#i was real proud of this one

[cloudofspacedust]

They be saying,

"I love you!"

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] A tender moment.

[Animation timelapse here!]

[AUDIO USED:] Chet Baker - Almost Blue Sound Effects edited by me!

[hinamie]

9 / 266

[maxedes]

„sir, a second „fuck“ has just hit the press conference“

[zennesaph]

this is how logic chess works right

[rhupi]

Au where obito got a crush on the new guy (sukea) and is just a guy failure abt it.

[whoseblogisitanyways]

tag yourself: intrepid heroes' alter emos as ppl who went to my public high school

[chick-it-out]

[s0rr3l]

“You- get back here you stupid monkey!!!”

just shenanigans on the road ;)

bonus:

[warper-in-training]

[ 1:39 am ] I feel like he's watching me – maybe he's as obsessed with me as I am with him.

[jabesa0]

🍭🎃TRICK OR TREAT..!🎃🍫

[veinsfullofstars]

"Back for a rematch, little Knightmare?"

(ID: Kirby series fanart of Galacta Knight seated on a cluster of tall, cracked, geometric stone pillars, framed at an angle with crescent-moon-like rock formations rising behind him as well as a starry sky backdrop. He leers down at the viewer through the cross visor of his mask, his feet crossed and his wings spread majestically, his head resting in one hand, the other held out to lazily nudge the end of his lance, which stands pierced through another pillar below him, his shield similarly embedded in a third pillar beside it. Behind his horns shines a brilliant halo of glowing pink Heart Spears, the pale light that radiates from it erupting in rings of soft flares and leaving all surfaces rimmed with sparkles, as beautiful as it is ominous. END ID.)

Started 07/07/24, finished 07/13/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24.

[hinamie]

there's no furbish word for dilf :( sad :(

[obsob]

making and weaving and loving! like we have done for millennia!!

[jellydragons]

been watching a lot of hermitcraft recently and am happy to report that i am hopelessly endeared by these little goobers 💕 they’re like bugs to me

close ups under the cut!

gonna be real this was absolutely just me taking the opportunity to get my grubby lil mitts all up in their character designs lol i heart interpreting mc skins

[nixalegos]

Reblogging so others see

One of Nixalegos' imps would provide him with a small, rolled scroll, secured with a piece of twine. The little demon would be more than a little shaken, muttering something about its contract and how direct interaction with an Illidari was not supposed to be part of the occupational hazards. By the first letter, it was clear who the sender was.

"NETHERMANCER-- NEW TARGET LOCATED. CLEARED OUT A MODERATE INFESTATION IN THE RUINS OF ISILIDEN, SOUTH OF ELDRE'THALAS. WRATHGUARD LEADER SEEMED TO UNDERSTAND THE TIDE HAD TURNED AND WAS ALREADY DISARMED/READY TO TALK BY THE TIME I REACHED HIM. INFORMED HIM I AM NOT OPEN FOR DISCUSSION, BUT THAT HE WOULD HEAR FROM YOU IF HE REMAINED IN THE LOCATION; ELSEWISE I WOULD SEE TO HIS DESTRUCTION IN THE IMMEDIATE. APPEARS TO BE MORE TACTICALLY-MINDED THAN MOST OF HIS ILK. PLACED SEVERAL SHACKLING RUNES AROUND OBVIOUS EXITS IN CASE YOU NEED USE OF THEM, THEY WILL ONLY BE TRIGGERED BY DEMONS (WARN YOURS).

I MUST STRESS HOW EXCEEDINGLY DIFFICULT IT WAS TO LEAVE THIS STONE IN AN UNTURNED STATE.

BEST OF LUCK WITH THE NEGOTIATIONS, MAY THEY BEAR FRUIT.

--CAEDUN"

Somewhere in Feralas

"Thank you for your complacency in this matter." The hooded man said as he stepped over the threshold of the ruins inner chamber. As the Illidari had said, this one had been of keener insight into their future prospects, they hadn't tried anything stupid, like an ambush. "I am Lord Felscythe, Nethermancer of Silvermoon, Loyal to Dreadscar." He announced plainly and with little fanfare.

What shackling runes had been set around the temple grounds were still occupied by the Wrathguards once loyal forces, caught mid act of attempting to flee, imps mostly, perhaps figuring their chances on their own were better then to be subjected. They'd be press ganged into the Au-Bound regardless. Or sundered into materials. Waste not. Want not.

"The half spawn didn't offer many options." Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes replied. The blue-gray bulk of the brute lingered with his back turned towards the entering warlock, its glaze instead focused on the banner of the Legion that hung mockingly against the center wall of what might have once been the heart of a temple to Elunian worship. The stitched together ogre flesh still leaked blood upon the wall.

"Would you have preferred oblivion?" The hooded man asked in reply as he unslung his weapon, an act that drew the demons attention away from the flag and towards the mortal subjugator. Nixalegos brought the heavy warstaffs spiked bottom onto the floor, dragging it, and letting the metal scrap and bite into the stone, carving the rock.

"I am just as capable of seeing the red glow of Argus in your night sky as anyone else." Zal'gon retorted bitterly. "Years without support in this hellhole of a jungle. Without materials. Reinforcements. My only entertainment beasts, and two headed dolts who's greatest attribute is how wet they left my blades." Clawed feet brought them away from the wall and towards the center of the room.

"Not even a month ago. My own kin, in blue and gold trimmed armor, alongside a rag tag group of mortals stole a keystone we held faithfully in this position for years. Betrayed. So they could coddle their supposed guilt, and assuage their thousands of years of fiery purpose could be rectified." The demon snarled. "You're free to take their skull alongside my belongings as a gift for my recruitment summoner." The demons contempt dripping off every word as the warlock finished the first circle around the floor, the pride of a defeated, but unbowed leader of demons radiating off them.

"That's surprisingly tactful, but I can't accept it yet." The hooded man said as he looked up from the runic circle he'd been carving. "I haven't decided if you're worth binding yet."

A beat passed between mortal and demon.

"What." The eredar blade master said in befuddlement. "Do you know to whom you address? I am Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes! I am-"

"I know who you are." The mortal cut them off and brought his staff back down onto the stone, the sound cutting Zal'gon off before they grew even more incensed at the mortals gall. The last of the three runes completed the binding circle. "I did my research the moment the Illidari informed me of your decision to be reasonable." He said, tapping the warstaff to the circle itself, empowering it with a gesture, and a sacrifice of mana.

Wrathguards could shrug off the chains of trickery with sheer will alone. Their circles needed to be plain. A declaration of sheer might, as opposed to duplicity. The glyphs minimal and true, with no deviancy. As precise as the demons own cunning was.

"What you can do is tell me a little about yourself." The warlock said as he took his staff and reslung the heaving weapon to his back. Coming to stand at the edge of the circle, a mere, and exacting inch, from crossing the line.

"Is this a joke?" Zal'gon snarled as his clawed hands came to rest upon the pommels of his two swords; Xulfahar, Blood of the Thousand Worlds, and Thulfgul-gon, The Hungering Steel. "Tell you about myself?!" It repeated with indignity.

"Yes, a little about your history, your skills. What exactly you bring to the table I can't find in another? Do you have any collaborators who can verify?" The warlock said as another Eredar entered the ruin, it's armor the same style and material, even its skin color the same shade of bruise grey, only it boasted a two handed sword on its back as opposed to Zal'gon's choice of weaponry. "Azatik." The warlock said by way of acknowledgement. " The others outside?" The mortal man inquired outloud, despite not needing to.

"Handled my Lord." The other eredar said as it looked to its erstwhile kin, Zal'gons jaw setting in frustration. "So you've made a contract with another of my kind. Is that supposed to intimidate me?" Zal'gon barked.

"You'd be the fourth in my employ." Nixalegos answered flatly, not phased by the circle bound demons growing anger. "Again, I ask, what exactly do you bring that I can use?" The emphasized on the word use not lost on either of the demons.

"I- I am a warrior without pe-" Azatik cleared its throat in rebuttal loudly enough to cut them mid sentance.

"A warrior without peer." Zal'gon repeated, suddenly realizing why the other eredar wrathguard had been brought in, to undercut the very notion of their uniqueness. "I have fought bravely, and with decoration and praise since before the birth of the Legion itself."

"Can you do anything asides fight?" The warlock continued his dry questions.

"I've led troops, and handled the logistics of occupying territory since before your mortal cities had mortar and bricks." Was the demons reply.

"So only activities regarding the art of war." Was the warlocks cutting question in return. The warlock sounded bored if anything.

"I..err. Yes." Zal'gon answered, who suddenly felt much smaller then before the circle had been dragged closed.

"Do you have nothing to declare asides your use as a tool?" The smaller mortal man said in judgement, the hooded gaze seemingly able to cut into the heart of the demon, and found it wanting.

It was, for the first time in over thirteen thousand years, Zal'gon of the Thirty-Six Strikes, The Last Scion of the Dark Crescent, Desecrator of Countless Worlds. He, who'd dueled the Slave Kings of Thuthea to the last, wondered what he'd wasted all his time doing.

"…I, no. I am in need of renewed purpose." The demon admitted.

"Very well. Submit your truename to me. You will either be summoned personally by me, or recruited to Dreadscar for processing and posted as guard until something better suited for someone of your skillset can be found." He answered.

There, a pause. The edge of the precipice. Clawed hands lingering still over the hilt of his swords.

A word that was more then any other word was passed between summon and summoner before his swords could be drawn. A nymic that cut deeper then any blade, spoken faster then he'd ever be able to swing.

"We'll reach out to you very soon." The warlock said with a too wide smile. Zal'gon could not BE summoned, without first being dismissed.

The other man'ari eredar unslung its sword.