#not main story related

[moonmeg]

Baby brother

[tired-needs-sleep]

oh.. oh. OH. OH OH OB OH. well, can't say i didn't see that coming

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Decisions, decisions...

The toon doubts himself. He knows well the lurking dangers of loving such a man as Gavriel Huffman, the mobster himself told him so.

But letting go of something so dearly beloved and precious will be hard, won't it?

This was drawn on Magma! Real fun website to draw with friends, check it out.

[mellowwillowy]

“RABU”

Original story by @merakiui

So my dumbass didn't reread the fic and forgot Reader was 44 already. So here we are, young and fresh.

Funny story 2, I forgot what Rabu was until I finished all the drafts and realized, “It’s love isn't it??” (right?)

Rabu might not be categorized as my fave (coughs SK series coughs) but the ending makes me think late at night, how many options did Reader have?

So here I am, spawned to speed-run the vision in my head. Azul’s hair is too annoying so I'd rather have Floyb first (even though I really want to see Zuzu smoking). Jade’s route(?) is still vague in my mind so he’s no good as well.

I just love the idea of Papa Leech caring more about his sons, doesn't matter what Jade does, Papa Leech will forever cover his track. In this case, Papa Leech didn't care about Reader’s well-being at all, it was probably something done by Jade anyway. That’s Papa Leech’s love~.

Anyway, as I said in my previous RB, long live the seafood (by Chef Meraki!)

[mynabirb]

this event had no business being so sweet how do I farm mats now

[loxare]

On their wedding day, he put his hand to her cheek and called her the most beautiful woman in the world.

He could have been correct, from an objective standpoint. Truly, she was one of the beauties in town. Her curls always in perfect order, her smile plump and joyous, her figure comely, even hidden modestly beneath clothing. From an objective standpoint, he was wrong, as nothing about beauty is objective, but none in the town would have disagreed with his assessment.

They spent several years together, in loving bliss. They built their house together, they planted their garden together, they grew together.

And then came the day that a hole in reality opened beneath him. Without thought, she jumped in after, a bare half second after he vanished.

When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else. The stars were different, and wrong. There was the wrong number of moons, and the sun was the wrong colour. But the worst, most egregious wrong was that he was not there next to her. This, she could not abide.

She had nothing to her name besides her labour, but that she had in abundance. She travelled, from town to town, trading hours of work for food and board. She taught herself to draw, and she drew her love. Over and over, she drew him. In the dirt, on walls, on her own clothes. Asking, always asking, if any had seen him. Eventually she acquired paper and ink, and drew her husband again. Her inquiries became easier, more frequent, although the answers never changed. For none had seen her love.

She learned many things as she travelled. She learned how to fix a carriage wheel. How to tend to livestock and how to weed a garden far larger than the one she had known. She learned to shape a bowl from clay and to chop timber and to carve wood. She learned to fight off brigands who would take from her her sparse money, her life, or worse.

She learned other things, about this place she was in. It was a place where many came, and few left. A nexus one called it. A refuse heap, another said. But the method of arrival was always the same. One moment in the familiar, the next falling into the strange. But the people were the same, for all that they were often of alien appearance. Some looked down upon her dirt covered hems and worn boots. Some ignored her. Most were willing to at least listen to her question, to look at her picture, so carefully drawn. To keep an eye out, and pass on a message should they find him.

Time passed, and passed, and passed. The world she came from did not have things such as magical crystals or soul mates or wizards, or if it did they had none of the power that those here did. Regardless, one town she stayed in recommended she find the local witch, for they specialized in red strings of fate.

And so she did. The witch gave her a bowl of stew and a comfortable chair, and then listened when she spoke, and looked carefully at the drawing. It was a different one. She had drawn many, over the years, as the old ones wore out, and as her skill increased. And the witch said that they did not know if he was indeed her soul mate, but if he was, then the red string of fate that they revealed would lead her right to him. She need only follow it.

It was not an easy ask. The witch wanted a blanket woven by her own hands in payment. And so she stayed in the town, longer than she had stayed anywhere. She traded her labour and her art for thick wool, and weaving lessons. It was near winter before she had a result she was pleased with, carefully folded in her arms to be presented to the witch. The blanket was unfolded immediately upon delivery, shaken out to its fullest extent. The blanket was scrutinized, for quality of the weave or for something else that she could not fathom. Finally, the witch nodded their head. They turned back to their cottage, moving to close the door. She protested, concerned about her end of the bargain, but needn’t have worried. For around her finger was tied a red string which hadn’t been there before. The end led off, through the woods.

And so she followed it. She followed it through fallen leaves. She followed it across rivers. She followed it through snowbanks and through melt waters and through hot summer sun. Finally, she followed it into a clearing on a mountain. And fell to her knees in despair. For in this clearing was nothing but moss, and the end of the string, fading into nothing.

She did not have long to weep however, as a hole in reality opened above her, and down he fell. Without thought, she moved to catch him.

He was just as he had been on the day she had left him. And as he opened his eyes, she suddenly felt ashamed. For he was here, perfect and whole and young. But it had been years and years for her. Her hair was frizzy and knotted. Her lips were thin, her hands were rough, and her figure both hard and flabby at once.

But he opened his eyes, and he called her name, and she nodded. And he smiled at her, and called her the most beautiful woman in the world.

On a truly objective standpoint, he was incorrect. Both because beauty was not within the realm of objectivity, but also because there were many women who could be called more beautiful, subjectively.

But she also knew that he was speaking nothing but the honest truth. For he loved her. He loved her, he loved her, he loved her. He loved her hair, frizzy as it was. He loved combing it free of knots, and helping her braid it in the mornings, and loved tucking flowers into it, to surprise her when she looked in the mirror. He loved her smile, and loved seeing it, and loved being the cause of it. He loved it when she spoke to him, when she told him of the things she had done, and what she had learned. He loved her art, even as he blushed darkly at being her only subject. She taught him what she knew, and delighted when he found particular pleasure in pottery. They travelled, to find a home that suited both of them. The first time she defended him from brigands had been a terrifying and yet exhilarating experience for them both.

And they built a house. With a room full of paper and clay. And a garden, and a loom. And always, forever, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

[sevenines]

i saw this tweet and found it interesting for two reasons. one is that some people base how good cartoon network would be to toh by how it treated su, and despite the fact that su’s treatment by the network was considered poor at the time, now its thought to be exceptionally good in comparison to modern shows.

two is how exactly su got impacted by a limited budget. a common criticism is how characters like connie, peridot, and lapis are left out of missions. but balancing a lot of characters is not only hard but also costly (extra animation, extra voices—it’s been revealed that the show is limited to a set number of characters per episode otherwise they’re over budget). animation mistakes are not uncommon since retakes cost extra. the entire reason the original show got cut short was due to loss of funding!

[cubbihue]

To Peri and Jordan, it might he better at looking into making Dev a Fairy. I mean, he's a neglected kid so desperate for fatherly love that he TEAMED UP with Anti Faries, and nearly mamaged to take over Fairy World completely just for a chance that his father would love him.

There's no telling that a Anti Fairy might try going after him again, and use him again, and have the events repeat. Least as a Fairy Dev could be monitored more. He's arguably a unique case like Timmy is; if not one that can warrant more danger if not careful. (Plus I don't think the memory spell worked on him considering he always wears sunglasses)

Despite your pleas, your ask has gone unanswered.

We can't be spoiling the future to our dear itty bitties! That'd be just so rude!!! No, no we can't have that! Not when the future is already set in stone!! Not when it's unavoidable! Not when the consequences must come to pass and pass they shall!!

Soon, Dev will attempt to take over Fairyworld. He will have his memories wiped. The human world will forget about Fairies. And someone will have to bear responsibility for it.

Bitties Series: [Start] > [Previous] > [Next]

[al-luviec]

something simple to try to get out of art block (it didn't work)

[booasaur]

Harlan Coben's Shelter - 1x06

[moonmeg]

*bangs fist on table* DAMN YOU BRAIN

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo as a character is deeply tied to the very concept of identity that it is deeply ingrained into every aspect of his character and in this essay I will-

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[3hoppingfrog3]

Good ending for DBH au just dropped!

[justanotherhh]

me: dammit stolas you can't just walk away from someone who's struggling to connect with you, even if they're doing so through the poorly processed means of yelling insults, you've gotta give them time to work through it and not need to control everything

also me: [is aware that i also need to engineer situations to go perfectly and if someone started yelling at me i too would immediately get triggered and leave the situation and cry and if i had portal-making powers would yeet them to another continent, never mind just outside the door]

[pluralhottakes]

personal hot take but black systems get like no recognition or love

(for context: we're black)

being an adaptive traumagen system in an odd black household is really weird because i feel like the trauma ive gotten from my parents isnt enough to have resulted in this system but it was apparently

on top of this...the general idea in black families that "mental health doesnt exist" really doesnt help my insecurities in being a black system

anyway yeah

.