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#Burning to Ashes
kim-poce · 2 years
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I like to think I'm good at whumping caretakers, I don't even need to use whumpers for it.
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stil-lindigo · 9 months
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scorched earth.
a comic about a princess who died in a fire.
(this is a sequel to bite of winter, a comic about Snow and what became of her after her death.)
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all my other comics
store
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reegis · 10 months
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May we see what would happen if Jon archivist and Jonny switched places for a day?
what one more kidnapping, eh Jon?
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meanwhile….
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archerinventive · 3 months
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"To love is to burn, to be on fire" -Jane Austin
A huge thank you to all who came out to Ignitions Prom Fundraiser this past weekend. '
The whole evening was a blur of fire, friends, and fantastical fashion, dancing our way to dawn and I couldn't feel more fortunate for the experience.
Thank you to the whole crew for making it happen, and here's to many more festivities to come. ❤️
With Ash Steele (This was our first time breathing together for a show and I couldn't have asked for a better partner..^^)
More photo from the evening on the way.
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dailyastarionpics · 4 months
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oh my fucking god dean had to carry cas' body to get him onto the pyre he had to carry all of cas' dead weight while the grief still clung to his shoulders he wrapped up cas' body himself and when sam mentions the meadow, he says it's where dean spread the ashes, excluding him and jack because dean wouldn't have let anyone else handle cas so dean had to be the one to carry cas from the house table to the pyre they all lost something in cas, a friend, a protector, a father, but dean lost half of his soul that night oh i am unwell and unstable with these thoughts—
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mebis-art-dump · 6 months
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Frigid Steel, Boiling Wraith
Thinking about how pale ore is eerily chill to the touch
about how PV's spells, likely learnt from its father, take on the same shape as nails made out of an ore allegedly related to its parents
about how those spells are pretty much a solid state of soul for a few moments about how solid state of matter is often the most "cold" state, generally speaking
about how cold it's often associated with lack of emotion and corpses
Also thinking about how the knight's spells, learned from the snails, is more raw, more volatile
stated and shown to literally burn opponents, more of a hot blast than a proper solid mass
shaped and named after haunting ghosts, spectres that do not lay to rest, despite soul itself being present in the whole environment and not necesarily directly linked to sentient beings
about how it is strong emotions what fuels their transformation into their more powerful state through the usage of void, a volatile yet maleable substance, and the opposite of light
if you want to, you can get this drawing in full quality and ready to be a phone wallpaper at my kofi page completely free of charge (although i wont be mad if you leave a lil tip)
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hermit-frog · 27 days
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wiriu · 25 days
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i cant remember who and i lost the post but i saw someone say slick would wear this and...yea, yea he would
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kim-poce · 2 years
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Burning to Ashes - Picrews
Undercut because there are 10 of them plus id so that's A LOT! They are in kidnapping order
Nanda Hayes - She/Her
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[ID: Picrew of Nanda, she is white, has amber eyes and black hair up to her neck. She is wearing a dark blue shirt and has blood on her face. She is making a "silence" sign with her hand and she has a mean smile on her face. The background shows two "danger zone" tapes. End.ID]
John Killian Oliver (aka Dog) - He/him - 31yo
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[ID: Picrew of Dog, he is white and has amber eyes, wavy short black hair, a scar on his cheek and chest. He is wearing a black t-shirt if an eye icon, a black dog collar, and there are band-aids on his face. He is looking down with a sad/anxious expression. The background is black with huge realistic eyes. End.ID]
Camile Dakota (aka Shy) - She/Her
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[ID: Picerw of Shy, she is white with a more pinkish tone of skin, has blue eyes, orangeish hair tied in a ponytail, a vertical scar under her right eye, and several scars on her chest and shoulders. She is wearing a yellow shirt that shows her shoulders, a red dog collar, band-aids on her face, and a pair of earrings in the shape of half of a broken heart. She has an anxious expression on her face and both her hands are raised in a weak attempt to keep her aggressor away. The background is dark. End.ID]
Arthur (aka Water) - He/him
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[ID: Picrew of Water. He is white, has blue hair and blue eyes with dark circles under them. He is wearing a blue t-shirt and a blue dog collar, there are scars under his shirt,. He has a scared/sad expression. The background is blue and shows several jellyfishies. End.ID]
Austin (aka Crumb) - He/him
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[ID: Picrew of Crumb. He is white and has orangeish brown hair and blue eyes. He is wearing a black hoodie and a silver dog collar, there are six bloody band-aids on his face. He is looking down are his empty open hands. End.ID]
Amos (aka Shock) - He/him
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[ID: Picrew of Shock, he has slightly dark skin, really short and smooth black hair, dark eyes with dark circles under them, and a scar across his left cheek. He is wearing a black t-shirt and black dos collar. His expression is sad. The background is yellow. End.ID]
George Hungria (aka Toy) - He/Him (well, it/its with Nanda)
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[ID: Picrew of Toy, He is white, has dark green eyes and amber hair, and a lot of small scars on his face. He Is wearing a silver dog collar and an open black shirt that shows bloody bandages underneath there are also six band-aids on his face. He got a pained sad expression and is looking down. The background is a dark tunnel. End.ID]
Sammy (aka Sugar) - They/them
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[ID: Picrew of Sugar. They are black, have several small scars on their face, messy black hair up to their neck ornamented with candy accessories, and black eyes. They are wearing a black dog collar and something like waiter clothes but with orangeish color. They have a sad expression and are holding a kitchen knife. End.ID]
Igor Thompson (aka Ash) - He/him - 23yo
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[ID: Picrew of Ash, he is white, has tired brown eyes, a scar across his right cheek and black hair up to his neck. He is wearing a white t-shirt. He is crying. End.ID]
Paulo Killian Oliver - He/him - 35yo
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[ID: Picrew of Paulo. He is white, has amber eyes, black wavy hair, and a short beard. He is wearing a red t-shirt with the drawing of a hearth, there are band-aids on his face. He has an angry expression and is holding a pistol. End.ID]
Link (Nanda) | Link (Ash) | Link
Taglist: @cupcakes-and-pain, @badluck990, @extemporary-username, @wolfeyedwitch, @rose-pinkie, @latenightcupsofcoffee, @whump-blog, @inpainandsuffering, @nii-chans-rabiddogs
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nimbus-bugs · 11 months
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go read Burn You To Ash by @widowofshor right now. that's an order as a slimeriana enjoyer. it's one of my favourite fics ever
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here's a scene from chapter 7 to entice you, PLEASE READ IT!! ITS SO CUTE
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ssomepersonn · 7 months
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campfire night
(unshaded vers under the cut :] )
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reegis · 10 months
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Can we have a little Ashes and Jonny being besties as a treat? I just love them so much ;-;
they are having a little vacation fun on a new planet!!
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great news for them, apocalyptic news for the planet
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lexirosewrites · 21 days
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have you seen the mob wife aesthetic thing on tiktok can't wait to see burn!steve stitching those with 'my culture is not your costume'
Bunny would body that trend just to be a little bitch. He'd hold up each item in his look with the outrageous prices attached, just to make a point that his look can't be thrown together with a couple cheaply-made, poor imitation, fast fashion pieces. At the end, he'd show off his healed mating bite from Eddie like an accessory and say that it almost cost him everything.
Oh and then Daddy comes in the frame and squeezes his waist from behind and Steve just smiles all smug because his mate's distinct hand tattoos are recognizeable to anyone who knows. The Munsons are not the quiet sort of rich.
Steve doesn't dress in the mob wife aesthetic, he is the mob wife aesthetic.
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ghouljams · 9 months
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Begging for someone to break into Bee’s house and König only finds out bc of the bug, so he takes care of it
Here's where we get more of König being insane about his crush. Introducing(formally) the perimeter alarm.
An alert pings on König's phone as he's herding the last horse into their stall. He pats the over-large animal affectionately as he tugs his phone free and swipes through the notifications. He frowns, opening the property map and scanning for where the break pinged. Your side of the farm, not good. Hopefully it's just a wild animal that's wandered too far from the woods and set off the alarm.
He pulls the back wall of the barn open, survey's his arsenal, then grabs a rifle and a few tranquilizer rounds. If it is an animal, he'd hate to hurt the poor thing. If it isn't... Well better not to take care of it on your property.
It's a short ride through the pasture to get decent sight lines. Your house is dark, that's good. König raises the rifle, steadying it against his shoulder. The small movements of the horse under him are a little tricky, but nothing he can't deal with. Grace under pressure is what got him the rank of colonel in the first place.
He sweeps his sights around your house. While the breach hadn't been too close, it did take him time to get here. No deer, no foxes or coyotes threatening your brightly painted chicken coop, no raccoons in your trash. König frowns, sweeping wider just as a flashlight wanders its way around the blind side of your house. That makes this easier. His brain clicks through calculations, before taking aim and watching for impact. The quiet thunk of his silenced rifle firing is like music to his ears.
The figure startles a little, grasps at the dart's entry point, stumbles and collapses. And they said he couldn't be a sniper.
König rides closer to the fence, and hops off his horse, fishing some rope out of the saddle bags. It's always so easy to hop your fence. He keeps his eyes on your bedroom window, careful to stay quiet as he makes his way to your back door and your would be intruder. It's only when he turns the man over and he feels the cold grip of malice that he really decides what he's going to do next.
The man awakes in a single chair, in a small concrete room. It's dark, the only light coming from a single bare bulb hanging over head. Across from him, König leans forward. Watching with his elbows resting on his knees as the man jerks and panics against his restraints.
"It is very fortunate that I found you when I did," König tells him, "I would not have been able to stop myself if you'd actually gotten into the house."
"Where am I?" The man spits, König clicks his tongue, shakes his head.
"Now now, you are asking the wrong question. You should be asking, 'who are you?'" König motions with his hand, "Go on."
"Fine, who the fuck are you," The man's face is red with barely contained rage.
"I'm the man that's going to kill you."
All the motion seems to drain out of the man, his muscles locking up in fear or perhaps realization as König stands. The little metal table he drags over shakes and bumps along the uneven ground. It's only the noise of it, the sort of slick friction of metal against plastic, that makes the man look down at the tarp covering the floor.
"Don't look so worried, this is going to hurt a lot, but not for very long." König pauses, picking up a file, "Well, not for me anyway. For you it will feel like an eternity."
"I- Whatever it is you want we can work something out," The man asks, begs, leaning back in his chair as best he can as König draws closer. "I've got money, you want money? Or- or- shit!"
"No money," This part is always fun, the begging, the crying, the last shred of hope, "you hurt someone very precious to me, and I can't let that happen again."
"I don't even know who you are," The tears are starting. König grips his jaw hard, forces his mouth open to give the file room to drag against the man's teeth.
"But I know who you are," König hums over the grating noise of file against enamel, the building panicked scream, "and that's all that matters, isn't it?"
Yes, König thinks, that is all that matters. It isn't as if the man is fit to answer the question anyway, what with the amateur dentistry happening. This is really fantastic timing on your ex-husband's part, well fantastic for König. He'd just been wondering if and when would be appropriate to rid your life of this scum. It wasn't like you'd miss him, truly no one would, but timing was -is- everything.
An extended business trip, a few bad investments, a drunken if slightly rabid text exchange. König kept close eyes on his targets, even if he told himself it was just to keep you safe. He knew every detail, every movement this bastard made. How convenient that his tour of stupidity would lead him right into König's hands. His car might be a problem, but it's nothing König hadn't handled before.
König pulls back from his work to stare at the bloody gums and nubbed teeth. The man sobs, gurgled bubbling spit turning red from the rough orthodontics as he tries to speak around the pain. König thinks he'll do the fingers next, maybe try inserting some metal screws into his legs. It doesn't really matter what tortures he puts the man through, it'll all be burned away in the end.
König wakes you up in the morning, his knocking on your front door thunders through your house. Although you suppose it could be anyone knocking on your door, you don't really get any visitors but him. You pull a pair of shorts on to answer the door, just barely awake enough to deal with people. Your alarm isn't set to go off for another two hours at least.
When you pull your door open you blink blearily up at König. His eyes dart over you, taking in your pyjamas as you rub your eyes with a frown. You don't know what was so important it couldn't wait for later in the morning.
"König s'early, what're you doing here?" You yawn. König's expression is soft and affectionate, it's too early for that.
"I thought I'd make you breakfast," He pulls his bandana down for you to see his smile. You hum and turn to go back into the house, figuring he'll follow you like always. König's hand catches your head and spins you to face him again, dragging you for a kiss. His fingers tighten their hold on you as his lips drag against yours. It's the sweetest good morning you've ever gotten. You wonder what's gotten into him.
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shortnotsweet · 6 months
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In a Week by Hozier ft. Karen Cowley
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“The raven is death, obviously. When I die, I want a good tombstone—something right spooky. LT’s got something against the underground, though you’d think that would be just his kind of place. That’s alright. He needs to, he can cremate me. It’s not exactly Catholic, and Mam would turn in her grave, but God is a unicorn and no one is pure anymore, so. What’s all that got to do with me?”
Johnny “Soap” McTavish has a journal. Had. It is his no longer.
Simon “Ghost” Riley had dreams—awful ones, the kind that sank claws into his lungs, dragged him into sleep, and then sent him careening out of it. He still has dreams, but they’re different, now. Better. Johnny’s pages have folded themselves under his eyes and gotten into his head, brighter and more infectious than anything else has ever been. It’s more than the past, that rotting carcass behind him, and more than now. Now is nothing. Now is ash. It’s like, it’s like—blinding, is what it is. He’s a blind man.
It is biblical now. Ghost has read it backward and forward and sideways and inside out. When he runs out of things to read, he reads them again, and when that is not enough, he reads between the lines.
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