#its just a thought shrug

[gelly-pop]

narilamb my love

my dead husband tyon

innocent lamb

angry and sad (??) narinder

[justaz]

a spell is cast on camelot that thins the veil enough for ghosts to appear. the catch? the ghosts that appear are spirits of people that were killed by the person they’re haunting. the knights have a good amount of bandits/raiders/whatever that they took down in battle, maybe a few shady knights have genuinely innocent people that they murdered and got away with. the executioner’s killings are transferred to the king since he was simply acting out the king’s commands. arthur has quite a few. uther has hundreds of sorcerers in various states of gore and horror. those who were hanged have perpetually bent necks, those who were beheaded have either no head or just a head floating a bit above their body, and those who were burnt are more charred remains (the most grisly of them all). merlin has more than anyone expected (which was zero) and all of them keep calling out for arthur/uther’s death and camelot’s downfall while also turning to merlin and calling him a traitor.

[solargeist]

grian and his watcher studies

[radiance1]

Jack got into an accident that booted him out from his own universe, leaving him stranded in an entirely different universe. Danny came along with him, but is pretty much weakened by whatever situation they were in before where he wanted to keep his dad alive.

Jack searched around for what he had on him, a few ecto-batteries, a Fenton thermos and his jumpsuit.

Luckily around him laid the very destroyed yet salvageable parts of a machine that was brought along when this happened. So he took it apart and decided to make something outta it.

Danny meanwhile is not doing that hot, so he took to sleeping his fatigue away, he doesn't know how long it'll take but eh. So when his father built a coffin he very happily climbed in and started napping away.

Which, it wasn't supposed to be a coffin nor for him to sleep in, but Jack just went what the hell and decided to modify his original plan. Installing the ecto-batteries he tinkered them to draw in the ambient ectoplasm from their surroundings (which is far less than Amity Park but eh) and release it into the coffin to act as some kind of recharge station for his kidd-o. At least he hopes, then added some straps so he could put it and voila.

There strapped to his back was the Fenton-coffin, bound to (hopefully) recharge your ghost kid from either sickness, loss of power or both! Call now and you can get on for-

Now with Danny safely secured to his back and in a safe (enough) environment. Jack went on to (hopefully) find something to get them back home.

It is weird seeing superheroes that aren't ghosts though.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

If you were to like redesign Magneto's classic outfit in a way that both suits the character and your own tastes, how would you redesign it?

uhhhh errrmmmmm i dont know i really couldnt improve upon perfection but i have still tried for you my friend !!!

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Shen Qingqiu sat glaring at Shang Qinghua during a peak lord meeting, the whispers of his killing intent keeping everyone on edge.

Shang Qinghua hasn't looked at him once, but not even his cultivation can keep the sweat at bay.

It's the fastest meeting they've ever had. At the end, as Shang Qinghua is attempting to flee back to An Ding, Qi-shimei decides to magnanimously lend him a helping hand by reminding Shen Qingqiu of Shang Qinghua's humanity.

"So~ Shang-shidi, how's that book of yours going?"

It was the wrong move.

Temperature plummeting, the whispers of killing intent roared into a flood; it was as if the very atmosphere was being crushed down upon them. Beating heart's tempo vibrating inside their skulls, the metronome to their own dirge.

"I swear on everything that is holy if you dare say writing has gone anything but abysmally I'll turn your bones into fucking a wind chime."

Shang Qinghua turned to look at the murderous Shen Qingqiu.

He took out a sheaf of papers and slid them over the meeting room table.

He grinned.

Shen Qingqiu was too busy reading to notice. With each passing millisecond his condition worsened. His knuckles turned white. Any kindness that was in his gaze was extinguished.

Three things happened in that moment:

1. The sheaf of paper burst into flames.

2. Shen Qingqiu lunged over the table.

3. Shang Qinghua disappeared into one of Mobei-jun's portals.

It was one of the most productive, quick and eventful peak lord meetings they ever had.

After Shang Qinghua skulked back into Cang Qiong Shen Qingqiu kicked down his door, seized him by the collar, his voice promising murder.

"What. The. Fuck. Was. That."

It turns out Shang Qinghua invented omegaverse.

[aurorangen]

That I can take control of my decisions and make myself feel understood

Transcript:

Vincent: I don't want to attend this bar crawl event. It's that day today. Pam: Your mum wants you to enjoy uni life! Don't let the past and him get to you. Vincent: I'm just saying, I'd much rather keep her company.

Pam: Didn't you promise someone you'd show up? Anyway, you're already here, holding a beer. Vincent: Thanks to your persuading. I did, Renee. And this? I don't want to drink it, you gave it to me. Pam: We're blending in like everyone else! I've not met Renee yet, but what do you think of her?

Vincent: There's something about her like an instant connection, maybe because she's Charlie's cousin. And I dunno how to describe it, but I felt safe with Renee. Relaxed. I had a warm feeling inside of me. Pam: Sounds like you like her. Could be something more.

Vincent: Oh hmm that uhh [awkwardly talks] I have Nancy, but Renee…I don't even know anymore. This is embarrassing to ask, why would a girl stop texting a guy? It's close to a month. Pam: She's busy? Umm please don't hate me for saying this [quietly] maybe Nancy's moved on?

[Those were the words that hurt to hear. The longer it went on, the more believable it seemed. It was hard to move on without knowing anything…what if she was still waiting for me? Then we arrived at the next bar and there was Renee with her friends. My heart was telling me to move on. My head? The opposite]

[In the end, I went with my heart. Slowly though. Just in case I saw Nancy again. I was afraid of messing things up with her, even though I knew we were growing more detached as the days went by]

[feelo-fick]

I WANT ENDLESS BLISS!!!

HALF-AWAKE, HALF-DEAD, HALF-LIFE CRISIS

ALL NATURAL POMEGRANATE PULP.

FERMENTED TO PERFECTION, SAVOUR YOUR SAVIOR.

Q: What's your favourite food? A: THE ALE THEY SERVE AT THE TAVERN!

other versions : )

[thegreatyin]

ive been screwing around with @violant-apologia's item template again, so behold! scoundrel-themed items! specifically a weapon, a home comfort, and yet another weapon. because there's very little else that last one can be, especially considering how much psychic damage it inflicts on everyone in its immediate vicinity.

[moeblob]

son boy raccoon trash can man suffering in a dnd au as a cleric bc his warlock will not stop committing murders and he has to keep coming up with reasons murder is valid to convince the gm its fine and under control

[nightowlfury]

tidbits from kant's file:

the file is updated for this year, 2567 = 2024. i'm not sure what the 353 means

kant's birthday is 27 march (มี.ค.) (year is blurry but we know it must be 2537/8 aka 1994/5 since he's 29. march has very likely passed in the show so im 95% sure it's 2538 (also looks more like an 8))

his career is listed as free/independent which i assume (probably?) means self-employment basically which would make sense. im not privy to thai census record terminology though

lives in bang phlat district. it's right on the chao phraya

im not great with names so i could be a little off, but it seems like his dad's name is phong junior..? he has อนุ in his name which i think can mean junior, but typically means small/kid/minor (roughly) [EDIT: i was wrong it would be anupong lol; again not great with names]

mom's name is samon [transcribed usually as samorn, i do it weird] (means beautiful/beloved woman lol)

under spouse (wife/husband) "miss" something is listed (นางสาว___) (possibly also ms.). cuts conveniently off lol. very likely he was/is married*

not sure what's under the spouse line. includes 173 ช.ม. (i believe). ชั่วโมง is hour, which is the only word i can think of it might abbreviate. 173 hours? shrug

*im curious about this, like everyone probably, but since this file is updated to 2024 and this person is listed under spouse, wouldn't that imply they're still technically married...?

at the same time, it says miss, not mrs. like kant's mom. However, mrs. is just นาง as opposed to miss = นางสาว. สาว means 'young woman'. i dont know if that means anything but i wonder if women who marry young/in their teens are still referred to as นางสาว. but Even if that were the case (which is a big if), wouldnt her title be updated now that she's presumable older in 2024? unless she like. uh. died

[girlboyburger]

wish i had a consistent character to show for this, but since i don't i just used icons :0]

blank template for those that want it under the cut

[iphijaania]

guys is this a safe space. can i admit that i do not like how caitvi panned out.

[daboyau]

I got an idea when looking at this post by @tangledinink. I couldn’t rest until I’d jotted it down. The art possessed me like an evil spirit. warnings for body horror, vomiting, general fuckery. 💚

what probably happened directly before Leo found himself in this situation:

Leo: Fairies? No way those sparkly little assholes are real.

The fae who happened to be within earshot: and i took that personally.

Anyway, here we gooooo:

Leo opens his mouth to scream, but the sound won’t come out. He gags on the feeling of it catching inside his throat, and then again when the trapped scream begins to grow thorns. It scrapes its way up, and he claws desperately at his throat, trying to tear the feeling out, falling to his knees as he gags around the forced silence.

The threat of suffocation is enough to tear his attention, however briefly, away from the horror of what is happening to his shell. His body is changing itself on the urging of some other thing’s whims, and even though his nerves didn’t seem to get the memo that a dissolving shell (you know, the thing that most of his internal organs and, like, half of his bones need to stay inside his body?) should probably hurt a lot, he can still feel it.

He retches as the first flower falls from his lips. It hits the ground with a disgustingly wet sound, coated with bile and saliva. It shines wetly, rich orange hues standing out brightly against the black soil. The rest follow shortly after, a painful deluge of familiar colors, and he’s helpless to do anything but dig his fingers deep into the rich soil and try not to let the horrific impossibility of the situation drive him crazy. Tears flow freely, staining his cheeks before they fall to the ground below, greedily absorbed by the cursed earth of this place.

“Oh, dear,” a voice says, too close for him not to have noticed their presence. He tries to jerk back, but he can’t pull his fingers from the dirt. It hurts when he tries. A high pitched whine escapes his throat, but he’s too terrified to be embarrassed by that. The voice shushes him, soothes him, and warm fingers wrap tight around the back of his neck. They come to rest just above where the lip of his shell should be. He sobs at the way his back squirms as heat shoots down his spine and something begins to grow. The furred fingers drag like velvet against his scales as they squeeze, the sharp prick of claws threatening to break skin, and then release him just as suddenly. 

“So much sorrow and pain. And, oh, so many regrets,” the thing says as she circles him, humming a tune that makes his head pound in rhythm with his racing heart. His hands have sunk beneath the black soil, and it has begun licking greedily at his wrists as well. He can feel tendrils of something wet and cold winding themselves around his fingers, and he wants to scream again, but the bursts of bile-soaked colors decorating the ground keep him from opening his mouth. He can feel a petal still clinging to his bottom lip, and when the thing kneels before him, she reaches out to pluck it off, unbothered by the way he shrinks as far away from her touch as he can manage.

She slips it between her lips, and he catches a flash of a blackened tongue as it darts out to meet that single purple petal. Her teeth are sharp when she smiles at him. They hadn’t been sharp, when she’d first approached him in the Hidden City. Nothing about her had been.

In the dim lights of the underground world he and his brothers had only recently begun to explore, she had looked soft. He’d seen her approaching, and the first thought to flit through his head was, aw, bunny. A fluffy, rounded face. Big eyes, dark and deep as a still pond as they reflected the flickering neon of a sign in the shop window behind him. A pink nose had twitched when she’d smiled at him, sweet and kind, and asked him for his name. 

(What had he told her?)

Now, she would be unrecognizable, if not for the same strawberry patterned dress that drapes over her stretched out frame. He’d think to compare her to a hare now, but the hares he’d seen when watching Animal Planet with mikey had never looked like they would take delight in tearing his nails off one by one or plucking out his eyeballs. They had never made his vision swim or his body shake when he’d looked at them. Maybe she’s become more of a wolf.

The soil has reached his elbows. Those cool, slimy tendrils have circled his wrists like shackles. They’re squeezing tighter and tighter, and he feels his fingers throb and tingle as circulation is cut off. 

His mind flashes briefly to raph and how he used to tell them not to wear rubber bands on their wrists, convinced that their hands would fall right off if they got squeezed too tight. He wonders if the things that live beneath the dirt will steal what they’ve claimed, just like she’s stollen his shell. Another sound wants to bubble up his throat at the thought, and he lets it, because what use is a swordsman without his hands?

The hysterical giggles escape as big, iridescent bubbles. They glitter pink and blue and leave a bitter taste on his tongue. They only float a few feet into the air before they fall back to the ground, their attempt to flee the horror of this situation not getting too far at all. Soft green grass rises up from the dirt to catch them, but they do not pop. They rest, suspended on those tiny blades, for far longer than any bubble he’s ever blown before. He watches, transfixed, as his laughter is eventually swallowed by green. It begins to spread.

A hand cradles his chin, and his gaze jerks back to the thing that brought him here. She is watching him intently, eyes darting to take in every tiny change in his expression. She looks curious, in the same way that donnie does when he’s thinking about all the ways he can take something apart, and what he can do with those pieces to create something better. 

Her hand is soft where it touches him. She is gentle as she wipes a cloth across his mouth. It feels like water, soothing and cool, and he finds himself leaning into this tiny offer of comfort among the stomach churning violation of what is being done to him. His eyes flutter, and he distantly registers that the face she wears seems to swim before his eyes with each rapid blink, shifting back and forth between bunny and wolf and something other. She looks like she wants to devour him whole, no matter which face she wears.

From this close, he can see the way her eyes sparkle and dance when she smiles. He can’t help but think that maybe being swallowed whole wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, after all. 

The writhing shackles around his wrists tighten. 

She laughs, breathy and soft, and the sound is layered and beautiful like wind chimes. It conjures a hurricane inside his mind. Her cool breath gusts over his face. It smells like churned dirt and funeral flowers and pustulous rot. He doesn’t know if he wants to gag or breathe deeper. 

“Little blossom,” she croons, cupping both his cheeks, dragging their faces close. He doesn’t resist. She giggles, and she drags those soft hands and those sharp claws down his neck and over his shoulders, fingertips bumping against the disgustinghorriblewrongparasitetumor gathering of delicate buds that have sprouted up all across his back. She pinches one between the pads of her fingers, and he wants to screamcrybeghertostoppushherawaycutherdownandtearthemalloutbytheroots be good for her.

“Little blossom,” she says again, and those dark eyes catch his gaze and hold it as a heavy feeling settles against his skin, across his shoulders, around his neck, and he can’t look away no matter how desperately he tries. But he doesn’t want to try. Her smile stretches wider, wider, and for one brief flicker of a second he can see blood on her teeth as she asks, “Do you believe now?”

.

(Side note just for fun. The flowers that appear in this but aren’t actually described or named are:

Orange marigold, for grief and despair

Purple hyacinth, for sorrow and asking for forgiveness

Red cyclamen, for goodbye and resignation

Yellow zinnia, for missing a friend and remembrance

Bluebells, for gratitude and everlasting love 

[puppyeared]

gregnant

anton belongs to @poicyss

[gilded-gheists]

JUST started a good Durge playthrough and I'm dying over my absolute little guy bard Tinfoil.