#nuh uh that’s crazy

[mikeluciraphgabe]

Lucifer: Someone kidnapped Gabe-

Micheal, a bat appearing in his hand: WHO DID WHAT TO MY BABY?

Raphael: Someone-

Micheal: TOOK TOO LONG TO ANSWER *runs off*

Roy: how is he going the right direction?

Lucifer: No idea but it scares me even more

[the-b1ah]

Part 8 last one!! of You can’t bench me!

Whoop! Another one bites the dust, you can’t bench me if officially done!

Context:

Phantom kicked all the ass and took all the names. The crew then shuffled back to the cave to get fixed up.

Alfred has patched up Steph and Tim, and has moved on to Jason. Getting helmet shards taken out of your face is not fun 2/10 stars at least it’s not a crowbar.

————————————

Henchmen: time to die Red Hood

Red Hood: k let me ask my son

Henchmen: wha-

Red hood: he said nuh uh

Henchmen: the fuck you mean nuh uh

Phantom with a steel chair: yippee ki yay Mfers

————————————

Masterlist| Origin | part 7 | part 1 | bonus!!

[bunnieswithknives]

Could you explain changelings? I'm curious it sounds like interesting lore for fop

Changelings are the outdated practice of leaving a fairy baby to be raised by (usually) a human. This can take many forms such as Replacement: where a child is taken and replaced, Mimicry: where the original child remains and the fairy child is to be raised like a twin, and Gifting, where a fairy child is given to someone who doesn't have kid but often wants one, sometimes as part of a more elaborate deal.

Fairies evolved as a type of Aggressive Mimic, specifically they are very good Brood Parasites. The fairy child would be put under a specialized charm to suppress their magic and make them look like an exact copy of the child they were replacing. Most changeling children wouldn't even know that they were changelings until their teen years, at which point they start molting and presenting classic fairy bug features (pasta puberty is not real to me I am closing my eyes I do not see it). Their magic would start returning to them too, and through a mix of magic and deeply ingrained instincts they would find their way back to Fairy World.

Over time though many fairies started to agree that this was an extremely unethical practice which led to a catastrophe of them trying to raise their own children. Since their lifespans were so long and their population was fine they eventually decided to put a temporary ban on having children as they figured out more ethical and practical solutions. This ban did not end up being temporary. By the time Peri was born basically all the knowledge related to raising fairy children was lost and forgotten.

Bonus some peri for lifecycle reference. Unfortunately the Glimmer spell has been mostly lost to time so no Glimmer for him!

Bonus info: Dog fairies/other animal fairies are not a separate species from normal fairies they're just changelings/the decedents of changelings that were raised by animals

[panxramic]

Taking Tallulah’s hair color change and inserting as much lore as I can into it. It’s just like when she got the haircut, a feeling of brand new, of moving on and changing. I love it sm

This new island has always been a new step for her, a way for her to move on. She’s left behind old memories and pictures, forgotten letters and homes. She’s finally found herself in a family, a family she’s been dreaming and hoping of. It’s not perfect, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows but it’s HERS, this is her family. She has an older brother she’d do anything for and two dads that love her endlessly. What else could she want?

So she changes her clothes, that’s the first thing she did a while ago. She matches q!Phil’s every step. And she finds things for herself.. Her mushroom beanie is one of the first things she ever got that truly felt like her own. She was made to reflect someone else, but THIS, this is her own. This is something she liked and she wanted, not something the federation threw upon her. She finds a liking to the color purple, and with that she weaves her own clothes to match q!Phil’s. It’s a mix of the person she loves and herself. Because truly who was the person that raised her? The person that has influenced her her entire life and has helped shape who she would become? It’s always been q!Phil. And that’s reflected in her clothes.

And now on this new island she also has a new dad. q!Missa. Who didn’t hesitate to take her in and call her his own. He’s been lovely, and with him she’s nurtured that side of her that’s more artistic and more creative. She also gets to tangle more into her culture and speak Spanish more. Her features match his. They have similar noses and eyes, the same moles on their cheeks. But the one thing that always stood out about Tallulah in the family has been her hair.

Tallulah’s hair has always been brown for as long as she can remember. It's been the one feature that doesn’t quite fit with the rest of the family. qPhil and Chayanne have blonde hair, qMissa has black hair. And sometimes Chayanne’s hair also reflects that of q!Missa’s.

Tallulah’s brown hair is the final tie to her past. It’s the one thing that makes her stand out, that shows the world she was destined for somebody else. It haunts her. So… as the final piece of the puzzle… it goes from brown to black.

Her hair is that final tether, and she was ready as ever to let it go, to let go of her past and let go of that pain. She’s moving on. Her hair is as black as qMissa’s, it’s as dark as the night sky. It matches every wither rose they come across. She’s part of the death family, one look at her and you can tell where she belongs.

And she does, for the first time in her life she feels like she belongs.

It’s scary, it is. Her brown hair has been such a huge defining feature of hers for so long. The black hair is a drastic change. What is everyone else gonna say? What are they gonna think? Is it going to look good at all? Who knows, we’ll see, but she’s never been so sure of herself.

This is who Tallulah is. This is who she has become. A person weaved and influenced by those around her, the people she’s spent time with. She’s taken their details and made them her own, she’s become her own person now. No longer is she the image of someone who left her to pick up the pieces no. She’s the image of those who helped her back up, of those who cared for her and watched her grow up to become the very person we see in front of our eyes.

She’s Tallulah. She likes the color purple and she loves animals. She wants to build a sanctuary for birds. She loves her brother Chayanne and she wears her heart on her sleeve. She has black hair and a purple beanie. And she’s a part of death family.

[varpusvaras]

Boba: The Princess of Alderaan? Alright, I'll bite. Her Father is a Senator and her Mother is a Queen, right? Should be easy enough. She is a tactical leader, not a-

Leia, turns around to stare right at Boba:

Boba, recognising the look in her eyes: Why does she look like that one clone from the Cor- oh gods no

[buwheal]

I wanna give him a blanket. Can it maybe just materialize outta nowhere?

(I know fabric wrinkles suck to draw. You don't gotta 😵)

[zhi-liet]

emotional support strawhat

[gracebethartacc]

Remember how I said the wishes being taken in my rewrite are a mass/kingdom wide amnesia? Yeah. What if tweaked the ‘Aster getting stars wish granted/Magnifico getting Star magic’ part of the plot a tinyyy bit and I used the forgetting part to be evil. What then.

[dykedvonte]

Benny was like Yes-Man’s world and you have to think about how, even if he gladly helps and never objects, he feels about helping the Courier on a deeper level. Especially a Courier that killed Benny.

[couriernewvegas]

i know they were like trying to have the semblance of a message about stigma around mental illness and trauma and etc but its really funny how every other scene is like ur not like those Crazy People . those Wackadoodle Fruitcake Nuthouse Mentally Disturbed Freaks .

[3starhurricane]

•:•.•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.

Greed from the Lambs

Hateful, hunger, hysteria, hatred, happiness, and hope. He loved and hated those words, the type of words that would follow him around everywhere even in his dreams, the dreams that he thought he had freedom, but he could never run away from them. Screams, echoing through the walls, the scratching of nails along the padded wallpaper. The crunch of floorboards, the ticking of the old chime at the end of the hall, the sounds of death slithering in each crevice of the wall. They were doomed by all but also doomed by none. Food was a meal to be eaten with family and loved ones, something to be enjoyed, when was the last time he had that? To be around the table looking at everyone, but now he can’t remember their faces? Blurry blobs of faces around the table, he often dreams of that moment but he can’t remember. Why can’t he remember?

“His light will shine on us all!”, so his hands reached out to the god, not for a wish but for the hope that the god would truly be the salvation the village was looking for, to see if the god would accept his vulnerable hands. The god reached out and took his hand, the cycle then began then.

Happiness. The joy in the village's faces was one he loved, the boy deeply cared for all, his family and even the ones that came out their huts with nothing but selfish desires swaying in their eyes. Because the boy wished for everyone to be happy, to smile at the countless clouds in the sky and find another joy in the path they walk. Laughter, playing, and joyful talking can be heard throughout the game as children gather around, he sees the village’s people gather around. Some plead to the god for their wishes, the boy finds his hands clutching around his wavering heart, he knew the people just wanted the best for everyone but what if this magic was too tainted for even the god to handle? The god that seemed to hold no ill will to them, granting their wishes on a whim but who was to decide what they could receive and take as payment? Everyday the doubtful whispers found refuge in his mind, cutting and sawing his soul until only hesitation remained. His family unaware of his soul turning instead turned to the god for solace once more, the village ever growing with gifts, oblivious to the gold-poisoned gifts they received instead. The hope they held in their hearts was more pure than anything they could wish for, the tainted hands at best but what the boy wished was for their happiness without chains.

Hope. Light is what he promised among other things, he promised love, hope, and gifts. But, the showers of gifts were few to none, sprinkled with gold and praise to please the others. He wanted to believe but the man’s layered smiles gave him doubt, the doubt that his family never shared with him, they all believed the benevolent god that promised all. “His light will shine on us all!”, so his hands reached out to the god, not for a wish but for the hope that the god would truly be the salvation the village was looking for, to see if the god would accept his vulnerable hands. The god reached out and took his hand, the cycle began then.

Happiness. The joy in the village's faces was one he loved, the boy deeply cared for all, his family and even the ones that came out their huts with nothing but selfish desires swaying in their eyes. Because the boy wished for everyone to be happy, to smile at the countless clouds in the sky and find another joy in the path they walk. Laughter, playing, and joyful talking can be heard throughout the game as children gather around, he sees the village’s people gather around. Some plead to the god for their wishes, the boy finds his hands clutching around his wavering heart, he knew the people just wanted the best for everyone but what if this magic was too tainted for even the god to handle? The god that seemed to hold no ill will to them, granting their wishes on a whim but who was to decide what they could receive and take as payment? Everyday the doubtful whispers found refuge in his mind, cutting and sawing his soul until only hesitation remained. His family unaware of his soul turning instead turned to the god for solace once more, the village ever growing with gifts, oblivious to the gold-poisoned gifts they received instead. The hope they held in their hearts was more pure than anything they could wish for, the tainted hands at best but what the boy wished was for their happiness without chains. Money, power, love was given with the understanding that they were to keep this joy, the twisting of morals for their desires but they would never strive too far from the path, they were the lambs to a herd afterall, they wouldn’t abandon their path now; at least the boy hoped so.

Hunger. They were starved for more, whether it be their wishes for more or the desire of food settling into the village, the boy’s mother always told him these were the hardest season due to the crops being unable to blossom in this condition. But the boy had hope, he believed the town could just as they did before, so with his hands he ventured forth to the fields to offer help to the people. The fields he arrived at were empty; empty of people and crops, it saddened the boy, so with a deep sigh he started to work on the lonely soil with his bare hands. His hands felt barred with soil while he skipped home, he was eager to tell his family about the hard work he had done, he wanted his family’s approval as always because he was a child that always admired the people around, his eyes wishing to be just like them. That's why the boy refused the wish from the benevolent being, he believed his wish already was true, the wish to be loved by the village.

Hunger. His dreams were starting to morph like a spider twisting its web into a home now the strings were invading his peace, once he was dreaming of flying through the clouds before it started to tint red then he no longer was flying but falling down until he splattered along the crops, just like the crows he's seen the hunters shoot down countless of times. His hands traced the blood seeping out his wounds, marking the petals of the crops with his ichorous blood, drawing his family with little stick figures until his blood no longer weep from his gaping wound; that's when he found himself waking up from his dream and back to the confines of his bed. The boy’s feet carried him downstairs until he found his mother nervously swaying in her rocking chair, an unfamiliar sight to the child. He reached his hands out to comfort his mother like any good child would, like how he believed he to be but his mother wide-eyed slapped him away, he fell back against the harsh floor; feeling the wooden texture under the boy’s palms. He searched his mind for a reason, did he do something wrong? Did he wrong her by asking for her comfort? Was he no longer the pure boy she saw? Her mouth moved but he could not find the words she was saying. That's when he noticed her arm, how frail it was, how it differed from the strong mother he's been used to seeing. Then he noticed more, the hunger in her eyes, the twitching in her limbs, the venom in every word she spoke, and the way she approached him differently. For once the boy was scared of his mother and it terrified him to the deepest parts of his soul, who was his mother now? And if this was truly his mother, what would become of the villagers? But he knew the screams of the outside world wasn’t the love and joy they used to express, not now that the god has twisted them into something he no longer recognized as the same people he once shared a meal with. Yet he knew only one thing, this was a cycle and none could save them from the cycle they’ve subjected themselves to, not even a god.

Hysteria. The gods' doomed them, he thought, the god they believed to be their salvation, the god they turned to for acceptance had abandoned them when they needed him the most. From hope turned into cries, from cries turned into screams, then screams turned into twisted and it made the boy afraid for what had become of his beloved village. The emptiness in their souls have deteriorated them into desperate souls that would claw for anything to gain back the approval of the god that once granted their every wish, but the god was said to have taken pity on them, how kind of them… The villagers had grown hope that the deity had given them gifts once more, but the boy knew, he knew that was never the case. The boy didn’t want to take from the people he loved so he went to the divine being and used his wish, the wish he first refused for his own consciousness, but if he were to sacrifice his being for someone he would gladly do so for his village. The immortal laughed at his simple words but made no movement to decline his wish. So with a handshake, his wish was granted by the very god that led the lambs to their underlying death with nothing, but his honeyed words.

Hatred. The villagers awoke to the sound of their normal lives, the starvation withering away with remnants of words, the boy found his mother beyond relieved for their prayers being answered. The villagers rejoiced, crying in joy as they cheered. Seeing the happiness back on their faces brought him joy like never before, he wants to see every joy they have to experience, every victory they have to achieve to be successful. As he lifts his hands in a greeting, before his chest starts to feel heavy, too heavy for him to carry. The son finds his hands grasp at the strings of life before he sees it, it. The fact he's dying but no ones helping him instead they watch on, until he hears that deafening crunch then suddenly his bones feel itchy, they bend unnaturally as if trying to escape from this fate hes been casted to, but they stay, stay as he feels the flesh of his body slowly tear at the seams. The lamb is being devoured by the same lambs that he once saw as family, only to be seen as wolves as the deity watches on with a smiling mask on his glowing face. The wish of a child that only wanted to feed the village that sheltered has been twisted into something darker, darker as the feeling of knives digging into every crevice of his skin; tears through his smooth skin but he no longer can make a move to protest. Hand tightening for a moment to show the last remnants of the same child that wanted to be loved, he could hear his mothers voice while warmth enveloped his body once more, yet he wasn’t sure if that's his desperation speaking or the hallucinations. The boy found himself smiling in his last moments, answering his mothers calls for dinner as he opened his eyes once more to an awaiting dinner with his family, the sun on his skin, or the dog barking for scraps of his meals.

•:•.•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.

[thalassic-p4rk]

My catsona! It is 1am I do not have energy to elaborate further rn. I get up for work in like 5 hours.

Ngl I have no clue what this looks like my vision went out when I started the background 2 hours ago. I am heavily relying autocorrect rn I cannot see for shit.

Inspired by this bitch <3:

[alumirp]

A blank space with missing pieces

a modern AU story set in Grand Line City which is practically a lawless city infested by several gangs(the cannon crews duh) and disappearances are common, but things change when missing people start turning up dead in different corners of the city . Law is a surgeon struggling to maintain a peaceful life.

He spectacularly fails at this when he unexpectedly wakes up next to the corpse of one of the missing and is immediately found at the crime scene. Fortunately, it is not by a civilian or a police officer, but by the leader of an emerging gang that has been causing great chaos in the city: Mugiwara no Luffy.

Law is taken in by the Straw Hats, who are looking for Luffy's brother. Portgas D Ace is just another face in the news, one of the countless people missing. In the end, Law has little (or no) option but to join Luffy in the search for the real killer in order to clear his name and, hopefully, save Luffy's brother before he becomes another corpse.

Everything goes off the rails even further when a serial killer calling himself the "Surgeon of Death" emerges and Law's DNA is found on victims who are found dismembered and grotesquely reassembled, with their hearts and lungs missing. Now not only the gangs suspect his involvement in the crimes but also the police and the public, especially when they discover that thirteen years ago he was rescued from the infamous Donquixote gang.

[sea-buns]

I cannot sit and read all these theories about Colin getting betrayed or just straight up killed by the party without remembering that freaky necrotic sword. It's not the only reason I'm unsure about that theory but it has consistently been my first and loudest thought, completely unwarranted. I just cant imagine anyone getting the jump on him like that. When he refused the water-steel dagger citing he'd rather stick to what he knows, I thought oh yeah that's fair that makes sense that dagger is nuts. And then this dude whipped out the most brutal weapon that he's just been carrying with him this e n t i r e time. Like sir?? That dagger is so fucking dangerous and identifiable as belonging to someone that is "up to no good". And my guy runs up drawing the gnarliest sword, dealing damage that cannot be healed like it's an average fucking Tuesday.

What the fuck is up with that? WHERE DID HE GET THIS SHIT?! No one walking around with something that deadly, who has somehow managed to keep it on the down-low, is about to be caught unawares. I don't care if it's the people in the party— I don't care if it's Deli— that attempts to stick a knife in his back. Cuz they will certainly have to try if they wanna get the jump on a guy that has remained this unassuming despite being so fucking strapped in body and mind.

[leeches-drawer]

happy halloween !!!! i couldn't come up with anything good so heres some doodles from an aggie instead

(featuring my dearest @colorized245 with our silly pumpkins)

[konjkitkatty]

I expect my inbox to be flooded w goat questions in the next hour. This is not predicting, this is demanding. Chop chop everyone, i need reasons to draw Goat.