#rest well sir

[lucy-moderatz]

[eriochromatic]

Last minute self indulgent pride illustration featuring my comfort characters and personal headcanons ✨✨✨

[r-aindr0p]

Read dungeon meshi up to vol.8 so far, so here you go Can't stop taking back the (vol.8) book and looking through the pages again and again and I'm wondering why does Mithrun just... grab Not even to use his magic, he just... grabs...

[gothamcitycentral]

Big fan of whatever dynamic Pentious and Vaggie have going on

[moongothic]

People often bring up the omake No Respect Time to use as Crocodad Propaganda, and y'know, I think there might be just a smidge more the omake can provide to Crocodad than what people have already discussed in the past

Like everyone's seen the comparisons between Crocodile and the anime screencaps of Don Luffyone, we all know how the two look so similar etc etc. But honestly, the resemblance is even more obvious (and hilarious) when you look at the OG manga version (Sidenote but Don Luffyone is the only one who smokes cigars in the omake... Everyone else has plain ol' cigarettes... That sure was a decision there Oda)

And yeah, you might be thinking I picked this mangacap of Crocodile in particular because the resemblance is the most obvious here and I have My Crocodad Agenda to push etc etc. But I will have you know that the original omake was from Log Book 5, which was published February 28th 2006. Meanwhile that Crocodile is from the cover of chapter 398, published February 6th 2006. So these were drawn by Oda around the same time. I didn't just cherry pick this cover page because it's convenient for my evil agenda, if these were drawn around the same time then the likelihood the resemblance is intentional does legitimately go up a little. (Also since they're both drawn by Oda instead of random animators, again, it's a bit less coincidental and could be a bit more intentional)

But as I said, I think there might be more to the omake than that.

In the past people have also pointed out and joked how a mere few months before Oda revealed Dragon was Luffy's father to us in the story (post-Enies Lobby), in the Monster Time-omake Luffy was depicted as a dragon.

Needless to say, people believe this was intentional foreshadowing (/trolling) to the Dragon reveal by Oda-- if not it'd be one hell of a coincidence at the very least.

The reason I'm bringing that up is that if people think it's safe to assume Oda was hinting at Luffy's heritage in one omake by making him a dragon like his father, then why couldn't Oda do the same in another omake (by making Luffy a mafia boss who smokes cigars like his father)? Keep in mind that Monster Time was published in May 2006 (in Log Book 7), just three months after No Respect Time. So again, these are from the same era. To me, that just makes the resemblance between Don Luffyone and Crocodile seem even less coincidental

Oh, but there's one more omake I want to bring up.

So people do often bring up Nerd!Luffy's appearance in One Piece Gakuen spin-off manga, pointing out how much he looks quite a lot like the Theoretical Child Oda gave to Crocodile in that one SBS. Yeah. So. 'Bout that.

There was this one omake called Red Hair of Class 3-Sea Time, in which Luffy was a loser ass nerd. And man, that resemblance

Like it's one thing when a spin-off manga drawn by a different artist does A Thing. It's another when Oda himself does it

[puduchiquito]

An Ark animatic I was making back in June that I ended up abandoning :[ (The reason why the last parts r just rough sketches rather than actual sketches, wanted to put the idea down)

Song is American Pie!!

[jhara-ivez]

1-5 prompt "Quest" The green knight, because the color palette was the most green. @mortiscausa

[akkivee]

saw someone describe bat as such and thought it was a neat take lol

[blametheeditor]

I need more tiny James in my life. He’s very holdable.

Agreed, he is very holdable! I think we both need more tiny James, it's good for the soul!

Pocket Doctor

Content Warnings: Cursing. Trapping someone against their will. Addressing someone as ‘it’. Mentions of infestations.

And bad for Scott’s health

________________________

Scott doesn’t so much as blink when he spots something dart across the desk out of the corner of his eye. 

If he was looking over reports at Fazbear Entertainment Center, he might’ve been a little more concerned. That location is newly built and hasn’t even existed for a full year. It shouldn’t be possible for any kind of infestation to run rampant in the walls. Not when wooden beams aren’t so rotten they’ll turn to dust the moment air hits them, and the walls are properly insulated to keep moisture from seeping in. 

As it turns out, he’s at Freddy Fazbear’s, a location that’s over 20 years old and has its fair share of issues, including being overrun by rodents and pests alike every other year. At least the rats and roaches made some kind of agreement they’ll switch off who gets the run of the place. 

Scott was hoping they’ll get a break this year considering he hasn’t caught a single glimpse of antennas peeking out from under cabinets or dark shapes scattering for cover when a light is flipped on. It turns out they’ve only gotten smarter, giving him a false sense of security so he wouldn’t have pest control on speed dial until they arrived. 

They may have won this round as a collective, but he isn’t anything but experienced with one on one encounters. And as luck would have it, he had yet to get a refill of coffee.

Scott’s concentration on the financials before him isn’t broken as he reaches for his empty mug. With practiced movements, he picks it up before turning it over in his hand as he circles a line to remind him to check in against what the manager reported. Only when his trap is ready does he finally glance in the direction he saw the fleeting form disappear. 

It seems to sense his intentions, because the moment he looks at the phone is the moment it runs to find better over. If it had been on the floor or even ran over his shoe, he wouldn’t have bothered giving it so much as a second thought. It decided to invade his desk, however, in the middle of him needing to have this done by noon for Afton to review. 

So Scott effortlessly thunks his mug over the roach. Turns back to the desk at hand, satisfied there won’t be anymore distractions. 

He was a bit too quick to celebrate. Because even though nothing will be catching his eye as it scuttles over the desk, something is trying its best to get him in trouble with Afton. This time in the form of a distinct though very soft clanging sound. It’s not loud enough for him to immediately discern what is it or where it’s coming from, but it sits right on the edge of his hearing where it will drive him mad if it doesn’t stop. 

Scott sighs in frustration. Tosses his pen away before leaning back in the chair as he stretches. Once his joints have popped back into place, he finds himself turning toward the East hallway. His gaze becomes longing, wanting to do nothing more than walk into the kitchen to get another cup of coffee. 

That’s when he realizes he can’t hear the noise anymore. 

Confused, the man leans toward the desk. Feels his brow furrow as the clanging is once again within earshot. 

What the hell?

Realizing it’s coming from the desk, Scott carefully gathers up his papers to set aside. Gives a cursory look over the surface to confirm there’s nothing out of the ordinary. He then begins to open up the drawers to see if something’s rattling around. Pauses when the noise stops after the headache inducing squeal of metal scrapping echoes through the office. 

Looking down in the drawer, he doesn’t see anything that could be the culprit, proceeding to close it again before waiting. 

It’s silent. And then the noise starts again, this time distinct erratic compared to the rhythmic tempo from before. 

A chill runs down Scott’s spine. Because it can’t just be a coincidence the sound stopped when he made one, not when his actions seemed to have directly effected whatever is causing the clanging. 

Ready to pack everything up and say to hell with Afton, his eyes land on the fan. And suddenly Scott feels like a complete idiot not having thought of checking that first. It’s about just as old as the building and honestly a miracle the thing hasn’t broken before this. 

Scott flips the switch with a long sigh. Rubs his face tiredly as he turns back to his papers, snagging his pen to continue the monotonous task of reading numbers. 

Except the clanging doesn’t stop once the blades are still. If anything, it’s gotten louder, and quicker as if rejuvenated. And now, the man can almost hear something muffled added to it. 

His eyes lock on his overturned mug. Freezes as it finally clicks there’s something hitting the ceramic. 

...roaches can’t do that. 

Scott will admit fear begins to take root, unsure what exactly he managed to catch. He hadn’t exactly check to make sure it was a roach, just jumped to the assumption it was one. What else could it be? 

He stares at the unassuming mug for a long moment. It’s enough time for whatever the hell it is to start faltering, the odd sound that might as well be his death toll slowing until it finally stops. The silence is loud in his ears. 

Curiosity wins over the fear of potentially getting bit by something poisonous or releasing one of Afton’s deadly creations into the world. Besides, he’s already caught it once. If it somehow manages to escape, it’s clearly no match for a ceramic mug. 

Scott reaches over the desk, carefully grabbing the bottom of the mug with his fingertips. Slowly, carefully, he then lifts it at an angle about half an inch. Not enough space for something to squirm its way out, but enough so he can finally hear the odd sound clearly. 

“Cawthon, it’s me, Stiller!” 

Scott’s mouth drops open at the same time the mug thumps back into place. His hand doesn’t move as he’s left to sit in complete shock. Because that wasn’t, it couldn’t have been, it’s not possible. 

He did not just hear James’ voice come from underneath the mug. 

James Stiller is a young man who Scott essentially forced Afton to hire as an on call doctor. James Stiller stands about the same height as him. James Stiller could never be mistaken for a roach. 

Scott takes a deep breath. Silently prays that after 20 years he isn’t finally loosing his sanity. Lifts the mug up completely to reveal James, the one man crouched with one hand clutching a fishing hook and the other raised defensively. 

“James?” the man demands, though it sounds more like a plea than anything. 

Miniscule brown eyes rapidly blink before squinting up at him. As if he was in complete darkness just before. Which means this his real, his mind isn’t playing tricks on him, he trapped the doctor under a mug. 

“Hey, boss,” James greets. Sends a wary look above him before offering a hesitant smile. “Almost had me worried that’s how you normally punish those who interrupt you.” 

“Oh God no,” Scott breathes, horrified at the thought of knowingly trapping James like that. Trapping anyone. “I am so sorry, I swear I had no idea you were...” 

He trails off as the last few minutes finally sink in. Not just the part where the assumed roach turned out not to be one, the part about the fact it turned out to be James. Even though that should be impossible. 

There’s no way to deny it, however. The person standing before him is James. And there the phone stands directly beside the man, the receiver three times his size. 

“You’re tiny.” 

“And you’re giant.” 

Scott sputters. “James this is serious. I trapped you with a mug for God’s sake!” 

The doctor hesitates, looking tense. After a moment, he gestures above him. “I can explain. Though, I would prefer if the mug isn’t involved.” 

He hadn’t noticed he never set the mug down after the big reveal, meaning it’s been hovering over James’ head, capable of sealing him away in darkness at any moment. Scott is more than happy to set it down. Right side up so it can’t simply be grabbed to trap James again. 

Turns to the doctor to look him up and down. “Are you hurt?” 

“I’m fine, didn’t even run into the side of it,” James reassures. He seems to think something over before lowering his arms, the fishing hook glinting in the dim lighting as it’s tapped against his leg. “You know, usually people try to catch me with a jar.” 

“They what?” Scott demands, appalled at the thought of someone knowingly trapping James. And while a mug is certainly despicable, a jar seems ten times more malicious, especially with the sole purpose of catching someone. 

“It’s human nature,” the doctor shrugs. “I go against every scientific law of energy and matter conservation, not to mention it’s a bit fascinating to find a living person that’s no taller than you’re finger.” 

Scott suddenly feels sick. “I swear I had no idea what you were. I just assumed you were a roach.” 

Despite how small the man’s face is, the expression of pure amusement is easily recognized.  “Left your reading glasses at home, Cawthon?” 

“It was a glance.” 

James only gives a wry smile before it morphs into something more thoughtful. “So, you had no plans for me specifically?” 

That’s when it finally clicks. As the shock from finding a handheld James slowly fades away, Scott begins to peace everything together. From the doctor commenting about being caught before, to the fishing hook having what looks to be a thread tied around it, to the expectation the mug was used to trap him for a reason. 

James wasn’t shrunk and somehow made his way onto the desk. Being only a few inches tall is normal to him. 

God, what did he stumble into? 

Scott pinches the bridge of his nose as he takes a long, deep breath. Slowly exhales as he tries to think about how he should proceed. When he’s gathered his thoughts, he looks down to find James casually leaning against the phone with his arms crossed as if it’s the wide of a building rather than something people use to make calls. 

“No,” Scott begins softly in response to James’ original question. “I didn’t and don’t have plans for you except ask you’ll be at Fazbear’s Pizzeria from 2 until 7.” 

The doctor’s eyes go wide as he stares up. Only then does Scott realize how much he must tower. God he’s a monster. “Don’t want to ask me any questions?” 

“No,” Scott growls. “I can only imagine what you use that hook for, and I would rather not know how many times you nearly break your neck in a day.” 

It’s better he doesn’t know. Or else James would be at risk of being locked away for his own safety. Never to be studied as an interesting specimen, but certainly to keep him from dying by his own stupidity. 

If Eggs is ever suddenly handheld, Scott’s locking the mechanic in a cage and throwing away the key. 

“I’ll be at Fazbear’s Pizzeria by 2,” James agrees. “Mind if I stay here until then?” 

Scott glances over at the clock, glares as 10:20 blinks at him as if to say he’s running out of time to finish looking through the financials. “As long as you don’t distract me.” 

“You won’t even know I’m here.” 

Truthfully, he should’ve known James would be distracting even if he didn’t move from his spot by the phone. But Scott is an idiot, not to mention greatly ashamed of the fact he treated someone like a pest even though it was unknowingly. He didn’t have the heart to kick the doctor out of the room. 

Maybe it would’ve been better to banish James. It certainly would have saved his heart from yet another scare when the pen he was reaching for turned out to be a living person. 

At least he had the foresight to check before he blindly grabbed. If he hadn’t, James either would’ve been snatched up carelessly or flicked across the desk. Though, he wouldn’t have needed to check if a certain shrunken man hadn’t picked the pen up so they’re standing side by side. 

Scott can only sigh in exasperation, unable to even admire the fact the pen is about twice the man’s size. “Why?” 

James shrugs, a bit too casually for someone who was almost grabbed. “Wanted to see something.” 

That earns the doctor a glare. “I’m counting this as a distraction.” 

“Means I’m doing my job.” 

“Jameson Stiller I swear to God.” 

[meshkol]

Rest in peace, Sir Michael Gambon (19 October 1940 – 28 September 2023)

[gayamulet]

Idk I'm having a great time

[scalpho]

the thing about colin is that he's generally fairly passive in the grand scheme of things, and the few things he arguably takes into his own hands are not satisfying.

killing the banana man, an innocent bystander, is not a task he takes any joy in, and he makes an effort to try and atone for it afterwards. killing his shitty father was of course, sick as hell, but it's an act far too steeped in the feeling of "you should have never had to do this in the first place because he was not meant to be alive for you to kill, and, worse yet, he was not meant to be alive to orchestrate your involvement in the FDA, in the murder of a monarch, in what looks like is an attempt to destroy much of calorum" to be gratifying. the closest thing to an embrace his father has ever given him, the "i'm still proud" as he finally goes down - killing the man who is the cause for the majority of colin's hardship should be satisfying, but it's not quite there.

and the rest of it - being born under to a family name which serves as a death sentence, the FDA, delissandro giving him the title of skald, and then raphaniel giving him knighthood under the church - is mostly stuff that happens to him, or stuff he's guided into in some way. he's not completely passive or faultless, of course, but a lot is out of his control and he spends much of his life subject to the ebbs and flows of life, of power and of the powerful people around him

[thebirdandhersong]

on the good news train today: I have finally finished the last chapter(!!!) of my Inklings challenge story, which marks the FIRST ever Inklings challenge story I've ever completed properly :'D coming in at 30,810 words (yikes) (it did get out of hand, I must admit), it is definitely not a short story, but it IS a piece that I think articulates a lot of what I've been thinking about lately re: love and death, and, considering everything, is probably something I needed to write. I am very happy!! It has been a wild ride, but a deeply clarifying one.

[symbioticsimplicity]

Y’all what if Lilith didn't choose to take a vaycay in Heaven? What if she got redeemed?

[therichant]

BecomingMrsBlackburn2 S15.Ep:27-BMB/8

@beebeesiims​ @helloavocadooo​ @noir-pixels​ @oatberrytea​ @yooniesim​ @colourfullsims​ @foxsimthings​ @missmoodring

Gameplay/autonomy on shenanigans below the cut.

At first, he sat on the bed, but I made him move to the chair and queued up some serious discussion topics. Also, Noemy was gloomy after lunch, so this was perfect. Lucy was curious as to what the ladies were doing so tune in to the next episode to see what she gets into.