Moss Url 🤝

The amount of art mutuals I have just because we both have moss urls

Day 6 - Immortal AU - #DannyMay2024

so i was thinking, "who else becomes an immortal space themed monarch?" ~ if your immediate thought was "sailor moon", you are so right, i realy admire that about you 💚

Had an idea that was like. Well what if instead of crows glados had 3 baby porygons?? They’re kind of like birds. Kind of. Anyways all you need to know is that she loves them very much

hey guys. remy design

EVEN MORE CUTE DOTTORE MOMENTS TO MAKE YOU SMILE 🙏 (because I am too tired to post anything of quality)

2011 Japan Post-Qualifying

*head in hands* oot link is such a tragic character and it makes me so sad

hiiii haha. hello. exceptionally awkward introduction bc idrk how to start something like this so let's just jump right in. im taking a break from this account for a bit. i know i said i wanted taob out before halloween and currently im fine sticking with that deadline, but if i decide i need longer away then i will take longer away. every time ive reassured people that id never abandon a fic and updates will always come eventually i never once considered that my writing and ability to feel safe and comfortable on this site would be actively taken from me, so im not even going to apologise. i dont want this either and more importantly i dont fucking deserve it. i dont know what it is in the past year, if ive hit a certain amount of followers or 'popularity' that's made it so the natural ratio of positive to negative interactions must in turn go up, but there's been a serious uptick in weird asks for me. the annoying part is that a very small amount of them are actually objectively mean and hateful, the rest are just weird and invasive from people who seemingly dont realise that's what they're being. ive reached a point where i dont care if the intentions are good. it's not my job as a 20 year old tumblr user of all things to defend the morality of someone who couldnt even bother to come off anon. unfortunately, after blocking only one or two anons, the weird asks have decreased substantially, which says all you need to know about the fascinating and exhilarating lives led by these people, but ive also gone on to turn anon asks off entirely. this is something i actively fought against doing and had to be pushed into by my mutuals (who have been the coolest people on planet earth during this entire thing). turning off anon was a big deal to me even if it sounds silly. i felt betrayed and like id been backed into a corner because it was so vehmently something i DIDNT WANT that to feel like i had to do it anyway for my own mental health??? that sucks. so even though ive 'fixed' the problem, im still kind of reeling and uncomfortable every time i come on tumblr. i hope it's just something i need time to ease because i'll truly be devastated if this becomes 'ruined' for me. tumblr exists as the only place in the world where i am honestly every facet of myself without shame or hesitation; losing that would be insanely harmful to me. and to the people who cant appeal to the actual human behind the post, let me put that in words you can understand: we wouldn't get any more writing 😦😦😦 riots and fires and sirens, i know. so yeah. to anyone who has sent me an anon ask and you're now wondering if you were part of the problem, im firmly of the belief that you'll know if you are. when i say 'weird asks' i dont mean 'you sent me a para about your personal life just to vent or ask for advice' or 'you sent me a really deep emotional compliment about the impact me and/or my writing has had on you' - i love asks like that, so much that i put off taking a break and turning off anon solely for the joy they bring me. im sorry that it might feel like you're being punished too bc of the actions of what in reality is a HANDFUL of weird people, but this is what i feel like i have to do to feel safe and not go insane every time i log in. love you guys, hopefully ill see you soon x

On Life Series Season 4

for those of you who voted for jimmy and tango: this is for you.

also known as: I have very complex thoughts about rancher reunion for season 4 and monolith is a group of known enablers. 

(1545 words)

It’s the end of the world. Or, at least, it feels like it.

The grass is green and the sky is orange and red and Jimmy Solidarity is alone. He’s standing, half-stilted, leaning hard against the weight of the sword in his hands. It’s stone, just like the building. The rough cobbles form a tower. A defense. It’s all he’s got, here, in another death game. He’s got that, and another chance to die for nothing.

He tries to breathe normally, like he’s taught himself to keep level headed. It’s not doing much, considering that Jimmy feels something odd and aching boiling over in his chest. He feels like an unwatched pot, tipping over his lid, and his arms shake with it. It’s a feeling that pools in his wrists and the back of his knees, sharp and prickly. He can taste something vile in the back of his mouth. Words, laughter, bile. He isn’t sure.

It’s darkening. His building is on fire.

“Jimmy!”

It’s a voice he’s memorized. Gravel on the low notes. Whispers in the middle. Footsteps in the dirt. He thinks there might be blood under his nails, but he thinks it might also be soil, because nothing smells like blood and nothing about him stings. The voice that cuts through the dusk is too familiar, too safe. He staggers.

Jimmy’s house isn’t on fire, he is. He feels it coiling in his chest, licking at the inside of his lungs, hot, too hot, or maybe not hot enough. If he breathes out he fears it might be smoke. His hands are shaking. He swallows. He can’t make his lungs inflate.

Part of him thinks he deserves this, to know he’s mocked from the start, because he can remember the words about his house, about the rumors around him, he can remember the anger boiling up to an overflow. His house is burning. He made it out of stone this time. That wouldn’t burn, he thought. But his hands are hot. There were words he said, isn’t there? Things that punched out of him as soon as he saw a familiar face that had to crane to meet his eye again. What was it that he said, when he ran into Scar first? Joel? When they told him good luck both times? Was it something cruel to match the curling in his chest? Was it the brief glee on Joel’s face, knowing he got under his skin, that made him snap back? Who else was there?

There are other words being said to him.

What happened back there? I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Someone said you nearly punched Joel? And Scar? Jimmy—

Feet on the grass. He’s not there though, on that hillside with Joel, not anymore. He’s staring wide-eyed into bright red eyes, arms stretched out, a perspective that forces him to look at only him, at Tango in front of him. 

It’s Tango, terrified. It’s Tango, and Jimmy can swear he can feel Tango’s heart thudding away helplessly in his own chest. It’s Tango, and for a moment he feels like his hands are burning and that the noise is deafening around him. 

Except there is no noise. He fights to get forward, lands himself into Tango’s shoulder, hears the audible thud and oof as he does, as Tango digs his heels into the earth and refuses to be pushed aside. Tango pushes him back, trying to hold him steady.

“Jimmy—that wasn’t—this isn’t you,” Tango says, and his voice borders on confusion, on despair. Jimmy makes a noise somewhere half in his chest in response. “Snap out of it.”

“He’s just—he—he’s—” Jimmy struggles for a moment, squirming against the arm that holds his elbow. He didn’t see Joel like Tango did, scared and alone. He was the sneer over a wall Joel built. He was feeling himself picked up by the scruff, unable to fight back. He was watching a town crumble and it wasn’t even his fault. He was bleeding out on a bridge and someone was laughing. It’s gloating, it’s—someone is laughing and it isn’t Tango and it isn’t him. 

Jimmy struggles. Why is Tango stopping him? Isn’t this what he should be doing? Standing up for himself? Jimmy deflates. Wouldn’t Tango be proud of him? Isn’t this what he wants? Every nerve in his body feels like it’s lit up, hair standing on end. Something watches (it isn’t Tango, and it isn’t him.)

“This isn’t you,” Tango manages. 

Jimmy feels himself pushed back, but the hands are firm on his shoulders as his arms start to ache. His shoulder feels aflame where Tango holds it, warmth spreading from one point of contact through his muscles. He’s looking at Tango now, just for a fraction of a second before looking away, not able to hold his eye. His vision isn’t clear. It goes fuzzy around the edges, unfocused like he might be drifting off into space. He’s seeing bright red eyes under the brim of a hat. He’s seeing blue flames across the way. There’s someone in the pocket of his side and he is safe. 

He takes what feels like the first breath of air in a long minute and his mouth doesn’t taste like smoke. He feels a hand peel from his shoulder, something that slides up to his face. It cradles his jaw in one warm palm, then two, fingers curling around the shell of his ears. He blinks, even has his vision blurs completely. The back of his throat burns. He feels like his nose is pinched shut. He swallows, and it takes everything in him to focus on the warmth of the hands over his cheeks.

“Jimmy, look at me. Look at me,” Tango’s voice tugs at him, firm. He lets his eyes drift back to a face that he knows. Tango’s eyes are wide, eyebrows upturned, lips in a fine line. He’s swaying, maybe not on purpose. He’s shivering, maybe not on purpose. The sky was never burning, it was just red. Jimmy feels his weight start to drop. It’s Tango. It’s Tango.

“It’s me, it’s Tango, your rancher,” he watches the wisp of a smile form on Tango’s face, through the wobble in his voice. He inhales sharply. “Remember?”

Cows! a voice calls from the doorway as Jimmy tries to circumnavigate the small herd chewing at the bundle of hay in his hand, on the sleeve of his shirt. This was many months ago. This was the first instance. There comes a day where Jimmy will sit a little too close and Tango will decide to slot himself in the curve of his arm at night and soon enough one bed was enough space and too much all at once. Hands fitting hands. Arms fitting around shoulders. We’ll rebuild, his voice says, to wipe the look of desolation from his rancher’s face as they stand in the broken husk of a house. It was never the home, anyway, was it? It was the people inside.

Something in Jimmy’s chest twists the strings of his heart in a knot. He sees Tango expression wavers as he shuts his eyes, swaying forward. He only manages a breath before it breaks.

Jimmy collapses into his arms and the smell of burnt matches is like coming home.

Tango sags with him, sinking them to the ground. Jimmy presses his face into the side of his neck, and safe, held close, he cries. It’s a horrible sound, one that pulls from him brokenly as he buries himself in Tango’s arms. He chokes on the sob.

“It’s empty,” he says, and the words are haunting and choked into his shoulder. Tango holds to the back of his neck, to the base of his spine, even as Jimmy’s hands tangle uselessly in his sweater. It’s all Jimmy can manage. He repeats it in the inhale that he takes: It’s empty. I’m alone.

Tumble Town is empty, and he knows it’s his fault.

Or maybe it isn't. Because what else could he have done, except convince them to stay? What could’ve been done that hadn’t been already, that he hadn’t already tried? What could he have done that would’ve made any difference, anyway, besides leaving himself?

Jimmy cries. Tango’s hands run up the base of his spine. They pull Jimmy to him, holding him close, holding him tight. Tango’s voice is a barely audible thing, through the gasps for air, between the calculated inhales and exhales Tango tries to have him copy. He repeats it like a mantra, pressed into the side of his head, into his hairline: “You’re not alone, I’m here.”

I’m here now and I won’t leave. Your home won’t be empty and your hearth won’t be cold. Your arms won’t be empty and your chest won’t be cold. I’m here.

Tango holds him in the grass and the dirt. Even when the sky is no longer pink and orange, even when the stars have started to peek out in the blue that blends with the fringes of sunset.

If only by one person, he is loved. 

Jimmy breathes.

Hiiiii may I humbly ask you to write a little planymphia excerpt for us? I love your writing and I love this pairing ❤️

Hi bestie I am way ahead of you I already have multiple planymphia things in the works I tried to stay away but I got converted into it 🤭 here’s just a tiny little intro I wrote in my mind on my drive home from work today

~~~~~~

Jane didn’t believe in love at first sight. She didn’t believe in love at second sight either, or third. Honestly, love was never really on her radar. Until she met Nymphia, that is.

Nymphia shouldn’t have been anything special. She was just a girl, like all the rest. Another pretty girl for Jane to bring home from the bar and then never see again.

Sex wasn’t complicated. Hookups weren’t complicated. Jane enjoyed pretty women and they enjoyed her. But emotions were messy, and Jane didn’t do mess.

Nymphia was messy. Everything about her was chaos and impulsion wrapped up in a yellow-haired bow. Jane should have run when she still had the chance.

RWD S4E9 SPOILERS

we really do be getting some incredibly fun new lightning flavours from VR-LA these past few episodes huh. anyway black necrotic lightning <3

Consider, if you will, AU (either with canon post-s1 pre-s2 events but D.A.D.D.I.E.S. solves things before season 2 would start, or no Doodler/betrayal but Nicky still has to leave because FBI or other reasons) in which Terry Jr is the full time drama teacher for Teen High. Nicky returns from wherever he's been and is like "Well I want to be an active part of my kid's life and try and make up for lost time. I should go to his parents' evening, find out how he's doing in school, and meet his teachers. Especially this Mr Marlowe guy, Taylor seems to think he's awesome." And walking right into that classroom/hall to find his ex-boyfriend best friend sitting there in a dorky sweater and tie combo

Cue Terry, without missing a beat, greeting them as if nothing is wrong

Internal: when the FUCK did he come back and oh my god this is so awkward fuck I have to be professional how do I tell this guy that his kid is a loveable little shit after everything that's happened oh god oh fuck

Externally: "Hello Taylor and Mr Close-Foster-Freeman. I'm Taylor's drama teacher" *shakes hand* "Would you like to take a seat?"

way back when they'd first announced the lovestruck marle and sharp-suited squares quest alts, I was possessed and drew these in about a day and a half. and then I immediately went to get them made as double-sided acrylic charms- so side a is classic marle and squares, and then side b is dark marle and squares's 7* uncap because why the hell not? anyway they finally arrived and I could not be more stoked aren't they so cute.

Why do you draw sans the way people draw him when he has a tongue

Was it the lidded sockets.

You get so many specific prompts, so I thought maybe it might be fun to send you a prompt with just a few words so you can write ANYTHING you want for them, in any au or in canon! (And obviously if muse doesn’t strike feel free to skip lol but if you like this i’ll keep sending them!) words for this one: sunshine, gratitude, eyes

"Hey."

Gil smiles as she finds her place next to him. They're not on watch, he just would rather be out here than on Ajak's mission to socialise with the humans. "Hey, Sunshine."

She laughs, because she thinks it's funny that he calls her these things. Like it's a sweet joke, just between the two of them. He calls her that because it suits her--describes her. "Admiring the view?"

Honestly, the planet is...dull. Not that Sersi wouldn't have a whole dissertation with which to correct him on that. But he hasn't yet seen enough of it to think it's this truly marvellous place. "I like the water."

"Hm," Thena muses beside him, also taking in the shades of green and blue below them. The scent of the salt travels upward and the breeze of it rustles her hair. "There is something calming about it."

Gil isn't sure if he would describe it as calming. He always looks down at the waves crashing into a cliff as a tumultuous and violent thing. He thinks they should fear and respect the sea, but keep their distance. "You think?"

But Thena nods, soaking in its majesty. "The humans have claimed the earth they need, plots of land and spaces for their settlements. But no one owns the sea."

No, that is true. The waters of this planet are unencumbered, threatening to swallow up the landmasses by domination but always receding as per the moon's orders.

Thena bumps his hip with hers.

He chuckles, "what?"

She tilts her head, and it is unfair for someone so deadly to be so charming. "You're ruminating."

"I am not," he laughs off, but she's caught him fair and square.

"Share your thoughts," she prompts him, pursing her lips as a playfulness comes over her, "oh great tyrant king, Gilgamesh."

He rolls his eyes and huffs at her poking fun. As if her joy is not his joy also. "We shouldn't take the ocean lightly. It's dangerous, no matter how calm the beach waves might look at times."

"I'm not taking it lightly," she replies easily, and he gets the sense that she's heard and understood all the thoughts in his head. "I see it for what it is--the force behind it."

They both look out into the bay, where the gentle lapping of waves against the shore gives way to the rough and choppy texture of endless depth. Those waters will see plenty of Deviant carcasses, too deep for the humans to ever find.

"But I accept that along with this part," she moves her head in the other direction, nodding to where Sersi is showing a human family how to cast a net. The young ones giggle with glee and their joy makes the Elemental Eternal glow from within. "They are both part of the sea. I think that only adds to its beauty."

Beauty, Gilgamesh thinks, is not so simple a thing. He struggles to describe things as beautiful. A sunrise or a sunset merely exists, the sea is the colour it is because of the sediment in the water, the sky changes per the hour sometimes.

But he sees the light shining off Thena's eyes, constricting her pupils and bringing out the green colour of them. The darker rim around the iris, the jade colours swirling more calmly. That, he thinks, is beauty.

"Gil?" Thena asks, pulling him from his silence.

He smiles, because she's good at making him smile. "I guess I see what you mean."

"I for one am thankful for the cooling breeze the water offers," she states more clearly and lightly, moving away from the contemplative. She inhales as another wave crashes below and causes an updraft.

Gil unfolds his arms so he can move some of her hair off her shoulder and away from tickling her face needlessly. She looks at him and he withdraws, exhausted from the affection. "I don't have to be thankful to a body of water."

Thena laughs, and it's a very cute laugh for a Goddess of War. "There must be something for which you're thankful."

Her. It's always her. If she knew the degree to which he focused his thoughts on her surely she would recoil.

"Hm?" she prods, sliding closer until he can feel her much smaller arm against his thicker one. Their shoulder plates clink together and she celebrates getting a laugh out of him. "Anything?"

He looks at her unabashedly now. If he could tell her that she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, he would. Far more than any of their travels to this planet, far more than any natural phenomenon here now, he would. "I guess there is something."

"Something?"

"Someone," he amends quickly, and it seems to make his point. She smiles down at the water below, something like shyness coming over her.

Her hands clasp behind her back, "I'm sure they're thankful for you, too."

He snorts, "I don't know about that."

"Well," Thena angles herself towards him before rising onto her toes, "I am."

Gilgamesh lets her bend to press her lips to his cheek. He does it passively, letting her delicate hands balance her against his shoulder and his elbow. He leans ever so slightly for her, but that's it. He doesn't want to encourage this. He'll lose all sense, if he does.

"Shall we?" she prompts him, turning in the direction of their own.

"Fine," he grunts, but follows her like she has him on a leash. His steps are heavy and slow behind her light and graceful ones. If something were to approach from behind, let it face him first before so much as getting a glimpse of her.

"You should tell Ajak you are warming to the planet," Thena suggests lightly. "She seems quite bewitched by it. To say nothing of Sersi."

Gilgamesh has to constantly stop himself from telling Ikaris that he will never fully capture Sersi's heart away from this planet and the people residing here.

"We have much of it to see," she looks over her shoulder at him. "Perhaps somewhere you would like more."

He thinks all of this planet will look the same--feel the same. He shrugs.

Thena doesn't take offense to his lack of contribution. She looks forward again, "Ajak says we will abandon the ship entirely the more humans perceive us."

Gil doesn't entirely trust Ajak. He thinks she means well, but he also thinks that there are times when she doesn't tell them all she knows.

"I know you will miss our refuge away from them."

Gil uncrosses his arms, moving more deliberately to walk beside his partner. "So long as they don't ask me to join in any dancing, then fine."

Thena laughs, letting him capture her hand in his. "I'll defend you from such trials."

Then he has no qualms, no matter where they go, or how long they stay on this blue and green marble. If she is with him, then he can face anything.

The true old man fucker behavior is simping over historical figures