#so here it goes

[waywardstation]

Pokemon Masters shared this on Twitter after a period where everyone was able to vote for their favorite story events. Submas being number 1 and 4, and PLA content getting 2, 5, and 7 makes me very happy :)

[shakooo]

I FINALLY COULD DO SOMETHING DECENT than publish sjldjaks ToT It's not the comic (god i forgot how difficult it was to clean them up haha)

BUT buuuuut it's something else, you know IIII LOOVVE truffula flu sooo i have a small project (smaaaaalll) in mind I DON'T PROMISE ANYTHING because it's difficult JASJJAJ but well whatever, HELLOUU GUYS again, how is everything here??!?!

[sydneys-adamu]

hellooo! :) outta control here.

these two meet on a dating app and. well it gets kinda fucked.

hope u like <3 gif by @trueloveistreacherous

[tiny-evillious]

I was feeling too tired yesterday to draw something, so here's my take on matching Riliane and Alexiel (had nothing gone wrong and they grew up together and their parents were alive and all).

anyway my favorite menaces they're mean looking but they're really nice and polite to people they actually care about (family, staff, friends)

[h0styg]

Soooo

I decided to share the design for an ut au that I made and

Here you go!!! The AU is called Fragiletale and I worked on it in 2018... Now I sort of want to work on it again

[deer-hearted]

Felt like practicing to draw clothes the other day, so I decided to draw Rick and Ford wearing my partner's and mine current late-autumn outfits. Take a guess at who wears what.

Idk, I won't even count this as an AU or something. Just my favourite guys in nice outfits.

[hayateart]

It's not even 'Eurovision' that is trending anymore. It's 'Käärijä' and 'Finland' and I think that's beautiful.

[greenskellyblob]

[hl-obsessed]

Louis: What are you cooking know?

Harry: This is a chervil frittata with preserved lemon salsa verde and and roasted tomatoes on the vine.

Louis: Huh?

Harry: Eggs, herbs, tomatoes.

[mumpsetc]

It's Interesting Watching How Osc Twitter Behaves and Knowing For Sure Its Gonna Get Someone to Kill Themself, Whichll Then Be Followed By People Making Threads Where They Either Call It Inexcusable or Use Therapyspeak to Remove Blame, and Then Nothing Will Change

[mrsbakashi]

[arsonistmoth]

Yall ever play Outer wilds? I did. And I feel in love with the obscure strangers from the Echos of the Eye DLC. So much so that I made an OC-   This is Nonokeh and they are my bby owl. (based on the idea of a leucistic greater Sooty owl.)

[ddalgimint]

I literally started reading Punk Hazard Arc this afternoon and per 10 p.m (local time, with few necessary breaks) I've been 1/4 through of Dressrosa Arc.

That's like...

70+ chapters?

What a ride...

The last time I remember reading large quantity of manga chapters, is probably 20+ chapters of Hananoi-kun from few weeks ago, where I read it near my bedtime, so I guess my reading speed has been like this all along?

Anyways

I'm ready for upcoming stuffs ahead, while highlighting favorite that'll rent free inside my head starting now;

Mr. Trafalgar Law having cultural shock upon dealing with The Straw Hats' shenanigans

Look at him

Look at his fuzzy mushroom hat and silly (affectionate) face combo

Somebody save him??? Though I think he kinda enjoy it

[goonlalagoon]

Like firewood burning bright || Leagues and Legends

Read on Ao3

When the barrier comes down and they’re left to pick up the pieces, victorious and exhausted, Grey wants to sleep for a week.

Instead, he trails after Jack and Rue, pouring golden fire into the injured, soothing pain and burning out infection. If this was something he was trained to he would be able to be more efficient about it, but the only thing Grey’s trained himself to do with his magic is hide it, so he settles for being a battery. Laney twists hanks of gold in her fingers, weaves it into neat spellwork and hastily shared hedgewitch tricks, and Grey watches out of the corner of his eye, fingers aching. He runs a thumb over the place an ink splatter should be, except that in the midst of a siege he hasn’t been burying himself in gleeful scholarship.

He grumbles, automatic and thoughtless, about how he may as well help out. Not like there’s anything better to do, he mutters as sweat trickles beneath his collar, heart racing like a rabbit’s as the Elsewhere twists at his bones, a storm of fire the drop of a hand away. If I don’t help you with this now, you’ll just wake me up on your way to bed at some awful time of the morning…excuses, excuses, excuses. Grey had never wanted anyone to look to him for help with anything other than, perhaps, obscure academic debate. The location of a book in the reference section of the library, maybe; grudgingly aware that working in the Archives would likely involve a certain amount of customer service.

But Sez turns to him with the faintest quirk of an eyebrow, in the wake of a report about broken wards and unsafe conditions. She wouldn’t say anything to name him: Sez, with her rotating cast of informants and helpers understood anonymity.

Sez turns to him, flicks an eyebrow up just enough for him to know there was a question, a request, if he wanted to answer it - Sez had asked him across the room if he could help, and he found himself reaching for ink and paper, the splatter of diagrams and suggestions for improvement. Something lights up warm in his chest when he sinks power into the first carefully written ward, hidden spell-fire wrapping around a bakery’s beams to prevent any fires from getting out of control. He’d been told all the years of his childhood that mages were selfish, had to be forced to share their wonderful power, had thought on guilty, sleepless nights of the unspoken power pooling at the tips of his brittle fingers - and all it took, in the end, was someone saying please.

Some days, it’s all too much - too many people, too many expectations, too many things twisting him in different directions. Some days he buries himself in books.

This is nothing new; Grey loves reading for many reasons, will lose himself in books and treatsies and journals for the love of studying, for all the fascinating doors it opens even if just in his own head, but sometimes he reads like it’s running away - pages flicking under frantic fingers, each another shield, another fragile skin between Grey and the world.

On bad days, curled in a chair by a mountain view, focusing on every word and tearing through pages as though it was a race, Grey had been able to feel it looming behind him - a father’s pride, a sister’s fear, the knowledge that one slip was all it would take for the world to burn to dust around him.

He feels it less, now, but it echoes through him still. He flicks globs of gold at the nearest wall for light without thinking and freezes, panic turning his brain to static, before rembembering that it’s okay. He’s allowed to be a mage, to call on the Elsewhere, to use every tool at his fingertips to defend himself. He traces blueprints and scribbles down numbers for Laney and George to pour over, and for a moment expects it to be his father leaning on the other side of the workbench. He sees a woman with dark hair out the corner of his eye and turns, frantic, a name caught in his throat - and she turns to speak to someone behind her, and he’s not sure if he’s hurt or relieved that the shape of her face is all wrong.

He doesn’t know where Sandry is, and he won’t unless she wants to tell him. It hurts, to know that she could just leave. It hurts, that he doesn’t quite know if he would have wanted her to stay. He misses his sister, her cool hands and tentative smile, but to everyone other than Rupert she was a monster, and he can’t quite blame them.

(Rupert wouldn’t find this a helpful statement: Sez told him once, pointed, to call her monster not non-human, because she’d rather be known as what she is than what she’s not. Rupert didn’t think it mattered, because what was important was that she was a person. Cassandra Graves had done terrible things, but he wasn’t her judge or jury, and they hadn’t been standing in a court of law. She had been a lab-rat prisoner too, and it hadn’t been because of any of the crimes laid at her feet)

On bad days, the spectres leaning over his shoulder sometimes have different voices, now. His father is gone and Sandry’s fear is unfounded, these days, but there are still so many ways he can see everything precious to him shattering in his hands.

But Jack will gently nudge his shoulder and chivvy him into putting the book aside to eat something, will slide a bookmark between pages and tuck a blanket over his sleeping shoulders. Laney drops new books on his desk and picks his brain on diagrams and plans, suggests gleeful experiments they should find the time for. Rupert sits in peaceful silence with him, the click of knitting needles and the rustle of pages the only sound for hours.

There’s a voice in the back of his head telling him to hide, but it gets easier every day to quiet it, to say from what? and listen to the echoing lack of an answer.

He helps Sez when she asks, is given the responsibility of setting up a library for anyone to use - "I didn't mean I should run it!" he tells Sez plaintively, and Sally laughs at him over her shoulder - and wanders home through streets he first learned under siege, familiar now in a patchwork of memories. There, the building Jack insisted on helping to paint until Rue dragged him away; here, the one Grey helped yank the fallen rubble of out of the way so they could rebuild the walls without waiting for enough people to shift it all by hand. He spends his evenings curled up in the corner of their flat with a book, comfortable and content, and calls gentle fire to his unshaking fingertips to read by when it gets dark.

[syntia13treeman]

TMA vs insomnia, go.

What a weird night I've had.

It was late Sunday evening, and I can be a responsible adult sometimes, so knowing I'll have to get up at 6:30 I turned off my computer shortly before mightnight and went to sleep. Or tried to. Now, I do sometimes get random bouts of insomnia, when I go trough weeks of maybe 4 hours of sleep on weekdays, because I'm to wired to go to bed at reasonable time; much rarer are individual nights when without warning I'm lying down and tired to the bone, but just can't fall asleep. Today was one of those days, but I made it stranger than usuall. There are two factors I'm going to 'blame' here.

One was the weather. After a month of pretty mild winter, yesterday the temperature rapidly dropped to 13oC below zero while air pressure skyrocketed. This is what I think caused me to spend post midnight hours tossing and turning.

The other is the fact that I've been binging Magnus Archives for the past week.

When at some point I checked the time and saw it was going on 2 am and I wasn't any closer to falling asleep than 2 hours prior, I decided, what the hell, I might as well listen to spooky bedtime stories and hope for the best. And so I grabbed my phone, turned volume as low as it would go and listned to a couple episodes before deciding it was enough, and putting the phone away. Half an hour later I realized that sleep still wasn't happening, so I grabbed the phone again. I repeated this process several times, and only once I suddenly got confused about what was happening, checked the phone, and saw that I was a few minutes into an episode with a title I didn't recognize. But I only had to go one episode back and found a familiar spot halfway through it, so I know I only nodded off for 15 minutes tops. And I was once again wide awake, and so I continued to listen.

And then, eventually, my alarm clock went of and I got up, dressed and put in my contacts and went into the winter morning/night and drove to work, watching in real time the fog of my breacth freazing on the windshield into the most beautiful tiny fractal flowers.

I'm there now, sitting at the computer, and when I look out the window, I see the first lines of dawn in the sky behind the line of leafless trees. A day of work lies ahead.

Wish me luck.

P.S. all through the drive I also felt strangly awake, and kept wondering if I'm actually clear headed and alert, or was I like that thing when drunk people would swear they are not drunk at all, and if I was, in fact, barely awake and about to drive right throug a shop window any second. I've never been so carefull navigating the iced-over turns as today, I can tell you that. :D