#which is very exciting for me :D

[tranzfalgar]

RAAHHHHH MY SKETCHES GRJWEJRFQJKFDWSEF

[sysig]

Simon Petrikov is a service top and you can fight me about it (Patreon)

[atmospheral]

marineford behind the scenes (photo ref)

[somegrumpynerd]

Before I forgetttttt

So color thinks Killer is brainwashed, BUT, what if one time when Killer's soul is normal and he can feel and think for himself again, what if they are chilling at Color's place and then Killer gets up and says something like "I have to go home, don't want to worry dad"

What would Color think ? Would he rethink everything because "wait, why did you call him dad ???" Or would he think that damn, this brain washing is even worse than he thought because apparently Nightmare makes them call him dad ?? Which is weird even for Nightmare that could be a manipulation method ??

Okay that's it byyyeee

OH I LOVE THINKING ABOUT THESE GUYS OKAY SO!!!!!

(I'm still new to Color so if I'm wicked super wrong let me know!)

I feel like no matter what Killer said about Nightmare, Color wouldn't believe it. If somebody's been held captive so long they no longer think they want to leave, of course they're going to say they like living there. No matter how much Color cares about him, I think he has to consider Killer an unreliable narrator as far as his own situation is concerned.

But! Color's main concern is giving Killer his autonomy back and helping him learn to make his own choices. This unfortunately means if Killer keeps choosing to go back to Nightmare, Color has to respect it.

I feel like the only way he would begin to slowly unwind and trust that Nightmare had good intentions would be to see it for himself repeatedly. It's going to take more than a few good turns to prove that he isn't just putting on an act when Color is watching and then turning the whip on them again when nobody's looking. That's going to be hard to set up though since neither of them want to be around the other very much lol

I do think a good start for it would be Nightmare giving Killer the choice though. Like, not that they don't get to choose things regularly, but Killer isn't really one to think much about what he wants or come forward with it so Nightmare kind of assumes he's content and doesn't really think to check in with him. So if he actually made a point of asking Killer what he wanted and he said he wanted to spend a day with Color, I think that would be a good start. Obviously Color's not gonna jump to trusting him after one day, but hearing that Nightmare is also giving Killer his own choices and actually respecting them might give him a bit more reason to trust him.

That said, the image of Color's face as he asks "he makes you call him dad??" is sending me lol

[telomirage]

in order from left to right: the face of someone who is unaware they're about to rawdog their first day back to work, the sky, the sky, the sky, the sky

[marcusagrippa]

so i finally finished the october horse

[mad-hunts]

jokethur asked: ❝ that's not the worst thing i've ever heard but it's certainly up there. ❞

one might argue that the way barton huffed through his nostrils in a wry sense of disbelief at what he heard come out of the other's mouth, rather than at the terrible thing that was just said through his own lips without an ounce of shame, told you everything you needed to know about him; that he was a brutal and very unfeeling person. but honestly, even if those things were the least bit true, barton thought... he was only saying what everyone would be thinking in their heads if they knew what was really going on behind the scenes. they just wouldn't want to say it aloud for one reason or another, whether that was due to the fear of being ostracized by their peers, or frowned down upon by society as a whole. kind of like how he was currently by the man standing beside him.

barton took a long drag out of his cigarette and averted his gaze from one of the big, bright displays that decorated the skyline to meet the others eyes. the displays were showcasing what looked like the latest news: and that was what barton seemingly was making a comment on, as the death of a cop that was rather infamous for being a ' pinnacle of kindness and care to their community ' was the main headline for that day. except that man was everything but in reality. it was just so rich to be seeing him regarded as some fantastic guy, when barton knew for a fact that he was a sleazeball who he had seen hanging around his old boss, as he was secretly in their pocket and doing their dirty work. and if there was one person that barton held contempt for more than anything... it was the man who used to treat him like he was something less than human. or, less than dirt, actually.

but of course, barton would never tell the gcpd of his corruption because he knew that rainer (you have to put a face to the name for these people) would realize that it was him who'd sold him out. and besides... since when did he have faith in the gcpd, or even like the police? they were all a bunch of pigs to him. so, barton let him continue on with his little game of playing the role of the well-beloved police officer while he was helping people get killed on the side. he rolled his eyes then, ❝ well, if i had known that you were such a big fan of the police, then i likely wouldn't have said anything. but i rest my case: a lot of people do deserve to die, stranger, and he was one of them. so i don't feel sorry for him or his family at all. ❞

barton stated this all in a very matter-of-fact manner, blowing smoke out through his nose from his cigarette before he continued, ❝ i mean, where was this guy if he was so good whenever the city got flooded? i didn't see him among the people who were helping other's whenever everything went to shit. in fact, i bet he was probably sitting in some place really safe and warm whenever it happened, because i knew the real kind of person that he was. a total prick who certainly wasn't the golden boy that the news is trying to make him out to be, ❞ he flicked his cigarette down on the ground and smushed it underneath his boot, successfully putting out the fire on its other end. barton turned to face arthur completely with an unamused look in his eyes.

❝ now, are you done preaching to me about how wrong it is that i said that? you don't really know the first thing about the pig after all. but i do. though you didn't hear that from me, alright? ❞

[ssoupcup]

[bonewhiteglory]

today in kindergarten volunteer adventures: one of the kids asked me if I had children, which happens at least once every time I go in; the first time one boy asked me if I had kids and then followed it up by asking if I was in 1st grade, which is possibly the funniest combination of questions I've ever been asked. anyway, until today I thought I didn't have children but this sweet kindergartner revealed to me that I have four kids... ages 11, 12, 17, and 88 :D I don't know anything about them yet but happily the kindergartners love telling me things* so I'm sure ONE of them will be able to help me out here. I can't believe I've been a deadbeat mom for like 90 years now. this is especially enchanting to me bc I'm turning 34 tomorrow LMAO

[94erz]

Moved on to j-hope's MAMA performance and my heart aches for 2022, nothing will ever top what Jack In The Box did for me. I don't think I'll ever get to experience a genuine thrill quite like that entire era from him.

Not that I think he peaked there just that it was just such a specific time and experience that I don't think anything will ever be like that again.

[sysig]

I am attempting embroidery

So far?

This shit fucking rules

[bunnyboy-juice]

WEEEEEEEEEE

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

Hey! So I FINALLY finished watching season one of the Wingfeather Saga (DANG that show is good) and it made me think of you! So I was wondering-- did you ever end up finishing the books?

OOOOOOH YES YES!!! Hi, Hazel :D

Okayokay, I’m just about to finish the last book!! I’ve only got a few chapters left eeeeeeeeek!!! I’m so freaking excited to finish, I’ve heard some Things about the ending and I’m both looking forward to and dreading it… oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh.

[stoshasaurus]

I DID IT !!! I p-ranked the first act of ultrakill for the first time, and made it to minos' boss fight!! :D

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

how is everyone feeling on this fine monday?

[freezethebeez]

Raine and Beau lore oh boy

(spoiler: it's angst)

below the break you will find a short story about Beau's last moments with Raine, told shortly after the birth of Ranboo.

this was a project i submitted for my writer's craft class, which did, in fact, have a word limit, so it's not as long as i'd have initially written it, but alas, it is plenty angsty nonetheless. my metacognition on the piece is also available if anyone wants it :]

"You must try to drink more, my love," Beau pleads, voice doused in water, arm dripping with blood. She presses her wrist against Raine's lips, Raine smearing the blood in denial. Her head falls back against the feather-stuffed pillow, using what little strength she has to wipe her mouth clean, keeping one arm secured around Ranboo's small, frail body, swathed in soft cotton, just like herself.

"I believe," Raine murmurs, struggling to take in enough of a breath to push the words out, "I am ready. You've done all you can."

Beau's eyes squeeze shut. She lowers her head— her arms, hands, one pressing into the wound to prevent her from falling into the same deathbed Raine's laying in. She bows forward, forehead landing upon Raine's waist. Raine finds the crown of her head with trembling fingertips. Dust follows the movement, flying from her skin. It was a dangerous truth that Beau was not yet ready to accept— the presence of dust as she washed herself before bed— some nights pondering if she should preserve it in a jar— but preservations required acceptance, so they sought out the drain instead.

"There must be more I can do," Beau speaks. "There is sure to be a doctor out there somewhere— someone who knows how to help you."

"Darling," Raine rasps, "you have done all that you can. There's no need to argue this anymore."

Beau peers up at Raine through the thin, white veil of her hair. Raine looks down at her solemnly, her eyes wet as well. Blood stains the corners of her mouth, visible beneath her pale, grey skin (it wasn't always that way— pale and grey— years ago, Beau would kiss dark, slate skin, back when there was still life in death). Death comes to life in front of her— Ranboo kicks her little legs out, one of the few, infrequent movements she's gotten a hold of over the recent months. Beau's attention is drawn by the sporadic twitches, and the small, swaddled figure resting on Raine's chest is blurred further in her misty vision.

"What about her?" Beau asks, reaching a hand forward to hold Ranboo in her blanket. Beau looks back up at Raine, whose eyes are fixed on Ranboo as well, smiling fondly at their daughter.

Raine inhales deeply, wheezing slightly, speaking, "I trust that you will raise her to be strong like you." Beau stifles a sob. "And," Raine adds, "when she's old enough to hear, you can tell her all about me."

Beau shakes her head. She refuses to accept this reality— one in which she's raising a child— their child— all on her own, having to tell her stories of her mother, knowing that she will have never heard her voice, seen her face, or remembered her touch.

"Make sure..." Raine takes in another wheezing breath, "... that she knows that I love her more than anything else... and that I do not regret a single thing."

Beau nods this time. She could never deny her wife's requests, least of all her dying ones. Beau has felt Raine's breath against her body— strong and self-assured like she is— and to hear her struggle to inhale— cough as she exhales— it creates a deep ache in Beau's chest— one that calls her towards acceptance.

She reaches for Raine's hand, cringing at the feeling of dust against her skin— the way cracks run along Raine's fingers, her wedding ring sinking into the bone. Beau tries not to squeeze too hard, afraid that her hold will cause Raine's hand to crumble— or cause pieces of her to spill like sand in an hourglass that’s on the brink of running out. 

Beau remembers their wedding day well. She recalls the moments in the garden of her parent’s home, wandering through the fields of lilies and jasmine, Raine’s hand held tightly in her own, grip like a vice and laced with nervousness. The stars gleamed bright, and Raine had told her that the moon was shining just for them. The night had still been young— they were still so young, just barely a century old— and still yet to don their wedding gowns. 

They did not know what their future would hold, but they knew they had one.

Oh, how Beau wishes she could say the same now— how she wishes she could hold Raine’s hand a little tighter to quell her fears, and how she wishes this child, kicking and chirping and barely one month old— still blind to this world— had not taken Raine’s life, and how Beau wishes Raine had not given it so easily. 

Vampires do not die. You cannot kill something that is already dead. However, you can steal its consciousness— and that is precisely what Death does as it swoops in through the open window, carrying Raine’s soul from her body with the gentle breath of the breeze. 

Dust spills onto Beau’s gown. Ranboo gives a sudden kick, a chirp, louder and sharper than before. Beau squeezes the dust that remains in her hand, pulls what’s left of her love together, compresses the centuries they’ve shared into her palm.

And, with the soft breath of an autumn’s breeze and a kiss of death upon her daughter’s brow, lets it blow away in the wind.