#i tried this and nothing happened

[archdevilsupreme]

It is, by far, way too funny to me how I've been confused about Karlach's inventory for god knows how long before realising what's wrong. I was convinced it was the game being bugged since she can carry like 250kg.

Then I realised... she's been carrying around Cazador's corpse all this time. This shit is so funny to me because can you imagine a group of 4 people walking around Baldur's Gate, just casually dragging the corpse of a vampire lord along with them as a sign of dominance (and forgetfulness of said vampire corpse).

Update - beware! There will be fun and fire!

[prlssprfctn]

No matter if you choose to consider that Jason had the worst time ever in the League of Assassins or that, quite opposite, it was more or less okay, I think we all should unite and agree that Jason would be Ra's bane of existence. This boy is a brat. A certificated one, even. He is not an easy boy to handle, never and ever.

Ra's, after locking Jason up away from the society for a few days: Now. Do you realise what I am trying to say to you? You should focus on your studies. On your trainings. Forget about easy, normal life, about teenage shenanigans. Find peace. Throw unnecessary thoughts away.

Jason, yawning: Yeah, okay. Sure.

Ra's waking up in the 5am because someone is blasting NSYNC's Bye Bye Bye on the whole castle: Talia. What is this?

Talia, shrugging: Jason found old music speakers. He says he is... focusing like this. Just like you advised him to.

Ra's with his eye twitching: Is. he. Now.

Ra's: (accidentally trips on his cloak)

One of the Assassins, in their local comms: Chat, clip that

Ra's, frowning: What is that? What had you said? What is this nonsense?

Assasin: Uh, general had taught us—

Ra's: STOP LISTENING TO HIM, FOR GOD'S SAKE

Ra's: Talia, we need to send the boy to All-Caste. I think he needs some time away. From us. From me. Specifically.

(A certain amount time later)

Ra's, sighing in relief: Finally, peace—

Jason, spawning behind his back: Hi.

Ra's, groaning: YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE THE CLEANSING CEREMONY, OH MY GOD

Jason: Wanna check All Blade? It is kinda cool.

Ra's, pausing: ...Yeah.

Ra's farewelling Jason, who returns to Gotham: I have nothing to wish upon you. Be as annoying to Batman as you were to me.

Jason, smirking: Aw-w, I barely unleashed my annoyingness with you, Ra's. Bruce is going to suffer more.

Ra's: ...Good.

Ra's, closing the door behind him: Barricade the castle. Set bombs. I DON'T WANT TO SEE HIM HERE EVER AGAIN!!!

Also Ra's a half of a year later, watching footage of Jason terrorising everyone's life in Gotham, with tears in his eyes: That's my grandson. I am so proud of him.

Talia, raising her eyebrows: You tried to drown him in the Lazarus Pit. Twice.

Ra's: Shhh.

Talia: Then I'll invite him on holidays this year.

Ra's: NO.

[crobber-crab-robber]

FrankenFord AU

Someone mentioned that this AU should exist and I agree.

In this world, Ford tried to dismantle more of the portal before Stan arrived. Instead of getting sucked in, he got slammed into the machinery and broke either his neck or his brain after Stan pushed him. (He doesn't decompose because of magic. Maybe.)

Stan spends the first day tending to Ford's wounds, the second day waiting for him to wake up, and the third day trying and failing to look through Ford's stuff for a "quick fix." He's in shock and sleep deprived- so he's opening books and basically just holding them in front of his face. He isn't legitimately trying to resurrect Ford because he has no reason to think that's possible; it's just denial. That is, until he meets Bill, hears weird interference through radios, and gets more acquainted with Gravity Falls.

Insert some other half baked ideas about finding Journal 2, meeting McGucket and hoping he has cult magic, Ghost-Ford and Bill interactions, and Stan being less precise and more impatient, so Ford keeps being semi-ressurected or temporarily resurrected with really freaky side effects.

[elizaisdunn]

Love Across the Stars . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

[geezmarty]

happy wyllstarion wednesday! here's a short comic I drew for a server gift exchange 🤍❤️

[v88sy]

This has got to be like...some type of copyright infringement. 🤣

[starlingfawn]

delete me

repeat me

let's try this again

@jumalanpelko fanart !!!!! suncat!!!!! i hope she is still recognizable after so much rendering w random colors!!

[taibhsearachd]

....just remembered that time a bunch of other fifth grade girls had a little "intervention" for me at recess, like "Aubrey, you could be so popular if you just stopped acting so weird!"

And like. No the fuck I couldn't. That was never going to happen. Because I had tried being less weird when I first moved there, I tried being normal and outgoing and etc, and I ended up ignored. I got weird because I gave up on getting along with most of the class, indulged in the things that made me happy, and actively growled at the people who had been cruel to me.

I was not lonely during this time. I had a best friend at that school whose house I could bike to. Her younger sister and my younger sister were best friends. We would regularly have sleepovers with the most epic hide and seek possible and seances and shit. I was not lonely.

But these girls saw me being weird, not affecting them at all, not lonely, and they felt the need to get together and go "hey stop that".

I did not.

[kignomd]

@undisciplinedgummiblock hi so i love them

[hivemindscape]

im a big fan of esper powers slipping loose in harmless ways when they're happy

[lazylittledragon]

isn't it weird how if you get up at 7 or 8, do your work all day, then have free time and go to bed at 11 that's absolutely fine

but if i said i get up at 10, do fun stuff in the morning then work in the evening and go to bed late, i could be called lazy, nevermind that i'm getting just as much or MORE work done as i would in a traditional work day

[lightgamble]

DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN | 1.09

Karen arrives.

[nottspocket]

Quick warmup! They’re on a date <3

[worm-fanon-polls]

note that this poll is meant to represent romantic (though not necessarily sexual) ships, not your favorite QPR. If you like, say, Aisha/Alec or Lisa/Taylor as strictly platonic partners, but only in this scenario, then please don't pick it as your favorite ship!

Other less popular taylor ships (like Taylor/Alec) are not included in this poll, I will be posting a second poll with Taylor-specific ships later

make sure to tell me what you think and why you think it!

[arthur-lesters-right-arm]

Here, i'll help out with the *starting shit*

Do you think if Arthur touches his eyes it gets John off?

Alright Starting Shit is cancelled everyone go home.

[shalomniscient]

every day, once a year, yelan takes a day off.

this is written directly into her contract with the tianquan. there are no exceptions, no special arrangements. on this singular day, yelan does not belong to the qixing; on this singular day, her leash and collar are abandoned, and she has free reign to do as she pleases.

what does she do? well, prepare for your anniversary, of course.

she hops out of bed, cleans up, tugs her jacket on and then slips out the door with the clink of her jade bracelet. it’s a clear day, and yelan tilts her head to the sky briefly, letting the golden sunrays warm her face almost like an embrace. you were never really a morning person, but the sun on your skin always suited you. she’d have to drag you out of bed to see it, but it was always well worth your grumbling in the end when you finally cave and offer her a smile which she would then steal with a kiss.

“ugh, yelan—“ you giggled, your hands on her chest gently pushing her back. your bracelet was cool against her skin, and the matching one on her own wrist hummed. she nosed along your jaw, pressing more and more kisses until she reached your neck. playfulness turned into something a little more heated, and her blood sang at the sigh she pulled from your lips. emerald eyes flicked up to you, teasing, challenging, and you managed a wry huff before tangling your fingers in her hair and tugging her back to properly kiss her again. it stung, beautifully, but yelan grinned all the way."

she shakes herself out of the memory, and steps into the busy street. liyue’s morning scene has always been crowded, and she blends into the throng with practiced ease. she follows the flow of the crowd down the wharf until she reaches the shop she’s looking for—a florist, tucked snugly between two other stores on the higher levels of the shopping district.

the owner, a midde-aged woman, looks up from tending to her orchids to smile at her. her eyes crease with familiarity at the sight of yelan as the spy steps into her store, fingers brushing the petals of a few flowers. the woman rounds the counter, and rummages in the storage for a few moments.

“the usual, i take it?” she asks, and yelan nods, leaning against the counter and tapping her fingers over the grainy wood. the shop hasn’t changed much, if at all, since she last came here with you.

you leaned down by a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, lips curving upward into a smile as you breathed in the soft, floral scent. yelan looked curiously over your shoulder, a hand casually resting on your hip. she asked if it was your favorite flower—you nodded, your other hand rising to just as casually cup her face from over your shoulder. “they’re quite pretty, aren’t they?” you hummed, and yelan took a moment to ponder the question. in the end, she said they were nowhere near as pretty as you, and took the light smack you delivered to her shoulder with an easy laugh.

the florist clears her throat, coaxing her out of the memory. yelan recieves the bouquet—white chrysanthemums—with a smile, settling it in the crook of her arm. the woman’s expression is measured, but there’s a slight waver to her tone when she speaks. if yelan really had to name it, it sounds close to… pity.

“yelan—“ she begins, but she only flashes the woman a signature grin, before slipping out the door as quickly as she came. she has other things to get, after all, and the clock is always ticking.

(or maybe her clock stopped ticking a long time ago and all this is just extra. maybe it cracked when the rocks fell and the earth buried—)

she dissolves back into the crowd as she heads to her next destination: wanmin restaurant. she can smell the chili in the air as she makes her way down the street again, a sharpness only wanmin seems to be able to make. when she gets there, xiangling is boisterously calling out orders while her father toils away in the kitchen, with guoba tirelessly maintaining the roaring fire for his wok. when she sees her, xiangling’s grin only widens, and she waves her over enthusiastically.

“miss yelan! welcome, welcome,” the young chef says cheerily. “here for another batch of dried chillies?”

yelan chuckles, shaking her head. “no, not this time. i’m here for a few rice buns. with a sweet filling, preferably.”

“ooh,” xiangling coos, nodding. “are you planning to go on an expedition? rice buns are both portable and satiating.”

“you could say that,” yelan says vaguely. the little chef is right, in a way, since she’ll have to hike a little to get to your spot—but really, it’s because rice buns have always been a comfort food of sorts for you.

“how can you not like them?” you asked defensively as you trudged along with her behind the group. there was a slight smear of filling on the corner of your lip, and your expression scrunched up a little more as she wiped it off. her jade bracelet was cool against your heated cheeks. yelan only shook her head, teasingly remarking that spice was a much greater wake-up call than sweets. you huffed at that, taking another bite of your rice bun. “not all of us are masochists, lan’er,” you grumbled, and yelan laughed softly. her nimble fingers encircled your wrist, tugging you closer so she could take a quick bite of your bun. it was sweet, sweeter than she’d like, but maybe that was because you were there. and somehow, that made it good.

yelan pulls herself out of yet another memory when xiangling deposits the bag of warm rice buns into her hands. they’re freshly steamed, and the scent of warm buns fill her senses. she thanks the chef, and disappears much the same way she came before the young lady can get even so much as a word in. in the back of her mind, she can almost hear you chastise her for it.

(she always hears you in the back of her mind. if not, where else—)

there’s only one thing left on her list, and it’s incense. it’s late in the morning now, so the crowds have thinned out—and without her cover, yelan takes to back alleys and rooftops instead. she sighs, relieved almost, as she slips into the shimmering, reflective cover of hydro, darting like a minnow between buildings like rocks, barely a blur in the eyes of anyone nearby. the secrecy isn’t strictly necessary for what she’s doing now, but she’s been so used to being unseen that being in the open feels… unsafe.

it doesn’t take her that long to reach wangsheng funeral parlor. the young lady running the parlor isn’t in today—instead, it’s her ‘assistant’, the elegant man shrouded in such thick mystery that neither her nor ningguang has been able to pierce. he greets her with a solemn expression, no doubt because director hu has told him the reason for her visit. “incense?” he asks again anyway to confirm, his voice low and soft. yelan nods absently, her nose stinging slightly from the intense scent permeating the parlor.

she watches as the man disappears into the back of the parlor for a moment, before he reappears with a delicately wrapped packet of incense sticks. she slides a pouch of mora his way, which he takes wordlessly. she tucks the packet into her little pocket dimension, then turns on her heel to leave. just as she exits the door, he calls out to her.

“safe travels.”

she doesn’t deign him with a response.

her feet take her out and away from the city, down the familiar path to the bleeding wound in the earth—the chasm. the land goes from valleys to large, curling momuments of rock, carved by the force of a falling star. she feels that familiar tug in her chest, the voice that calls to her, that tells her to forsake the surface as her ancestor once did. she listened to it, once. and—

“go,” you whispered, pushing her away. half of you was buried under rock, and she could only see one of your eyes; the other was forced shut by the blood that trickled down your face. yelan nearly screamed herself hoarse, but you grabbed her face and kissed her. it tasted like salt, and her heart lurched at the wrongness. your kisses had always been sweet. you slipped your bracelet onto her wrist, then pushed her again, and then the earth heaved and groaned, and it was the last she ever saw of you—

she turns her head and rips herself out of the memory and the temptation; she has other, more important places to be today. she has other days to chase down her demons. she skirts the side of the chasm, slowly ascending to the top. she passes by the memorial to the millelith, and leaves a rice bun and a few sticks of incense as an offering. they too, deserve to be remembered after all.

(she wonders if anyone else comes out here to remember them. she wonders who will come when she’s gone for—)

it takes her a while, but eventually, she reaches the highest point in the chasm. the sun has traveled across the sky by this point, the afternoon heat mellowing out into a slightly cooler evening warmth. the sky is alive with shades of gold when she finally stops, drawing to a halt right before a smooth stone, standing upright from the earth like a silent vigil. she kneels before it, producing three sticks on incense and inserting them into the censer before the stone and lighting them. she sets a rice bun on the plate by the stone, and saves one for herself. the bouquet of white chrysanthemums, she lays on top of the stone.

yelan takes a bite of her rice bun, letting the sweetness settle on her tongue, as the floral scent mixes with the incense, filling her lungs and settling on her shoulders. she tilts her head to the sun, and the warmth feels almost like an embrace. and when she closes her eyes, the wind in her hair feels almost like a caress. when she opens them again, she lets them rest on the stone—the headstone, and she offers it a smile.

sitting on the edge of the cliff, your legs swinging, you smiled at her, nearly blindingly bright like the golden hour. your pinkies were twined together, your shoulders flush with hers. there was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums on your lap, and just a few crumbs on the corner of your lips. your voice carried in the wind when you spoke.

“happy anniversary, yelan.”

“happy anniversary, sweetheart,” she whispers. the wind carries her voice as well, and she hopes you hear it, wherever you are now. one day, she’ll join you, but for now she takes another bite of her rice bun and breathes in the scent of incense and chrysanthemums.