#tloa

[neytui]

I think it suits you more

chapter 8 from The Lights of Avalon by @alkalinefrog :)

[jinxyjinxer]

Is it just me or does anyone else get reminded of Warwick!Vander as well when looking at Torbek?

(yes I'm a tloa fan, sue me)

[tebis-b]

You can throw any magical fantasy scene at me, I will eat that sheet up and puke out fanart of it.

And this is yet again another scene of @alkalinefrog 's "The lights of Avalon". Chapter 9 is my favorite up until now and I loved this scene so much that I couldn't stop myself from drawing it, even though it didn't come out how I wanted, I think it looks good enough if you don't look at it for too long.

[twiafom]

alka: it is so crazy that robin can write 10k chapters can you believe that

me: RIGHT? never in my life

alka: LOL SAME

[ddostoyevskyy]

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍❞

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄: The Act Of Judgement!

Ranpo Edogawa

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... Mentions of abuse, sexual assault, double meaning words/sentences.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 613.

SERIES MASTERLIST

There’s something that a person with no money and no connections could not afford, something unreachable and ignorant. A privilege that only those whose rich can achieve. Something a person can do violence and anything. Justice. Something that even me, a child came from violence and sexual assault couldn’t even reach. It’s only a word with seven letters, yet it holds such power to ruin a life, to ruin one’s dreams and beliefs. And, Justice, as a dream that can turn into a nightmare.

The power that it holds were unmatched. It took me some time to be able to reach this privilege, to be able to taste the success and a smell of terrible end of journey just to see a new beginning in life. The pain I went thru just to reach my dream to fight for justice and serve for the people is something I cannot ever forget.

I became a subject of knowledge, a prisoner — chained up and locked away from the expectations. I was born to gaze at the harsh reality of the world and a harsh grasp of a man that has me wrapped around his fingers; I couldn’t escape him, I couldn’t run away from him, I couldn’t do anything as I was maneuvered as a puppet subject. I was trained to be enourmous and something dangerous — although, not like a certain someone he raised as a killing machine, I am more.... special as he says while he has my fragile jaw between his hand in a tight grip.

My ability was made from chemicals — my ability was made by my own father, an alchemist, a scientist.

I could only survive in the wrath of injections and chemicals with the help of the beeping machines and apparatus on my body. I am not made of machine, although I was supported by it — I knew, I am not something inhumane; what they did to me as a child is what in out of the world. I was slapped by the harsh reality of people with gifted abilities and how the world works with children and women. The power imbalance of both gender is what makes me nauseous.

The knowledge I held is something out of the world. Common sense is what I hate, people being oblivious and ignorant is what I despised. Lastly, people whose justice are not yet served is what I fight for.

I was trained to be intelligent. I was trained to be a tool for manipulation. Although, I managed to escape him, the scars left on my mind and the traces of my father’s experiments is something that was imprinted in my very being — all in while tainted my life as a human.

I was told to be wary of people’s behaviors. I could tell their lies and sincerity, the flaws within their words that oppose with their actions. I was told to be watchful and observant. The only way to find the truth for revelations, even though it’ll hurt — even though it’ll ruin me, as well.

I was born to fight for justice, to serve people and to prove one’s innocence or guilt in the eyes of a judge. I was born to fight in my own battlefield; the trial court — to fight for the victims and punish the criminals with my own gun; the raw evidence — that only those who deserved to be pointed at the head are shot thru their skull.

I am not born to kill, yet my hands are already tainted blood before I became one with justice.

Most people fell in love with proffesionals, but I fell in love with justice — justice I’ll call a certain detective.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2023 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[luxuryvanitysims]

day at the beach 🌴

[boohbah69]

nothing like the universal lesbian experience of falling in love with your best friend, confessing, followed up by a panicked “i’m sorry”

[souppeh]

“It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”

[queerauntie]

Y’all really making me wanna watch The Last of Us, but I don’t wanna have that kinda anxietyyyy you know?

[jezebelgoldstone]

listen if you're into tloa or the mandolorian or whatever if you like pedro pascal at all PLEASE read this

Honestly this whole Pedro Pascal thing is getting out of hand it's scraping insanity. One thing is to tell your friends that you want to fuck him or thirst over him in your personal tumblr blogs like the rest of us common mortals do. Another completely different thing is to have people on his Instagram and other platforms calling him daddy and commenting what they want to do with him very explicitly and to have interviewers calling him the daddy of the internet or whatever the fuck. That's harassment. It is not okay. The man is clearly overwhelmed and tired of being called obscene things everywhere he goes plus online. Like what the fuck is happening. Can we collectively chill and start condemning this type of objectifying behavior please? People need to learn to keep things to themselves. I've seen literal grown ass adult interviewers telling him this shit directly and filming his reaction. Enough

[neytui]

Obsessed with your httyd art, you artstyle is so beautiful. <3

Also, you said you were reading a royalty au fic? Is it possible i could have the link?

Thank you a lot :') <3

The fic it's called The Lights of Avalon, it's a HiccupxJack fic au so I don't know if it's for everyone's taste but it portrays the characters really good so if your interested please read it!

[mumblecorecleverclods]

Umbrella Academy S4 has some odd similarities to The Last of Us.

[tebis-b]

"Born of the sea"

This scene from chapter 8 of @alkalinefrog 's "The lights of Avalon" kept bouncing inside of my head and I would've gone insane if I didn't draw it, so here it is! Ta-da!

Also, don't look too closely at the ships, all the budget went into the giant lady in the sky.

[scotio]

rip Sarah Miller you would've loved MUNA

[ddostoyevskyy]

❝𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐖 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍❞

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐕𝐈: The Hell of Mirrors, 𝐈𝐈!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... dark content; multiple mental disorders, heavy manipulation, experiments, child abuse, murders.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... There’s a graphic description of (Name) being or having a “pale” complexion, but that doesn't mean it has to be the skin color. But, I apologized if the description is like that and will try my best to make this story as imaginable as it can be. Thank you. If you want an early updates from this series, you can find me on Wattpad @ddostoyevskyy, here’s the link of TLOA on Wattpad.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒... 1.832k

SERIES MASTERLIST.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄, 𝐈, 𝐈𝐈, 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝐈𝐕, 𝐕, 𝐕𝐈

— Did he go made after taking a glance at himself reflected by a completely spherical mirror? Or did he slowly lose his sanity after suddenly discovering that he was trapped inside his horrible, round glass coffin—together with “that” reflection?

When Ranpo blinked his emerald eyes, reflecting through the mirror and the brightness of the light in the room as though to be blinded by the artificial light, his lips fell opened, speechless and unmoving as he stared at a young girl — much smaller and thinner with pale complexion, hollowed cheeks, dark eyes that resembles a black hole of emptiness. In the marble floor, there’s broken dolls and shards of broken glass as though it was used to break those dolls. Broken like her.

His shoes screeched on the floor when the small girl moved, flinching where he’s standing. There’s a chain on her neck, scalding her skin that turned red to purple, the heavy metal clacks as she moves with dried blood on her small hands, some of the crimson blood dripping on the floor.

When the door burst open, it pushed pass his body as though he is a ghost — as he proposed that he is in this timeline whilst invading the consciousness of your mind — your hollowed eyes were staring right through him like you can see him; as if he exist. A man in a lab coat closed the door behind him as he stand close to the wall, careful and cautious at the way your small hands grip a shard of a broken glass.

Perhaps, the dried blood and the fresh ones trickling on your skin were a product of those men wearing white you’ve killed — as Mister Fukuchi stated your killing spree; or perhaps, this is one of your forgotten memories that he’s to witness, your bloodbath; the one they named The Mastermind. Ranpo felt his whole body run cold when you pointed on his direction.

“What is it, (Name)?” The man in the white spoke up as he swings his head to the same direction, seeing no one; perhaps, maybe Ranpo does exist in your imagination; or you saw someone that wasn’t exactly him, yet your hallucinations brought Ranpo the speculations that he indeed exist in your mind in this timeline.

“He’s here... again.” Your small voice; raspy and thick, like you’ve been screaming and crying for such a long time as tears flooded on your visions, yet your expression hasn’t change much.

“Who? Can you describe him for me, please?” The doctor whipped out a clipboard on his back with a pen, still his back against the board. He finally walk towards you, slowly but surely, until you’re not showing any signs of aggression; the doctor, walks forward as he reached for the shards of glass in your hands. You voluntarily lets go, fingers unclasping without any signs of pain even though the skin of your palms were opening on the flesh. The doctor whips out a bandage on his pocket, reaching for the tray on the left of the bed’s table to grab the betadine. “Can I have your hand, please?”

The man was surprisingly patient with you, carefully jabbing your wounds with cotton and working to close and stop the bleeding with the bandages he wrapped around your palm to your wrist. Your eyes were wet with tears that aren’t stopping to flow on your cheeks like the smell of blood dripping on the wall. Your eyes were still set on Ranpo as he stood there staring back at you.

“Now, tell me, (Name). Can you describe him now?”

“I... can’t,” Your voice were raspier as though you’ve been whispering the whole time, “He has no face... there’s only... a shadow.”

The man’s face look a little delight that you’ve finally talked, his lips parted as he wrote down on the clipboard. Your eyes shadowed over the light, a mimic of the light conquering the dark as you casted your head down to stare at your bandaged palms.

“You are aware of your mental situation, right? You have multiple disorders that you barely show any signs, though. Was it the effect of your ability? Don’t you think, your ability wasn’t really meant for killing?”

“Do you think I haven’t thought of that, either?” You answered, playing with your fingertips as you lifted up your head to stare at the man in front of you with empty expression written on your face. It wasn’t long enough for the man to show his true colors as his face hardened, the grip he had on his clipboard tightened before his arms raised upwards until a force of impact hit your head, forcing your eyes to blurred and mouth agape, yet no sound of pain escaped.

“Do you know how many of our men have lost because of you?! This — your stupid excuse of mental health issues gave you such privelege to be excused of what you did! Because, you’re a goddamn child!”

There’s a defeaning silence, followed by another sounds of skull cracking in process when the man used the metal tray on the young girl who kept her head low. The sound of flesh being ripped apart until blood splatters on the wall made Ranpo falters on his feet, knees weakening as he watch how her face stained with blood, the white sheets and white walls became stained with the thick liquid until your body fell on the white marbled floor.

Your hands trembled as your eyes blurred with tears and blood, yet no sounds had been coming out of your voice after those torturous attempt to break your skull. Your eyes flickered on Ranpo’s form again as he gulped, the fourteen year old were frozen on his spot as you stared directly on his soul as though you were asking for help; as if he can help you. In your mind, he was just a mere shadow, a cause of your hallucinations. Your hand reached for him as if he could touch you.

The images of your bloody younger self warped and Ranpo’s visions became hazy before a few scenarios played right before his eyes and he could only breath heavily and pant as his handd trashed around in the air, pushing away those memories of your younger self being locked away in the dark (the thing he hates the most), electrocuted, overdosed, and the physical pain you’ve felt came crashing down on his mind until it all stopped at once.

He huffed a breath, panting and making his heartbeat pace down when he could almost hear it rang through his ears.

Yet, everything of this, they chose to call you a monster.

You were trapped by your own delirium. The monster that they created inside you grow and were trapped in a mirror everytime you look at your reflection, you never saw the beautiful girl hiding behind that monstrosity; you could only see the flames burning in your eyes, the blood that tainted your heart and hands, and the sorrows of a childhood that was taken away from you.

In the mirror, you could see the Hell; the Hell they created and cannot be tamed. The beast that was awakened in a mind of a frail child who lived a normal life of Heaven before it all came crashing down and burned in the pits of Hell.

Perhaps, the both of you had the same tradegy, yet differ in violence, differ in situation — but it was all similar to those people you lose; a parental figures. The two people whose suppose to raise you and nurture you with love and care now gone, leaving you exploring the cruel world with outmost gullibility.

Ranpo still couldn’t understand. The mystery that surrounds you like an enigmatic claim of innocence, but never naíve. The sense of justice and the act of violence you were nurtured in this place where you were raised; in these white walls and white sheets, the blood thickens and staining your reflection in the mirror.

Perhaps, Ranpo is the one who holds the title of gullible between the two of you.

He’s been raised by his parents in a good environment despite their work for the government as a detectives who holds justice between their fingertips. He was never taught; his natural ability to conquer the truth and to detect the lies are the qualities he got from his parents. He’s smart for his age, he believed that all people are fool; a monsters for not identifying the truth — for not viewing the way he perspect the things the way other people do.

And, yet you were just good at hiding the truth beyond that mirror, aren’t you?

When Ranpo’s eyes fluttered open, he found himself in an abandoned place; the city lights twinkled right before his emerald eyes. The familiarity of the place, the scent of medicines and chemicals came crashing down on him as he realized. His feet brought itself here, at the place where hundreds of people died, diagnosed with many mental problems that ended them to kill themselves in the same patterns of facing the mirror.

The same incident that Ranpo’s parents investigated. Before they died in a supposed to be accident.

His whole body run cold as he looks around, before he felt something shifts on his thighs; there you are, your head buried on his thighs as you were still in a deep slumber, or perhaps, still in the consciousness of your childhood where he was suddenly awakened after those constant flashes of your core memories with nothing but pain.

He can’t decide which or how to feel; should he feared you because of what can you do, or should he save you — although, what a mere child like him can do too? Despite his infinite knowledge and capability, what can he do for you? What can he give you? Can he protect you with these monsters they called grown-ups? Despite his infinite knowledge, the doubt had surrounded his mind.

What can he do to protect you from these mirrors of memories you had? Should he forbids you to ever look at the mirror again, so that you won’t see the horrors of memories trapped in your mind, or should he be making you face your own hell of mirrors and let you burn in the back of your mind?

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2023 © ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

[luxuryvanitysims]