#(tag tbd)

[vesperfangz]

venture bros oc concept after starting the show like 3 days ago and being on season 2. whatever. guy who was like a space channel 5 ass magical girl ass hero in their 20s and then Something Happened and now they wear corpse paint daily and follow dr orpheus around like a puppy and do blood magic in their 30s. um and if dr orpheus gets a protege/partner later in the show i WILL cry

[the-blankest-slate]

Starter for @station--square !

Gadget sat in his workshop, carefully tinkering with a broken washing machine. Not a particularly challenging or interesting job, but fixing appliances certainly paid bills, and it kept him busy, at least. His ear twitched as he set his tools down. Some kind of… engine, maybe? Whatever it was certainly was getting closer. As he turned to face the door of his shop, the visitor would finally enter his sight, and his extra sense’s range. Of all the people and things to come through that door, this was certainly at the very bottom of the list.

“Metal.”

He greeted the machine with a kind of quiet calm. He’d never actually seen this robot before, had he? Just imitations conjured by Infinite. He’d fought a particularly powerful one, but still just a copy. But if Metal was here to cause trouble, he was more than ready to drop the act, and his disguise. He would not allow Eggman’s forces to destroy his workshop again.

But somehow… the robot didn’t seem to be here to fight. Or to try and ambush him and take him away. So it likely wasn’t to do with any of the stolen tech he’d been sneaking into Eggman’s bases for. Nonetheless, his gaze matched the robotic doppelgänger. As if daring him to try something.

“Welcome to Sunset City Repairs. Can I help you?”

[divinitii]

>tfw your dad’s back online and you weren’t given your several hour menty-B time to prepare!!!

[michelangelowept]

@ohnoesgojo <3

tap, tap. red infernos watch lazily, following movement; pale finger, angel's chin. if satoru gojo is a mouth then sukuna is all teeth and tongue, throat and stomach. these things that gnash and digest man.

the strongest throws his hook, the dark picks out what it wants of words given like little offerings at its feet and dissevers the rest.

“specificity? is that what you came all this way for? my specificity?”

the water in the black bath lay still. uraume, unnerving and endlessly faithful, haunts a nearby corner, glaring blankly at gojo, saying nothing—while their king rises from the ink. four eyes, like setting spiral suns; four arms, strong as the run of hard musculature down his body; limned in trickling rivulets, shining darkly as he moves to close the space. a vision. a perfect sculpture. even his favored poets would tremble to attempt the words. tchaikovsky fell silent, michelangelo wept.

“very well.”

in truth, sukuna has been waiting awhile. since he freed himself from the brat's body and claimed that of a newer, though far more impressively endowed sorcerer, mere days have passed.

but he gazes down upon satoru gojo, the water sliding down his skin as he stands before him, nearly three meters of muscle and power—and it is clear that he has been waiting for something like him for centuries.

“does the strongest sorcerer wish to be defined,” a deep, liquid-gold rumble, “or put in his place?”

[gxlden-gxtes]

❚ ☾ ⋮ I’m so normal

art is by Shi Rho on Facebook! I don’t think they have any other plugins, but these are commissions I got last year eheh

[carminelegacy]

“The only district remaining on our list is Rosie's,” Odette murmured, adjusting her glasses as she examined the list upon her clipboard once again with close detail, “with Mother handling that of the Vees, we may have collected our desired quota before lunch this time and can finish the day early.” 

Of course, that was if they didn't immediately attempt to categorize, inventory, and smelt the material into the forms waiting for them in the factory. After all, with how popular all of their weapons were—especially the angelic steel ones—they were already behind their schedule by weeks. It would be a miracle if any of the Carmine women would get reasonable sleep before the week's end. Their only real rest for some time would be the short nap they allowed themselves before Carmilla returned home, presuming Vox delayed her long enough with another attempted “business proposition,” before it was back to work for the family.

Bumping her sister's shoulder, Clara released a small laugh. “Cheer up, Odette! Sure it's the longest day of the year for us, but the van's almost full and we're almost done and, look, I'll even buy you a coffee if you don't tell off Susan today."

“It's not my fault she's a boisterous, obnoxious, prideful, bi—”

“Rosie! What a pleasant surprise! I hope we're not interrupting anything!”

@broadcastinferno

[ironwife]

sue me but i want to lay my head on hodari's chest except he's an old fart who's already passed out and i go through monthly bouts of insomnia so im just listening to him breathe

[gcuienveres]

who: @saffroninsilk context: set after her conversations with prince rhys arryn and lady mariela egen, guinevere finds herself searching through her rooms, searching for a specific belonging which could be turned into evidence.

the chamber felt suffocating, the weight of its grandeur pressing in on guinevere like the closing of a tomb. she moved with frantic purpose, a woman unmoored, her golden hair tumbling loose from its intricate pins as she scattered brocade and silk across the stone floor. the chest before her, carved with roaring lions, gaped open, its contents laid bare in her search. the sound of the hymns in her apartments seemed only higher, only to mask the sounds of the searching and the conversations that would soon follow.

“leave,” she ordered, her voice sharp, cutting through the murmured concerns of the ladies-in-waiting. they hesitated only a moment before obeying, the rustle of skirts retreating into silence. only malee lingered, her presence unobtrusive, a quiet shadow against the rising tempest of unnerving surge of guinevere’s emotions.

when the door closed behind them, guinevere straightened, clutching a folded parchment she had unearthed from the depths of the chest. her breath hitched as she stared at it, her emerald eyes clouded with something too raw to name. “it must not be found,” she said at last, her voice trembling yet resolute. she held the letter out to malee, her hand unsteady, the page shaking in the dim light of the chamber. and for a moment, it were as though she prayed malee would be able to hide it somewhere, to ensure she would be able to look upon it once more. one more time, was all she would pray for.

“do you see this?” she asked, though she did not wait for an answer. “it is his hand. as though he knew... as though he knew it would be read long after his voice had been silenced.” her voice cracked, and she pressed a hand to her lips.

because as she looked upon malee's face and the crushing weight of reality set upon her, she knew; there was much risk in keeping it, for so little reward. what use was there in holding his hand close to her chest, as though it were him? it were unnerving, to see the princess of the west in such a way. with such a look in her eyes. “it were for jasper,” she continued, softer now, as though speaking to herself. she faltered, her shoulders trembling beneath the weight of her memories. jasper would need to forgive her.

she turned abruptly, her golden hair catching the firelight like a halo, and paced toward the window. the ocean stretched out beyond, an expanse of restless waves that seemed to mirror her turmoil. she spun back toward her companion, clutching the letter tightly to her chest as though it might burn her. as though she would burn for it.

“and if they find this... if they know i held it, kept it—what will they say? what will they do? a widow clutching her dead husband’s secrets like a shield—it will not matter what the truth is. they will twist it..” all she had left of him now; the man that had once taken her atop the world. for all their differences, for all their wrong, there was no denying the fact he singlehandedly pulled her to the surface of a dense, golden ocean. one in which she was drowning. she stepped forward, her hands shaking as she pressed the letter into malee’s hands. and suddenly, her hands were free. “i beseech you. i cannot bring it upon myself.”