#which I wanted to challenge a bit

[rawliverandgoronspice]

You know, I have decided to go through a route with Impa that does humanize her, and I know why I did that and I like that I did that, but honestly there's absolutely room to interpret her as a Majora-grade villain, and that would both make sense, be terrifying, and be very interesting to unpack too

[heymacy]

IAN GALLAGHER + his journey with bipolar disorder

╰┈➤ “At times, being bipolar can be an all-consuming challenge, requiring a lot of stamina and even more courage, so if you’re living with this illness and functioning at all, it’s something to be proud of, not ashamed of." - Carrie Fisher

[red-moon-at-night]

After doing some research on the types of pets people had in ancient Greece, I'd like to imagine that Helen is the sort of person who has a whole menagerie of birds — and she loves each and every one of them very, very much.

It fits well with her being good at mimicry, you know. Talking and imitating and singing with her beloved birds 💜

Close up under the read more:

I had to include that one necklace from the minoan 'saffron goddess' fresco because it's my favourite thing Ever

[sirenspells]

I have to tell you something

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

quite simply character of all time to me i keep coming back to doing screenshot redraws of Shiro in fall of the castle of lions & tears of the balmera. episodes of all time to me no notes.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

if 9&10 were "dont wander off", and 11&12 were "the doctor lies", 13s rule #1 is "dont question me"

"have we not had a good time together" shes pointing yaz to the rule that yaz very well knows is there: we can travel if you dont ask me any difficult questions. yaz knows this is the rule - "because you ask too many questions", "this team structure isnt flat" - but she also was the one to invite the doctor into her home so im pretty sure she also knows shes not gonna kicked out that easily. she has some leeway. which she has been using between revolution and flux, which is why the doctor reminds her of the rules

i dont think she'd kick her out though. she wouldnt. i think it's just that the more you break the rule, the more unpleasant she becomes to be around, and eventually youre gonna walk out on your own. she doesnt want you to, she'd rather you stay and dont ask questions. but if youre gonna try to ask questions anyway, i think thats whats gonna happen

and yaz must think so too. because she does back off. because she doesnt want that to happen either. and it does anyway

[estrangedandwayward]

Lying on deaths door, surrounded by vultures, with only the rats for company

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

💥Shiva Yvaine

My beloved dnd character thinking about how she misses her wife💥

[tears-of-xion]

Ended up doing a bit of a Lady Wifi redesign for funsies. c:

-

Please do not use or re-post my artwork without my permission. Thank you!   (reblogs, however, are welcome and appreciated)

I do not own Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir, nor it’s characters. All rights to their owners.

[amelikos]

Friede, Amethio and Zeiyu..

[batsplat]

Wait batsplat wdym Casey messaging Vale about his daughter.......

(follow up on this) yeah! I don't really have massively more to add to this except that valentino definitely said it. I was lazy and just pulled up one of the few (poor quality) english websites that posted it but the quotes were widely reported in italian sources and are originally from here (whole interview from early 2022 is worth a read)

"often sends me messages"... often...

while we're at it, casey obviously said a bunch of stuff around the time of valentino's retirement (and in the years since), some fairly nice some rather less so. but one of the things he said was this:

now, personally I doubt this dinner is something that has happened or indeed would happen, not least because I'm not sure valentino would be particularly interested in relitigating past events with casey. "at peace with himself" is the right way to put it, and at the end of the day that's always been a rivalry that has considerably more emotional baggage for casey than it does for valentino. but, I mean, maybe he'd be curious what casey would have to say! can someone ask casey about this again? can someone ask valentino? are they still messaging each other? do they want to schedule the dinner date? can somebody let me sneak into the dinner date so I can listen into what they discuss? why are no journalists or indeed podcast hosts asking them about any of this? why do they refuse to do their jobs properly? the people need to know

[flame-shadow]

gave myself some time and space to just scribble around a bit without trying to make anything. turns out i still made some things, which is funny and okay

thank you to everyone who has said kind things to me about my art. it means a lot and has helped soothe my brain a bit.

[id in alt]

[bumblingbabooshka]

[TUVOKTOBER: Day 9] Ballet with the Captain.

[maddieplum]

-`❀´- Floral Legacy Challenge Pt. 10 -`❀´-

The yellow leaves deepen to red and the air turns crisp and cold as fall settles over Courtyard Lane. In the Rosewood household...

As time marches on, Bella and Asher keep building their lives and home. Asher progresses through some milestones, Bella changed careers and met the neighbors' twin daughters. Club Halibut gathered and Bella cheers up Lucas after a bad day, then after a date at the local cafe, the pair made it official! Things are coming together for the Rosewoods, and Bella is planning a big Harvestfest bash to celebrate with her found family -> tune in next time to see how it goes!

[front-facing-pokemon]

[mordremrose]

I’m just gonna write a little thing! A little thought for Bloom, nothing too intense, just so I don’t forget it!

1000 words later? Whoops

Writing below the cut, major spoilers for the end of Heart of Thorns and implied End of Dragons spoilers but nothing explicit from EoD :]

Bloom

“Kill me, Commander.” Trahearne could hear his own voice tremble, as horror overtook his dear friend’s face. Around them all, their friends— Rytlock, Caithe, Canach, Marjory, Braham— were exhausted. Worn thin by the fight against the jungle dragon, both physical and within the Dream.

“What? No! Mordremoth is dead. We destroyed its mind from the inside.” The commander protested, their fingers curled around the hilt of Caladbolg.

“But I still hear its voice.” Trahearne looked down at his hands, twisted and blighted as they were. His body was not his— he was corrupted. It was only cruel fate that he had kept his mind this long. Or perhaps something more sinister.

“Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige… a terrible seed, planted deep in my mind.”

Trahearne’s hands curled into fist, as he took a deep steadying breath.

“You must kill me, Commander, before that seed grows. Before… before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.”

He reached out now, hands on his friend’s shoulders. The tears streaming down their face broke his heart. He did not want this. He didn’t want to hurt them, to see them suffer so.

Trahearne wished there was another way.

“What is left of me can’t survive on its own, my friend.” He croaked, and felt the Commander tremble beneath his hands. Were they always so small?

“Strike now or—“

Against his will, a rage rose up. A sick bile that boiled in his stomach and burned through his chest as his mind lurched.

Through his mouth, Mordremoth spoke.

“I am the future! I am this world! You cannot destroy me!” The dragon roared, hands tightening around the commander.

“Run while you can!” It took everything he had left to force his fingers to uncurl, to release the commander even as the dragon wanted to tear them to shreds to be remade anew.

Caladbolg flashed in the corner of his eye.

“No!” The commander yelled. Strike true my friend! Trahearne wanted to yell. But he couldn’t, and his mind went dark.

There was no great explosion. There was no dying scream.

If you asked those present what happened, none of them gave any concrete answer.

Canach hesitated to answer, but would confirm that Mordremoth was no longer hounding his mind, or any of the sylvari.

All Rytlock would say was that the confrontation wasn’t pretty.

Caithe mourned Trahearne, in her quiet and melancholic manner, and asked not to push the matter further.

Braham would scowl, shake his head, and shove his way past, unwilling or perhaps unable to describe that final blow.

Marjory Delaqua, normally so elegant and clever with her words, who could see the twists of a plot before anyone else— when she was asked, she could only shake her head and reply ‘I don’t know’.

The Commander didn’t answer at all, because no one was able to find them to ask.

Eventually, researchers at the newly established lab of Rata Novus confirmed what the entire world held its breath to hear.

Mordremoth was dead. He had to be, to explain the slow steady trickle of magic escaping the jungle, supposedly as the dragon… decayed wasn’t the right word, but it conveyed the idea well enough. It was a slow death, they said, not quite the explosive reaction from Zhaitan, who had gorged itself on magic before its death, but a gradual decay. It changed things, about magic, about how the people of Tyria and the soon to be established Dragon’s Watch understood the flow of magic around and through the Elder Dragons. But it was dead.

It had to be.

He woke up. His body ached, as it always did, as he woke. A consequence of being too bigsmall. He stirred slowly, limbs stretching out and tail dragging behind. He had buried himself beneath massive vines this time, the weight of them both familiar and restricting. These conflicting sensations, the constant disagreement with himself… it was the only thing he could rely on. Even his name escaped his memory, although he could hear whispers of it on the edges of his mind.

Traherdremaneth.

It didn’t matter, really.

He moved slowly, not truly wanting to rise, but knowing he must.

He was something in between, and there was no stillness for him. No place of his own.

His one companion, if you could call it that, would be upon him soon. A dogged purserer, both a thorn in his side and a trusted ally, trailed behind him. For a time he thought they left him— and the feelings that had wrought left him stationary in a deep cave for nearly a week before they had reappeared.

He didn’t want them close, he knew that much, but they were one of the few things he had, a consistency. He couldn’t see them well, not with the distance between them, but he could always make out the broken blade at their hip. The one that made the scar across his chest ache.

He wondered what would happen if he let them get closer. Would they strike? Would they know him?

They were his enemyfriend. What would they make of him? Caution kept him at a distance from them.

The longer he was awake, the more memories he could half-remember.

The Orrian landscape stretches out before him and it reeks of his sibling, twisting beneath the dirt. The undead don’t notice him, not yet, and he can take a moment to look closer at the coral. It was neither alive nor dead. Not unlike himself and yet so different to him or anything he had ever encountered before.

He missed his siblings, their quiet talks among the then empty roots, among safe coils with their constant presence around him. They were too distant to feel or simply gone now and it unnerved him. This was wrong. Perhaps they could help him make it right.

There was one other thing, other than his sort-of companion and his unsteady roiling mind, that remained constant. And this was the true constant. A steady beacon, that he could not see or hear, but simply felt in a way that he could not describe. A magnetic sort of pull that had him orbiting closer and closer.

It drew him in, out of the depths and dark underbelly of the jungle and the cave systems, towards the strange golden stones, the elegant walls meant to keep out creatures that wished to destroy the beacon. He was not welcome there, not yet, even though he meant no harm. He just needed to be closer.

He didn’t know how he knew that. He just knew it.