts , ace of clubs for hs sett 🫵

Card Suits

Ace of Hears - How easy is it for any sort of relationship to develop with your muse?

In Heartsteel, Sett isn't necessarily as guarded as you'd expect him to be especially with how he started out pre the band forming. While often times he used to shut anybody out that got too close to him because they'd see him as a stepping stone to get to his father, with his dad out of the picture he's learned that not every person out there was trying to be his friend to use him. Something he really had to grow out of but we love to see it anyways.

Now he's a lot more easy going and personable with folks, he'll find himself in social circles getting along with most of the folks there. The only problem Sett has with developing relationships is he tends to say his inside thoughts aloud, which tends to rile folks up (coughkayncough). Otherwise I think it's fairly easy to get along with him if you're looking for a friend.

Now if we're talking a more romantic oriented relationship, I gotta say he's a little dense. Often times, he tends to not be able to read someone being flirtatious towards him unless its very blunt and will sometimes chalk someone up as not interested if they tend to skirt around him. That tends to work in his favor though because in order to realize someone's taken an interest in him they're usually already trying to drag him into a kiss. Disaster.

Ace of Clubs - How frugal is your muse with their money? How often do they run out?

Sett's TERRIBLE with his money so he tries to stick to a saving plan, but unfortunately being a failed nepo baby meant he HAD money at some point so he got used to... indulging is the word I'm gonna use for this. So the saving plan barely works, he just got really good at stretching every dollar he got.

But yeah he's definitely not gonna lie he has some expensive tastes: example he buys the fancy protein powder because it's the only thing that works for him so he definitely can't cut that out of his budget, don't look at his bedroom that thing looks like Tony Montana's damn office, and don't get started on the amount of athleisure he's bought that's brand name. Long story short, yeah he's a disaster with money and he's not allowed to look at this credit card.

[attractthecrows]

retconning stroud out of the deep roads so i can shove laure amell and the hawke siblings and varric and anders all into the same little camp. they would all have such a bad time

[transmiqote]

it’s been over a year & a half since endwalker but the in from the cold quest is still living in my mind rent free

[acourtofquestions]

Hearth to hearth, the Flame of War went.

Over snow-blasted mountains and amongst the trees of tangled forests, hiding from the enemies that prowled the skies. Through long, bitterly cold nights where the wind howled as it tried to wipe out any trace of that flame.

But the wind did not succeed, not against the flame of the queen.

So hearth to hearth, it went.

To remote villages where people screamed and scattered as a young-faced woman descended from the skies on a broom, waving her torch high.

Not to signal them, but the few women who did not run. Who walked toward the flame, the rider, as she called out, "Your queen summons you to war. Will you fly?"

Trunks hidden in attics were thrown open. Folded swaths of red cloth pulled from within. Brooms left in closets, beside doorways, tucked under beds, were brought out, bound in gold or silver or twine. And swords-ancient and beautiful—were drawn from beneath floorboards, or hauled down from haylofts, their metal shining as bright and fresh as the day they had been forged in a city now lying in ruin.

Witches, the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.

Village to village, where hearths that had never once gone fully dark blazed in answer.

Always one rider going out, to find the next hearth, the next bastion of their people.

Witches, here amongst us. Witches, now going to war.

A rising tide of witches, who took to the skies in their red cloaks, swords strapped to their backs, brooms shedding years of dust with each mile northward.

Witches who bade their families farewell, offering no explanation before they kissed their sleeping babes and vanished into the starry night.

Mile after mile, across the darkening world, the call went out, ceaseless and unending as the eternal flame that passed from hearth to hearth.

"Fly, fly, fly!" they shouted. "To the queen! To war!"

Far and wide, through snow and storm and peril, the Crochans flew.

[pwurrz]

eli and his new friend angel!! they’re both the sweetest cats in the world so it makes sense they’d be friends