#wonder in the stars au
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thebnha-auhoard · 10 months ago
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I had The other three mods choose two each!
Mod Kiwi asked for Tanuki Leaves and Violet Clouds Sako!(Soon to be posted!) and There will be no Flowers Shinomori!
Mod Anterior wanted Wonder in the Stars Katsuki and Samahadi Izuku!!
Mod Boreal requested Build a Villain Chisaki and 21 For All Ochako
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milkcioccolato · 9 months ago
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Jedi Master Maul faces the greatest obstacle of his existence: being tiny
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eggdrawsthings · 5 months ago
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parasol
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anxiousapplepie · 9 days ago
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not saying @storyboard-sketch delightful crossover fic gave me a shot of energy that restored my faith and ability to draw. but also.. not not saying that XD For real tho, drawing my current comfort character as a vampire is hilariously good medicine for a weary soul <3
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chowadoe · 3 months ago
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😮💥!?
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iknowicanbutwhy · 4 months ago
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accidentally posted non-birthday art on the birthday day so i made up for it by busting out the colors (COUGH monochrome COUGH) and the background. Happy birthday to the fellas!!
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kuro-is-doodlin · 9 days ago
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Siffrin's finally getting therapy.
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So, with that... Meet Liam! Oth Siffrin's therapist!
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l-ii-zz · 7 months ago
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Roatrip AU arrives! ✨
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startagainaprologue · 2 months ago
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i have an illness that means. i. cant stop drawing this stupid creature goodbye forever
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meatcatt · 9 months ago
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"Stitching the tears closed before anyone can see them..." Inspired by @basilpaste's Isa loop PMV! (I'm so normal about ghost and pals)
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tealgoat · 9 months ago
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Honk snuuuuuu mimimimi
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thebnha-auhoard · 9 months ago
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Izuku: Self care is stuff like taking a bubble bath or putting on a lot of make up if you like that, or taking a nice warm nap and stuff like that basically.
Katsuki: Self care is the burning heat when rage washes over you. self care is when you feel the bones crack under your powerful fists. self care is the fear in your enemies eyes.
Todoroki : Self care is stealing someones birthday cake just to eat the frosting.
Katsuki: If you touch my birthday cake I’ll make you eat your hands.
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yuesya · 3 months ago
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There are children running in the streets. Laughing, free and carefree, and the sound of their joy is a balm to Gunther’s ears.
Gunther straightens, a motion that’s accompanied by the sound of a popping joint in his back. Ah, these old bones of his are starting to become rather creaky, it seems. But the pain of his body is negligible in comparison to the lightness in his heart –this sort of brightness that floods his chest, at the sight of the happiness that they’ve managed to build for themselves here…
… under the protection of their young god.
From the moment that Lord Decarabian had accepted Gunther and his clan into her territory, everything changed. No longer were Gunther and his kinsmen forced to flee endlessly across the lands, escaping from one danger to the next as they struggled for survival. Here, they were finally able to rest, beneath the protection of a young god who was sympathetic to their plight.
A young, powerful god who was sympathetic to their suffering. Or at the very least… even if she was not sympathetic, she at least had not turned them away, when they’d bordered on the verge of extinction.
Word spread. Gunther and his clan were the first to arrive upon these lands, but they were not the last. Lord Decarabian rarely showed herself, but the corpses of monsters that attempted to trespass upon her lands were left to bleed out upon the ground in open warning, making her presence felt and heard in a way that few other gods benevolent towards humanity in these parts could match.
And for human tribes that had already experienced far too much suffering at the hands of the beasts that roamed these lands, the sanctuary that Lord Decarabian offered was a true haven.
There were no restrictions that Lord Decarabian placed upon them. No particular rules, no demands for any sacrifices or offerings, and anyone who wished to was permitted to leave.
Was it any surprise, then, that the number of Lord Decarabian’s people continued to grow? That those who enjoyed the god’s protection would decide to devote themselves to Lord Decarabian entirely of their own will?
Gunther had been here from the very beginning, when Lord Decarabian’s lands had consisted of little more than empty fields and barren trees. Under the efforts of the growing population, houses were raised from the ground, fields were cultivated, and…
And Gunther still remembers the early days, when everyone had worked tirelessly to build a new home together. New changes were constantly being made to the landscape, to the point where it was unrecognizable from what it had been when Gunther initially arrived–
There had been a single moment, when Gunther had looked up into the overhanging branches of a nearby tree. For no particular reason, really, merely a casual glance –and he’d seen her. Their young god, white-haired and pale-skinned, standing on the branches and hidden among the foliage… expressionlessly watching the humans bustle around below.
At this, Gunther had experienced a sharp jolt of fear. Lord Decarabian had said that humans were permitted to remain on her lands, but… had she given them permission to change these lands?
Then Gunther had blinked, and Lord Decarabian was gone. Nothing remained in the place where the young god had stood, save for the soft whistle of a stray breeze that filled in the resulting emptiness that came from the loss of her presence.
And in the following days, there was nothing that indicated any signs of displeasure from their god. Humans were permitted to continue building as they pleased, and a few days later, one of the scouts reported finding the corpse of a winged tiger in the grove to the north. A man-eating winged tiger, as Gunther and the others later find out from a new set of arrivals who’d lost a good number of kinsmen to the beast.
“May the Great Hunter watch over us all,” one of them murmurs fervently, kneeling in the dirt and touching their forehead to the ground. Lord Decarabian does not reveal themselves often, but there is no doubt that they are present. In every whisper of the passing wind, and in the blessing of every gust that sweeps through the air, felling any beast that dares to encroach upon her lands.
Lord Decarabian is not a warm, personable god. Not like the God of Fruits who is always full of smiles for her followers, nor the God of Fallen Leaves who always speaks in a gentle cadence.
Yet, there is no doubt in Gunther’s mind that the God of Storms who is the watchful guardian of these lands cares for the humans who seek shelter from her.
And with this, there is truly little else that one could ever need to ask for.
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son1c · 2 years ago
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a scene from my fanfic: roller coaster escape!!!!
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abaroo · 6 months ago
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Start/Previous/Next
Cowboy Swap Masterpost
And that concludes chapter one! I will be taking a two-week break from posting the comic to catch up with my buffer, and to go on holiday!
I’ll try to post in the meantime, but from the 1st to the 8th of June I won’t have internet access, so don’t expect anything then!
Feel free to ask questions about my comic and I’ll do my best to answer them as spoiler-free as I can! I love hearing from you guys!
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lovesickeros · 1 year ago
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☆ even the gods bleed [ pt 3 ]
{☆} characters neuvillette, wriothesley, furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, multi-chapter, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 1.9k {☆} previous [ 1 ] [ 2 ]
Wriothesley was not a man of superstition. He did not kneel at the altars until his knees bled, he did not pray until his voice gave out– he did not, contrary to popular belief, suffer divine punishment for his apparent lack of respect.
After all, what Divine would look so deep beneath the waves just for a glimpse of the sinners that inhabit it?
Not them, evidently.
He hadn't slept in the past four days, though. There was a heavy air of something where ever he walked– it followed him like a thick fog, lingering and choking him until it dragged him to his knees like a chain. His thoughts inevitably linger on the striking, extravagant letter so conveniently adorning his desk at the fortress– the broken wax seal, the letter tucked into his pocket.
He'd recognize the seal of the Iudex any day. Wasn't often he spoke to him– but the shaky, distorted words hastily etched into the paper made him pause. Neuvillette always had a steady hand– elegant, flowing script that him of flowing water.
It had kept him up for days.
The implications were..haunting. He'd poured over the letter for hours, illuminated only by faint light of his desk lamp. Yet no matter how many times he tries to see what must be hidden beneath the ink, the paper itself even, he finds nothing but the shaky script of a request that sends a bolt of pure frost through his veins.
He noticed, of course, the odd goings on of Fontaine. He'd heard vague whispers of the Divine's hunt for the imposter– he'd heard, too, of the ceaseless rain pelting Fontaine until even he wondered if the nation would finally sink beneath the waves.
It didn't, though. And that only made it all the more odd. Days of constant rain, just for it to stop suddenly..he tugged his coat tighter around him, throwing up the hood of the cloak clasped even tighter over it with a grunt as he leaned around the corner of the alleyway.
He didn't believe in superstition, but this was too hard to ignore as a simple weather anomaly.
Maybe that was why he ignored his gut– he knew that this was probably a trap, at the very least it was suspicious. But damn it, he couldn't ignore the instinct to follow the only lead he had.
His boots clicked against the rain stricken streets as he stalked through the shadows, mindful of the clinking of machine patrols just a few streets away. Yet every step felt heavier then the last as he took a long, good look at the Palais Mermonia. He almost considered bringing out his gauntlets, but he thought better of it– if it came down to it, he needed information. And he would need whoever was waiting for him alive for that– the dead don't speak and all that.
The letter's directions led him in a..rather roundabout entrance to a secluded room, evidently, as he lifted his hand and quietly knocked against the door. Two rapid knocks, pause, another knock, pause, four knocks. It doesn't take long until he hears the latch of the door unlock.
The leather of his gloves creaks as he clenches his fists, adjusting his stance. He's ready for a fight, if he must, but as the door quietly slides open he feel the weight on his shoulders relax slightly– the familiar, sharp features of Neuvillette meets him. He almost reflexively smiles at the way his pupils turn into thin slits, a momentary surprise that he quickly hides well behind a cough and the creak of the door as he pulls it open fully.
"Wriothesley. I see my letter has found you well. Please, come in." Polite as ever, Neuvillette steps aside to let him in, but he can see the exhaustion lining his features– the bags under his eyes aren't as well hidden as he thinks, at least to him. "Bit odd to be inviting me all the way out here in the middle of the night, don't you think?"
His tone is smooth as he steps into the room, brushing down his hood and glancing at Neuvillette over his shoulder, watching as he shuts and locks the door behind him.
"I apologize for the..less then ideal circumstances, but I'm certain you will understand when you see for yourself." He wants to retort, but the Iudex beats him to it, vaguely motioning to the room behind him. An invitation– but he wonders if it's worth taking.
His gut says no, but he's feeling a little risky today, he supposes.
He turns back slowly, barely able to make out the two figures he'd missed on the first glance on the other side of the room– though it's hard to mistake the flourish of the Hydro Archon, even in the dark. It's the other figure that makes the breath hitch in his throat, though.
Or maybe, more accurately, it freezes. So does his blood, his whole body even, locked in stasis for a long, tense moment– he can't see them clearly, but his instincts are going haywire. He can feel his vision almost rattle where it rests against his left shoulder, cold leaking through the layers of clothes and into his skin until he has to fight to suppress a shiver.
He'd always fancied himself the hunter– he was the one who dealt with unsavory folks, in the end. But he felt like a rabbit pinned beneath the crosshairs of a gun this time. He could almost feel the teeth of the bear trap snapping shut around him, crushing bone and flesh beneath cold metal.
For a long moment he thinks he feels fear.
And with a sharp click and a burst of light, it's gone and he takes a raspy, choked breath as he blinks away the blurriness in his vision, taking in the room illuminated by the lamp.
He's not sure what he sees is better, though.
Because his body knows that their Divinity is as real as the blood running through his veins.
So why do they remind him so much of himself? Why does he see the look of the boy who died in a pool of blood not his own in them?
It is a sick, cruel kind of familiar.
Wriothesley didn't believe in superstition– but that was born of the unknown. He knew, now. He could reach out and touch the truth with his own two hands.
The throne of the world was a lie.
The thing sitting on it bled red. And if it bled, it could die.
He clenched his fists tighter– and released, letting his shoulders slump with a huff and a half hearted chuckle. "I wasn't expecting you to be in possession of a wanted criminal when you sent me that letter." He could see the gears whirring in their heads, the subtle dampness in the air reminding him just how delicate a situation it truly was.
He wasn't particularly inclined to getting blasted by a jet of water today.
"Relax, I'm not going to spill to anyone else. Seriously– don't get my jacket wet. It's expensive and a nightmare to dry." His lips quirk into a half smile, but it twists into something almost genuine at the laugh covered up by a cough he hears from the Divine. Bingo.
"It's fine, Neuvillette. Let him go." Their voice is like honey dripping from their lips, and he has to close his jaw with his hand before they can see the way it dropped in his surprise. "Of course, most Divine. My apologies." He relaxes at the sharp click of his heels as he joins them on the bed, his posture far more relaxed then he's ever seen. The Hydro Archon, much to his confusion and amusement, is far too invested in playing with their hair to pay much attention to him now that things have calmed, evidently.
Huh.
They seemed pretty cozy about it, he noted. He guesses they three of them had some time to get acquainted.
"So..who's going to explain what the hell is going on?" He probed, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the three carefully– they all looked tired, but even through the exhaustion neither seemed inclined to stray too far from the Divine. "And what exactly your plan is? You can't keep hiding them here forever. Someone will sniff them out sooner or later."
"We are aware," Neuvillette interjects, lips pursed into a thin line and his thin brows furrowed. "But as I'm sure you've noticed, the hunt for the..forgive me, most Divine, but the hunt for the alleged imposter is still at it's peak."
He grumbles in acknowledgment, hanging up his cloak by the door and sliding out of his heavy coat, resting it over the back of a nearby chair. "Hm. Suppose that's why the patrols are so common now a days."
"I'm afraid so. As you can imagine, we cannot simply ask them to..stop the search. It would draw unwanted attention and suspicion. The Divine would be found immediately if we tried to bring them out of the city at the moment." Neuvillette added, looking proper and elegant, despite the circumstances– even in the face of the Divine and the Archon turning on him and tugging his hair into intricate braids. "So I hope you understand that it was a great risk to send you that letter."
He rubs his chin, huffing in amusement– a solid plan, maybe, but his power didn't extend too far out of the Fortress. He had his connections, sure, but what use were they when he had to get the, uh, "imposter" out of Fontaine? Smuggling them out wouldn't be easy, and then there's the point of where to take them they'd have to contend with.
"Yeah, yeah– I get it. But it's not like I can just smuggle them out or keep them in the fortress. Even if we got them out of the city, we'd have to find somewhere to bunker down, and if someone spots any of us lingering there.." Archons, what a mess he'd gotten himself into. He was really looking forward to the next time he could kick his feet up with a cup of tea.
"I understand. I have already made plans, in fact." Neuvillette hesitates, and he can feel the temperature drops a few degrees. "I..cannot share them in full at the moment, but it is not for a lack of trust." Neuvillette reasoned, hands folded neatly in his lap– not that it hid the way they shook slightly. He wanted to ask, but he thought better of it.
"Eh, I don't hold it against you. The walls have ears, even up here." He deflected, running a hand through his hair. He really hoped Sigewinne wouldn't ask too much when he gets back. "I trust your judgment." He hesitates for a long moment, pulling out a simple, neatly folded letter of his own.
"Memorize the code words, then burn it. I'll be waiting for your next letter." He murmurs, plucking his coat and cloak and tugging them back on one after another, shuffling back over to the latched door. He hesitates again, his hand lingering on the door.
"I just hope your plan is worth the risk, Neuvillette."
He leaves before he can respond, the harsh click of the door ringing in his ears even as he steps back into the shadows of the night.
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