#the rain will be welcome though

[the-polite-lurker]

There’s a big storm coming, praying we miss the hail.

(Edit: We missed the bad part woohoo!)

[hrokkall]

Designed some V-Model Iterators to go with the Minos and Sisyphus slugcats I've been drawing

[mizzyislost]

Ur rivulet design is so skrunkly can we see more of the fish

ok but only because you asked nicely

original image for the first one :)

[diremoone]

🖤 “there is no love purer than mine.” 🖤

sylus x kass | moodboard

[wildflowerteas]

extremely embarrassed I am once again coming to you with 3 asks😔😔😔 elli read chapter 4

OH GOD. here we go. i panicked thinking this was about chapter 5 because of the mid-chapter 4 line but from the skim i just did i think I'm going to have to steel my heart or risk cardiac arrest from your reactions to the smut ( which, by the way, was the first smut I've ever written so please go easyonme ). Chapter 4, however, was incredibly fun to write so I'm excited to read through this. ( Sweet Dreams is playing too--i've had the tsp sskk playlist on loop to get in the mindset for part III )

Yes!!!! the PM is also in the tags! i couldn't make a murder mystery AU set in Los Angeles of all places and not have corporations with dirty hands and deep-pocketed old-money types floating around their establishments. Los Angeles doesn't and didn't have a main crime family with a lot of Aura, so inserting the PM without feeling like I was replacing a very real crime syndicate ( like I would if this was NY or Chicago ) was quite nice.

Yeah . . . TSP Atsushi is a whole different thing, on the surface at least. He's older, more experienced ( Yeah. ), and honestly, has bigger problems to deal with than the budding realization that he might like men so he just waltzes into flirtation with Akutagawa like it's nothing. If I were Ryuu I'd have pushed him down the stairwell by now, but he's too smitten for that.

I need to draw Mori in that shirt ( he did step up, after all. The Tsushimas weren't great, even if Dazai thinks of them with that wistfulness seen in Chapter 2 ).

OMG I CANNOT TELL WHATS BEEN BLACKED OUT IN THESE SCREENSHOTS SO I JUST FREAK OUT WHENEVER THERE'S A MASSIVE SPOILER QUOTE TT_TT. My blood goes cold. Poor Elli I bet there are entire conversations that are just a wall of grey rectangles to them.

I'd LOVE to write a bsd au set in a neo-futuristic AU!!!!!! honestly, that would go crazy, I can imagine it already.

I think Dazai is most attractive when he's shutting the fuck up unfortunately

Oh wow I feel like I'm watching a downward spiral into hornyposting in real-time surely this isn't going to go anywhere.

[yakool-foolio]

*coughs up a vague ditty about Lieu since I ended up writing about them for an exercise in my creative writing class*

[theitalianscribe]

How the Starlight Boss Fight Could Go

I apparently have a lot of feelings on this topic. This will just be me pasting a comment I made on the original Dreamworld video From back when it was a FNAF game concept. I really liked what I wrote so I'm posting it here.

Anyway....

Okay, imagine the Star fight happens later in the game after a heart to heart. Maybe seeing Glory and Rex interacting makes Star remember that he had someone like that. He can't remember the person's face, but he remembers details about him. Like how he gave the best hugs, how he would actively listen to anything you talked aboit and would ack questions. Like he was dying to know more about anything, from some story you made up in your head to how you put together a robotic fox creature for robotics class/club. How he would bring people together and was happiest when surrounded by loved ones all making each other happy.

And as he starts gushing about this person, maybe even aboit to say his name or reveal something about his own past, the bluey mask clicks into place and suddenly Star completely changes.

Maybe there are dialogue optioks and knowing more about the characters will help you pick the dialogue that makes him angry or sad. Heck, maybe on the second playthrough you unlock an option that reveals something about the player character and his motivations and it stops the boss fight by evoking the scarlet mask through bittersweet emotions or shock or something.

I freaking love the potential of an emotionally driven boss fight!

[bowbow-the-clown]

....A Family Portrait....

... Edit Edition ... Extravaganza Abracadabra Bonanza ...

.. enjoy ..

[fairweathermyth]

hello! I'm reading the assassin's apprentice (bc of you!) and I gotta be honest i'm about 70% of the way through and it's been a real drag for me for the most part (RIP smithy). would you say i should keep going with the series or if I find the first book a bit meh i should give up?

Hi! Yeah, I do remember that I played it really close trying to finish that first book within the two week library check out period. It took me kind of a long time to get into it, but the last few chapters are pretty wild and I was definitely compelled to continue when I finished. So hopefully you'll feel that way too! That said, if you overall had a bad time reading it, then maybe it's just not for you, who knows.

Assassin's Apprentice is doing A Lot of groundwork with world building and character foundations that set you up for the literal 16 book saga where SO MUCH happens, so you're really investing in the long-term payoffs if you stick with it! Personally I think it's very worth it. I also think that first book might be hard for people because the protagonist is such a young child. I think maybe you'll feel more connected to the story and to him as he gets older and you go on that journey with him. And the more time you spend in that world the more fascinating the lore and various cultures of the universe become. I just think Robin Hobb does an incredible job making it so expansive and detailed - it all feels so real. ALSO, crucially the best character in the series (and tbh possibly my favorite character in literature??) The Fool is barely even in the first book, so I think it's worth sticking around to get to see more of him for sure!!!!

[darewolfcreates]

The doobles I did of nightlight in class :]

Violence and sadness undercut.

Most of these were drawn in class on days where I forgot to bring something to eat before class...

[atsu-i]

.

[skiddlecat]

mortifying ordeal of being Known going on rn

[caligasolus]

Hey gang,

Like the bus, I'm late. like over a decade to late.

I was afraid to get into nightvale because it seemed scary and I was a scared young adult. Well now i'm 31 and obsessed with welcome to nightvale.

I listened to so many episodes, and there are so many more to go. i have found new music that i absolutely love. And I ship Carlos and Cecil so hard.

[answrs]

i took like 16 pictures and then realized only one turned out after the fact because the damn camera focused on the packaging labels in the background instead of the (to be fair, translucent-on-transparent) glass etchings, fucking rip.

but also fuck it I'm not unpacking the whole box again. I mean it's only six shot glasses but like. it's the principle of the thing.

also i already drank the bottle so... ┐⁠(⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠￣⁠)⁠┌

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Chapter 1.1: Unfamiliar.

Previously // Next - (chapter list)

Gavriel Huffman’s consciousness drifted back in pieces, slowly. The first sensation he registered was the pain. A throbbing, burning ache in his side that shot throughout his body with each ragged breath he took. His hand twitched reflexively, wanting to clutch at the wound, but his limbs felt heavy, sluggish.

He groaned, eyelids fluttering open before having to close them as his blurry vision was assaulted by the bright sunlight peaking through the cracks of the window blinds. Gavriel winced, turning his head slightly to escape the light. The movement sent another jolt of pain lancing through his body making him grit his teeth. The pain, though familiar, was sharper now, less numbed by adrenaline.

His instincts screamed at him to assess his surroundings, and with great effort, he forced his unsteady vision to focus. What he saw made him slightly more awake with disoriented alarm.

The room was cozy. Unbearably so. The walls had warm tones of colors that made the room feel welcoming. The bed he laid on was draped in a checkered quilt with a few stitches here and there. It wasn't as feathery soft or as luxurious as the one he had back in his place, but the worn down cheap quality of it only made them feel more homely in comparison. The air was filled with a subtle, comforting scent, and the one Gavriel noticed immediately was the smell of baked goods.

It was the kind of room he had only ever seen through windows in neighborhoods he didn’t belong in.

Gavriel’s brow furrowed, his jaw tightening. He didn’t belong here. The dissonance between his bleak, gritty world and this gentle, almost absurd comfort was jarring. It made his head spin, not just from the pain.

He hadn't been thinking very clearly then, but he could vaguely recall memories of the rain and the blood soaking into his clothes and him collapsing into unconsciousness, but everything after that was a blur. How had he ended up here?

Where the hell was he? His hand felt heavy as he reached up to touch the wound in his side, and he was surprised to find it wrapped in bandages. The dressing was hastily done.

He pushed the blanket aside, revealing his current state. His torso was bare, the bandages wrapped tight around his injury, and he was wearing pants that definitely weren’t his. The worn, clean fabric was more snug than anything he’d ever put on.

He frowns at this. Gavriel didn’t trust kindness. It's a luxury reserved for people who hadn’t been forced to scrape and claw their way through life.

With a grunt, he forced himself upright, teeth gritting as another wave of pain rippled throughout his body. He braced himself on the nightstand, the wooden surface creaking under his grip, and scanned the room for any signs of danger.

His eyes landed on a small framed photo on the nightstand. It showed a cheerful looking man with a wide goofy smile and a thumbs-up, standing next to… what he assumes to be his family, accompanied with a clean and comfortable-looking set of clothing sitting there waiting for him to wear alongside his glasses.

He reached out for it, seating the frame on his nose bridge and ears. Gavriel turned to squint at the image, something tugging in his head as he tried to place the face of that male toon. Then his mind flashed to the moment before he went unconscious. Someone had crouched down beside him when he was dying in that alleyway.

But why? The idea that someone had helped him, patched up a criminal covered in blood, was almost laughable. People didn’t do that for him- for them. At least, not in the place where he belongs.

Currently though, that wasn't his main concern. His dark eyes narrowed. Where the hell was his gun?

His fingers instinctively moved to his waist, but the comfort of the cold metal wasn't there. Gavriel sighed as a familiar wave of dullness washed over him, pulling him in a state of rumination. He was still hurt, still vulnerable, and that meant he was in danger, no matter how deceptively safe this place looked. He clenched his fists, not even giving a wince at the painful ache in his body.

All of this made him feel rather numb and confused, but it doesn't show on his face which he'd trained to never waver even in danger.

The dull ache of his wounds, the confusion of being in this unsettlingly mellow room, and the disorientation of having just woken up alive when he very well should've been dead in an alleyway somewhere. It all pressed down on him heavily. His mind felt like it was wrapped in fog, every thought coming in with a painful throb. He tried to think, to piece together why he hadn’t bled out in that alley.

He knew that his injuries had been severe enough to be fatal, the kind of wounds that left little hope for survival. A few hasty bandages and dressings wouldn’t have done much to stop the life bleeding out of his dying body.

Yet here he was, hurting but very much still alive. He rubbed his forehead, the motion sluggish from pain as he racked his brain for an answer. It wasn’t until he sat there for a hot minute that realization struck.

Oh, right. He was in a city reigned by the Toon genre.

It was common knowledge to all that the Toons leaned heavily on the whimsical side, or more specifically, it was the environment itself that exuded this sort of vitality. One that let its residents survive otherwise fatal mishaps with only a moment’s comedic daze and maybe a few tweeting birds circling their heads.

He couldn’t be bothered to recite the specifics of it. Something about places in the Toon genre having stronger healing properties or some nonsense like that. But now, in this moment, the absurdity wasn’t so easy to dismiss as it had been the very thing that had led to him surviving his death, a miracle in of itself.

Gavriel’s hand reached up to softly graze the large scar on the side of his neck, healed yet still deep and harrowing, which told stories of a much darker time. Touching it had been a habit he'd developed a long time ago in times of stress or simply whenever he contemplated.

He had no patience for the whimsical workings of this place, no desire to analyze the wonders or whatever it was that had saved him. The only thing that mattered to him was that it had and he's alive because of it.

It didn’t change his wariness though. If anything, it only made him more resolute to understand who had brought him here and why.

Then Gavriel hears the door click open.

---------------

Jack Desmond stepped into the bedroom, carefully balancing a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a bowl of warm porridge in the other. He didn't have anything special in his kitchen at the moment so he was only able to put together a simple meal, figuring that even the scariest man in the world deserved something warm and filling in his stomach to help him heal. That was, if the food hadn't already gone cold by the time he awoke.

Jack wore his usual friendly smile, ready to show the stranger some hospitality when he froze in confusion the moment he saw that the bed was empty.

“Huh?” Jack murmured, his brow furrowing. His eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of where the man might have gone, but there was nothing.

"Hugh!"

Coffee and porridge spilled to the ground as the cup and plate he'd been holding came crashing down on the ground, splattering everywhere.

Rough hands closed around his neck from behind. The force of the grip was firm, not quite strangling but strong enough to hold Jack in place.

Cold sweat beaded on his forehead and rolled down his temples, his hair standing on its end. It felt like his heart was caught in his throat, he didn't even dare breathe too hard.

The presence behind him was suffocating, a dense aura of danger which didn't fit with the comfort of the room they were in.

The hand holding him didn’t need a weapon.

It didn't take much for Jack to instinctively realize that he was currently bordering the line of life and death, a primal understanding that this man could end him effortlessly if he choses to.

Jack’s throat bobbed as he tried to swallow but can't, his mouth dry as a desert. It was as if time had slowed down. He could feel his heart thundering inside, each beat thudding louder and louder in his ears as he stood there, unable to do anything but wait.

The silence was deafening. Jack's mind told him to yell, scream loudly for help, but he couldn’t even force out a sound.

Jack felt his breath hitch as the man’s deep, rumbling voice cut through the suffocating silence. The voice was hoarse from fatigue and pain, but it still carried a commanding weight to it as he spoke.

"Who are you?" the voice demanded, each word slow and deliberate, laced with a barely restrained irritation. "Where am I and why am I here?"

Despite the fear pressing down on him, Jack’s mind raced, and something other than terror roused his senses. He sniffs subconsciously, his nose picking up a change in the air. That sharp, metallic tang that made his stomach twist.

"I-I’ll tell you everything you want to know," he stammered. "But please, d-don’t move too much." He could smell it. The fresh, unmistakable scent of blood. "You're hurt, s-sir…"

With those words, the room fell into silence again. The man behind him didn't say anything, as if contemplating Jack’s words, yet the grip around Jack’s neck remained firm. Each second seemed to stretch into eternity, and Jack held his breath, waiting for a response as a cold bead of sweat rolls down his face.

Finally, after what felt like a forever, the grip released. Jack released his breath, silently gasping for air as his feet planted into the ground, trying to steady his balance after that terrifying experience. Slowly, he turns around, stumbling away slightly as he looks up to face the much larger man.

Gavriel stood there, towering over him with one hand clutching his wounded side, blood seeping through the bandages and staining his skin anew. With a shadow cast over his face, his sharp glare intensified.

His dark eyes narrowed, scarred face twisted into a pained look of irritation. Even when injured, such a sight would be enough to intimidate anyone with the sheer menace he radiated.

But as Jack’s heart raced in his chest, his gaze drifted almost unconsciously to Gavriel’s wound. The fear was still there, pressing down on Jack’s chest, but something else was too.

Concern.

The sight of the reopened wound stirred something deeply instinctive and kind in Jack, something that momentarily outweighed his terror. He couldn’t help it. Despite the terrifying glare, despite understanding that this man could kill him if he wanted to, Jack’s eyes lingered more on his injury rather than his scary appearance.

“You’re bleeding again,” Jack whispered, his voice small but genuine, before he presses his lips, meekly looking up to meet the man's eyes. The words had slipped out before he could stop them, his worry winning over self-preservation for just a second.

Gavriel’s glare remained unwavering, burning with a mix of suspicion and impatience. “Answer my questions,” he ordered.

Jack nodded quickly in agreement, returning his focus on the wound, which now had blood dripping from Gavriel’s side, pooling on the floor in droplets.

Jack frowns, a wave of empathy coursing through him, and he took a small step forward without thinking, wanting to help.

Gavriel reacted instantly, his expression souring like a cornered animal. His lips pulled back into a nasty snarl, and Jack immediately froze, eyes darting back to the man's face, his look carrying a clear message.

Don’t come any closer.

Jack was hesitant, but he took a shaky breath and showed Gavriel his palm, trying to show him that he meant no harm. “I just… I just want to help.” His eyes showed nothing but genuine concern, a warmth that was out of place in the tension.

For a moment, Gavriel didn’t move. His gaze bore into Jack with an intensity that made the toon feel exposed but Jack holds his ground, knowing that the man in front of him was in pain and had only been acting out of self preservation.

Jack cautiously inched closer, his hands still raised, palm facing upwards to try and ease the man that he wouldn't do anything bad to him. The closer he got, the more he could see the strain in Gavriel’s features. It was a silent battle between the pain and the effort to appear unwavering.

Finally, he reached the man’s side. Gavriel's eyes followed, but he didn’t stop him as Jack extended his palm towards him. Jack's hand flinches and hesitates for a second when Gavriel's grip on his wound tightened… Jack steels himself and gently touched the lower side of the man's hip, his fingers being stained with the blood that ran steadily down it.

Despite not being injured himself, Jack still winced sympathetically at the sight. Though Gavriel’s face showed no change, Jack didn’t miss the way the muscle around the injury flinched at his touch.

“Okay… okay.” Jack murmured, his voice soft but determined. His mind buzzed with worry, already trying to think of what he could do to keep the wound from worsening.

With a pang of dread, it finally dawned on him in fullness that this was only the beginning of him having to temporarily keep this dangerous man in his apartment.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a long week.

[bbbbbbbbatman]

Once Batman has revealed his identity to the JL, and after some strong encouragement from Superman and Wonder Woman, Bruce decides to try to start being a bit more "personable" with the rest of league. They've been colleagues for a decade and he trusts them all, and according to Clark and Diana this means there's no need for his whole mysterious "shadow of the night" bit, so he invites the league to dinner at the manor.

It is raining heavily, and even though it's not that late, it's nearly pitch dark but for the frequent lightning strikes. The league arrives together at Wayne Manor and the wrought iron gates stretch upward before them, ending in spikes at the top with ivy overgrown across them. They stand there, uncomfortable, wet, a bit weirded out, wondering how they're supposed to get passed the gates.

"This is creepy, right?" Hal says. "It's not just me?"

A voice. "Hello." As the league turns to the sound, thunder claps loud enough to startle everyone as lightning strikes, illuminating a small child standing on the other side of the gates that was definitely not there a second ago. He stands motionless under an umbrella, seemingly unbothered by the rain, expression vaguely irritated, and his eyes seem to flash green in the light. "I have been instructed to escort you inside."

The child doesn't move in any way but the gates slowly swing open, the creaking sounds sound straight out of a horror movie. Once they are fully opened, the boy turns and starts walking down the path without a word.

The league, some members quite freaked out at this point, follow him after exchanging some looks. They round a bend in the path and the manor comes into view. It is a massive dark structure, rising from the ground. Another lightning strike illuminates pointed spires, jagged edges, and it's gloomy, gothic nature. The sound of bats shrieking can be heard in the distance over the rain.

The league finally arrives at the front door, cold, wet, and thoroughly discomfited. An old man, a butler, looking out of time, opens the door, the child disappears inside. The butler welcomes everyone inside graciously but with a distant politeness. Despite the appearance of the exterior, the inside is well lit with warm light and seems inviting, though ostentatious. The league is relieved.

Until another massive lightning strike and thunder clap cuts the power off and the room is pitch black.

"Oh, you're here," a deep voice says from somewhere up above. No sooner are the words out than another lightning strike illuminates a dark, hulking figure on the staircase that was also definitely not there a second ago. At least two people scream.

Bruce is wildly confused as to why his guests are screaming, he didn't think any of them were afraid of the dark? The back up generator kicks on and the lights come back on and everybody seems to calm down. The rest of the dinner seems to go well (as well as a dinner can with the justice league and all of Bruce's kids) but strangely, to Bruce's confusion, it somehow only made his "spooky" reputation worse. He's not really sure why the whole league seems to think he lives in a haunted house.