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#gotta finish event.. gotta finish event
angeltism · 1 month
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boooooored
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luck-of-the-drawings · 2 months
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[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]
saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi riptide#gillion tidestrider#GONNA START FORMATTING MY COMICS BETTER. W THE PROPER 'PREV' 'NEXT' LINKS#REALLY DIDNT EXPECT TO CONTINUE THIS SERIES BUT AAAUUUHH MY BRRAAAIN MY BRAIN IS SO IDEASSS. I HAVE 3 OTHER PAGES SKETCHED OUT#NO PROMISES ILL FINISH EM ANY TIME SOON OR EVER. MY WHIMS ARE THEIR OWN BEAST AND I ONLY DRAW ON MY WHIMS#THAT BEING SAID IF U COMMISSIONED ME ILL GEEETT TO YOUUU IM SORRYYYY. ART IS AN EMOTIONAL RELEASE FOR ME N BABY I HAVE EMOTIONS.#ESPECIALLY ABOUT GILLION TIDESTRIDER CHAMPION OF THE UNDERSEA HERO OF THE DEEP.for the desc here i put smth that i typed up in the tags of#another thing i made. i gotta make a proper Baby Gillion tag or smth. eventually.. eventually...I LOVE DRAWIN THIS LIL BABY GUY..#i also LOVE depicting the teachers as just being so fuckin mean. ofc theres variation in that. just like in all things.like the teacher her#idk if itll be mentioned but the octo lady is named Ms Octburn.an octopus pun based off the name of an actual councilor i had#when i was in elementary school i got bullied alot but teachers never did anything. i hated adults and didnt trust them.#but this councilor o mine was so genuinely sweet. i remember spending alot of time w her. she doesnt work there anymore.#but that one school adult that actually earns ur trust and is there for you when they can be.its SO important for a child i think#i hope she knows how much she helped me.youll see in the next page that ms octburn isnt perfect either.but she tries. they all try.somehow.#ALL these comics are gonna be inspired by somesorta experience o mine in the school system. school is so fucked up u ever thing abt that#AND GILLIOOOOONNN IN THE MOST FUCKED UP LITTLE SCHOOL OF ALL. MAINTAINED BY A CULT. CENTERED AROUND HIM. OUR CHOSEN ONE#I IMAGINE ALOT BANKS ON HIS SUCCESS. THIS IS THE WORLD. THE WHOLE WORLD. THE PROPHECY IS GOING TO COME TRUE N UR TELLIN ME#THAT ITS THIS LITTLE IDIOT THATS GONNA BE SAVING US? WHAT IF HE FAILS. IF HE CANT GET THIS RIGHT THEN HE WILL FAIL AND WE WILL DIE#WE NEED TO TRAIN HIM. WE NEED HIM TO LEARN. AND TO SUCCEED. OR ELSE WE'RE DEAD. WE'RE ALL FUCKING DEAD. I IMAGINE THAT MUST BE STRESSFUL#in other news i hope ppl actually giggle when they read these. they ARE intended to be comical. dark humor or whatever. like its also sad#this is intended to be a sad comic series. but a funny one too. does that make sense? god i hope so.saw some1 say they had flashbacks-#-reading this. like YES!! THE INTENDED EFFECT!! YOU GET ME!! i love seeing ppl get upset on this lil baby boys behalf. i LOVE seeing ppl-#-wail n weep n cry in the comments. i LOOOVE seeing ppl RELATE to baby gillion. and i love letting u all know that this wont be a happycomi#gillion gets his happiness arc in the actual show. this series is one of unfortunate events. teehehehe. do u guys remember that show#i keep listening to the lil songs from A Series of Unfortunate Events for inspiration. GOOD STUFF!!#anyway uuhh uhh thats all i got in my brain. for now. feed me ur comments give me ur input i NNEEEEEDD THHEEEMMMM
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shares-a-vest · 6 months
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@steddiemas Day 1: Deck the Halls (Festive Friday)
Something short and silly to start off with. I'm so excited for this event. Thank you sooo much to @steddieasitgoes for creating it 💖💖💖 I love writing Christmas stuff for ST and I have a few things planned for the Steddiemas calendar.
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“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-laaaaaa.”
Steve would cringe if he wasn’t carrying most of the weight of the Munson’s new Christmas tree in through the front door and trying to avoid scratching himself on either the branches or the metal frame of the fly screen.
Eddie is behind him, muttering the same tune over and over, just high enough for Steve to hear, but not loud enough to call attention to himself.
He’s been like this all day – too cheery and chipper as they decorate the trailer while Wayne is at work. Busying himself with not much more than his chiming, his tone all wobbly and hollow like a kid carolling.
It’s far too early in December as far as Steve is concerned. Hell, he doubts he will even decorate his own house this year.
What’s the point if he will be home alone?
And, as Eddie lets go of what part of the tree he was barely holding in the first place, Steve begins to regret offering his help entirely as he goes careening onto the couch.
“Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.”
“Eddie!” Steve splutters, rolling on his side and palming around on the edge of the couch for support.
“What?”
He looks up to find Eddie smiling and twirling the end of his maroon scarf.
“Could you have actually helped?” he snaps.
“You said you ‘got it’!” Eddie makes half-hearted air quotes and lowers his tone in what Steve can only assume is supposed to be a mockery of his own voice.
“Asshole!” he grumbles.
“Grinch!”
Eddie pokes his tongue out at him before offering a dimple-filled grin.
Steve glares, “Can you at least bring in the box of decorations?”
Eddie turns on his heel and skips back out the front door.
“Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair and groans. Maybe he could just run out the front door, elbow Eddie out of the way of the car and speed off into the distance.
“Why am I here?” he mutters to himself.
He takes the opportunity to catch his breath and looks the tree over. Thankfully, it isn’t damaged - save for the odd fallen pine shoot.
Eddie soon hops back up the stairs, winter boots shaking the metal landing as he cradles the box of decorations they had gathered between Melvads, Goodwill and the dollar store.
“I love Christmas!” he beams as he sets the box on the coffee table to begin rummaging, “Fa-la-la-la-la, la-la-la-la.”
Eddie hands over a bauble. It’s red and green, the stripes broken up with gold glitter. One that Steve had picked from Melvads’ Christmas aisle.
Their fingers brush as Steve takes the bauble and he looks up to find Eddie grinning from ear to ear.
That’s why he’s here, he thinks, smiling back.
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miumiins · 7 months
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a jester and their marionette 🎪
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w1f1n1ghtm4r3 · 24 days
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let me hear your thoughts, with true emotions, engrave them in those eyes.
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Story Teaser: Changsheng | Genshin Impact
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Misfortune and disease, the unavoidable suffering of humanity.
Death and immortality, the inscrutable enigmas of this world.
youtube
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genshinchica · 10 months
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As an autistic player, something I REALLY loved about Golden Apple 2022 was that Fischl’s lesson was not “you should stop pretending you’re a fictional character” and instead “you should embrace this thing that brings you joy and makes others cringe.” There’s something very genuine and loving about how the story was like “no this thing that others find weird is actually a part of yourself and who you are and you don’t have to compromise that for others and there are people who will love you for who you are and happily participate in it with you.”
I feel like it would have been really easy to have Fischl “grow up” and tell her the same thing people often tell autistic kids about their special interests or their behaviors, but instead they chose the surprisingly wholesome and nuanced take which I ❤️ and has left a special place in my heart. I’ve seen people be like “that was an unexpected lesson,” but I hope framing it this way may help people who felt that way about the ending reconsider it.
Fischl means a lot to a lot of trans and autistic players and not having her compromise who she is was really a good service for them!
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bonefall · 1 year
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Thistle Law
The most extreme, violent interpretation of the Warrior Code, initially founded by Thistleclaw near the end of the Campaign Era, with its first implementation defining the beginning of the Slash-and-Burn Period.
One of three distinct Clan ideologies, next to Fire Alone and Traditionalism.
A guide to its origin, the parable associated with it, its principles, and most importantly, my authorial intentions with it in the Bonefall Rewrite. Seen a couple of questions about it, so I think this’ll help clarify.
Origin
Extreme interpretations of the Code go back as far as the founding of the clans themselves, but the roots of Thistle Law trace back to the Exile of SkyClan. Justifying the loss of an entire clan included cracking down on medicine cats and quashing a rebellion, and the ‘clan pride tide‘ added FOUR new laws to the Warrior Code.
The following wars and conflicts in the Chivalric Period further contributed to xenophobic sentiment in the Clans, with each one vying for supremacy over the others, branching out to attack non-Clan cats when there were brief stints of ‘peace’. Thistleclaw merely gave these ideas a name while educating his apprentice, using thistles as a metaphor.
Tigerclaw then went on to tell the story to his clanmates, to his own apprentices, and at gatherings to his future allies who told it to their own clanmates. Though the details of the story changed at times, the takeaway is constant;
Other cats must die, so yours can stay strong.
The Parable of the Thistle
The story goes that Thistleclaw brought Tigerpaw out to a massive, thorny bull thistle. He pointed out that the other plants were dying around it, but the flowers stood tall and proud. Thistleclaw explained the thistle was killing the plants around it to have more room to grow, and then cruelly commanded that Tigerpaw try to destroy it.
By the time it was done, Tigerpaw was covered in scratches and the sun was setting. All the way home, he tried to shake the thistlefluff out of his fur and forget the painful experience. The seasons turned, and one year later when Tigerclaw was a young warrior, Thistleclaw led him down a path lined with young, thorny leaves.
There, in a sea of green spikes, the thistle was standing as tall and as proud as the day Tigerpaw shredded it.
In killing every other plant in the area, the thistle had given itself room to come back stronger. The fluff that clung to Tigerpaw’s fur became new growth. Around them was an entire clearing of thistles, ready to burst into a wall of flowers and seeds.
Thistleclaw asked if Tigerclaw would dare to try again, and remembering how his last battle with the weed ended with scratches as deep as claw marks, admitted that he would rather be a thistle than fight one.
(Little did Ivypaw know, the beautiful field in which she meets Hawkfrost was completely strangled by flowering thistles.)
Principles
Depending on the exact time period and the cat it takes root in, Thistle Law can look different. For examples, Brokenstar’s goal was to drive every Clan out of the forest except ShadowClan, where Tigerstar’s aim was to annex every clan into TigerClan and enforce a standard of purity.
Incarnations of Thistle Law tend to share these principles,
The Code Hardens The calling card of Thistle Law is a stricter, more violent interpretation of the Warrior Code. The harsher laws are emphasized, such as the Law of Loyalty and the Right of the Challenge, while softer ones are downplayed or dropped entirely, like the Law of Honor and the Queen’s Rights.
Extreme Xenophobia Against outsiders, against cats of other clans, against half-clan cats. Thistle Law sets itself apart from Traditionalism for becoming willing to enforce some sort of purity.
Hierarchy Becomes Rigid The social power of medicine cats, deputies, and elders is suppressed. The leader is raised as the ultimate authority, even if that leader isn’t the Clan’s -star.
There Is No ‘Pointless’ Death The Clans are a battle culture, but a good battle is still fought for a reason. When tides turn to Thistle Law, fighting is the goal AND the means. To live is to battle, to kill is to win, and a warrior’s purpose is to die at war.
Each incarnation likely contains each point in varied amounts and tosses other ideas into the mix, but the name of the game remains the same-- and it springs from the taproot of Thistle Law.
Intentions
Thistle Law is what fascism looks like in Clan culture. I approach this using Umberto Eco’s 1995 essay Ur-Fascism as my primary reference. Ur-fascism is a ‘fuzzy‘ concept that looks very different depending on the exact society it springs from, mixing and matching several symptoms in varying degrees of severity.
So, in adapting this, I had to simplify a very complicated topic. I wanted to keep the antifascist theory recognizable, while still following canon events and creating an engaging rewrite.
So for simplicity sake, even if a clan might have technically called their own version of Thistle Law something else, I use this name to address it.
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space-writes · 3 months
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Summary:
Rune’s not so good with romantic words. He’s not so great with romantic gifts either. (inspired by this prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting)
Read on AO3 here / @ficwip
Since he woke on the Nautiloid, words have been difficult for Rune. Perhaps it’s the head-trauma and the parasite burrowing into his brain, or perhaps he’s always been a lumpen-tongued creature, unable to translate thought to coherent speech. So far he’s scraped by, bludgeoning his way through conversations like a back-alley boxer, bare-knuckled and brutal, but now he finds himself in need of more than a fistful of words.
Astarion gives him a headache with all the thoughts he can’t get from one side of his scarred skull to the other. Compliments and pet names and assurances flow from his—partner? bedmate? lover? friend?—companion like wine. Rune skips being drunk on it and goes straight to the hangover, unable to reciprocate. It’s infuriating. He killed a fucking orthon, why are a few affectionate words so damn difficult?
There are other ways to speak. Pictures say a thousand words, or so it goes. Items can be your voice, say what you can’t. Rune’s no painter, but he knows what Astarion enjoys.
His gut churns as he crosses the camp, his unspeakable words clasped in a clammy fist behind his back. Astarion glances up from his book, smile half-shadowed in the firelight. It makes him look Rune’s favourite kind of dangerous; a night-predator, eyes aglint and aglow.
“Need something?” he asks, setting his book aside, then blinks at the object Rune drops into his lap. “What’s this?”
“Affection,” Rune says. Astarion snorts a laugh.
“Darling, this is a knife. It still has blood on it.”
“You like knives. And blood.”
The snort becomes a full-bodied laugh, head thrown back, mouth wide enough to show red tongue, white fangs. The hollow core of Rune’s head turns in on itself, growling to cover the whimper of humiliation. Go somewhere dark, cut something open and crawl inside, this never happened, this never happened, this never happened. He starts to turn away—Astarion leaps up and catches his wrist.
“You’re right,” he says. “I do like knives. And blood.” Hesitation. “And you.”
Rune swallows. “I want to say things. To you. And I can’t.”
“Thus the knife.”
Astarion examines it for a moment, considering, then tosses it aside. It hits his discarded book and thumps off the cover—the sound reverberates in Rune’s head, but before it can crescendo to murderous levels of anguish, Astarion takes his face in both hands.
“Don’t worry so much about saying things, sweetheart.”
He pulls Rune into a kiss, and Rune grips his waist tight, holding him close. There’s a knot just left of his heart, a tangled, bloody skein of firelit eyes, the white arch of a brow, the shift of weight before the throw of a knife; of skin pale as bone and soft as silk, a sharp laugh and sharper teeth; of need and want and fear sunk in like claws.
Astarion draws back.
“I hear you,” he says. Taps Rune’s temple. “And even without these little go-betweens, you’re loud enough.” He puts his palm to Rune’s chest, over his heart. “I hear you, love.”
The knot unravels ever so slightly. Rune lays his hand over Astarion’s.
“So no knives?”
Astarion grins. “Well, I’ll never say no to a decent blade. I do so enjoy a good stabbing.”
Rune barks a laugh, and lets his vampire drag him into their tent, where they speak without words until the sun comes up.
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cryiling · 5 months
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LOKI APPRECIATION WEEK 2023 | for @dailyloki
Day #7 : Free Choice - "Let time pass"
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LAST PIECE FOR LOKI WEEK 🙈 i started this when the episode came out but i decided to FINALLY finish it in time for today!! this scene still haunts me daily btw. i am not well
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spiteless-xo · 6 months
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i've spent the past couple days outlining a couple different long-fic ideas so i have something to build off on when i go on christmas holidays and the reiner/reader fic i have plotted feels like a hallmark movie 💀💀
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royaldoge7370 · 4 months
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Thinkin about starting an ask blog for my dialtown OC. Probably won't be anything serious though, just silly interactions and maybe some art.
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if you had to rap battle with someone who would it be
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mimi-cwies · 2 years
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Depths of Despair Niigokasa except I'm not sure if I'll finish it so I'm just posting the sketches for now lol
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4acoffee · 2 years
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Listen... I was just going to leave NMR as a one shot at first ... but then people started asking for a part two ... and then I started thinking ... and then I just spiraled down from there.
A sneak peak into part 2 of No More Regrets...
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A few days later, your on your way to your room when back at the dorms, when without warning, a rough hand grabs you by the arm in a strong grasp and shoves you up against the wall.
It takes a few seconds for you to get your bearings and realize that Bakugou is caging you in with his body. He's staring down at you with narrowed eyes and covering your mouth with his hand.
You gape up at him in bewilderment. Was there a villain in the dorms?? Was he trying to warn you??
You watch him press his lips together in a thin line, still eyeing you closely.
Scrunching his brows, he looks away from you, suddenly not meeting your eyes. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, almost awkwardly.
Your breath stuck in your throat when he moved his hand off your mouth and grazed your cheek.
You watched him with wide eyes as you felt him curl his fingers behind your neck and tangle in your hair.
You swallowed deeply when you met his eyes, almost flinching when you felt his breath on your now hot skin. His eyes are dark and you trace the way his throat dips with his shallow breathing.
His eyes dart to your lips and you feel your mouth fall open.
You jump when his other hand grips your waist and your eyes go even wider.
He was going to kiss you, you realize.
He leans down even closer, and you instinctively put your hands up to his chest to stop him.
You don't know why it felt so much more daunting than the first time you had done it, — that night at the beach, — your cheeks warm even further at the thought.
His eyes flash in annoyance, or impatience, and he pushes closer to you.
A startled noise escapes you and suddenly he's close enough for you to see the way his eyelashes leave shadows on his face and the angry flush flooding his cheeks.
He growls somewhere deep in his chest and pulls you toward him, tipping your head back with his forehead and catching your lips in his own.
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Should I continue?
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onedivinemisfit · 1 year
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Abandoned wips
AnS (c) Akizuki Sorata
Art: Me
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