#that's the title now :D;;

[dennydrawscomics]

[[ Chapter 1 ]] [[ Chapter 2 ]]

"Choices? People like us aren't born with such..." [[And chapter 3 is rolling! A short one that this time :D I did have one more page but I kinda felt like Arzu and Baelan being back to back was a good end for the chapter! We got a glimpse at Arzu's background now for she isn't having easy time either u_u;;

Thank you so much for stopping by! Likes and reblogs appreciated as always \o/ !! ]]

[taikova]

here's some drawings from a "mt washington" -song inspired video project i never finished.

[forbestiel]

What will I do when the opening scene of Good Omens s3 is the fall? When all the angels are collected along the edge of a cliff watching hundreds of thousands of angels fall into hell and their wings are charred and there’s screaming and chaos and pain in the air. When Crowley reaches a hand out, trying to hold on to something, anything, because all he did was ask a few questions he just hung around the wrong people he didn’t mean to fall. When he looks and Aziraphale – that nice cherub who helped hold up the nebula designs for him and complimented his work but followed the rules a bit too much – is right above him, watching with a heartbroken face because he doesn’t like when anyone is in pain. When Aziraphale lifts his hand, almost reaching out to him, before pulling back and looking away, hoping no one else noticed his compassion for a fallen angel because they might punish him too. What will I do then?

[sysig]

You're still standing off to the side. Somehow, center stage has shifted from under your feet without you realizing, and you're standing in the wings, performing to no one.

Starring Role (Patreon)

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[deadpoolsmom]

the current Yonko/Emperor lineup in op is really funny to me like okay 3/4 of one of the ‘Great Powers’ consists of:

- Shanks

- Shanks’ mentee/son figure wearing Shanks’ dad’s hat

- Shanks’ unionized exes (represented by Shanks’ childhood companion/best friend)

it’s literally this one drunk slut all the way down like okay maybe red-haired shanks is That Bitch

[silverwhittlingknife]

tfw you're on a cruise in the atlantic with your dad and kinda-sorta-brother and everything's fine except for all the VERY RECENT TRAUMA

[mizzmellos]

I HAVE BECOME A CORPSE, I CANNOT ANSWER YOU

[ruvviks]

Following the chilling conclusion of All That's Left's first season, Mac and Layla and their friends find themselves scattered across a divided Los Angeles a year after their successful return to town. Matrix Corp has taken control— "With humanity's best interest in mind"— but with our protagonists' knowledge of Opportunity's destruction and Houston's unexpected fall, they know better than to trust the corporation and its near military-sized security force. Closed district gates separate them from one another and a new threat lurks just outside the city's walls— but resistance is on the rise, and it is only a matter of time before truth comes out. [SEASON ONE HERE]

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @roseeway, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners

[madfantasy]

On The Nose

Ah, excited to be finally on my snarry drawing list--! I must say thanks to seeing @flymetosnarryland's amazing work 8' ❤️‍🔥

Even thos it been years last his scar severely pained him, Severus can't help sometimes but be skittish to anything arounds his neck/chin area, so Harry developed this habit to still give Sev some affection

5.6.2023, Support Mani

[junos-cacophony]

“Mirror, Mirror On the Wall, Who’s the Ringmaster Behind It All?”

[morninkim]

d&d tomberly... save me..

d&d tomberly

save me d&d tomberly

[charmwasjess]

What are your opinions on the sunglasses Sir Christopher Lee wears in The Howling 2 Your Sister is a Werewolf?

I see this incredible look, and raise you Christopher Lee somehow making a lace dress work with converse sneakers??!

LOOK at him. HIS CUNTY LOOK.

[sodafrog13]

skill issue

[chenziee]

The Heart in the Cage

I'm so sorry for the delay! Work and life in general's been a total dumpster fire the past two weeks 💀 I'll try to get the next one asap but I sadly can't promise anything concrete OTL

Written for: - @truffyfest Summer of Lawlu 2024 - Week 2: CONFESSION | HEART SWAP | “I thought I’d lost you.” - OP Bingo 2023: Volcano - @opfluffzine Wheel of Fluff event: Communication

[ READ ON AO3 | CHAINS OF FATE | COMM INFO ]

----------

“You want to do what?” 

Luffy snickered at Law’s question. He did expect him to protest the idea but his shocked tone and horrified expression was just something else and Luffy just couldn’t help it. It was too funny, okay?

“Stop laughing, do you realise how serious what you’re asking is?” Law hissed, his frustration more than apparent.

“Sorry, Torao.” Luffy gulped, forcing his mirth down.

For a few seconds, Torao just continued glaring at him, as if to make sure Luffy wasn’t going to start giggling again… and maybe to try and convey how very unimpressed with Luffy he was. But finally, he sighed. 

“Tell me why exactly should I go ahead with this stupid idea?”

“Because you love me!” Luffy answered immediately with a wide smile on his face, leaning forward to peer at Law’s face. There was a complicated look in his sharp, beautiful eyes, a look that told Luffy that he was fighting with himself over it.

Clicking his tongue, Law shoved Luffy’s face away. “That has nothing to do with it. In fact, it’s all the more reason why I shouldn’t do it.” He narrowed his eyes at Luffy, pointing his finger at Luffy and poking at the centre of his chest. “If my heart is in there and something happens to me, you’re dead, Luffy.”

“So?” Luffy asked, a pout making its way on his lips.

Law inhaled sharply, and it looked like he was counting to ten in his mind before he replied, “So, I’m not going to do it. It’s too fucking risky!” He paused, closing his eyes for a second before shooting Luffy a look. “Why do you want me to switch our hearts anyway?”

With a small huff, Luffy slumped against the backrest of the aquarium bar’s couch, watching as the dim light reflecting off of the water dances across Law’s skin, his face, his hair. There were still some barely visible scratches and bruises, a bandage tightly wrapped around his left forearm where his soulmark was. Covering the deep, long slash Torao got from Blackbeard days ago. Chopper said it was likely going to scar, marring his skin forever.

Leaving a mark where only Luffy’s presence should be…

All the while Luffy was on Egghead and completely unaware anything was wrong until after the crew and everyone else got to safety and he thought to check Torao’s vivre card.

They were lucky Bepo was able to get Law to safety before anything worse happened to him, or any of the Heart Pirates.

“It’s just…” Luffy gestured with his hand vaguely. “We’re gonna go our separate ways again. I wanna have something to connect to you.”

“You have my vivre card. I have yours. Pretty sure Nami-ya still has Bepo’s. We have literal soulmarks. You even made us get fucking tattoos,” Law pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

Luffy groaned and looked away, turning to study the fish swimming happily in the aquarium. “It’s slow, okay? If your heart is with me, I’ll know immediately that I need to check your vivre card.”

When Law didn’t say anything for a while, Luffy glanced back at him. He was surprised to find Law’s own eyes boring into him, studying Luffy’s expression and searching his eyes for something. What that something was, Luffy had no idea… but he decided to wait until Law found it—or gave up. 

It took a long while for either of them to say anything; they quietly looked at each other, the silence hanging around them heavy but somehow, it wasn’t uncomfortable. Rather, it felt like a sense of understanding connected them, an invisible string that tied them together and linked them and their thoughts. Somehow, Luffy wouldn’t mind sitting here like this all afternoon. For some reason, he didn’t think he’d even get bored.

… Okay, maybe not the whole afternoon but he could definitely do a few minutes no problem!

But that wasn’t the point.

���What is this really about, Straw Hat-ya?”

Luffy froze at the question, blinking at Law blankly. What was it about? He didn’t really think about it when he suggested the heart swapping, didn’t bother searching for a reason. Thinking wasn’t his strong suit, after all; the idea occurred to him and it felt right so he just said it… But well—

“I don’t know! Does it matter?” Luffy asked, tilting his head to the side. “It’s not a big deal, and I know you’ve done it already two years ago!”

Law startled at the revelation, obviously not expecting Luffy to know. He stared at Luffy with wide eyes for a moment, before a groan escaped him. “It was Penguin, wasn’t it?”

“Yep!” Luffy confirmed with a laugh. “He also said you told him you’d toss him overboard if he ever told me.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Law grumbled, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “It was a temporary measure to help with treatment. You basically had a volcano erupt in your lungs and you’d have died if I didn’t do it. There’s no medical reason now.”

“Was there one back then though?” Luffy teased, poking Law’s shoulder. “I mean, you could have used anyone’s heart. Or just left me be!”

Seeing the scowl Torao gave him, Luffy couldn’t help but burst out laughing. That only seemed to make Law more annoyed… which in turn made Luffy laugh harder. 

“You’re right, I should have just let you die,” Torao grumbled, rolling his eyes at Luffy’s amusement.

With one last snicker, Luffy shuffled closer, pressing a quick, loud kiss to Law’s cheek before he poked Torao’s side again. “I think your reason was the same as mine is now,” he said quietly.

“I’m not lying on the operating table with a hole in my chest, connected to a ventilator and on the verge of total heart failure,” Law shot back, his voice completely flat and entirely unimpressed.

“Maybe, but when I saw your vivre card, I still thought I’d lost you for a moment. I never wanted to feel that way again after Mingo almost killed you.” Luffy shrugged.

When Law didn’t say anything, Luffy hummed, looking at Law questioningly, only to find a complicated expression on his face. Did he say something weird? He didn’t think he did but seeing how Torao was staring at him…

“What did I say?!” Luffy cried out defensively, only for Law to heave a deep sigh.

“You’re saying that? Did you forget you actually died not three weeks ago?” Law said, narrowing his eyes at Luffy.

That only served to prove Luffy right! “See?!” He grinned victoriously. “We’re thinking the same thing!”

“We are so not,” Law hissed.

Waving his hand dismissively, Luffy shuffled closer still, throwing his legs over Torao’s lap as he made himself comfortable in his personal space. Law didn’t seem to mind, automatically placing one hand over Luffy’s knee. Luffy’s smile widened at the gesture.

“Torao~” he sang. “Let's do it.”

“You’re such a brat.” Law sighed, shooting Luffy an annoyed look and Luffy grinned victoriously—making Torao click his tongue. “Wipe that look off your face, you won nothing.”

“But you’re gonna do it so I win!” Luffy announced, sticking his tongue out.

As Law rolled his eyes at him and a Room formed around the two of them, Luffy felt warmth pooling in his chest, spreading throughout his entire body. Wow, he really loved this man, didn’t he? It was ridiculous; it felt like every day, he was falling deeper—soulmate or not, it didn’t matter to him.

The birdcage he carried on his thigh didn’t matter to him—it was crushed anyway, just like Law’s chain was snapped, just like it should be. They didn’t need their soulmarks. They didn’t need fate.

And seeing Law’s heart, watching as it beat strongly in his hands, feeling its warmth as he inserted it into his own chest…

He was never more sure of that.

Never more sure this was where he should be.