#to be incredibly specific lol

[endwersed]

WIP Monday

I was tagged in last week by the wonderful @seaweed-water & @violetfairydust, and also as requested by a lovely @anon today: here is another sneak peek of my Sterek high school AU, call it off! An upcoming story featuring closeted Derek and a healthy dose of angst 🤠

-

Of all fucking places, Derek shoves him inside a damn closet. It is so ridiculously ironic that Stiles is barely able to pay any mind at all to the feeling of Derek’s warm hand on him, his thick fingers clutching at the fabric of Stiles’ hoodie, before that grip is quickly gone again.

The door shuts quietly behind them. Inside, the tiny room is stacked to the ceiling with cleaning supplies, bottles of it hoarded into corners, lined up on shelves, mops and brooms and everything in between leaning against the walls. The only light beams from the dim hang of a lightbulb, swinging faintly just above their heads, its steady buzz of electricity the only noise to be heard.

They stare at each other. Stiles takes in the hard set of Derek’s jaw, the wild shine to his pale eyes, the curl of his hands down at his sides, tight fists that seem to twitch uselessly when Stiles glances down at them. He drags his gaze back up to Derek’s face and lets his mouth curve into an imitation of a smile.

“So,” he says, “are you gonna make the obvious closet joke, or am I?”

Derek does not look amused. Not that Stiles expected him to, really.

“I’m not gay,” Derek says.

Stiles arches an eyebrow, not a word passing through the purse of his lips. Something genuinely close to an honest to god growl rumbles around in Derek’s puffed up chest.

“I’m not,” he repeats, he insists, taking a step closer. “So don’t – don’t tell anyone I am.”

A sharp, harsh scoff of a laugh bubbles from Stiles’ throat, too loud for the scale of the room. He folds his arms over his chest and peers across at Derek, that single pace closer now.

By all accounts, it looks like Derek wants to intimidate him. His shoulders are squared, his feet planted solidly against the ground, his hands still those tight, shaking fists beside his thighs. He barely has any height on Stiles, nothing more than an inch or two at most, but he is bigger, still, broader and stronger and fitter, a high school jock through and through.

He wants to use that stature, that status, Stiles can tell, to make a towering figure out of himself. He wants to put himself forward as this menacing person who could be – who should be – feared.

But Stiles does not fear him. He was not born with the self-preservation instincts to keep himself alive into adulthood, his dad has always said. And, besides… he does not genuinely believe that Derek would hurt him; not really, not even now.

Tilting his head, Stiles narrows his eyes and regards Derek coolly.

“Huh,” he says. “That’s weird. You sure kiss a hell of a lot like a dude who’s into dudes.”

That growling noise comes back again. Rippling up through veins raised along the golden line of his throat, spitting up to be caged in between the harsh grit of his bared teeth. He takes another step forwards, already barely enough space in this room for the both of them as it is, barely any space left between them at all as he presses closer.

Stiles tilts his chin up. He stands his ground.

“I’m not,” Derek says again, his lip curling around the vitriol of his denial. “Look, just – don’t fucking tell anyone, all right?”

Stiles sneers, his entire face twisting with it. He uncrosses his arms, letting them hang down at his sides, his fingers flexing in the stagnant air that is trapped inside of this windowless room with them. He moves closer, too. They are practically toe to toe now.

“Of course I won’t fucking tell anyone,” he snaps. “I would never fucking out somebody.”

“You wouldn’t be outing me,” Derek hisses quickly. “There’s nothing to out.”

The sneer on Stiles’ face shifts into a laugh. The breath of it is soft, and it is quiet, but it’s also hollow, almost nasty.

“Oh, yeah?” He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, cocking his head to the side. “You’re straight, that’s what you think? You think other hetero guys go around kissing dudes out of nowhere? You think other strictly pussy-eaters tenderly hold a guy’s face while they put their tongue in his mouth? Really?”

Derek looks away. He has no rebuttal to any of that; no counterargument with even an ounce of sincerity.

“It wasn’t like that,” he tells the floor.

“Felt a lot like that to me,” Stiles throws instantly back. “You kissed me, man. Not the other way around.”

In the blink of an eye, Derek’s head snaps back up. The intensity in his eyes makes Stiles’ breath stop all the way down in the burning stretch of his lungs.

“You kissed me back,” Derek says quietly.

Stiles blinks. A beat passes. His breath pushes out of him in a soft, unsteady exhale.

“Yeah,” he agrees on a whisper. “I kissed you back.”

Another beat goes by. Before it can even make it to two – they are kissing again.

-

No pressure tags: @crownofstardustandbone @demonicfaerie @eevylynn @hedwig221b @renmackree 🩷🩷

[lightlysaltedsalt]

I can't get over this interaction for some reason. Aside from the obvious silliness, its just. Arthur is talking to an ancient Eldritch horror that's committed countless atrocities, and a rotting severed head with ties to a hell dimension. And he's just rolling his eyes at their silliness and calling them boys. They're objectively horrifying creatures but to Arthur, they're just boys. They're just. I don't know. They're his boys. It doesn't matter what they are. They're just boys.

[mintjeru]

hot girl summer 🔥

open for better quality | no reposts

[blueskittlesart]

hey! i love your zelink art. i was wondering if you could show a guide to how you draw bodies? (specifically link and zelda). i’m rlly bad at anatomy so any visual guide would be amazing.

thank you!

here's roughly how i do it :) hope this helps!

[prickleestull]

batman au where everything’s the same except for context: batman’s goal isn’t justice, he just wants his kids to stop murdering people. cue him chasing after them, “stopping crime” by interrupting altercations before his kids can maim, murder, or otherwise dismember this random crime doer (who isn’t even all that bad).

classic misunderstanding and suddenly batman’s a hero

[ringaroundtheroses]

color and pose practice w the boys

[autisticandroids]

CASTIEL: Stop. What's the point if you don't mean it? You fear me - not love, not respect, just fear.

[youtube with closed captions]

a godstiel pity party. i'd like to thank an anon i got way back in february of 2021.

[dennisboobs]

i'm seeing videos on tiktok about the crossover (which yeah my first mistake is being on tiktok) but it's making me feel crazy when people keep saying "dennis should not be allowed in a school" specifically implying that he's a threat to children any more than the rest of the gang who have a worse track record

Bad Dad but a dad nonetheless

[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?” 

[fluffyglass]

old photos

[jinxedshapeshifter]

I've probably talked about this before but Kazuma's themes fucking kill me.

Samurai On A Mission and Kazuma Asogi: Nocturne are both in a major key. Samurai on a Mission feels happy. It makes you excited. Nocturne's slower, and it's more bittersweet. But it still fills you with optimism. It still feels good to listen to. It gives you the feeling that even if Kazuma's gone, this isn't the end. There's still stuff Ryunosuke needs to do in Kazuma's place.

Compare them to His Glorious Return and A Prosecutor, Reborn, and it's the complete opposite. The opening to His Glorious Return feels just slightly off. Like I don't think it's in a different key than Samurai on a Mission, but it's different enough to just feel off. I think it might be the instruments honestly. His Glorious Return is closer to Nocturne than Samurai on a Mission (obviously it's the same motif but His Glorious Return is closer to Nocturne than Samurai on a Mission because it's slower).

And THEN you get to A Prosecutor, Reborn. How fucking dare they. At this point in the game, not just is Kazuma prosecuting Barok, but his motive is made clear to be revenge (iirc). A Prosecutor, Reborn is basically just Samurai on a Mission with different instruments and in a minor key. A Prosecutor, Reborn specifically has fairly prominent harpsichord in it. The same also applies to Barok's theme. You get the vibe that something is seriously wrong here.

You can literally understand Kazuma's arc before The Resolve of Ryunosuke Naruhodo from his themes alone. That's. impressive. Like just to be clear this isn't the first nor the only time Ace Attorney does this. It was also done with Eustace's themes, Winning Deductions and Winning Independence. But it's so impressive that they gave Kazuma four unique sounding themes using the same motif and made it easy to tell how his story goes just in music. Like just listening to his themes, it goes happiness and positivity > oh actually this is kind of bittersweet. there's still work to be done so we must go on > triumph but also a little bit of "something's off here" > wow what the fuck happened here

It's so impressive to me?? But also the fact that Kazuma has four unique sounding themes that use the same motif is incredibly impressive. All four are basically the same song but different depending on the vibe needed for the part of the game they're featured in. Doing that with anything is hard.

A similar thing is done with the Dance of Deduction tracks. Partners ~ The Game Is Afoot! feels more complete than the initial Joint Reasoning tracks. Listening to the initial Joint Reasoning tracks and then listening to Partners ~ The Game Is Afoot! makes it incredibly obvious to me. In this case, it goes from "this is fun and upbeat!" during Joint Reasoning [TYPE A], then goes to "we're getting a little more intense" during Joint Reasoning [TYPE B], then to "oh now we're getting INTENSE" during Joint Reasoning [TYPE C], then to "shit just got REALLY serious" with Partners ~ The Game Is Afoot! Even the backstage tracks (the ones that play when you either fill in the blanks or correct one of Sholmes's deductions) are like this. It feels more intense and high energy during Sholmes and Mikotoba's Dance of Deduction.

Anyway my point is TGAA is genuinely the best video game soundtrack ever in my opinion and even tops most movie soundtracks for me. I'm almost completely convinced this is because they made the soundtrack sound like music you'd get in Victorian England. I don't think the soundtrack would be nearly as good without the Victorian sound. Anyway back to drawing I go

[cobaltfluff]

happy april fools' from your big brothers, dumbass (affectionate)

[velvetjune]

remedy games are very good and people should play them

[art--harridan]

[Image description: A digital drawing based on the film They Shoot Horses, Don't They?. In the centre, there's a disco ball, with light blue and grey highlights and also red squares. It is not completely rendered, with the desaturated marigold yellow of the background visible behind it, albeit surrounded by a grey aura. Surrounding this ball, although mostly above it and tapering off as it goes downward, there is a mass of elements from the film. It is chiefly comprised of hands, arms, legs and feet. They are either tightly worn together - such as the hands which grasp tight to themselves or others - or they hang limply, such as the legs at the bottom of the mass which are crowded by the least amount of details. These legs hang weightlessly. There's also close-ups of faces and eyes, although the expressions have no clear logic or connection. This mass is drawn with thin, grey lines. It is indiscernable where certain elements end and the others begin. The bottom left corner of the piece is left empty of these drawings, with only a small red box that has the number "67" in it, the text in a light grey.]

Inktober - Day 6 (Trek)

Film - They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (Sydney Pollack, 1969)

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

no one FREAKING understands jo march and friedrich bhaer the way i do

[nicofitz]

I just want a cute ace girlfriend to cuddle with while we indulge in fandom together

Is that too much to ask??

(I love this fanart. This isn't a post about wenclair but I mean... I want what's in this fanart of them so...this is kind of an ad 😆 "seeking ace girlfriend to cuddle with. DM me if interested" lmao)