#yes i know their actual lore

[olddirtybadfic]

oh oh another one

(reposted here because I think this is too good to be attached to that insane oldfic I posted)

I have this theory that the Warner siblings are Set animals (like from ancient Egyptian lore), so the rules of mere mortals don't apply to them. One of Set's many domains is disorder and chaos, so I think it checks out.

Or, maybe they're the offspring of Set (conceived while he was in his animal form, so that's why they resemble Set animals) and the Hounds of Tindalos. That's why they have to be kept in the round Warner Brothers Tower--there are no corners through which they can escape (but they've found other ways of getting out).

But they're not malicious like the Hounds are said to be; they're just a little mischievous.

Or maybe there's some Fair Folk in there too, I don't know.

[sunderwight]

Cumplane where Airplane, in a fit of either bravery or insanity or positive or negative self-esteem (he's not totally sure) decides to cosplay as Luo Binghe and post the pictures online.

Of course, he doesn't do it as "Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky", he knows he has some questionable fans and doesn't really want to hand them a picture of his face. So he posts the images under one of the pseudonyms he uses for lurking around the comment section and social media tags. It's just a handful of images of him looking like the protagonist in his head, attempting to strike cool poses in a wig and some period clothes (he rented both).

The reception is... mixed. Airplane does not have abs, after all, nor a flawless complexion or much skill with makeup. He is fat, freckled, and awkward. The PIDW readership is not known for being particularly supportive either. In fact they're mostly a crab bucket of negativity and masculine posturing, so he gets a lot of mean-spirited commentary.

It's fine. Nothing he hadn't expected. Really solidifies for him that posting was a fit of madness, actually! What did he even expect? He's bracing himself for the worst when he sees that Peerless Cucumber, notorious hate-reader and defender of Luo Binghe's honor, has commented. Ah, shit. He's probably going to rip into Airplane for daring to sully his precious Binghe's reputation by dressing up like that, isn't he?

The comment is long, too. Fuck. Airplane's not sure if his self-esteem can take a comprehensive beating from the champion hater himself, but he's too curious not to look.

Shen Yuan, in the meanwhile, is just pleased that there has FINALLY been a Luo Binghe cosplayer who looks the part. Of course Luo Binghe wouldn't have exaggerated muscles, those are just a product of dehydration. Binghe spent most of his disciple years running around chopping wood and hauling laundry, and then later doing whatever he could to pack on the calories in order to make it through the Abyss. A hefty workman's build would only make sense for him, anything else would be nonsense. Airplane also described Luo Binghe as having a beautiful face, which Shen Yuan won't blame most cosplayers for not being able to just make happen, but a beautiful face doesn't mean "covered in so much makeup it looks like an anime character"! When would Luo Binghe have the time or inclination to put on makeup? A natural beauty with some inevitable blemishes would make more sense and be much more appealing, and this "Airplane Crashing to the Ground" (funny play on the author's name, Shen Yuan approves) has very pretty features! Everyone hating on this cosplay is just an idiot, the only actual problem is that his wig is poorly fitted.

So in true Peerless Cucumber fashion, he lays this all out.

This gets him embroiled in arguments with several other fans, who even accuse him of actually being the guy in the photos, claiming that there's no other reason why he would defend them. Shen Yuan doesn't care if people think that's him, because that's still the best Luo Binghe cosplay he's ever seen, but he doesn't want them doubting the sincerity of his arguments. So, he decides that the only reasonable thing to do is dress himself up in cosplay as well and then post the actual photos of himself.

While he'd like to dress up as one of Luo Binghe's allies like Mobei Jun, or maybe someone cool like Yue Qingyuan, he is too pedantic to think he could pull that off. Those guys are all strong warrior types, and Shen Yuan is a scrawny pale rich kid who looks like he'd probably lose a fight with a wet paper towel. The only characters he could plausibly pull off would be some of the more consumptive members of Binghe's harem and maybe, maybe, one of the weaker villains like Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan is NOT posting pictures of himself crossplaying to the central nexus of toxic masculinity itself, so... Shen Qingqiu it is!

Poor Airplane has to go sit and stare at a while for a while. Peerless Cucumber likes his cosplay. Peerless Cucumber, ardent defender of Shang Qinghua's sellout crappy main character mary-sue, thinks Airplane is good-looking enough to cosplay as him. And said so. Repeatedly. And then posted borderline thirst-trap villain cosplay of himself, inadvertently revealing in the process that he is hot.

What the. What. What?!

Anyway, Shen Yuan suggests that they attend the next convention both cosplaying together because Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky is supposed to be doing a meet & greet at that one, and wouldn't it be fun to go as a pair? And Airplane agrees before his brain catches up and he realizes that might present a problem.

[anemonet]

Sneakily posting more of my little guys....they should put me in charge of a dlc i would do normal things pls pls pls

[whiteboardartstudios]

I SAID I WAS GOING TO DRAW THAT CAR SO HERE WE ARE (I hope you enjoy this is the stupidest thing I've drawn in months /affectionate)

(I put the image descriptions in the Alt text this time because there's so many images. If it doesn't work please tell me and I'll yeet them in the actual post!!)

happy finale of Wild Life everybody! :D

[the-barefoot-hatter]

winter holidays at the mystery shack (party billiam edition)

Stan celebrates what he calls "Cash-mas", which is just slapping a cheap felt santa hat and a 300% Christmas special markup on anything- and several things he can't- get away with in the gift shop

more sincerely, the Pines do a fairly low-key Hanukkah. if the twins are visiting, they do a much showier double christmas/hanukkah celebration

And Bill... well...

No one is entirely sure if it's a Euclidean thing or just a... Bill thing. But he's SO enthusiastic!

HAPPY WINTER FUNTIME BOYS & GIRLS!

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[ganondoodle]

i might be thinking too much about this rather irrelevant background story for the ancient queen and ganondorf (.. yes still botw2/totk rewrite ................ its background stuff you dont get to see, it would just be a line in a hidden diary and some environtmental story telling- that bracelet being in his room- wrote a longer text post about it today but uh .. heres a doodle that took me too long to make bndksbnsd)

[hey-heigo]

eva tsunaka the most normal girl ever and damon maitsu a latest addendum to my faves

[basketobread]

What class is Lunara?

she's a cleric of selune!

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

MDZS x Warrior Cats AU (part 1): That boy can meow!

Names and a huge inspiration credits to @clintbeefwoods!

(part 2)

[secretdazedragon]

A very logical step is to post sketches about npcs from my character's background when i barely post about the said character

[wtfforged]

wizard vacation

[time-is-restored]

anyone else thinking about how us crows canonically reacted to that diorama in the aquarium? like. imagine being q!phil, desparately trying to convince himself that none of this is happening and his dreams are just dreams... while all of the crows surrounding you are going NUTS

vocalising, ruffling their feathers, flapping their wings - immediately and viscerally reacting to all of the trappings of endlantis and the king.

im just. can you even imagine trying to process that. imagine ur kid wakes up and can't see any of the shit that's driving you + ur entire murder to hysterics, even when they're all Clearly reacting to... something in the aquarium. imagine phil trying to say he's fine and that he just needs air while the crows are fucking RIOTING.

we knew + were shouting abt the king and endlantis LONG before q!phil was able to acknowledge it. and the dissonance of that is just,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, OGH!

[alxastrx]

When you're one of the most selfish mc who only saves people because it's part of a job you never wanted and did not get to chose or you would've died, who took your co-workers' morals and ideals because you didn't have any and desperately wanted to fit in somewhere, be it with the heroes or the villains, who's activelly haunted by one the most tragic past to have been created and suffer from a psychosis so bad (dare I say schizophrenia) that even your enemies acknowledged that you are mentally ill and objectively flawed in your judgement, never hesitated to try to kill anyone and has the most egoistic reason to be a good person but the fandom still thinks you're just a kind crybaby "I don't know what a gun is" homosexual twink.

[localceilingdevil]

If you're still doing itties, you can have my very pissed off grandma if you'd like! :)

Silver-Strung Lyre is very normal and you can trust her with the karmic cycle <3

very pissed off grandma inbound !!!

[seoulmatez]

𝒸𝓇𝒾𝓂𝓈𝑜𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝓅𝓈, 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝓂𝒶𝓃

boothill x f!reader. 1.5k wc. sfw. fluff. wild west au. outlaw!boothill. saloon performer!reader. first encounters ♡

a/n: self-indulgent :3 like, selfship fic disguised as an x reader fic self-indulgent :3 pls feel free to ignore lawlz

Outlaws have been a normal occurrence in town for as long as you could walk. That is to say, you aren’t entirely surprised when you find that yet another poster has been pinned up all over town, large bolded letters spelling out “WANTED” along the top pleading for the capture of another criminal—dead or alive. There’s something distinctly different about this one though, and you can tell because instead of passing the wanted poster with a brief glimpse and the mental note to steer clear of the man illustrated on it, you linger at the notice board, eyes glued to the parchment.

There’s no name printed on it and the asking price is fairly hefty—bigger than any bounty you’ve taken notice of in the past—but the one aspect of the poster that truly catches your eye is the drawing. He—or the artist’s rendition of him—is… handsome, you find yourself silently admitting. Contrasting light and dark hair is cut off by the frame—it makes you wonder how long it really is. Some of the shorter pieces hang loosely in front of his right eye, though the left is visible—enough so that you can see two moles right beneath the outer corner. A bullet stylized as jewelry dangles from his ear, metal cuffs hugging his helix.

What sticks with you the most is his sharp, crooked smile. It’s smug and should be off-putting but, for some reason unbeknownst to you, it makes your heart skip a beat.

You can’t put your finger on how long you stand staring at the poster but you don’t make a move to tear your eyes away until you hear someone calling your name from afar.

And even then, you can’t get that man’s face out of your head.

• • •

You’re getting ready in a room too small to accommodate the number of girls in it. It’s typical to fight over a mirror, to bump shoulders every now and then. Curiously, the dressing room feels oddly spacious tonight. As you paint rouge on your lips, you glance around to take a headcount—if anyone is missing, you’ll have more work on your plate this shift.

You count three including yourself sitting on the stools and the rest at the door, practically falling over each other to take a peek outside of the room. They’re whispering about something, their hushed voices only rising loud enough that you can pick out a few words. No way, my goodness, unreal. The gossip makes you frown and rise from your seat. You’re missing out on something, you know it. This isn’t you being nosey, just cautious—if something is happening, it’s best to be informed, you tell yourself as you join the ladies at the door.

“What’s going on?” You don’t bother trying to squeeze your way through—you think it might be even more difficult than trying to take a mirror for yourself.

Your voice, much louder than their faint whispers, is enough to catch their attention. You’re met with wide eyes and even wider smiles looking back at you. Nothing bad, then, not if everyone is grinning like this. You raise your eyebrows in a silent question, waiting almost impatiently for an answer. A couple of them move aside. “Take a look for yourself.”

You accept the invitation, carefully navigating the tight path made for you. Your fingers grasp the frame of the door and you slowly poke your head out, gazing in the direction the girls had been just moments ago. You scan the crowd deliberately in search of anything out of the ordinary but nothing looks unusual. You spot a few regulars as your eyes carry over every face in the place. They stop at the bar where you catch sight of the bartender. He’s pouring something for a patron, one whose head is down and whose face is shadowed by his hat.

You squint as if it’ll help you see better. It’s no use but, as if he could tell you were itching to get a look, he tips his head back, a glass halfway full of an amber-colored liquid touching his lips. You recognize that hair under the lights of the saloon—black and white, two-toned just like in the poster. You suck in a tiny gasp, one that’s inaudible given all the chatter, but you can’t seem to pull your eyes away.

He drinks his liquor leisurely, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with each gulp. The glass is empty quickly and you’re sure you would have heard it hit the counter if it weren’t so loud. One of the man’s forearms rests beside the glass on the counter, his other hand busy wiping his mouth. His thumb swipes away the lingering moisture on his lower lip and as his finger moves, so does his head, slowly turning in your very direction.

Eyes grey like gravel lock onto yours. Your heart skips a beat, just like it had before—and, just like then, you’re frozen, unable to move. Despite having been caught staring, an inkling of happiness sprouts in your chest at the chance to see him head-on, in all his glory.  It’s all there—the two moles, the earrings, and soon enough, that sharp, crooked smile.

He winks at you and the quick movement is all the acknowledgement you need to finally draw back. You do so aggressively, like you had been holding your hand over a fire and the flame finally touched your palm. It’s almost enough for you to knock into the pile of girls you had forgotten were stationed behind you.

They look at you expectantly, not bothering to hide their giddy satisfaction at your reaction. “Cute, ain’t he?” one of them asks.

And a ton of other things—dangerous, off-limits, utterly enticing, just to name a few. You don’t say any of that, though. You just nod and hope your voice doesn’t betray you. “I suppose.”

You seldom find yourself nervous for performances but knowing he’s out in the crowd has your heart racing for the rest of the night.

Time flows strangely during your shift—feeling like it’s crawling at a snail’s pace one moment and flying as quickly as a rocket the next. You feel like you can breathe easier when you’re dismissed for the night, even more so when you leave the suffocating building and are met with a cool breeze outside.

Your relief is short-lived. A voice speaks up from beside you.

“Evenin’, little lady.” 

“Oh!” Your hands shoot up to cover your heart. You debate running—that seems like the best idea given your situation—an unknown man waiting to catch you alone. You take a step away, ready to bolt if necessary.

To your surprise, he doesn’t reach for you.

“Apologies—” he raises his hands in mock surrender, “didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness now and a face you weren’t expecting to see becomes visible. The town’s newest outlaw, here, speaking to you. Maybe you should have run—maybe you still should. Though, for some reason, his raised hands feel like a show of good faith. You’re sure if he had bad intentions, he wouldn’t waste time trying to make you comfortable. “Um, that’s alright.”

“It felt rude not to thank ya for the performance.” He was watching, then. You’ve made a habit of limiting eye contact with your spectators and that much held up tonight. Something was telling you that if you caught a glimpse of him looking at you again, you would end up tripping over your feet and making a fool of yourself. “Would have watched ya all night if they gave ya the stage.”

That grin is back but, now that you think about it, of the very few times you’ve seen him, he’s always wearing it. Almost like it never leaves. Despite that, being on the receiving end of it has an undeniable effect on you. Your heart won’t stop jumping for him. You can’t let him know that. “Yeah, well, everyone’s gotta have their time to shine.”

“Ain’t that a shame…” he drawls. And it sounds like he really means it. “Guess I’ll have to stay long enough to see ya up there again.”

You can’t have heard that right. No singing or dancing could be—should be—enough to make a man risk staying in a town where his wanted poster is plastered all over the place. It’s a decision that toes the line between confidence and stupidity but it flatters you all the same. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire as you hold his gaze. 

“You’d really stay for that?” you ask, but the question in your head is more like; you’d really stay for me?

He takes a step forward toward you and you're surprised that you don’t counter by taking a step back. His hand comes up to hover by your cheek, close enough that you can feel its warmth but far enough that his skin doesn’t touch yours. As quickly as it came, it’s gone. “See ya around, little lady.”

And with that, he leaves.

You lose track of how long you stand outside wondering if that was a yes.