#i hope this works alright for you !! ]

[nipuni]

Casanova sketches!

[cable-salamdr]

Asking for help doesn’t hurt, until it does (Aka Nya hasn’t had proper sleep for at least a week, and Wyldfyre doesn’t know whether to feel happy or sad about the mistaken identity)

Inspired by this post :D

[alvsanne]

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON (2022 -) s02e06 | "Smallfolk"

[queerweewoo]

for the incredibly ridiculously beautiful fic DON'T WORRY BABY (EVERYTHING WILL TURN OUT ALRIGHT)

everybody go check the link to see if it's your jam and if so: GO READ THE HELL OUT OF IT! it's written by the supremely talented @woodchoc-magnum and it truly gave me ALL! OF! THE! BUDDIE! FEELS! thank you × infinity, felicity!

[garygoldenbignaturals]

had a really stupid idea for a comic

[koushuwu]

a catalogue of @taohs favorites <3

[stlamb]

casting that these last two months of the year are gentle on everyone

[rosynova]

(first off, i'm so sorry about the quality, i've been fighting tumblr for 2 hours trying to fix it and it doesn't want to work with me :') please click on the pics for better resolution!)

so ever since reading this ask from @blank-house i've had this little scenario in my head because of jamie's bit, and i've finally gotten the chance to sketch it out :>

[616witch]

DARK PHOENIX ICONS.

requested by anonymous. 500 by 500 px. scott summers art by olivier coipel, jean grey art by lucas werneck. credit appreciated but not necessary. feel free to use on other social media sites.

[tervaneula]

two druids and a rogue walk into a bar by katterv

The next night, Duenn can't take it anymore. He has to know. First, he'll need to ask Astarion how he feels about sharing when he's right there and for some reason, the thought is bringing him more anxiety than that of facing Orin – and most likely Bhaal himself – in the near future. They've only just rekindled their physical relationship beyond kisses and nightly cuddles and Duenn feels so unworthy. What does it tell about him as a partner when he's already got everything, yet he has the gall to yearn for more? Nothing great, he laments, and the sigh he lets out doesn't go unnoticed. “Darling,” Astarion murmurs right next to his ear, “talk to me. You seem… pent up.”

I'm enjoying my Dark Urge run immensely...... so it resulted in this silly (and pretty horny, be warned. it's E rated for a reason) thing about the situationship between Astarion, my Durge and Halsin (￣▽￣)

[foolsocracy]

Hi, hello, I’m new to your blog. I’ve made myself at home. Lovely carpet.

Can I please know more about your spider Robbie pie? Can’t seem to find the silverware.

but of course, kind anon

Spider Robbie is an au in which Robbie Robertson takes up the spider mantle after the death of the one before him. He is the third, following Ben Urich and, most notably, Peter Parker.

This au is very much canon divergence from Eyes Without a Face, where Peter makes it in time to save Robbie from his original fate but dies in the process. Peter is shot while rushing Robbie and the others out. In his panic and elation at finding Robbie physically unharmed, Peter outs himself as the Spider Man to his best friend. Robbie stays with him as he bleeds out and resolves to continue to hide Peter's identity.

Peter is buried and remains that way for... an undetermined amount of time.

Robbie is left with a mask, a jacket, and the question of just who was this other half of his friend. As he learns more of who this... Spider Man was, he gets more and more involved in the spider's cases and conflicts. Robbie gets more sure of his own abilities and makes a bit of a name for the Spider Man within his own community, though the people of Harlem are largely unaware that the appearances of a masked vigilante match the interests of one Robbie Robertson.

It is to be noted that none of these aforementioned abilities are spider-god-induced powers like Peter's. Robbie, especially at the beginning of his spidering career, leans more into Urich's role than Parker's. To me, Robbie has been passionate about the press and journalism in a way that Peter never was. For Pete, his job as a photographer and reporter was a job he took until he could get into college and study science. Robbie has a way with words and communication that Peter frankly lacks. Of course, that isn't to say that Robbie won't be kicking ass, because he will. It will just take him a bit of time to get some of those skills as he's, well, a normal guy. Not everyone can get their biology scrambled like Pete.

And just because Robbie hasn't been scrambled doesn't mean he's completely separate from all things supernatural either!

I think the marvel noir universe is at its best when there's a magical, supernatural undercurrent. This concept isn't super prevalent in the actual comics, but HoplesslyLost on ao3 has done some really cool world building with it.

I think in Robbie's case, where he would be the narrator, "magical realism" would be an interesting avenue to take it. I use this term in particular because I most closely relate it to Toni Morrison in my head, when I first learned about it through her work in high school. For Morrison, the concept was inseparable to blackness and I think for Robbie, where his blackness is so central to his character and his motivations, drawing on that could be more of a service to his character. It feels better to do that than ignore how incredibly racialized his society and story is. It will make his relationship with the spider god, Peter (who I will get to very very shortly), his community, and his own mythos as The Spider Man really interesting and complex.

So it's been established that Robbie doesn't have spider powers. And we all know that Peter did-- or should I say does. One of the spider god's abilities is to bring Peter back to life. She does this in the comics, but not in any of the runs from 2008-2010 (the runs that make up this au). When Peter dies on Ellis Island, he does not think he is coming back from that. Waking up again is a surprise.

Here's where I think the au really takes a left turn. Do I think the Spider God is purely evil and spiteful and has it out for Pete? No, not really. Will I be ramping said traits up to 11 for the au? Yeah, I guess I might. This is because I love a little bit of horror and the came back wrong trope. I will hopefully be fleshing the spider god out in the near future, but I really haven't given her the many hours of thought I have the other characters. For that I'm sorry spider god </3

Peter digs himself out of his grave, more spider than he ever has been. For much of his new, waking life he is more animalistic than not. There is clearly something wrong with him; his joints are too flexible and loose, he's got some eye-shine going on, his skin is pale and his veins are starkly dark beneath it. He's possessed. Someone is puppeteering him, someone who knows a lot-- almost everything about him, but it's clear that the someone isn't him.

And Peter--- the body, it can't be Peter. At least, that's what Robbie thinks when the figure catches his eye the first time. Because Peter is dead and buried, and he has been dead and buried for weeks.

[rheakira]

Today, May 23rd, is Robin's birthday!

Happy birthday, Robin!

[ywpd-translations]

Ride 774: Kiji, coming!!

Pag 1

1: Welcome, to the Emperor's throne!!

My aim is the double crown!!

Pag 2

4: Ahhh... you're fast, the two of you

I thought I could catch you for sure at 2km left

Pag 3

1: But it took me until “1km left”, yon!!

Pag 4

3: Ah!?

He

4: caught up!? Who....

Pag 5

1: who the hell are you!?

2: The two people in the lead are taking the curve and passing the sign that says that there's 1km left until the sprint line.....

Pag 6

1: No, it's three people!!

Three people passed the “1km left” sign!!

2: There's more people!? Since when!?

Wasn't it two people!?

What happened!? Who's that? That jersey-

At the last curve, suddenly-

3: It's not “who are you”....!!

Dammit!! I know!! This guy!!

Pag 7

1: There's one more person who we need to pay special attention to

2: Gunma Ryousei's third year, Kiji Kyuui

3: Ohh, Kiji? Who's that

Oi, I already told you about this in advance, Manami!! Come on, at the sea

Is that so?

4: What's your data about him?

5: There's basically no record of him in road racing

6: He's an..... “assassin” from the MTB world, huh

7: Is he aiming for the goal?

8: Yeah.... the goal...

That's right....

We should be glad

Pag 8

1: That he's only aiming for the goal

2: Hayaaaa!!

3: Dammit!! The first result.... so you're aiming for the sprint too!?

4: Since they said you were aiming for the goal I thought you were a climber like Manami!!

Pag 9

1: Let's speed up, Orange!! He'll catch up!!

2: I've seen it before!! This guy's jersey

3: That day.... he appeared suddenly on that bike with the thick tires

Pag 10

1: It's the guy who chased Onoda-san and the Hakogaku guy with the bouncy hair!!

2: Before that, Onoda-san said they were friends and that he's “strong”!!

3: He's coming to catch up to

4: mine and San-na's battle

Pag 11

1: He really is strong!!

Let's switch, I'll pull!!

Pag 12

1: Orange!!

3: They're in tune

You have amazing judgment and explosive power!!

4: When I caught up at the last curve

5: Even though they could have also accepted me and made me join them

Without making eye contact or calling out to each other, in an instant at the same time they made the decision

6: that they would “cooperate” to leave me behind!! Yon!!

You're really....

Pag 13

4: What's that

He's lowering his stance and pushing on the handles like he's about to dance....!!

5: Hayaaaa

Pag 14

1: You're really close friends!!

Pag 15

4: He lined up to us in one go!?

Pag 16

1: This guy!! Was it an optical illusion? Just now, I saw something like a cloud of dust behind me

2: Takadajou told us this

Be careful

3: I've been told that the power that a MTB rider can produce in a short time

4: is 1.5 times that of a road racing cyclist

5: This guy can match this top speed!?

8: Ah!?

9: Huh!?

Pag 17

2: In between!?

He came in between!?

Ah!?

3: You bastard, usually when one catches up he joins in the back

Pag 18

1: It's road racing theory!!

4: This guy doesn't know the theory?

5: 800m left until the sprint line!!

6: 1

Pag 19

1: 2

What's this- San-na, did this guy suddenly started counting

2: What's this

The sign for an attack?

3: 3

Pag 20

2: Alright, I recovered

5: Well then, I'll go

Pag 21

1: Ahead, yon

2: So it really was a sign for attacking!!

Who's that guy!!

[kyouka-supremacy]

(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[thedeerman]

“Seven years she left me there. Seven years as nothing more than a watcher while everyone else went on without me. It was as if I’d never existed to begin with.”

I finally finished my very first ever animation 🤯

(sound on!! pls be nice I’m learning)

[throughpatchesofviolet]

To Sail Forbidden Seas ~ Chapter 1

Synopsis: After a long voyage, Yi Sang and Heathcliff seek shelter.

Ship: The Adventure of Wuthering Heights

Words: ~2330

Warnings: alcohol; a physical altercation between characters; food

“It’s not much further, now,” Yi Sang said, glancing over his shoulder at his companion, who ambled along behind him, his head hung low as he clutched at the ragged cloak concealing his shoulders.

For a moment, Yi Sang’s gaze lingered on his friend’s hand, eyes silently tracing the tattoos inked into his scarred flesh, then he shook himself, turning to point at an inn down the road.

“There it is—Thames Landing … you’ll be safe there.”

His partner slowly lifted his head, eyes gleaming beneath his hood as he quietly studied the building Yi Sang indicated—it was a quaint, two-story structure, built from shabby wooden planks. The slanted roof had been bleached by the sun, and a makeshift fence, cobbled together from bits of driftwood, encircled the building. It was simple, almost rustic, in presentation.

“This place … good. Has charm.” The man spoke slowly, his sentences short, but each word was firm. Still, his brow furrowed, and he cast a questioning glance towards Yi Sang. “Safe … you sure?”

Yi Sang nodded, smiling as he motioned for his companion to follow him down the road. “At ease, my friend … I promise you Mycroft Holmes won’t lambast you with questions—aside from those pertaining to your stay, of course.”

The pair halted in front of the inn, and the man lifted his gaze to the sign hanging above the door. Even in the semi-darkness, he could make out a series of white letters that spelled out the inn’s name, the words painted to resemble a bridge arching over a dark band of water.

“Now, Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly, drawing his companion’s attention back to him, “while I can guarantee the Holmes siblings won’t object to you residing here, I cannot say the same for their other patrons—many of them are unscrupulous fellows, you see … the shameless, deceitful sort who’d sell you out in a heartbeat.”

His friend nodded solemnly. “Then I stay under cloak. Until you sort things out.”

Yi Sang smiled sadly, his fingers settling on the door handle. “Yes … I do believe that’s for the best.”

Taking a deep breath, Yi Sang threw the door open, and Heathcliff blinked as warm, golden light spilled onto the street. Hushed conversations tickled Heathcliff’s ears, and he reached to pull his hood over his eyes before following Yi Sang inside, quietly studying his surroundings from beneath his cloak. Wooden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, providing ample light for those below, and a massive fire blazed in the hearth built into the far wall. A large, bubbling kettle was suspended above the flame, the steam rising from the cauldron carrying a mouthwatering aroma that reached Heathcliff’s nostrils from the doorway, causing his stomach to growl.

“This way.” Yi Sang motioned for Heathcliff to follow as he approached the bar, flagging down the man behind the counter. “Mycroft! Can I trouble you for a moment?”

The bartender glanced up from the glass he was drying, his face brightening when he recognized Yi Sang. “Well, well … if it isn’t the first mate of the Pequod, himself! To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“The pleasure’s all mine—though, you could raise a toast to Captain Ishmael, if you so desired.” Yi Sang smiled, settling onto a barstool as Heathcliff melted into the corner. “She led us on yet another successful hunt.”

“Ah … Sherry did mention something about her going after another Whale …” Mycroft set the glass in front of Yi Sang, then reached beneath the counter for a bottle of whiskey, proceeding to pour the sailor a drink. “Now, what exactly can I get for you?”

“Well … my companion and I were looking to room here for the evening …”

Heathcliff exhaled slowly, tuning out the conversation as he scanned the inn—men crowded around large, rickety tables scattered throughout the dining room, swapping stories and downing tankards of liquor. Oftentimes, the amber liquid missed its mark, sloshing onto the floor, instead.

The harpooneer snorted, and was turning his gaze back towards the bar when something—nay, someone—caught his eye: a woman, the hem of her periwinkle gown trailing along the soiled floorboards, circled the tables, unimpeded by the sailors stumbling around her. She cut through the intoxicated mob like a ship through the Waves, her tawny hair streaming behind her as she weaved between toppled stools and unconscious men, scooping up dirty dishes as she passed.

Something about the way she carried herself intrigued Heathcliff—despite the chaos unfolding around her, she remained calm and collected, tending to her clients’ every need without complaint.

He shrank further into the corner as she drew near, his eyes dropping to the floor until she’d swept past. As her footsteps faded, Heathcliff slowly lifted his head, staring after her.

“Oi! You, there! You’re not ogling that lass, are you?”

Heathcliff flinched, shrinking back into the corner as one of the sailors staggered to his feet, scowling at the harpooneer. “Did not mean to stare,” he mumbled, lowering his gaze.

“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t,” the man growled, lurching towards Heathcliff, who drew his cloak tighter around his shoulders. “But you were, weren’t you? Bet you’re thinkin’ you have a shot with her, too.”

“Was not,” Heathcliff muttered, pressing his back against the wall as the man stumbled closer.

“What was that?” The sailor came to a stop a few feet away from the harpooneer, his face set in an ugly sneer. “Speak up, you bastard—no one can understand you when you’re mumbling.”

Heathcliff grit his teeth. “Said, ‘was not.’ You need your ears checked.”

“You think you’re clever, eh? You wouldn’t be talkin’ like that if you knew who I was.”

“Do not care who you are. Go away. Want to be alone.”

“Do you? Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started makin’ eyes at the lass … now you’ve gotta pay the price.”

The sailor lunged forward with surprising speed, and Heathcliff raised an arm, barely blocking his fist. Swearing, the man struck out with his free hand, clawing at the edge of Heathcliff’s cloak, and the harpooneer hissed, attempting to squirm away, but it was no use—his assailant caught hold of his robe, grinning as he tore it from Heathcliff’s shoulders.

But his smile faded as the cloak fluttered to the floor, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed the tattoos inked on Heathcliff’s skin. “By the Wing’s … you’re … you’re …”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the inn as everyone stared at Heathcliff—at the markings covering every inch of his exposed flesh.

“You’re from … the Middle …” The sailor stumbled backwards, clasping his hands before starting to beg. “P-please … spare me—I didn’t mean any of it, I swear!”

Heathcliff lowered his head. “Tattoos from Middle, yes. But I … I not with them. Not anymore.”

The sailor blinked, his brow furrowing. Then, he straightened, his sneer returning. “You left the Middle? Isn’t that some kind of taboo?”

Heathcliff said nothing, and the man laughed as whispers passed through the crowd.

“Silence speaks louder than words, or so they say,” he said, grinning. “So, you ran out on the Middle, fully knowing the consequences … I wonder, just how much are they offerin’ for you?”

The sailor glanced at the men behind him, still smiling.

“Perhaps we should see about turning you in—we could use some extra cash, right boys?”

Murmurs of agreement echoed behind him, and the sailor, emboldened, grabbed Heathcliff’s wrist.

“Right, then … I’m goin’ to need your name—I’ll be givin’ it to the Middle, you know.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort.”

The man blinked as a voice rang out from across the room, and Heathcliff lifted his head, his heart skipping a beat when he saw a woman striding towards them, her eyes flashing.

“Sh-Sherry …” the sailor stammered, stumbling backward. “I-I’ve gotta do this, love—if the Middle were to find out your brother was hiding this man, they’d kill him …”

“The Middle isn’t going to find out we’re serving this gentleman,” the woman replied icily. “You aren’t going to breathe a word about him to anyone. Right?”

“B-but … this is to pro—”

“Right?”

The man flinched as she cut him off, eyes dropping to his feet. “Right.”

“That’s what I thought.” She folded her arms, nodding towards the door. “Now, leave, Victor. You’ve harassed my clients enough for one evening, and I shan’t tolerate your indecency a moment longer.”

“Sherry, I—”

“Leave. Now.”

Her words were like thunder, ringing clearly through the silent inn, and a shiver shot up Heathcliff’s spine as the sailor whimpered, slinking away. The woman watched him leave, then turned to the throng of men behind her, scowling.

“As for the rest of you … I trust you know what’ll happen if I find you’ve sold this man out?”

A chorus of soft “ayes” rippled through the crowd, and she nodded.

“Good—as you were, gentlemen.”

With that, the men exchanged glances, some smiling, others shaking their heads, before resuming their conversations. The woman knelt down, retrieving Heathcliff’s cloak from the floor and gently dusting it off before draping it over his shoulders.

“My sincerest apologies, sir … I do hope your stay hasn’t been spoiled by Victor’s poor conduct.”

Heathcliff blinked, unable to tear his gaze away from her face—she was even prettier up close than she had been from afar, with sharp, angular eyes whose color reminded him of the sea at midday.

“Your eyes … like ocean.” He said finally, his words soft. “Very pretty.”

She studied him for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.”

Warmth bloomed in Heathcliff’s chest as the woman fussed with his cloak, straightening it so his tattoos were hidden. After a moment, she stepped back, lifting her eyes to meet his.

“Now, then … how may I serve you, this evening?”

Again, Heathcliff blinked, his gaze dropping to the floor as he mumbled a response. “Came for room. Yi Sang … said it was safe here. Said Holmes siblings … accept me. As guest.”

“Ah … then you’ll need to speak to my brother, Mycroft.” She nodded towards the bar. “He’ll see to preparing your lodgings.”

“Yi Sang said … he’d handle it.” Heathcliff murmured, shuffling back into the corner. “So, I wait.”

“Is that so?” the woman frowned, brow furrowing. “Well, if you have any trouble, do let me know—I’ll do everything in my power to ensure your stay is a pleasant one.”

She offered him a curtsy, then melted back into the crowd, leaving Heathcliff staring after her.

“So … my sister’s caught your eye, has she?”

The harpooneer started, turning his head to find the bartender studying him curiously—only then did Heathcliff notice his sharp, angular eyes. “Your eyes … shaped like hers.”

Mycroft nodded, setting down the glass he was drying. “That’s about the only feature we share, it seems … well, aside from one peculiar faculty unique to our family, that is.”

“Heathcliff …” Yi Sang spoke softly, unable to meet his friend’s gaze. “I … I failed you. I shouldn’t have allowed that man to expose you, and yet …”

“You have not failed me,” Heathcliff said. “You promised me a safe place, and this place … is safe. Even after seeing my tattoos, I am welcomed. Like you promised.”

Yi Sang was quiet for a moment, then cleared his throat, rising to his feet. “Mycroft has generously arranged for us to reside in separate lodgings—and he’s providing dinner, on the house.”

“My sister will see to it you’re fed,” Mycroft said, chuckling softly. “Your friend’s in for quite the treat, Yi Sang … Sherry’s serving her finest chowder, tonight.”

“Please inform her I’ll be dining in my quarters.”

“Of course … and how about you, sir?” Mycroft addressed Heathcliff, raising an eyebrow.

“Eat in room, like Yi Sang.”

“Very well, then.” Reaching beneath the counter, Mycroft produced a pair of brass keys, setting them on the counter. “Yi Sang, you’ll be staying in room 212—it’s the third door on the right. And, Heathcliff, you’ll be in room 201—first door on the left after you climb the stairs.”

“Thank you, Mycroft,” Yi Sang murmured, his fingers curling around one of the keys. “Your hospitality is sincerely appreciated.”

“As is your business,” the bartender replied, winking. “Enjoy your evening, gentlemen … and do let either Sherry or I know if you need anything.”

He bowed as they turned, making their way across the crowded dining hall. Heathcliff kept close to Yi Sang, eyeing the drunken mob warily as they approached the stairs.

“Heathcliff,” Yi Sang said softly as they climbed the creaking steps, “about what Mycroft said, before … you’d best tread with caution.”

The harpooneer blinked. “What do you mean?”

“The way you were looking at Sherry … if you truly do fancy her, you need to be careful. That man from earlier—the one who attacked you—he’s one of her admirers. And they don’t take kindly to competition from strangers, as you’ve no doubt come to realize yourself.”

“Was not staring for that reason,” Heathcliff muttered. “She stood out. Could not look away.”

Yi Sang sighed. “She does tend to have that effect … just be careful, alright?”

Heathcliff nodded as they reached the second-floor landing—ahead of them stretched a short corridor with four doors on each side, and they paused, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the gloom.

“Your room’s here,” Yi Sang said, motioning towards the door nearest to them. “If you need anything, you can always—”

“Call on you. I remember.” Heathcliff gently nudged his friend forward. “But I will not bother you. Not tonight. You need rest.”

Yi Sang stared at him for a moment, then his gaze softened as a smile spread over his face. “I shall get on that, then … and I am wishing you pleasant dreams, as well.”

Turning on his heel, Yi Sang vanished into the shadows, and Heathcliff released a slow sigh, his shoulders sagging as he unlocked the door leading to his chambers.