#lol the dedication

[ruka-stars-art2261]

May or may not have just made myself a backrooms level in 3 hours.

I have another backrooms level I made with 2 entities, i just haven't sorted out the details like this one.

Probably cause it has alot of internal society backstory, Lol. I might finish it one day.

Anyhow, here's some of the images I edited for the level.

I'm probably going to re-write this in the future so if you have any tips on what should be changed lmk.

[punkcherries]

[mienar]

from us it begins

instagram | shop | commission info

[blasphemousclaw]

when rykard declared war on the gods do you think he ever thought about the possibility that he’d meet his father in combat at the end of it all… imagined himself killing him…. can anyone hear me

[grimfantas]

upon the second visit to halloween town...

[heybaetae]

maknae line + gestures of love 🫰🏼💋🫶🏼🌹🤟🏼 happy birthday @jkvjimin! ♡

[xxplastic-cubexx]

GORGEOUS DRAWING OMG YOU'RE SO TALENTED MATE!!!

We need more Magneto protecting his Charles with all his will>>>>>

thank you much my friend !!!!!!!!! might i offer you a small gift..

and a bonus. if you will.

[rocketbirdie]

bad monster hunter item ideas

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

[filurig]

sekuuti and akestur, deities of the rau-kakse and crakam

LONG ASS CREATION/ORIGIN STORY OF THE RAU KAKSE AND CRAKAM HERE

the sun and moon both have important roles in northern basilisk religion, and are interpreted as two deities: sekuuti (sun) and akestur (moon).

both seen as patron deities of their respective people (rau-kakse aka basilisks and crakam aka harpies). their eggs were originally stars in the sky that fell and hatched in the world below.

at first, there was only pure spirit. something known as "tukaarti" (which is an unconscious but all powerful driver of all things) - the "natural force", arose, and began create shapes from this spirit, polarities, warmth, energy eventually the forces shaped this spirit into The World, which was barren at first, amorphous, but this shaped energy began to solidify, first into mountains, then into lakes, rivers, flora etc etc. but the water did not stay liquid long for after the formation of these things, and a brief flourishing period, the World cooled down, and fell under a great winter, as it had no sun. the sky is basically where tukaarti resides in its rawest form still, and stars are "concerntrations" of it, and the only light source. the stars began to fall eventually on occasion into the world, and that would spawn Creatures. early on when the world was still fresh after this was when the eggs of sekuuti and akestur fell, they were among the last creatures to fall onto the world. prior to them similar animals had hatched from other eggs, but they all perished trying to survive on their own.

both sekuuti and akestur were lonely and struggled on their own - persecuted by hostile ancestors of other creatures. not only was it difficult, most of all, it was lonely.

sekuuti was so lonely that she desparately wanted children, but as she was the only one of her kind she prayed to tukaarti for a way to achieve that company she desired. she was heard, and granted the ability to shapeshift to any creature that she found. this also was something tukaarti needed, as it lacked a way for spirit to go from the World back to tukaarti, and by "collecting" bodies to learn as forms, sekuuti would also return their spirit to tukaarti. with this ability, she resorted to courting different birds that she transformed into and bearing their young. and she did successfully hatch them. her children would not only inherit a lot of her features and shapeshifting ability, but they also inherited the plumage and some other traits from their other parents, and she loved them all the same. this also means that according to rauk-kaksian lore sekuuti "has no comparison" and doesnt look like an extant bird in particular, but interpretations vary. these children were the first "rau-kakse". the most important established trait of her depictions though is that it seemed that the glow from her egg ("star") never faded, and her plumage glowed strongly and brilliantly.

akestur, meanwhile, sought company with birds in a different way. he found flocks of corvids, flocks of nightjars, and found certain comfort with them. but he was frustrated with the fact that they could not communicate, he prayed for the ability to "hold a conversation" with his new contemporaries. and the tukaarti granted him his wish - the flocks that he had become familiar with were granted a blessing, but with that blessing, they also changed in morphology - they became harpies (crakam), and gained sapience. he was reminded, however, that he had gotten this wish without cost - and that the forces counted on him to do what they wished in return if they so needed it. they only cryptically let him know to "not keep his eyes off of the flame". akestur is thought to have looked like a harpy slightly, but with a different face, black as night, but with brilliant glowing white eyes.

again, the world during this time was pretty barren and harsh due to an eternal winter, as they had no sun. sekuuti, while having found comfort in her kin now, was unhappy with the state of affairs - especially as many young would die in the harsh conditions. akestur, too, hated seeing his new contemporaries suffer.

the two groups would meet one day, sekuuti and akestur leading them. the two were fascinated by one another - sekuuti brought warmth to akestur and the crakam, while akestur brought a certain darkness, that while somewhat discomforting at first, also shrouded both groups from other hostile creatures, theyd come to find out. there was safety in his darkness. sekuuti and akestur grew very close and became partners (according to most legends).

sekuuti wanted to change the state of the world and set her eyes upon the sky, wanting to become a sun and bring warmth to all and end the eternal winter. akestur was hesitant, for he did not want to lose her, and her children needed her. when seeking the guidance of tukaarti - they discouraged her from it, urged her to stay and perform her duty as a bringer of spirit from corpses of this plane back to tukaarti. but she was insistent, and one day, decided to simply go for it. she flew so fast, with such force, that she caught flame, but her will was so strong that it didnt bother her and she became one with the flames eating her as she flew up to the sky.

akestur was too late, and only realised she was gone once she had lit up the sky. betrayed, upset, but most of all - realising that he had failed tukaarti. he had let his eyes off his flame. as a punishment, tukaarti undid the blessing it had granted his people for half of them, leaving half of them as regular birds again.

sekuuti lighting up the world had done something - it had taken away the eternal winter, but the problem was - sekuuti had nothing to temper her up there. the world was beset by a devastating drought with no end in sight. akestur, trying to lead his people as well as the basilisks, then realised what he had to do.

before leaving his people, he urged them "to not take their eyes off the flames", meaning the basilisks in this case, and then, he also set off for the sky. instead of setting ablaze, his eyes seemed to burst with the pressure of the speed of his flight, engulfing him in a cold, bright light. once he joined sekuuti in the sky - the heat was finally tempered.

however, sekuuti, both overwhelmed with love but also guilt and shame over abandoning akestur, fled him. but he, loyal and also overwhelmed with love, began to follow her. and basically, the day/night cycle is their eternal chase after one another - and on occasion, they meet, during eclipses :,) perhaps they also realised that their chase is what brings the world balance. and perhaps its a bit of a punishment from tuukarti for disobeying it.

[perotovar]

#when pedro does The Thing™ | insp

[halflifebutawesome]

movie night

[veryluckyclovers]

I'm a delinquent

[u3pxx]

harriet is still the same height but instead she wears those disco platform shoes so she just towers over everything i think

[your-unfriendlyghost]

evie my beloved…

i was gonna just do my usual black and white comic stuff for this, but i swear to god every time i draw evie i get like…possessed to go all out. I can’t help it.

Also look dx worker evie