ZAINAB JIWA AS GERALT OF RIVIA

refseek.com

www.worldcat.org/

link.springer.com

http://bioline.org.br/

repec.org

science.gov

pdfdrive.com

very tired of the ‘Dick Grayson is mostly a pretty boy with bad puns, golden retriever vibes’ trope. Give me German Shepherd Dick. Give me the ‘consummate performer’ Dick. The one all, brilliance, bloody smiles and showmanship, the one with razor sharp wit and charm made weapon. Dick who seamlessly switches between a million personas. The one who doesn’t know what to do when the show’s over. Give me the Dick no one wants to be on the wrong side of because Nightwing might not start battles, but he finishes them. The only one whose threats the entire Batfam (including Bruce) takes seriously. The one fear toxins can’t affect because he’s been to hell and back.

The Dick who unlike Jason doesn’t even mention how much he’s been fucked up and survived. The one the Joker knew he couldn’t break.

i think that killing a dragon should have catastrophic nuclear-fallout level environmental consequences tbh. their blood should scorch and wither the earth with fire and poison, the toxic fumes released as they decay should choke the land and all nearby living creatures, and the entire landscape where they fell should be transformed into a blighted wasteland where bleached leviathan bones loom upwards out of the ground as a warning that can be seen from miles away, the boundary markers of an exclusion zone.

Linked Universe the anime

“Are you the witch who turned eleven princes into swans?”

The old woman stared at the figure on the front step of her cottage and considered her options. It was the kind of question usually backed up by a mob with meaningful torches, and it was the kind of question she tried to avoid.

Coming from a single dusty, tired housewife, it should’ve held no terrors.

“You a cop?”

The housewife twisted the hem of her apron. “No,” she muttered. “I’m a swan.”

A raven croaked somewhere in the woods. Wind whispered in the autumn leaves.

Then: “I think I can guess,” the old woman said slowly. “Husband stole your swan skin and forced you to marry him?”

A nod.

“And you can’t turn back into a swan until you find your skin again.”

A nod.

“But I reckon he’s hidden it, or burned it, or keeps it locked up so you can’t touch it.”

A tiny, miserable nod.

“And then you hear that old Granny Rothbart who lives out in the woods is really a batty old witch whose father taught her how to turn princes into swans,” the old woman sighed. “And you think, ‘Hey, stuff the old skin, I can just turn into a swan again this way.’

“But even if that was true – which I haven’t said if it is or if it isn’t – I’d say that I can only do it to make people miserable. I’m an awful person. I can’t do it out of the goodness of my heart. I have no goodness. I can’t use magic to make you feel better. I only wish I could.”

Another pause. “If I was a witch,” she added.

The housewife chewed the inside of her cheek. Then she drew herself up and, for the first time, looked the old woman in the eyes.

“Can you do it to make my husband miserable?”

The old woman considered her options. Then she pulled the wand out from the umbrella stand by the door. It was long, and silver, and a tiny glass swan with open wings stood perched on the tip.

“I can work with that,” said the witch.

Love love love characters that present themselves as emotionally open social butterflies but the more you see of them the more obvious it is that they’re the most closed off fuckers in the story. Sure, they want to help you with your personal problems and messy emotions, but if you turn that shit back on them, they’ll shut down or deflect every time. Why are you sticking your nose in their business anyway? It’s not like it matters. They’re not a person, they’re just a role being played. They’re the guy who fixes things and saves people. Please ignore the man behind the mask, he’s fine. Everything’s fine.

TOH as vines valentine's day edition with my fav couples! ...and boscha

If i ever make more of these i'll make one with hunter and willow, i really wanted to animate them but i didnt know which vine to use

MOTHER SPORE

Part I

I know it's almost new year but I don't care, it's Halloween again people (this part was supposed to be posed in October but things happen)

Once again thank you @xmaruu11 not only for being the co-writer of the comic but also for doing the flat colors

I haven’t posted in a hot minute so accept this little ficlet I wrote back in January.

Part two is in the works guys I swear I just got crushed with finals 😭

Anyway- Four and Sky go to a market together. Sky has a good time and Four doesn’t.

788 words, no warnings!

~~~~

Sky loves the markets in other times. Seeing what the surface becomes… seeing the way people interact with one another and help each other survive.

Four despises markets.

He’s not sure why, he’s not sure what happened, if the smith is just shy, how he manages his job with his hatred of smithing… but the teenager does.

Will make excuse after excuse to not go with them into a market, lagging behind and avoiding attention at all costs whenever he’s forced.

So when he’s paired up with Four to get information from townspeople in the market…

“Let me do something else.” Four begs Time immediately, something like fear in the smithy’s eyes.

Time gives him a soft look. Says something softly that he can’t quite hear, but Four goes tense.

“Please. Something- anything else. Anything. Please.”

Time must refuse, because Four looks… defeated.

Stalks back to his side, where he’s sitting at the table, pulling his stuff towards him and aggressively attaching knifes to his body.

“Remember you’re not killing anyone. You’re getting information.” Wild chuckles, but Four shoots him a harsh glare that stops the champion and anyone else from commenting.

He swallows nervously as Wild gives him a look that screams ‘good luck.’

But he waits for the smith, and the teen follows him out the door to the market square when he leaves the inn.

“I’m not talking to anyone.” Four says aggressively, leaving no room for disagreement.

“Alright. I’ll do the talking, you want to gather supplies?” He asks gently.

Four blinks at him, then seems to remember he’s angry. Nods curtly, glaring at a rock in the path.

So that’s how they make it work.

He walks up to a vendor, talking and making conversation as Four looks around.

All day.

It gets hot, the sun bearing down on them.

Four seems determined to maintain his grumpy demeanor, hood pulled and arms crossed despite the heat.

“Let’s take a break. Get something to drink, maybe a snack.” He offers, out of breath.

“I would rather get this over with.” Four says quietly, nearly in a whisper.

“Fifteen minutes.” He pleads, sweat trickling down his temple. “It’s hotter than Din’s mother out here.”

Four does not laugh or even smile. He does, however, relent reluctantly.

They find a vendor making fresh juice, buy two cups, and find a shady orchard and buy some apples and rest under the trees.

Four remains grumpy and quiet, glaring in the direction of the town tensely.

“What did Time tell you?” He asks finally, trying to break the mood.

A straight up nasty scowl. “I need to ‘work on my social skills.’” Four says with little air quotes.

He can’t help it- he laughs.

Four’s cheeks turn bright red, glare turning to him.

“Sorry!” He pleads immediately, still smiling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Really. It’s just… well… you’re not social. At all. This whole time you’ve been hostile and… scary. We were all terrified of you when we met you, man. We were so relieved when you finally started warming up to us. You’re straight up scary.” He smiles again.

Four’s glare makes way for a soft, confused frown.

“I’m not scary.”

But it’s said like a question.

“I don’t have good experiences with people.” Four elaborates quietly. “I just… protect myself, I think.”

He nods slowly. “I understand that. But… aren’t you lonely?” He asks quietly, thinking of how desperately alone he felt… when he was like that.

“No.” Four says shortly, and he believes him. “No. I have everything I need. The friends I want, my grandfather… some small friends. It’s not lonely.”

“There’s a difference between not being alone and not being lonely, kiddo.” He says softly, and Four pauses.

Looks up at him with eyes that look… almost red in the harsh sunlight. “I know. I’m not. Really. I’m happy. With how everything is for me. I like the people I have around me, and I kick out the ones I don’t.”

He laughs at that, grinning at his friend.

Four blinks again.

“Never change, Four. Never change.” He grins, offering an arm.

Despite the heat, Four leans into his chest with a soft sigh. Let’s him wrap him in a hug, staying like that until the juice and snacks are long gone and the sun is nearly setting.

“Ready to head back to the inn?” He asks, glancing down at the smithy and pausing.

“Oh. I guess so.” He says aloud, smiling softly.

Four’s fallen asleep at some point, head resting on his shoulder. Probably heat exhaustion, despite their break to combat it.

Well. No big deal.

He stands, carefully, gathers their things, carrying the smithy back to the inn with the others.

~~~~

Being a little too into every one of Four's source materials is fun. Reading LU fanfic is like;

"Ahh, you've played Minish Cap, but you only know the Color's personalities from Jojo's comic. You've played Four Swords and read the manga; you know about the Maidens vaguely. You've played Four Swords Adventures and make the Colors squabble accordingly. You probably haven't played Minish Cap because you don't know the rules for shrinking. You've only read the Four Swords manga. You've only read the manga. You've also only read the manga. And you've only read the—"