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What happened, Moon?

Super random and chaotic animatic that i made todays night

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Every time I read the “Toph is a bad example of a disabled character because of her bending.” I want to Physically leap over a table and then flip that table because NO!!!! You do not understand!!!

Toph’s bending is assistive technology!!! It’s a medical aid!!!!!

Toph’s bending allows her to full access her world the same way my mobility aids do, or my medication does. There are times when due to inaccessible surroundings that her aids are rendered harder or impossible to use. Not unlike my own greatest enemy, stairs. However, when she is fully accommodated she’s able to be just as successful and thrive just as much as an able-bodied person albeit differently. Which is the ultimate goal of assistive technology.

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bc 10 years ago life was already shitty so let's think about the time when life was actually still good :)

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Made Valiant/Heroic AU references

last one based on song here

I also realize how much wander over yonder played a part in my life and writing

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Please do 9 'Dont ever do that again!" But please do it with analogical and maybe a flustered Virgil after Logan does something that is considered adorable or after a kiss? I don't know

Logan was definitely not a morning person, and Virgil adored that about him.

The sunshine filtering through the curtains gave the logical side an outline of golden light. Logan rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned. He stretched luxuriously. And then, he did something that melted Virgil’s heart.

Logan ran a hand through his hair. He flopped down next to Virgil. He wrapped his arms around the anxious side’s waist and pulled him close. He pressed a kiss to the slope of Virgil’s shoulder and sighed, sending shivers down the other side’s spine. Then, Logan giggled.

Virgil froze.

“Don’t— don’t ever do that again!”

The taller side looked up sleepily, confusion clouding his eyes.

“What?”

Virgil pouted, narrowing his eyes when Logan giggled again at his expression.

“That! Don’t do that!”

Logan snuggled back up to Virgil’s side and hugged him closer.

“I’ll do my—” he cut himself off with a yawn and tried again.

“I’ll do my best, baby.”

Virgil flushed deeply.

“Good!”

And Logan giggled again.

#logan sanders #virgil sanders #analogical #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #im losing it #i screamed and shouldnt have #thank you #im just so happy #stop-it-anxiety

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I have no idea who made this nut i know that i have seen their account several times and love their stuff! I was just on YouTube less than 1 minute ago and watched this and its so beautiful and i love it! If someone knows the creator on here (of coarse thats if they have one) please tag them or something

@aimasup on YouTube

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanamation #fan animation #thomas sanders #youtube thomas sanders #roman sanders #anxiety sanders #deceit sanders #i love him #patton sanders #princey sanders #dad sanders #thomas sanders sanders sides #i love this #be more chill #Sanders Sides and BMC AU #voices in my head #so flippin cute

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compliments! he’s just not good at them

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Little thing done for the Tournament from @merlin-fic-server anniversary party! It was done in less than 24 hours, so, I’m not happy with all of the illustrations, but anyway, I choose prompt 4, and it was a song fic, so I illustrated the Viva la Vida song, because the letter sounds like the feelings of Arthur when he returs in the modern era from the lake.

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They are definitely gonna play with them like don't talk to me talk to the doll

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman #virgil #logan #patton #thatsthat24

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i just know janus would be a salty snek because he didn’t get a plushie so this is my solution

#sanders sides #ts deceit #janus sanders

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Technoblade has passed on and I will not hesitate to unfollow and block anyone who doesn't respect his boundaries or has negative things to say about him. No questions asked you will be gone. I cried for a long time and I loved him a lot so I won't even hesitate. I haven't been on here in a while but if I get comments or reposts that are negative about him or his boundaries you will be blocked from me. Absolute NO HESITATION. I have been gone for a while but I will block you when I come back to see it if it's negative. I come to check in once in a while even if I don't post or republish.

#technoblade #dsmp #technoblade never dies #respect boundaries of content creators #I love Technoblade #be respectful

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tbh though if i were mccoy i’d be pretty fucking fed up with spock too. imagine you’re a doctor, you dedicate your life to learning how care for hundreds of different life forms and species across the galaxy, and then your wife divorces you, which leads you to enlisting as a doctor for starfleet. this is WAY outside of your comfort zone, you hate adventure and you’d rather be sittin on a porch in the sun with some sweet tea in hand and your daughter on your knee, but you ain’t got nowhere else to go, and who are you if you aren’t a doctor? you’ve dedicated your whole life and so much more to healing. so you enlist, you get assigned to a starship. not your dream job, but if there’s one thing leonard mccoy knows how to do it’s treat patients. and then THIS MEDICAL MARVEL MOTHERFUCKER comes in with his fucked up gene spliced half human half vulcan biology and the rarest most obscure blood type even among vulcans with ZERO precedent for his existence or medical baseline and also happens to be THE WORST PATIENT IN HISTORY. REFUSES to sit still and follow instructions. always making smart ass comments about your silly human emotionalism. you’ll get insane fucking readings and be like “spock i think you’re dying” and the bastard will answer with a straight face “yes. that’s just pon farr.” “can you tell me how to treat it?” “no.” and then just walks out of the fucking sickbay. you’re constantly busting your ass trying to figure out how to keep this human-alien catboy mix’n’match medical nightmare from hell alive and healthy and all you get in return is backhanded compliments from an emotionally stunted fruit. and you can’t even complain about it to your best friend because he’s too busy doodling this obstinate motherfucker’s name all over his notebook while eye-fucking him on the middle of the bridge. hell i’d be an alcoholic too.

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Traditional chinese craftsmanship for architecture and furniture 榫卯 sǔn mǎo 

The mortise and tenon technique does not use glues or nails and creates furniture that is usually very strong and durable. 

This is carpenter Grandpa Amu making a Luban stool out of a whole piece of wood using traditional chinese joinery technique 榫卯 sǔn mǎo.

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Roman: Which is correct, seven and five IS thirteen, or seven and five ARE thirteen?

Janus : Neither.

Janus : Because it's twelve.

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Trust Fall

word count: 1,971

cw: hurt with a bit of comfort, mild descriptions of injuries, Grian and Impulse Have a Bad Time feat. Wither Skulls and Scar

based off this post by @theres-an-impulstor-among-us ! hope this is an alright addition to your idea!!!

“How’d they find us?”

“Doesn’t matter, just move!”

Footsteps pounded along the pathway, racing towards the remnants of the Southlands. If he had half a second to think, Grian might’ve found it ironic that that was the direction both he and Impulse defaulted to. 

He wanted to say it was heartwarming. 

Mostly it was just sad. 

“Grian,” Impulse said from somewhere just behind him, “they’re catching up, what do we - “

“Just keep running, you’ve got food, yeah?”

“No, I ran out before we - “

The clunking noise of pistons firing cut through the pounding in his head. 

Grian spun on his heel to find his partner scrabbling at the edge of another damned pit. He’d missed the pressure plates, somehow, but Impulse must’ve trusted him to see the traps ahead, he hadn’t been looking.

“Grian!”

“Impulse, no!”

A crossbow bolt at his feet had Grian staggering backwards as Impulse’s grip gave out. 

“No, no no no - “ 

Impulse’s shout faded as he fell. He’d never been good with the water bucket, and every pit that had been dug so far was lethal. 

“Impulse!” he screamed, desperation tearing at his throat. Fear at being alone - one of the only yellows left on the server - rooted him in place, waiting for the death message to ping. 

“Oh, Grian….” Scar’s voice called from entirely too close. Grian whipped back around, sword drawn. 

The red names that had been hunting them for days emerged from the tree line. Mumbo hurried to the edge of the pit, grin just a little too wide for comfort. 

“Look at that! It actually worked!” his former friend looked up, still giggling. “It worked, guys! It's a shame it didn’t catch our target, but it caught someone!”

Impulse’s death still hadn’t pinged. Grian wasn’t willing to take his eyes off the enemy, but he took a half-step backwards anyway. 

A razor-thin blade pressed against his neck. 

“I wouldn’t move if I were you, G.” Skizz murmured, quiet despite the fury in his tone. “I’d hate to kill you here after all this work we put into catching you.”

Jimmy and Tango joined Mumbo at the trap, peering down from a safe distance.

“Look at that….”

“You’re sure he’s alive, Mumbo?”

“Positive! I dug it deep enough to leave him on a heart or two - it depends on if he had feather-falling enchants on his boots, but it’s enough.”

“Boy am I glad you’re on our side, man.” 

Mumbo laughed again, and it sent a jolt through Grian, some kind of feeling he couldn’t identify. Skizz’s blade pushed a bit harder.

“Don’t move. Not yet.”

“What - what do you want?” Grian finally managed to ask. His head was so frazzled, but he knew he needed to buy for time. 

“What we want?”

Scar stepped gingerly around the crowd, taking his sweet time to approach. It was all for effect, to unsettle him, Grian knew; it didn’t stop his heart from speeding up again. 

Five red names in one place. It was a miracle they hadn’t turned on each other yet - odds are the man in front of him was the reason why. 

Scar smiled, all business, all charm. It made him sick. “What we want, Grian, are those precious items you’ve got stashed away on your person.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We heard you talking about them!” Jimmy protested. “And I saw them, I know I did!”

“Jimmy.” The collective group froze, Scar’s tone icy. “I’m discussing a deal with Grian, alright?”

“R-Right.”

“Now why don’t you and Tango go bring our other….guest up for negotiations, hm?”

Jimmy shuffled his feet, staring at the ground like a kicked puppy. “Alright….”

Tango handed Jimmy a shovel and they started digging down, silent save for the scraping. 

“Now, then!” Scar clapped, the mood instantly lifted. Grian sucked in a shallow breath, mindful of Skizz behind him. “Where were we - ah, that’s right! You have some very valuable items, Grian. I’d like to take them off your hands.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Grian insisted, forcing his voice to stay even. “You’ve been chasing us around for days now, and I still don’t even know what you want, Scar!”

Scar’s eyes narrowed, just slightly. “See now, that’s a lie, right there. I have it on good word that you were one of the few people with a wither skull, Grian. And then you went and collected them all for us! That seems like the kind of thing we can’t have you carrying around. It’s dangerous!”

An incredulous laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it. “Like the're any less dangerous in your hands!”

He realized the error of his wording too late. 

“So you do have them! Excellent, now, I am an honest wizard, and I’m willing to cut you a deal.”

“I never said - “

“My deal is,” Scar barreled over him, “that you’ll give me whatever wither skulls you have on you, and I won’t kill Impulse!”

Grian’s heart stuttered. 

“What?”

“Impulse! Your buddy, your pal, your friend.” The word friend fell from Scar’s lips with a twisted sort of amusement. The other red names shifted, suddenly finding the landscape fascinating. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want him to become a red name, would you? He’d join us, of course, leaving you all alone, but you know, I’m confident you could manage.”

Grian’s mind was both racing and complete static. Scar - Scar was playing this for keeps. In the chaos, he’d managed to rope half the red names into his service. 

There was only - no. No, there were two options. 

It was at that moment that Jimmy and Tango hauled Impulse to the top of the pit. Mumbo gripped his arms, helping them pull him out. 

Impulse barely moved, curled into a heap on the grass. His legs - Grian couldn’t look at his legs. He was breathing - that was all Grian cared about. Impulse was alive, and that meant Grian wasn’t alone. 

Not yet. 

Tango nudged him with a foot. He looked almost apologetic. That ignited some sort of fire deep in Grian’s bones. 

“Don’t touch him,” he growled; he could feel Skizz keeping pace as he stepped closer to Scar. The conman didn’t flinch, simply met Grian’s burning gaze with interest. “You’ll kill him if I don’t hand over the skulls?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Scar snapped his fingers, and Jimmy pulled out his sword. 

It was a dismal, pathetic sight, a gleaming sword at the ready against a man who couldn’t defend himself if he wanted to. Impulse couldn’t even lift his head to see that he was in danger. 

Grian had exactly two options. 

One: he could hand over the skulls to Scar and his lackeys, dooming the server. 

or Two: he could refuse, let Impulse die, and then be hunted down by six red names instead of five. 

Neither were good, and both would still result in his eventual death. 

Or….there was a secret, third option. The one that he’d been after this whole wretched game, the idea that made his heart race in excitement at the mere thought of execution. 

Grian could summon the wither. 

Right here. Right now. 

He could bring them all down with him, in a blaze of terrible glory. 

The soulsand was heavy in his pockets. The skulls were in easy reach in his pack. It would take four seconds, tops, and he knew that Scar wasn’t fast enough to stop him. None of them were. 

He’d had enough of not being in control of the situation. Of being chased around like some kind of frightened bird, darting around in the shadows, hoping to not be seen. 

It was time to cause some proper chaos. 

Scar was unsuspecting, or if he was, he probably didn’t think that Grian would follow through. 

That was his first mistake. He should’ve known better. 

“Alright, Scar. You win.”

Scar laughed, triumphant while his team broke out into nervous whispers. “Wonderful! Oh, I’m so glad you came around, Grian, maybe I’ll even let you live for a little while longer! We can chase you and Impulse down again, that would be fun!”

Mumbo was staring at him from his place by Tango’s side. He was thinking hard, Grian could tell, and his eyes went wide a half-second later. 

He’d gotten more cautious, that much Grian could give him credit for. It was clear that he trusted his new teammates as far as he could throw them - admittedly, that wasn’t very far. 

The best he could hope for was that Mumbo had gotten faster, too. 

“If I give you the skulls, you’ll let Impuse and I go?” Grian asked. Scar kept his word to a fault - that was how Etho had lost his life, in the end. He needed to be one hundred percent sure that Scar wouldn’t turn on him in the last seconds. This needed to be as convincing as possible. 

“Of course, of course! You and Impulse can run off to your little burnt-down towers, and I’ll leave you alone until I get bored of killing everyone else. How’s that sound?”

“I don’t like it,” Grian started, and he didn’t even have to pretend to sound frustrated. He stuck a hand in his pocket, fist curling around the soulsand. “But I - I’ll - “

A groan from near the pit. 

Grian glanced over; all his words drying up in an instant. 

Impulse was awake. Impulse - oh god, Grian had forgetten Impulse was here. 

How could he have forgotten?

“Grian….” Impulse blinked at him, unfocused. Trusting. “Don’t….” 

Impulse trusted him. Trusted him to make the right decision, surely he’d understand - 

Jimmy’s sword tip nicked Impulse’s cheek when he shifted with a soft cry of pain. The bead of blood that welled up seemed to fall in slow motion, bright against his pale skin. 

Impulse was all Grian had left. 

There was no way he could save both himself and Impulse, injured as he was, from the combined threat of a Wither and the red lives. He was just as likely to be a hinderance, realistically, it would take days for Impulse to heal properly, and by then - 

“Hand over the skulls, Grian.” Scar said, surprisingly gentle. “We’ll let you go. That’s what friends are for, aren’t they? We used to be friends, I’ll let you have this.”

Grian was surrounded by former friends. Jimmy, Mumbo. 

Scar. 

But Impulse - Impulse had stuck with him. Fought with him. He’d never betrayed the Southlands, even when it was all falling apart, so long ago. 

Impulse was all Grian had left. And Grian was all Impulse had, too. 

The itch of chaos was nothing compared to the terror of losing his only friend. 

He grit his teeth, and tossed the sand and skulls at Scar’s feet. 

“Take it,” Grian whispered, desperate. Defeated. “Take it and get out, Scar.” 

For a long, tense moment, no one moved. 

Scar bent down first, tucked his prize into his robes without looking away. He studied Grian for another few seconds. Grian couldn’t be bothered to hide away any emotions. He was so tired. 

“Back off, Jimmy. Skizz, you too. Let’s get going.”

“What?!” 

“But Scar - “

“You said - !”

“I said we’re leaving.” The steel was back in his voice, every red name stiffening. “We have business elsewhere.” 

Grian didn’t move as Scar herded his team away. Didn’t move when Mumbo and Jimmy looked back at him with longing; he waited until they’d all crested the hill before stumbling to Impulse’s side. 

“Why - why’d you do that?” Impulse tracked Grian’s movements with dazed eyes and a confused expression. “We worked so hard for those….”

He let the question hang in the air, rummaging in his pack. A healing potion was buried at the bottom; he carefully lifted Impulse’s head to help him drink. 

“You’re my teammate.” he answered, simply. “We’re loyal to each other, until the end.”