#or maybe 2 months... yeah

[xitsensunmoon]

I'm finally almost done with my finals and I'm stresinnnnn🥲

This semester really made my hair turn grey and it's not even over yet I'm crying... Also universe thinks it was really funny to make my final deadline my birthday date💀 hilarious. Not like I'm partying or anything but damn ok...

[lucabyte]

monologue

[sinful-karateka]

Fed, nourished, skin clear, hair luscious. This has to be one of their best hugs in the whole show.

[itsafreetrialofdeath]

multiclassed!

[buttercupshands]

rewatched Kurogiri's holiday story from ultra impact (not related to sketch at all)

(but it did inspire me)

on another note

finally!!

[ishikawayukis]

wonwoo - BOOmily outing #3

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We�� we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

[fraternum-momentum]

WE'RE GETTING EVICTED FROM OUR APARTMENT.

[yourpalpothos]

ANXIETY!!!! I get enough of her on the daily lol

[forestgreenlesbian]

.

[freakinator]

fun fact about me is that despite me logically not caring about cc boundaries, emotionally i get really nervous about breaking them still cause i Hate being intrusive to anyone ever which in practice means that if a cc has too many/too strict public boundaries i just. dont wanna draw them. ever.

so anyways ive been hyping myself up to draw 4c for like 2 months now and thats just been going nowhere lmao

[pixelatedraindrops]

Yuma Month: Day 6: Comfort

Keep nice and warm when you’re recovering 💜

[girlivealwaysbean]

it's not sinking in that today might be the last day in my house and town for many months to come

[heynhay]

just saw ur post. UR QUEUED OUT UNTIL MARCH?? HOLY SHIT yesssssss (i very much enjoy ur work)

yes I’m a freak of a different nature

[i3utterflyeffect]

Unfortunately for Purple, it's going to be hard to inconspicuously wear wings in stick city. A poncho and a jacket blend in well enough, but Purple is gonna have a bit more difficulty with that.

oh purple is very aware! fortunately after they shed they can just take their wings off.

beforehand though...

let's just say they were both under the impression that purple was just gonna have to deal with being a beetle

[quadrantadvisor]

Sometimes I still think about The Owl House Gang all trying to watch ATLA together but then Zuko's backstory in The Storm retraumatizes Hunter so bad they have to stop