#when i wake up i will add more

[stil-lindigo]

link

on twitter, a viral thread started where people around the world shared their translations of “If I must die”, the last work of Dr Refaat Alareer also known as "the voice of Gaza". A beloved poet, teacher and life-long activist for Palestine, he was recently assassinated along with members of his extended family by a targeted Israeli air strike. His loss leaves a hole in the heart of palestinians all over the world.

Below the cut, I’ll be posting the translations of his poem, with links to the original posts. Unfortunately, tumblr limits posts to a maximum of 30 images. I will update when I can.

Arabic (Refaat’s mother tongue)

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2. Spanish

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3. Irish

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4. Dutch

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5. Greek

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6. German

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7. Vietnamese

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8. Tagalog

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9. Serbian

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10. Japanese

and the traditional japanese calligraphy version

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11. Nepali

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12. Tamil

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13. Bosnian

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14. Indonesian

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15. Romanian

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16. Italian

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17. Albanian

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18. Urdu

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19. Turkish

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20. Polish

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21. Norwegian

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22. Galician

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23. Swedish

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24. Jawi

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25. Bengali

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26. Russian

[anbaisai]

"(Sigh) We'll continue this another ti- mmf?!"

With a guy like Jamil, you really gotta pick up the slack sometimes. No tie to pull on though, so I guess we'll just have to use that hoodie!

(Inspired by this artwork by オレコ on Pixiv!)

Bonus Jamil for the rest of the day:

[remxedmoon]

NILLE BLAST

aaaa worked on these a while ago but!! i’ve got a pétronille design finally!! and it was nowhere near as daunting as i expected to be!!!! this was really fun to work on actually. don’t look at that leftmost doodle btw. it’s. Not Great (by my standards for myself at least).

aaaanyways. design notes and greyscale versions below!! most of this isn’t. super set in stone or anything? just Night Ramblings

in terms of colors she’s mostly just a Slightly Edited version of bonnie’s palette. the only noteworthy addition here is the blue (or. well. more like grey actually) i added to her shirt, hat, and waist wrap. no real reason here, i just thought it’d contrast well with her colors!!

i also kept her outfit pretty similar to bonnie’s! bonnie’s official ref mentions that their shirt is too big for them so! i think it’d be cute for all of their clothes to be hand-me-downs from nille🩶. i imagine she cares more about practicality than fashion, so her outfit’s pretty simple! breathable clothes she can move around in, a bag to hold her stuff, and a hat to keep the sun out her eyes.

generally went for more. blocky??? shapes here? i wanted to set her apart from bonnie! idk. not much to say here!

this didn’t affect her design That Much outside of the bandages on her hands, but she’s rock type here! it just Made Sense with her hammer. in hindsight i wonder if that influenced her design being more Square…

aaa you can probably tell i’m writing these while tired. sorry if these are even more disjointed than usual (somehow). here’s the greyscale versions!! thanks for reading and stuff!!

[theultimatekamehamehavoc]

Togami Time! Byakuya Time works too but I like the alliteration of the first. Spoilers ahead of course!

For Byakuya's casual attire, I gave him that very standard rich man polo. I did spice it up a bit with a black, fairly slick turtleneck underneath that hugs his body. I decided to also have his polo tucked in for extra style points along with the addition of the belt. I like giving this man belts after all. Unless he's in his fancy pajamas, he's wearing a belt the majority of the time! And, of course, his clothes, though a bit basic in a way, cost a lot of money. Sorta honed slight bits from his bad ending attire oddly enough. It wasn't much but just that sorta sporty look in a way. I dunno what the jacket he wore would be called but it gives me slight sporty vibes. Thus, Byakuya's giving off some flamboyant golfer energy which, to be fair, he probably knows how to golf for the most part. For his business attire, I initially drew a more elaborate design (no worries. it'll be seen at some point!!) though I toned it down a lot more for work. He may be fashionable but he's also a man of practicality in many regards. Thus, he's got a pocket watch and a basic suit with some flairs. Specifically, I gave him some emerald colored brooches in his hair and on his tie, hinting back to how he likes the Scarab Brooch in game. After all, with age, I feel the main facets of his interests wouldn't change. The guy is still into those dark academia type stuff. Also, the gold elbow pads are just cus. I dunno. They might be a bit much but I felt a bit bad for just putting him in a suit at the same time! Some other bits I wish to mention about his business attire is that, though he does wear this for work, for my future AU, I see him working a lot at home as well! He's still quite involved with the Togami Conglomerate, but he's found a nice balance where he only needs to travel to other countries sometimes, not the majority. Byakuya deserves a break after all the stuff he went through both pre-tragedy, during the tragedy, and the clean up post-tragedy. That clean up is still occurring still (it's about a decade after dr3/the anime) so there's still work to be done. Byakuya has a bit less to do with the whole "helping to rebuild the economy thing" though since I like to think that, with his influence, he helps with that. Back to his work though, he mostly does this in a designated office area in his condo. He also does this in his mansion sometimes though crashes out into some of the other's places to work as well or just because he can. Speaking of that, though he does live in his condo, he likes to roam a lot and sometimes ends up staying over with the others. It started out as a one time deal before it slowly became the thing he does. His primary targets are Kyoko and Makoto in their apartment and Toko and Komaru in theirs. He does go to Hiro's place as well though to "make sure the idiot isn't causing trouble" and he also goes to Hina's too though less than Hiro's. He'd mostly just be in Toko and Komaru's place if he wanted to check up on Hina cus, though they are friends, the two still like to butt heads. Plus, in this AU, Hina doesn't even live that far away from Toko and Komaru anyway. I headcanon that they all live fairly close from one another cus they all still like spending time together. Thus, thems the rules in this AU. However, despite this man's resilience to not stay at his own damn condo, he's not mooching off of any of them... for the most part. He makes sure to repay anything, sometimes to an annoying degree like him making himself coffee in the morning and then just chucking money in their face before they can say anything. Either that or the man just goes and orders a fancy ass dinner while saying that he "ordered too much" which is just his weird way of showing that he cares for them all. That's not to say that he does that all the time. He understands fully that none of his friends are here for his money. The man can sometimes do it anyway out of habit though he's less bad with this than he was years ago.

For his body type, it's fairly basic, perhaps a little average. A little squishy in some areas which ironically makes him kinda huggable despite him still being aloof in nature. His slight squishy qualities are practically hidden to those who don't know him though. Besides, though he is squishy, that is not to say he should, by any means, be underestimated. He shares this quality with my Kyoko design in some ways (gotta love the togiri parallels) Basically, though he's not super muscular, he could still kick ass. Besides, I feel he wouldn't be one to try and get super buff and all anyway. He probably COULD gain some very good muscle though. He probably just doesn't want to. Additionally, I have him in slightly different glasses. For one, they are to differentiate him much more from his canon design. I also thought the chains would be cool and that the rounded frames would be a nice contrast to all the spikes I gave him in his hair. It also compliments his slightly softer appearance as well, being an older man as well pushing 30. Gives him more of a sense that he's got a bit of fallibility. That he's still a human at the end of the day! He also is a bit nicer with age as well though still Byakuya Togami of course!

Out of all the elements I changed about my favorite guy, I think my favorite aspect is his hair. So many cute tufts! Plus, I am a sucker for him having long hair. I also feel I made a good balance between making him look like he could totally pull off the Polaris thing again and having him still look like a guy. But also, he's a bit androgynous as well! Hope you all enjoy this loser's design! The next design will be very soon! (1) | (4)

[puppyeared]

man

[mercy-love-joy]

In the Tower of Knowledge, There Lies a Tomb of Truth

Long after the Fall of the Golden Era, after the renunciation of the Calamities, and Era of Tranquility fell upon the world. In a tower, in the far lands where the old Blueberry Academy sat, a spire sits innocently at the center. A tower of Knowledge for only one cookie.

He travels up this tower. Passing the portraits of his time and of his kin now, but he has one spot in mind. To visit someone old.

The tower is illuminated in the flames of azul and sapphire, steps creaking with hesitation, and a chest constricting so painfully. The former Beast of Deceit feels great agony the closer he steps. Finding a door that opens to a corridor to a tomb only six people know.

The tomb carries a visage of an old king who was taken from his throne, forced in jaspers and yellow jewels and befalling to a raging fever that would lead to his demise. A king who was supposed to marry the Golden Empress became a domino effect to her downfall spiral into power and madness. Luckily, her "son" ended her life before she broke the foundations between Life and Death.

The King's true body is buried beneath the Kingdom of Soft Gold Rays, next to his beloved "lovers" had he been married to the Empress if he survived the fever. But alas, he did not get to marry any of his comrades. The embodiment of a Virtue stands before a mock tomb, staring at the glass coffin and looking up to the glass-stained window. A testament to him, the counterpart to this halo of an angel.

The former Beast knows that the two of them could have gotten along. The flames kiss his vision as he stares at the peaceful expression of the glass window. And although the eyes are closed, they impossibly open with a blinding light.

The sapphire cookie does not flinch.

He stares up, holding his head high then lowering it to bow. His frown unfurrows as he smiles softly, feeling the soul of the old Vanilla King appear like the glow of a halo behind him.

"Hello again... Pure Vanilla Cookie."

[lunearobservatory]

@hibiscuslynx YES HE HAS TATTOOS!!!!!!

here's the full ref sheet from. originally an au that's. erm. it's not dead i have reference sheets so it's clearly. alive.

i've posted the ur gay sketch before for sure 100% here it is again oops sorry

anyway, this has turned into my standard florida design :) this boy fuct up with ink!!! good for him

[freshlypizza]

Watched Wonka the other day and all I'm gonna say is Wonka/Ethan and Noodle/Hannah

DO YOU SEE MY VISION

[devotedlystrangewizard]

the school arc to me is so good because it drags ciel out of his position as a powerful figure and literally places him in the shoes of the person he could have been. the circus arc ALSO drags him out of his position as big bad queens watch dog/head of the phantomhive estate but the school arc feels like a mockery of a future that never was. this is what he could have been had his parents not died. and even then its NOT because he will never be that kid.

he never was.

[abyssmal-skies]

Need to draw diluc suffring again smh, the bad feelings just hit me like a train again,

Double it and throw it at him

[hyukassubi]

I listened to all versions of Chappelle Roan's 'Good Luck, Babe!' while writing an angsty scene for my royal hyuka series and it was so...

[a-rebellious-waffle]

urgh you know that post about "people who weren't abused don't wish they were abused"

I'm having a real fun night wrestling with that

[acourtofquestions]

She had not trusted this world, this dream.

The companions who had walked with her, led her here.

The warrior-prince with pine-green eyes and who smelled of Terrasen.

Him, she had not dared to believe at all. Not the words he spoke, but the mere fact that he was there. She did not trust that he'd removed the mask, the irons. They had vanished in other dreams, too—dreams that had proved false.

But the Little Folk had told her it was true. All of this. They had said it was safe, and she was to rest, and they would look after her.

And that terrible, relentless pressure writhing in her veins—it had eased. Just enough to think, to breathe and act beyond pure instinct. She'd siphoned off as much as she dared, but not all. Certainly not all.

So she had slept. She'd done that, too, in those other dreams. Had lived through days and weeks of stories that then washed away like footprints in the sand.

Yet when she opened her eyes, the cave remained, dimmer now. The thrumming power had nestled deeper, slumbering. The ache in her ribs had faded, the slice down her forearm had healed—but the scab remained.

The only mark on her.

Aelin prodded it with a finger. Dull pain echoed in response. Smooth—not the scab, but her finger. Smooth like glass as she rubbed the pads of her thumb and forefinger together. No calluses. Not on her fingers, on her palms. Utterly blank, wiped of the imprint from the years of training, or the year in Endovier. But this new scab, this faint throbbing beneath it—that remained, at least.

Curled on the rock floor, she took in the cave. The white wolf lay at her back, snoring softly. Their sphere of transparent flame still burned around them, easing the strain ember by ember. But not wholly.

Aelin swallowed, tasting ash. Her magic opened an eye in response. Aelin sucked in a breath. Not here not yet. She whispered it to the flame. Not yet.

But the flame around her and the wolf flared and thickened, blotting out the cave. She clenched her jaw.

Not yet, she promised it. Not until it could be done safely. Away from them.

Her magic pushed against her bones, but she ignored it. Leashed it. The bubble of flame shrunk, protesting, and grew transparent once more. Through it she could make out a water-carved basin, the slumbering forms of her other companions.

The warrior-prince slept only a few feet from the edge of her fire, tucked into an alcove in the cave wall. Exhaustion lay heavy upon him, though he had not disarmed himself.

A sword hung from his belt, its ruby smoldering in the light of her fire.

She knew that sword. An ancient sword, forged in these lands for a deadly war. It had been her sword, too. Those erased calluses had fit its hilt so perfectly. And the warrior-prince now bearing it had found the sword for her. In a cave like this one, full of the relics of heroes long since sent to the Afterworld.

She studied the tattoo snaking down the side of his face and neck, vanishing into his dark clothes.

I am your mate.

She had wanted to believe him, but this dream, this illusion she'd been spun ... Not an illusion.

He had come for her.

Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn.

Now Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, her husband and king-consort. Her mate.

She mouthed his name.

He had come for her.

Rowan.

Silently, so smoothly that not even the white wolf awoke, she sat up, a hand clutching the cloak that smelled of pine and snow. His cloak, his scent woven through the fibers. She rose to her feet, legs sturdier than they'd been. A thought had the bubble of flame expanding as she crossed the few feet toward the sleeping prince.

She peered down at his face, handsome and yet unyielding.

His eyes opened, meeting hers as if he'd known where to find her even in sleep.

An unspoken question arose in those green eyes. Aelin?

She ignored the silent inquiry, unable bear opening that silent channel between them again, and surveyed the powerful lines of his body, the sheer size of him. A gentle wind kissed with ice and lightning brushed against her wall of flame, an echo of his silent inquiry.

Her magic flared in answer, a ripple of power dancing through her.

As if it had found a mirror of itself in the world, as if it had found the countermelody to its own song.

Not once in those illusions or dreams had it done that. Had her own flame leaped in joy at his nearness, his power.

He was here. It was him, and he'd come for her.

The flame melted into nothing but cool cave air. Not melted, but rather sucked inside herself, coiling, a great beast straining at the leash.

Rowan. Prince Rowan.

He sat up slowly, a stillness settling over him.

He knew. He'd said it to her earlier, before she'd let oblivion claim her. I am your mate.

They must have told him, then. Their companions. Elide and Lorcan and Gavriel.

They'd all been on that beach where everything had gone to hell.

Her magic surged, and she rolled her shoulders, willing it to sleep, to wait-just a while longer.

She was here. They were both here.

What could she ever say to him, to explain it, to make it right? That he'd been used so foully, had suffered so greatly, because of her?

There was blood on him. So much blood, soaking into his dark clothes. From the smears on his neck, the arcs under his fingernails, it seemed he'd tried to wash some off. But the scent remained.

She knew that smell—who it belonged to.

Her spine tightened, her limbs tensing. Working past her clenched jaw, she inhaled sharply. Forced a long breath out through her teeth. Forced herself to work past the scent of Cairn's blood. What it did to her. Her magic thrashed, howling.

And she made herself say to him, to her prince who smelled of home, "Is he alive?"

Cold rage flickered across Rowan's eyes.

"No."

Dead. Cairn was dead. The tautness in her body eased-just slightly. Her flame, too, banked. "How?"

No remorse dimmed his face. "You once told me at Mistward that if I ever took a whip to you, then you'd skin me alive." His eyes didn't stray from hers as he said with lethal quiet, "I took it upon myself to bestow that fate on Cairn on your behalf. And when I was done, I took the liberty of removing his head from his body, then burning what remained." A pause, a ripple of doubt. "I'm sorry I didn't give you the chance to do it yourself."

She didn't have it in her to feel a spark of surprise, to marvel at the brutality of the vengeance he'd exacted. Not as the words sank in. Not as her lungs opened up once again.

"I couldn't risk bringing him here for you to kill," Rowan went on, scanning her face. "Or risk leaving him alive, either."

She lifted her palms, studying the unmarked, empty skin.

Cairn had done that.

Had shredded her apart so badly they needed to put her back together again. Had wiped away all traces of who and what she'd been, what she'd seen and endured.

She lowered her hands to her sides. "I'm glad," she said, and the words were true.

A shudder went through Rowan, and his head dipped slightly. "Are you..." He seemed to grapple with the right word. "Can I hold you?"

The stark need in his voice ripped at her, but she stepped back. "I ..." She scanned the cave, blocking out the way his eyes guttered at her retreat. Across the chamber, the great lake flowed, smooth and flat as a black mirror. "I need to bathe," she said, her voice low and raw. Even if there wasn't a mark on her beyond dirty feet. "I need to wash it away," she tried again.

Understanding softened his eyes. He pointed with a tattooed hand to the trough nearby. "There are a few extra cloths for you to wash with." Dragging a hand through his silver hair, longer than she'd last seen it—in this world, this truth, at least—he added, "I don't know how, but they also found some of your old clothes from Mistward and brought them here." But words were becoming distant again, dissolving on her tongue.

Her magic rumbled, pressing against her blood, I, squeezing her bones. Out, it howled. Out.

Soon, she promised.

Now. It thrashed. Her hands trembled, curling, as if she could keep it in.

So she turned away, aiming not toward the trough but the lake beyond.

The air stirred behind her, and she felt him following. When Rowan gleaned where she intended to bathe, he warned, "That water is barely above freezing, Aelin."

She just dropped the cloak onto the black stones and stepped into the water.

Steam hissed, wafting around her in billowing clouds. She kept going, embracing the water's bite with each step, even if it failed to pierce the heat of her.

The water was clear, though the gloom veiled the bottom that sloped away as she dove under the frigid surface.

The water was silent. Cool, and welcome, and calm.

So Aelin loosened the leash—only a fraction. Flame leapt out, devoured by the frigid water. Consumed by it. It pulled away that pressure, that endless fog of heat. Soothed and chilled until thoughts took form. With each stroke beneath the surface, out into the darkness, she could feel it again. Herself. Or whatever was left of it.

Aelin. She was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, and she was Queen of Terrasen.

More magic rippled out, but she held her grip. Not all-not yet.

She had been captured by Maeve, tortured by her. Tortured by Cairn, her sentinel. But she had escaped, and her mate had come for her. Had found her, just as they had found each other despite centuries of bloodshed and loss and war.

Aelin. She was Aelin, and this was not some illusion, but the real world.

Aelin.

She swam out into the lake, and Rowan followed the jutting lip of stone along the shore's edge. She dropped beneath the surface, letting herself sink and sink and sink, toes grasping only open, cool water, straining for a bottom that did not arrive.

Down into the dark, the cold.

The ancient, icy water pulled away the flame and heat and strain. Pulled and sucked and waved it off.

Cooled that burning core of her until she took form, a blade red-hot from the fire plunged into water.

Aelin. That's who she was.

[ben-learns-smth]

why would I actually learn a lesson for once if I can just repeat my mistakes

[yume-fanfare]

also im sure ive said this before but it bears repeating: tori + kawaikute gomen, hajime + doutan☆⁠kyohi and aira oshi★⁠goto

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

I love having a dedicated and aware dream alter like sometimes I just wake up with memories of a new superpower this dude's been at it for nearly two decades and still learns new tricks like last night he unlocked walking on air, which might not seem like much for a guy who can already fly in multiple ways, but the thing is walking on air, it turns out, is just a lot easier when it comes to things like taking off from ledges. But like it's like I'm just waking up Matrix style "I know kung fu" but it's instead of martial arts I'm just learning new superpowers that I don't actually have. Whatever they did that in the Matrix too.