Reblogged dubioushonour
Sound up
black mackerel tortoiseshell tabby (torbie) with low white spotting
Source: instagram.com
Reblogged ruuari
Anyway ... Vanitas 🏳️⚧️
Reblogged corishadowfang
im about to horrify some of you
happy 3 years, my fellow trauma survivors
Reblogged dubioushonour
The 20th anniversary of the release of the game that started it all, Psychonauts is coming April the 19th! We got all kinds of fun things planned for that week. I am very excited to celebrate with all of you. (For those of you who do not know about Psychonauts, it was the first game we released from Double Fine and I had the great pleasure of art directing. It will be a real family reunion!) #doublefine #psychonauts #timschafer #videogames #characterdesigns
Reblogged
The portal will take him somewhere new. Somewhere he's supposed to be. He'll meet people, become someone great. He just has to make it... The wind howls in his ears and tears at his clothes. Darkness ripples past in shifting colors; purple, black, grey, and deep indigo. He'll remember it when he sees an oil spill. He'll never properly be able to describe it. His hands are on his knees, his back hunched. He's so tired; he didn't realize it'd be so far.
"Xehanort!" Metal fingers wrap around his wrist. Eraqus's voice is high and scared. He looks up, head heavy with his own armor. "We have to keep going. We have to get back before-." He nods and grasps Eraqus's arm. Just a bit further. They have to make it in time. They have to. He looks back, ready to offer a hand to Hermod, to Urd.
Two suits of armor are collapsed, just at the edge of his sight in the swirling dark. They look lifeless, empty, but he swears their hands twitch toward his. They should go back, they can still help. But Eraqus's fingers are tight around his arm, like a chain yanking him further away. They're dead already. They're already gone. They can still save the others.
Eraqus's hand is a burning shackle around his wrist. It tugs him forward, toward a distant speck of light. Eraqus refracts it, makes it burn against his skin. He tries to loosen his grip or to shift to a better position, but it only tightens further. His heart is racing as they claw their way forward. For Vor, for everyone, if they can just get back to Master Odin. The wind screams and Eraqus slams into him.
He's standing on the roof under a perfect blue sky. The sun shines so brightly off twin heads of white. One shivers, barely present. She's only one of many ghosts lurking at the corners of his vision. Gold light flares like sparks catching on tinder; chains only make Baldr hiss. Master Odin's voice is a pained bellow. "Xehanort, now!"
He's able to walk forward, to look him in the eyes. "I see myself...in you." The darkness roils off of him in sickening waves. He lifts his keyblade and in perfect form cuts his classmate down.
Lightning cracks across the sky. The stones go gray as the rain soaks them. The carvings are so sharp, so new. Empty eyes watch him, darkness trickling down their faces. Except for one. His chest is cracked open, the veins filled with light. "They'll never forget. He'll never stop seeing it." The white flowers, brought earlier today, are slowly turning red. He turns his face up to the clouds. He doesn't have to see to know the shade of red painted all over his hands.
He wants to scream until his voice breaks. He wants to dig up the earth until he finds the thing responsible for this and he can break it between his hands. He wants to stop hearing muffled sobbing through the walls and seeing ghosts. He wants to go back home to years and years ago when he could tuck himself under his mother's arm. He wants to fix it all, the broken and rotten system that calls itself order.
Someone comes up behind him, calls his name. He turns, keyblade in hand, and runs them through. Eraqus stares at him in horror and then his face twists with hate. "Murderer," he says through a mouthful of blood. And then he dissolves, as he always would have, into pure light. Xehanort lunges forward, tries to grab a piece; he needs it, he's lost it. He stretches out a hand-.
-and closes it over nothing. The sky is dark above him, the stars hidden by the dust storm quickly closing in. He uncurls his fingers, feeling time tick by.
"Destiny can be so cruel."
The soft clink of old metal grows louder as the winds pick up. Soon everything will be lost to sand and scouring wind. Xehanort casts one more look over the unnamed, but still marked graves. These rusted keyblades have stood for ages and will stand for ages more.
As if he needed more proof.
Xehanort leaves another graveyard full of children. His destiny awaits.
Reblogged shadow-and-purgatory
Young man hooking up with a professor at the magical university, doesn't actually ask what he teaches
Waking up and sleepily following the noise of conversation to find his necromancer hook-up eating a snack and chatting casually to a shelf of glowing green skulls that chatter back
Reblogged butchdykeorpheus
xion but with pants
namine but with another dress
them but girlfriends 🌸🌑
Reblogged corishadowfang
khux week day 2: friendship!
it's been 4 years since brain first showed up in union cross!!! happy birthday to everyone's favorite goth cowboy~ here's how I think his friends would celebrate the occasion