#tva spoilers

[adamnablelittledevil]

"But due to my youth, my devotion to him and the violence done to me in my short mortal life, I had not responded as he hoped."

This pretty much defines Armand tbh. That's why I can't stop loving him.

[glitteringpoet1685]

I continue to lose my marbles reading TVA (spoilers duh) (part 3):

[tomorobo-illust]

See hi-res version here: patreon.com/posts/tf-starscream-114678238

What's left to say? These prayers ain't working anymore ~ I hear you call my name And it feels like home Why YES, of course, I also went to see Deadpool & Wolverine. I meant to draw Deadpool and Wolverine things, but I was also stuck in Transformers land and my brain decided to make this instead.

Starscream FINALLY became Cybertron leader, but barely a day passed when he found out his timeline is dying because his universe's Optimus Prime is very GONE. No problem, just find another one and everything is fixed right? Congrats Starscream, you found the saddest one of them all 8D

The quote was inspired by this video I found regarding the Matter and Antimatter: youtube.com/watch?v=vXd3UY_F8OI

And this fantastic mashup of I've been listening to nonstop while working on this piece, "Ashes & like a Prayer - Ultimate Mashup (Edited Version)" by Penguin Performances: youtube.com/watch?v=GmDwgw2erDs

[mobius-m-mobius]

#love the plot of 2x01

[dewey-ing-it]

This is one of the funniest jokes in the show for me. The boys were brought up with nautical shit from Donald, Dewey was abhorrently confident he could drive Donald’s house boat to Cape Suzette unaided, they most likely did boat drills every week knowing Donald’s anxious ass, and Dewey still doesn’t know the difference between port and starboard side😭

[dubblebubbleibuprofen]

This is how I’m coping ok. It’s ok.

[iamhereonlytobeanunstableshipper]

Mobius IMMEDIATELY stating that he's single after his coworker said in front of a hot client that he has kids was extremely romcom coded of him like are you fucking kidding me

They were meant to be a comedy PLS stop making these both suffer and just let them kiss below a mistletoe hyped up by mobius' kids or smth idc

[d3ad-eye-andy]

I see your "Loki builds his own superhero team to fight against Kang" and raise you "Mobius builds his own super genius team to find a way to get Loki out of that damn tree"

[laz-kay]

~ 36 episodes later ~

[dummyminded]

THEY MADE LOKI A STATUE IM GOING TO THROW UP WHY WOULD YOU MAKE MY HEART HURT LIKE THIS??? MOBIUS HAS TO SEE THIS TO HIS DAILY COMMUTE TO WORK (CAUSE YES THEY DO HAVE ROOMS WITH SIGNS IT'S CONFIRMED NOW AND I LOWKEY WANNA SEE MOBIUS' ROOM BUT ANYWAYS THATS NOT THE POINT.) AND BE REMINDED THAT THEY INDEED HAVE NOT SEEN HIM SINCE HIS SACRIFICE LIKE I BET HE SMILES AT IT BUT ONE OF THOSE SAD ONES FULL OF LOVE AND LOSS 😭

[gingerpines]

early Watching and Dreaming concept design for Luz <3

[adamnablelittledevil]

"There is Lestat, first and foremost, the author of four books of his life and his adventures comprising everything you could ever possibly want to know about him and some of us. Lestat, ever the maverick and the laughing trickster. Six feet tall, a young man of twenty when made, with huge warm blue eyes and thick flashy blond hair, square of jaw, with a generous beautifully shaped mouth and skin darkened by a sojourn in the sun which would have killed a weaker vampire, a ladies' man, an Oscar Wildean fantasy, the glass of fashion, the most bold and disregarding dusty vagabond on occasion, loner, wanderer, heart-breaker and wise guy, dubbed the "Brat Prince" by my old Master - yes, imagine it, my Marius, yes, my Marius, who did indeed survive the torches of the Roman Coven-dubbed by Marius the 'Brat Prince,' though in whose Court and by whose Divine Right and whose Royal Blood I should like to know. Lestat, stuffed with the blood of the most ancient of our kind, indeed the very blood of the Eve of our species, some five to seven thousand years the survivor of her Eden, a perfect horror who, emerging from the deceptive poetical title of Queen Akasha of Those Who Must Be Kept, almost destroyed the world. Lestat, not a bad friend to have, and one for whom I would lay down my immortal life, one for whose love and companionship I have ofttimes begged, one whom I find maddening and fascinating and intolerably annoying, one without whom I cannot exist.

[...]

But Lestat was calling. Lestat was, or so he claimed, afraid. I had to go. The last time he'd been in trouble, I hadn't been free to rush to his rescue. There is a story to that, but nothing as important as this one which I tell now. Now I knew that my hard-won peace of mind might be shattered by the mere contact with him, but he wanted me to come, so I went.

[...]

Of course I knew the very moment that he left this world. I felt it. I was in New York already, very near to him and aware that you were there as well. Neither of us meant to let him out of our sight if at all possible. Then came the moment when he vanished in the blizzard, when he was sucked out of the earthly atmosphere as if he'd never been there. Being his fledgling you couldn't hear the perfect silence that descended when he vanished. You couldn't know how completely he'd been withdrawn from all things minuscule yet material which had once echoed with the beating of his heart. I knew.

[...]

I didn't fear for Lestat, not really. I had no hopes for his adventure, except that he would appear sooner or later and tell us some fantastical yarn. It would be regular Lestat talk, for nobody aggrandizes as he does his preposterous adventures. This is not to say that he hasn't switched bodies with a human. I know that he has. This is not to say that he didn't wake our fearsome goddess Mother, Akasha; I know that he did. This is not to say that he didn't smash my old superstitious Coven to bits and pieces in the garish years before the French Revolution. I've already told you so. But it's the way he describes things that happen to him that maddens me, the way that he connects one incident to another as though all these random and grisly occurrences were in fact links in some significant chain. They are not. They are capers. And he knows it. But he must make a gutter theatrical out of stubbing his toe. The James Bond of the Vampires, the Sam Spade of his own pages! A rock singer wailing on a mortal stage for all of two hours and, on the strength of that, retiring with a slew of recordings that feed him filthy lucre still from human agencies to this very night. He has a knack for making tragedy of tribulation, and forgiving himself for anything and everything in every confessional paragraph he pens. I can't fault him, really. I cannot help but hate it that he lies now in a coma on the floor of his chapel here, staring into a self-contained silence, despite the fledglings that circle him for precisely the same reason as I did, to see for themselves if the blood of Christ has transformed him somehow and he does not represent some magnificent manifestation of the miracle of the Transubstantiation. But I'll come to that soon enough. I've ranted myself into a little corner. I know why I resent him so, and find it so soothing to hammer at his reputation, to beat upon his immensity with both my fists. He has taught me too much. He has brought me to this very moment, here, where I stand dictating to you my past with a coherence and calm that would have been impossible before I came to his assistance with his precious Memnoch the Devil and his vulnerable little Dora. Two hundred years ago he stripped me of illusions, lies, excuses, and thrust me on the Paris pavements naked to find my way back to a glory in the starlight that I had once known and too painfully lost. But as we waited finally in the handsome high-rise apartment above St. Patrick's Cathedral, I had no idea how much more he could strip from me, and I hate him only because I cannot imagine my soul without him now, and, owing him all that I am and know, I can do nothing to make him wake from his frigid sleep. But let me take things one at a time. What good is it to go back down now to the chapel here and lay my hands on him again and beg him to listen to me, when he lies as though all sense has truly left him and will never return. I can't accept this. I won't. I've lost all patience; I've lost the numbness that was my consolation. I find this moment intolerable."

THIS CHAPTER ISN'T OVER YET AND IT'S ALREADY PEAK INSANITY OMG

[thequeenofuselessinformation]

Cassandra owning The Void has the same energy as the Grandmaster owning Sakaar, just less Jeff Goldblum, and more non-binary

[wolviestars]

yessss kiss him mobius

[tasoiano]

I HAD to draw this scene from Loki! The episode was perfect 💚

[dewey-ing-it]

“Eh, luck’s overrated”💚