#i can't wait for you to meet him

[rimeswithpurple]

Thank you @blackberrysummerblog for the tag! It's Sunday and oh boy do I have a lot to share! The kids are back in school and my hyperfixation has landed on drawing; I was up well past midnight every night this week.

CORB concept claiming has started and there are so many stellar concepts! I'm constantly blown away by the creativity in this fandom! While I wait to find out who my partner is, I'm plugging away at artwork for chapter 3 of Time Will Lie Down & Be Still. If you've read @blackberrysummerblog's post today, you'll have been introduced to Jeremy. I've become deeply invested in him and once I heard the idea, I knew I had to draw him.

My penchant for tiny details is alive and well. I sometimes think I enjoy making backgrounds more than drawing people. Bringing a space to life with little bits and Easter eggs here and there is something I find so deeply satisfying!

Side note: the dragon figurine is a nod to Paperback Writer, a big time comfort read of mine. In the fic, it's a figurine Baz keeps because he chucked at Simon's head

There's also a little project I'm working on for funsies. I really love Simon's expression in this and this is the nicest hair I've ever drawn!

No pressure tags and hellos below!

@talentpiper11 @messofthejess @valeffelees @artsyunderstudy @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @youarenevertooold @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @thewholelemon @larkral @run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire @fiend-for-culture @cosmicalart @mooncello @that-disabled-princess @cutestkilla @noblecorgi @iamamythologicalcreature @best--dress @emeryhall @ileadacharmedlife @drowninginships @supercutedinosaurs @whatevertheweather @rbkzz @ebbpettier @cccloudsss @theimpossibledemon @katatsumuli @thehoneyedhufflepuff @theearlgreymage @theotherhufflepuff @onepintobean @orange-peony @hushed-chorus @fatalfangirl @ic3-que3n @bazzybelle @palimpsessed @martsonmars @aristocratic-otter @shrekgogurt @monbons @alexalexinii @prettygoododds @ivelovedhimthroughworse @raenestee @skeedelvee

[egophiliac]

IT WAS ERIC AFTER ALL!!!! I'm so glad we got to meet him (before Vil snaps him away with those Infinity Gauntlets) (can't wait to see what happens when we get the matching Infinity Tiara to go with them, there will be no survivors)

(sorry to be so slow/rough lately, just got a lot of stuff on the ol' brain at the moment! alas, if only I could spend all my time drawing incredibly stupid characters I mean I do but)

[fangirlforeversthings]

-I would never make it as a jedi cause the second i'm close enough to touch one of their arms there will be marriages💍🎀

[supervillain-smut]

People: find Lucanis attractive for multiple reasons

Fucking weirdos that need to take a break from the internet: YoU'rE fEtIsHiZiNg HiM bEcAuSe Of HiS aCcEnT!!!!

[blood-starved-beast]

Do you think how much it would suck for Persephone, Zagreus, Hades, Nyx even (she raised Zag, clearly the lover of Persephone) to essentially be a footnote in Melinoe's life comparative to everyone else? Hades we know his reaction, but the others? They don't know her. What is her favorite things, her hobbies, the things that make her tick, the things that get under her skin. Persephone and the others wake up to realize that Mel has a whole ass life away from them. Yeah she has single-minded focus on saving the House, but no one in their right mind would immediately suggest simply plucking her from the Crossroads and putting her in the House. The sense of missing out of her whole life.

[miss0atae]

Bro had nothing better to do.

He never thought for one second that he was responsible of his own misery. I feel like if he had spent less time crafting his "revenge" and more time trying to find solace in his life, he would be the one saving the country. Alas, he only enjoys life when he is torturing someone.

Don't talk to fast! You never know when it's coming for you.

[cuubism]

hello friends. despite my 9 million existing dreamling wips i'm feeling the need to branch out a bit for the sake of my mental variety. what pairing other than dreamling should i write a little something for? could be romantic or platonic

other way of phrasing i guess: any pairings you really want to see more fics for in the fandom?

[kkatastrophic]

Actual footage of me when Taichi just fucking died:

[licorishh]

*FONTAINE SPOILERS*

Y'all laugh at the fact that Tartaglia randomly falling into the Abyss one day as a kid ended up being the catalyst for Fontaine's eventual predicted destruction but all this means is that from the start Tartaglia was intended to fall into the Abyss and become a Harbinger and thus has always been doomed by the narrative

[skrunksthatwunk]

nobody's doing it like itsuki yyh. i've been thinking about him and sensui a lot today but like. ok get this. imagine being a demon and this cute human guy (you are gay btw green hair and pronounsed and everything) shows up and tries to kill you and almost succeeds. you survive because you lament that you're gonna miss the finale of a show you watch/see a niche pop artist on tv (depending on adaptation, but either way these are your last words and it airs the next night), and he says he's into it too. you become partners. this man, shinobu sensui, is a spirit detective who's been haunted by demons his whole life, has been killing them with the complete, unwavering belief that he's right for it, since he was in pre-k. you being a demon does not seem to change how he thinks about this. it doesn't change your feelings either, since he fascinates you. you help him kill demons.

one day, your human is confronted with one of the worst sights imaginable, one that shatters his worldview completely. he sees demons being tortured and slaughtered hedonistically by a group of humans. he can't process it. he splits. your shinobu is now one of seven within his body. you love each of them. you love him. you watch as he pivots into a deep hatred of humanity, and of himself for slaughtering so many demons, and of his own inescapable humanity. you love it. you can't get enough of it. watching someone so pure and self-assured become confused, disillusioned, twisted, evil, broken, it thrills and captivates you. it's beautiful, and you egg it on. you make it worse, obsessively. you make him worse. you only want what he wants, really. but you want him to want it worse. sensui is spiraling and you don't steady him, you accelerate it and accelerate it, until he's deciding that before he dies (which will be sooner than you'd like, sooner than you know what to do with), he's going to end humanity. he's going to unleash demonkind on them and secure his redemption, his doom, his punishment. it's a baptism by fire. what a way to go. a very sensui way to go, and you love it like the rest of him: poisonously. you don't need a word of convincing, no argument (as desperate as sensui is to argue his case for this), not a second of that tape, to follow him. you watch as sensui breaks the fragile people he encounters, wrenches them into misanthropic weapons. he's amazing at it. minoru is amazing at it. he brings together his crew of heart-bleeding, self-loathing pawns, and in your downtime you and sensui watch human tv, share your love for animals, plants, the human world. you cherish, distract yourself with, and celebrate these together. they're what brought you together in the first place, and you will destroy them together. you wonder if he knows that these things he loves will surely die when the demons come. you expect he views them as necessary casualties in ridding the world of human evil. how deliciously cruel he can be. you savor it. you have to savor it. you don't like thinking about the end. that sensui will barely be alive to enjoy his victory. is he so convinced of humanity's foulness that he would never bend, never doubt his genocide at all? or would he come to regret it? would he hate himself even more than he does now? once the greater evil, humanity, is eliminated, would he turn his sights on himself? he may see himself as one of the "enlightened" humans who know mankind's evil, but he is still a human with plenty of demon blood on his hands. you want to know. you're desperate for it. you don't ask him what he thinks he will become. you want to watch it unfold naturally, for as long as he is around. let the ink bleed over the page. don't blow. don't wave the paper, don't even touch it. be patient.

your sensui is killed spectacularly at the finish line. he was struck down by a human reborn as a demon. how fitting. it's what sensui wanted, and you are happy for him, as much as you can be. it's bittersweet. you knew it would end soon. you both did. you talked about it all the time. and now it's... over. the portal is being resealed. demons will not wipe out mankind. humanity will go on, unaffected. your sensui's lonely war against his own kind is already being forgotten by the few who knew of it. such a beautiful moment, swept away by time, your sensui. and now his enemies want to claim his soul. his body. to bring him to the afterlife, for whatever judgement awaits him. and you fulfill your final obligation to him. you take him away. sensui did not want any part of that, and neither do you, not particularly. it sounds rather painful, all considered. you lift him and slip away to where no one can reach you. your own little dimension, your own little pocket of existence, just the two of you. no one can touch him now. you, either, not that you care. you hold him like you have for years, and think of your future together. here, where no one can reach him. no one will touch him or stain him or rip him or tear him ever again, not even you. but you will always be closest, and that's enough. cut off from humankind and demonkind completely. it's only you. and it's only him. you wonder how long you will live, like this. a long time. it makes no difference. sensui has broken completely, and you hold the shards of him. every piece remaining is yours, is in your arms, will be yours forever. you wonder if this should be enough for you. if you should be satisfied. you are. as someone whose last regret was missing a late night program, you don't see much point in leaving. what is there for itsuki without sensui? what is there in the world worthwhile? demons, humans, the rest of it. none of it would ever compare. not even to the shards.

you wonder, and it is far from the first or the last time, how sensui will change now, in your arms. white to black, skin to bone to dust. and when you die your soul will dissipate like his, and in a little unreality you and he will linger forever, where no one can know or recall. you will die a secret of the world, a potential wasted, a close call, a scream that is swallowed last-minute. and you will be together. it's all that's mattered for a long time. you wonder if you'll ever change. you don't expect to.

[egophiliac]

(breathing into a paper bag) FRALIO....

can't believe they gave us another guy. oh my god. so I guess Kelka is more, uhhh, more OOO then, and Fralio is Ankh? not that it matters too much, although they do seem to be doing something with the connected Riders so. who knows. anything goes! or if I may, anything gOOOes! god. of course they're the Ambition parallel. of course they are. oh my god.

fortunately there's nothing else they can throw at me right now that could possibly --

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

[horsechestnut]

Genuinely starting to think whoever was in charge of the Once Upon a Time timeline quit after season 5.

[fantasymoongirl999]

Omg why did no one tell me about Ninjago????

I swear the fandom and this show have me in a chokehold!!!

I'm over here close to tears on the couch watching a show made for 7 years olds and hysterically yelling “Just let the child have his father!”

Like duuuude!!

I was obsessed with the movie when it came out, how in the world did I not know there was a whole 15 seasons of this??? And apparently an entire new series??? Huh????

Literally these past few months I have done nothing but unhing my jaw and Kirby slurp Ninjago content. (You fanfiction writers are amazing!! You guys have single handedly ruined my sleep schedule and have infested my mind!) My friends are so tired of hearing me talk about this dumb show, but my gosh I will not give this up until they join me!!

[jichanxo]

sunday six!

hello sunday six nation! o7 @four-white-trees @passthroughtime @overdevelopedglasses @skysquid22

tried writing an alternate kuwagami first meeting for funsies! not sure where i'm going with it, but it's been good fun! (ignores all my other wips)

Yagami looked at the drone photos Kaito sent through minutes ago. “He should be back soon. You can take a seat, I suppose.” 

The other man didn’t, approaching his desk, leaning against it and giving Yagami a look. “You here often?” 

Yagami didn’t glance away from his computer screen. “This is my office.” 

“Oh. You must be the all important Yagami that gets put on the sign outside and everything. Nice place.” He smiled, not seeming to look at the office at all. Yagami bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to give the man any attention. Couldn’t he see he was working, here? 

“You know, I’m something of a freelancer myself.” He continued, pulling a card from his jacket and placing it on the table. “Not from around here though. Visiting from Ijincho.” 

“Uh huh.” Yagami didn’t touch the card. “You know, Kaito-san might be off the clock soon, but I’m not. If you’re gonna wait here, I’d appreciate it if you just sat down.” And shut up. 

The man seemed to catch his meaning, silent for a moment. “Anyway, as I was getting to, the name's Kuwana. Nice to meet you.” 

“Great. Sit down, Kuwana-san.” 

[revelisms]

Excerpt: Emptied Spaces

Vi recalls her first nights as a new recruit to Zaun.

From a work in progress set after 'heron blue,' an AU where Vi and Jinx reconnect under different terms. Slow, rocky relationship rebuilding, found family messiness, and hurt/comfort abound.

A series of tinny pricks muddle the air. 

"He's not all bad, you know," her sister mumbles. 

Vi presses her nails into her palm. 

In her mind's eye, a litany of refusals. 

She sees the stairs down to the storeroom—their old room—that she'd found boarded up, paint streaked over the walls: a glaring, caution-taped denial to any who dared to enter. She sees Jinx slumped at the bar, dotting black varnish on her nails, flippant as anything to Vi's tight-mouthed questions of what had happened to their things; if there was anything left.

Just ghouls and ghosts, Jinx had said, in an accent not her own, and shot a whip-fire glare through her fringe. Then she'd grinned, cold and feline. Droused on, Key's in Silky's desk, if you care that much.

Like that room was nothing more than an ill memory, to her. Her and Vi's things. Mylo and Claggor's things. Mom and Dad's things. Vander's—

Like all of it wasn't theirs, anymore.

(Never had been.)

They had new rooms, now—ones of their own, only paces down that dark-lamped hall from each other.

Just days prior, that rat had dangled hers in front of her, in some twisted attempt at an olive branch.

It had ridiculous wallpaper and jade-tinted windows; furnishings absurdly ornate, for all their simplicity; shelves upon shelves filled with books she'd never read. They'd given her a bed with smuggled silk sheets and feathered pillows—the kind any Fissure brat in their right mind would dive into, relishing in the best sleep they'd had in years. A luxury all of them deserved. 

Her own room. A real, proper room.

Not four walls and a cot.

(Not a room with Powder.)

In silence, that bastard had stood behind her: smoke and spice on his clothes, a chill like an autumn sea seeping off his bones. The shadow of his suit had lingered in her periphery, unnervingly still. Spindly hands folded at his back; too-clean shoes canted, unmoving. 

Will it suffice? he'd graveled, eventually.

Vi'd fought down the urge to scoff.

Suffice.

As if he couldn't give a damn that he'd paid for it all on the backs of children carting industry wares as much as vials of liquid death; hadn't taken up his keep in their home, Vander's home—claimed the damned thing unrightfully as his own—and now had carved out a pathetic share to toss back to her.

Vi'd found her voice. Our old room was fine.

Hands ticking at his back. If you'd prefer to sleep on the boxes, then be my guest.

She said you emptied it.

Silence ebbing, knifing. A heaviness had snared around his bones: the kind that had rage smelting around it, slow-simmered and tightly leashed: one that set the hairs on her nape rising.

In it was an image. A memory he wouldn't give her the privilege to share.

She didn't want to picture it.

Powder, eleven years old, bruises on her cheek, standing alone in the center of that storeroom. 

Powder, frozen, for minutes or hours or ages—a tattered bunny squeezed between her hands, blood still on her clothes—before the screams finally tore their way out of her.

She didn't want to picture it—but the thought had itched within her, like a virus. She couldn't blink it out.

It's been emptied enough, Silco had answered her: a slither of a hiss. His mismatched stare had veered away, notched to an unseen point in the wall.

Under your orders? Vi'd pressed on.

Another tick of his fingers.

He'd known they'd already spoken about it. That she was aware, by then, that it was Powder—Jinx—who wanted nothing to do with that room: who couldn't sleep in it, couldn't stand to be in it; could only hover at the foot of those stairs, boots welded through the floor, every time this shark-skinned thing offered for her to go through her belongings and do with the space as she wished. 

A denial Vi couldn't grapple with had pooled nauseously in her. One he'd had no qualms in laying out to dry.

I will remind you, Silco had said, placid for all its venom, once, by whose request you are here. And he'd stared her down, like a beast waiting to strike: head tilted, eyes inhuman: chloroform polluting the sea-foam of the living one, magma igniting the ore of the dead. 

Nothing but a dull indifference. Bemusement glazed beneath a fanged snarl. 

He didn't see her as a threat, she'd realized. Not as mirrored strength to be wary of, the way Vander had. 

In the path of his leering, she felt like a child. A gutless, gut-twisted kid.

Like a pair of boxing gloves squeezed shamefully behind her back, and her father's glare simmering above her, a finger lifted slowly between them—Don't you leave her alone, again. 

In his image, the words twisted. A different voice. A dead eye. A threat that bastard didn't need to speak.

She'd heard it, all the same.

Give her one reason to regret that choice, and I will see you out, myself.

"Y'know what's funny?" Jinx says, plucking another piece of metal off her knee. Vi's fingers stutter around her hair. "You've got way more in common than you think. Little spit-fire peas in a pod, really—all Zaun this, Fissurefolk that—No pickles in the stew, Jinx; No bombs in the basement, Birdie-blue." Her sister pitters into a snort, piranha-teeth gleam over the shoulder. "It's bonkers. Like I've got two of ya, now."

And Vi pictures him occupying a similar space in this bar, this room, in her sister's own head. Pictures, dreads, refuses the thought of him toiling over a stove, with little Powder's fingertips peeking against the counter: of him standing bland and impatient in the glittering eaves of a Piltie tailor, wrinkling his brow at the colors this girl insisted on piecing together; of him waking to her tear-muddled face at ungodly hours of the morning, as Vi had done so many years before, and groggily flipping back the sheets; of holding her, at all, in a space that never should have been emptied, in the first place.

The thought curdles in her throat.

Six years—nearly seven, now.

Now, her sister speaks about Powder like a dead self. She spends her free hours dancing around that monster's desk. She has nightmares more vile that the ones Vi remembers, that made voices crawl from the walls, the kind that said the nights would never end and that none of them would ever come back, never come back again (and Mom and Dad never did, and Vander was taken from them)—

And still. 

Still, after all of it—after those terrors would send her panicked and shaken into the hall, with Vi's door already cracked and waiting; after the years Vi had cared for her, reassured her, done her best to be the lovely softness that their mother was, that she feared she could never be—Jinx would go to him, first.

Vi squeezes her eyes shut. 

Slowly, the comb picks through another tangle.

"Two of us, huh?" she mutters, a fire in her chest—and denies it.

[morrigan-sims]

OC Questions Tag

Doing this a second time because I was tagged twice! (Thank you to @salemssimblr and @ethelgodehel for the tags!)

NAME: Xavier Blackthorne NICKNAME: None. GENDER: Cis Man (he/him) STAR SIGN: Based on his birthday, he's a saggitarius, apparently. HEIGHT: 5'7"-5'8" SEXUALITY: Asexual, likely somewhere on the aromantic spectrum. NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY: Anvian FAVORITE FRUIT: Apples? Pears? I'm not sure. Something basic. FAVORITE SEASON: Winter FAVORITE FLOWER: Rose FAVORITE SCENT: Coffee COFFEE, TEA, OR HOT CHOCOLATE: Coffee AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: 9-10. He's got his shit together. DOGS OR CATS: Dogs!! He absolutely adores dogs. DREAM TRIP: He has no interest in traveling anywhere without Fallon. He worries about her so much that he'd be a completely anxious mess (though trying his best to hide it) and unable to relax on said "vacation". NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Zero or one, if it's cold. RANDOM FACT: Was Rosalynn (Fallon's mother)'s personal guard for YEARS, and was quite close with her.