#will i watch it? mayhaps...

[pocket-vvardvark]

Ayyy, I guess I don't sleep anymore so take this thing that's been floating in my mind. Warning, sexual themes y'know so it's under the cut. Ok on a completely unrelated note, I've been listening to get jinxed for like three days, and I HAVE to draw Angelica in her get-up. At some point. Also why tf am I down bad for silco??? Out of everyone?? Not the big buff lady, but the sad little Mafia looking dude?? I'm cooked

Distracted once more by the sweet scent of perfume masked decay, his grip tightens on the quill. Memories cloud his judgement, and he is suddenly enraptured by the enigma that is their newest member. Beyond the drywall and oddly pristine wallpaper, he can hear the little scamp humming. Her little melody is enough for him to picture her pouring over old tomes layered in a fine coat of dust. Verandis is pulled from his musings as the walls vibrate. Groaning as he leans back against his chair, Angelica was obviously not keeping her word of behaving. Only subtle when it worked in her favor, he was beginning to doubt her brief show of domesticity. Another vibration–louder this time, and clearly volatile as dust sprinkles onto his desk from the ceiling. Hardly containing his annoyance, Verandis rises from his desk to stride towards Angelica's ‘room.’ 

No longer just shaking the room, the vibrations are now accompanied with resounding claps and plumes of smoke creeping from beneath the doorframe. Verandis twists the doorknob to the left, hastily creaking the door open only to see what he wished he hadn't. 

What was once a relatively clean room, is now decorated in strangely colored splatters of what he prays is from alchemy ingredients. Although, her disheveled appearance  was certainly not inspiring any hope. Raking a hand through long, dark locks, Verandis folds his arms with a disapproving frown while boring holes into the back of her head. Tapping her foot to the same melody, she’s hunched over the workbench wearing a pair of haphazardly worn goggles. They served hardly any purpose as the rest of her was clad in a short nightgown, if one could call the frivolous scraps of silk clinging to her curves that. Lost in her own world, Angelica doesn't hear the count’s steps until his nimble fingers catch her wrist before she can pour another toxic-looking vial into a beaker. 

Her sudden reaction boggles his mind, unable to react in time to being pounced on. With the movements of an acrobat, she twists herself backwards, effortlessly wriggling from his grasp to that of a handstand. Over the top as always, she theatrically captures his neck around the plushness of her thighs and brings both of them crashing down. Hands firmly planted just beneath his ribs, her surprised laughter bounces across the corners of the small room. 

Tugging her goggles up to rest across her forehead, Angelica swivels around peering at Verandis prone on the slick, marble floor. She grins, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Verandis wonders if she's ever been serious a day in her life. 

Tiredly gazing back at her, his eyes flicker to her cleavage which threatens to spill from her undergarment-lacking nightgown. 

“Aw, my bad, Count. Still in one piece?”

Huffing, he takes the ashen hand she holds out in aid. 

“Yes, I believe so.” Patting his robes of dust, Verandis sighs. “Is there a reason you're dressed like…that, while working on such delicate experiments? I imagine it can't do much for safety.”

She shrugs, hopping up onto her workbench. The wood groans beneath her weight, and a few mysteriously colored liquids slosh about in their vials. Gathering her vials, Verandis carefully fixes them into the nearby test-tube holder, if only to lower his rising blood-pressure. 

Watching his ministrations, she grins wildly.

“You’re worried.” 

Blinking, Verandis has to physically hold himself back from wiping that smirk off her lips. Stopping whatever biting reply he can give, Verandis eyes her with a firm expression. 

Searching his eyes, she's quiet for just a moment, even if it feels longer due to the absence of her usual remarks. 

Wiping a stray splatter of liquid from her cheek, he finally replies.

“I am, and incredibly irritated by your lack of obedience among other things.” The pinch in his brows only grows with each gentle rise and fall of her chest. 

Before he can pull his thumb away from her cheek, Angelica holds his wrist in place. Looking very amorous, he can only guess what ridiculous response she’ll spew.

“I suppose I was feeling a little…ignored, Count.”

Settling for a disbelieving expression, he snorts. 

"Ignored?"

[terribletitfluence]

dan acting so so scandalized about shoulders touching in bwagfeo is sending me "oOoH tHeYrE tOuChInG, phil, leave something to the imagination!!" like im sorry sir but you just implied that you SHARE A TOOTHBRUSH. you just showed us a JOINT UNDERWEAR DRAWER (??) you sat in this mans lap. like sorry mr howell but it's TOO LATE. "we've never fucked on YouTube" perhaps not but the line is getting AWFULLY THIN

[kmfdmvrc]

how some of yalls bios look like

[smokbeast]

Been too slow for ut content but, I did try my hand at making an error, as I always and usually do. I don’t fully read the lore or follow up fully on how most aus canons/fanons work and just do my own thing. He’s called seam and he’s a passive error! He’s a bit silly but he’s got the right idea

[hertwood]

pictures of logan (and dalton) from their living in switzerland & karting days, featured in the ESPN+ documentary

[shalomniscient]

every day, once a year, yelan takes a day off.

this is written directly into her contract with the tianquan. there are no exceptions, no special arrangements. on this singular day, yelan does not belong to the qixing; on this singular day, her leash and collar are abandoned, and she has free reign to do as she pleases.

what does she do? well, prepare for your anniversary, of course.

she hops out of bed, cleans up, tugs her jacket on and then slips out the door with the clink of her jade bracelet. it’s a clear day, and yelan tilts her head to the sky briefly, letting the golden sunrays warm her face almost like an embrace. you were never really a morning person, but the sun on your skin always suited you. she’d have to drag you out of bed to see it, but it was always well worth your grumbling in the end when you finally cave and offer her a smile which she would then steal with a kiss.

“ugh, yelan—“ you giggled, your hands on her chest gently pushing her back. your bracelet was cool against her skin, and the matching one on her own wrist hummed. she nosed along your jaw, pressing more and more kisses until she reached your neck. playfulness turned into something a little more heated, and her blood sang at the sigh she pulled from your lips. emerald eyes flicked up to you, teasing, challenging, and you managed a wry huff before tangling your fingers in her hair and tugging her back to properly kiss her again. it stung, beautifully, but yelan grinned all the way."

she shakes herself out of the memory, and steps into the busy street. liyue’s morning scene has always been crowded, and she blends into the throng with practiced ease. she follows the flow of the crowd down the wharf until she reaches the shop she’s looking for—a florist, tucked snugly between two other stores on the higher levels of the shopping district.

the owner, a midde-aged woman, looks up from tending to her orchids to smile at her. her eyes crease with familiarity at the sight of yelan as the spy steps into her store, fingers brushing the petals of a few flowers. the woman rounds the counter, and rummages in the storage for a few moments.

“the usual, i take it?” she asks, and yelan nods, leaning against the counter and tapping her fingers over the grainy wood. the shop hasn’t changed much, if at all, since she last came here with you.

you leaned down by a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, lips curving upward into a smile as you breathed in the soft, floral scent. yelan looked curiously over your shoulder, a hand casually resting on your hip. she asked if it was your favorite flower—you nodded, your other hand rising to just as casually cup her face from over your shoulder. “they’re quite pretty, aren’t they?” you hummed, and yelan took a moment to ponder the question. in the end, she said they were nowhere near as pretty as you, and took the light smack you delivered to her shoulder with an easy laugh.

the florist clears her throat, coaxing her out of the memory. yelan recieves the bouquet—white chrysanthemums—with a smile, settling it in the crook of her arm. the woman’s expression is measured, but there’s a slight waver to her tone when she speaks. if yelan really had to name it, it sounds close to… pity.

“yelan—“ she begins, but she only flashes the woman a signature grin, before slipping out the door as quickly as she came. she has other things to get, after all, and the clock is always ticking.

(or maybe her clock stopped ticking a long time ago and all this is just extra. maybe it cracked when the rocks fell and the earth buried—)

she dissolves back into the crowd as she heads to her next destination: wanmin restaurant. she can smell the chili in the air as she makes her way down the street again, a sharpness only wanmin seems to be able to make. when she gets there, xiangling is boisterously calling out orders while her father toils away in the kitchen, with guoba tirelessly maintaining the roaring fire for his wok. when she sees her, xiangling’s grin only widens, and she waves her over enthusiastically.

“miss yelan! welcome, welcome,” the young chef says cheerily. “here for another batch of dried chillies?”

yelan chuckles, shaking her head. “no, not this time. i’m here for a few rice buns. with a sweet filling, preferably.”

“ooh,” xiangling coos, nodding. “are you planning to go on an expedition? rice buns are both portable and satiating.”

“you could say that,” yelan says vaguely. the little chef is right, in a way, since she’ll have to hike a little to get to your spot—but really, it’s because rice buns have always been a comfort food of sorts for you.

“how can you not like them?” you asked defensively as you trudged along with her behind the group. there was a slight smear of filling on the corner of your lip, and your expression scrunched up a little more as she wiped it off. her jade bracelet was cool against your heated cheeks. yelan only shook her head, teasingly remarking that spice was a much greater wake-up call than sweets. you huffed at that, taking another bite of your rice bun. “not all of us are masochists, lan’er,” you grumbled, and yelan laughed softly. her nimble fingers encircled your wrist, tugging you closer so she could take a quick bite of your bun. it was sweet, sweeter than she’d like, but maybe that was because you were there. and somehow, that made it good.

yelan pulls herself out of yet another memory when xiangling deposits the bag of warm rice buns into her hands. they’re freshly steamed, and the scent of warm buns fill her senses. she thanks the chef, and disappears much the same way she came before the young lady can get even so much as a word in. in the back of her mind, she can almost hear you chastise her for it.

(she always hears you in the back of her mind. if not, where else—)

there’s only one thing left on her list, and it’s incense. it’s late in the morning now, so the crowds have thinned out—and without her cover, yelan takes to back alleys and rooftops instead. she sighs, relieved almost, as she slips into the shimmering, reflective cover of hydro, darting like a minnow between buildings like rocks, barely a blur in the eyes of anyone nearby. the secrecy isn’t strictly necessary for what she’s doing now, but she’s been so used to being unseen that being in the open feels… unsafe.

it doesn’t take her that long to reach wangsheng funeral parlor. the young lady running the parlor isn’t in today—instead, it’s her ‘assistant’, the elegant man shrouded in such thick mystery that neither her nor ningguang has been able to pierce. he greets her with a solemn expression, no doubt because director hu has told him the reason for her visit. “incense?” he asks again anyway to confirm, his voice low and soft. yelan nods absently, her nose stinging slightly from the intense scent permeating the parlor.

she watches as the man disappears into the back of the parlor for a moment, before he reappears with a delicately wrapped packet of incense sticks. she slides a pouch of mora his way, which he takes wordlessly. she tucks the packet into her little pocket dimension, then turns on her heel to leave. just as she exits the door, he calls out to her.

“safe travels.”

she doesn’t deign him with a response.

her feet take her out and away from the city, down the familiar path to the bleeding wound in the earth—the chasm. the land goes from valleys to large, curling momuments of rock, carved by the force of a falling star. she feels that familiar tug in her chest, the voice that calls to her, that tells her to forsake the surface as her ancestor once did. she listened to it, once. and—

“go,” you whispered, pushing her away. half of you was buried under rock, and she could only see one of your eyes; the other was forced shut by the blood that trickled down your face. yelan nearly screamed herself hoarse, but you grabbed her face and kissed her. it tasted like salt, and her heart lurched at the wrongness. your kisses had always been sweet. you slipped your bracelet onto her wrist, then pushed her again, and then the earth heaved and groaned, and it was the last she ever saw of you—

she turns her head and rips herself out of the memory and the temptation; she has other, more important places to be today. she has other days to chase down her demons. she skirts the side of the chasm, slowly ascending to the top. she passes by the memorial to the millelith, and leaves a rice bun and a few sticks of incense as an offering. they too, deserve to be remembered after all.

(she wonders if anyone else comes out here to remember them. she wonders who will come when she’s gone for—)

it takes her a while, but eventually, she reaches the highest point in the chasm. the sun has traveled across the sky by this point, the afternoon heat mellowing out into a slightly cooler evening warmth. the sky is alive with shades of gold when she finally stops, drawing to a halt right before a smooth stone, standing upright from the earth like a silent vigil. she kneels before it, producing three sticks on incense and inserting them into the censer before the stone and lighting them. she sets a rice bun on the plate by the stone, and saves one for herself. the bouquet of white chrysanthemums, she lays on top of the stone.

yelan takes a bite of her rice bun, letting the sweetness settle on her tongue, as the floral scent mixes with the incense, filling her lungs and settling on her shoulders. she tilts her head to the sun, and the warmth feels almost like an embrace. and when she closes her eyes, the wind in her hair feels almost like a caress. when she opens them again, she lets them rest on the stone—the headstone, and she offers it a smile.

sitting on the edge of the cliff, your legs swinging, you smiled at her, nearly blindingly bright like the golden hour. your pinkies were twined together, your shoulders flush with hers. there was a bouquet of white chrysanthemums on your lap, and just a few crumbs on the corner of your lips. your voice carried in the wind when you spoke.

“happy anniversary, yelan.”

“happy anniversary, sweetheart,” she whispers. the wind carries her voice as well, and she hopes you hear it, wherever you are now. one day, she’ll join you, but for now she takes another bite of her rice bun and breathes in the scent of incense and chrysanthemums.

[ryuzumisama]

Went to ECCC yesterday and I made this Cullen sibling gang gang print just for the occasion 😅 Got Alice (Ashley Greene) and Jasper (Jackson Rathbone) to sign it!

[novicedraws]

The DRAMAAAA

[clairedaring]

But you don't have any evidence... that I practiced euthanasia, other than my confession. Then will you confess? Only if it's your wish.

SPARE ME YOUR MERCY | 1.08

[effen-draws]

This BEAST of a poster is finally finished and I can finally rest

I'll reblog this later to talk about the process and some thoughts because I am not about to let an opportunity to talk about poster design pass me by (edit: reblog ramble made)

Meanwhile though:-] You can have some close ups and such under the cut:

[protect-namine]

cheng weimin and shao yuanyuan abandoning cheng xiaoshi at the tender age of 8 years old gets even more fucked up when you think about how they know about the photo diving ability and that bahati is a school related to abilities

like okay listen. one of you has the ability to go back in time by clapping your hands while looking at a photo. presumably you know that abilities are passed on to children. they can activate at any time, perhaps during traumatic moments like with the twins. one of you went to teach at a school for superpowered kids so presumably you know how this works.

and you think you can just abandon a kid with unactivated powers?? leave him with trauma ripe for awakening abilities? what if it wasn't the bridon photo that triggered it huh? what if cheng xiaoshi, at the tender age of 8, cried so hard wondering about his parents and then he accidentally claps himself into a random photo (IN A PHOTO STUDIO! A SHOP ABOUT PHOTOS!! WHERE HE LIVES!!!) with no one to guide him? what if he gets stuck there??? as a kid???

like okay yeah lu guang discovered his ability at 7 years old but apparently someone was there to help him. and also his ability doesn't like, harm him physically. he's not possessing someone or anything. so we're all just lucky cheng xiaoshi never discovered his powers until he was an adult because like. if he discovered that as a kid, lonely as he was?? he'd be so fucked. oh my god. just thinking about it gets me heated like what the fuck cheng weimin. shao yuanyuan. what the fuck. what if your 8 year old kid with abandonment issues got stuck possessing some random person and he doesn't know what's happening. he doesn't know anything. his parents left him and he's not even himself anymore and he's not home and how does he fix this, how does he go back. the horror of it all.

[ind1c0lite]

Who killed Gregory Edgeworth'

(timelapse below!)

[clotpole-art]

WIP of hex homies doing hex homie things

[thereweredragonshere]

I skip all Hiccstrid scenes in Rtte because buffstrid is not canon💔

[hulloitsdani]

DAY 15: Fallen.

OH, SUNLIGHT, DO YOU KNOW HOW THIS FEELS? CAN YOU IMAGINE IT?

DO YOU KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO KNOW THAT SOME COPY OF YOU WON AND YOU'RE LEFT WITH NOTHING?!?

ANNA… ALFONSE… SHARENA… VERONICA…!!!

THEY WERE MINE, THEY WERE MINE, THEY WERE MINE!!!

THEY WERE MINE FIRST!!!

AND YOU STOLE THEM FROM ME!!!

[kedreeva]

2025 is the year pacific rim takes place so i will be watching it at least once a month and im really looking forward to it. as soon as this cat gets off my lap im gonna go dig my dvd out. ive got abt 2 and a half hrs before i watch it the first time