#(it’s pretty obscure I think actually)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

doing chibi is a good design exercise bc it forces u to think on shapes n essential details, essentially thumbnailing ur designs. its also a terrible design exercise bc it ends up looking cute no matter what

[the-way-astray]

"average keefe art is mid" factoid actually just statistical error. average keefe art is good. hollingsworth georg, who hates keefe stans and created some truly godawful art to punish them, is an outlier and should not have been counted

[autisticrosewilson]

First of all, you have given me so much to work with, thank you so much. Second of all, I’m really glad you could see where I was going with Grant’s real test not actually being about killing Slade. Third of all, I absolutely love what you’ve suggested with the powers and I am currently designing met gala esque outfits for the trio and Tara’s specifically is really fun to play around with. I’ve been thinking to show they’re becoming more divine I’ll change their hair and eye colours but not their faces for the most part. I was drawing robin Jason with Natalia and decided he should have brown eyes and a crooked nose from breaking it as a kid but once he returns his eyes get weird (eg go blue and occasionally other colours), a patch of his hair went white and he lost all of his scars. Also, I think the closer they get to divinity I’m gonna draw cracks on their body that glow with their specific colours just to hammer home how they’re shedding their mortal forms.

With Tara being able to see the strings of fate, I though it’d be fun to give her a harp and then with Jason having the see no evil trait I thought it’d be fun to give him weighing scales since lady justice wears a blindfold. Idk what to give Grant though. I mean probably a weapon of some sort or maybe a Shepard’s crook that he can turn into a scythe to play into the sheep, wolf, Hunter thing.

With Jason and Tara’s splintering, I love the idea of them making fun of Grant for being the baby god. He hasn’t even had a cult yet, gosh he’s so young. Also them being besties just holds a special place in my heart.

And I just came up with this, of course they have parallels to the trinity but in universe rumours of their existence have been around much longer than Bruce, Clark and Diana. They’re the big three of the justice league but these guys are justice gods. So they start calling themselves the justice trinity but then people get confused about which trinity is which because the justice leagues’ trinity sounds awfully close to the justice gods’ trinity. The new all caste is certainly more distinctive branding but the point isn’t to be distinctive, it’s to be petty.

I'm so glad my unmedicated rambling helped!!! And I'm so excited for the outfits!!! I love when characters start becoming less and less human, when they're stuck in that uncanny valley spot of not quite human but not entirely Other, when they lose control and the cracks start to show...um I should probably give a warning for slight body horror elements. Not in the gore sense, in the "this body is not made of flesh and there is something divine clawing it's way out". Uh also there are teeth. Just. Teeth. I dipped into a little bit of cosmic horror at the end there because I wanted to cover my bases with mixed mythologies

Jason, with his defined splinters, is usually depicted with three faces in ancient texts. The Child, gaunt and dark colored, is said to appear before the downtrodden and impoverished. The few stories remaining tell of kindly people who give him an offering, and in exchange he reveals his true form, with his crown of golden ivy and beautiful strong wings to gift them bounties of food and water and riches. Other stories tell of not so kind encounters, where The Child witnesses an injustice - typically against women or children - and again reveals his true form, one with clawed hands and a mouth dripping with blood. Scholars argue what the wings looked like, but whichever All-Caste member annotated it before has compared their likeness to either a Robin or a Shrike.

There's also The Ghost, He appears young at first glance, but his hair is wirey and gray, his eyes milky and unseeing, in bloodied armor he greets the souls of the damned as they're delivered to him, and with scarred hands he wipes the tears of children taken too soon. Accounts of this face are few and far between, but all of them are entrenched in sorrow.

Finally there is The Soldier, scarred and still smoking from the ruins of battle he emerges, giving voice to the weak and resources to the needy. He champions revolutionaries and philosophers first, a strategist who delights in the liberation of the people from corrupt systems. Accounts of him usually come from times of famine and war, and he was particularly popular with poor villages, who would mark the graves of their dead with the symbol of his sword as offerings. For some reason or other, he got particularly popular with the youth, girls and boys both seemed to pray for him and leave him offerings.

The way these manifest on Jason is subtle at first. I could go the body horror route, but I won't. Yet. Instead I think his splinters show up as reflections, shadows, imprints. The faint echo of bell-like laughter when Jason does a move he learned as Robin, the image of a younger him with longer hair and unblinking eyes staring at him in the mirror. It gets worse when he gets the blades, the white streaks his hair, the swirling mark covers more of his skin every time he uses them, he trails the scent of smoke and blood behind him like a signature. His scars...they should disappear. They have for everyone else who used the pit, but instead his skin starts cracking. Any place he's ever been scarred glowing cracks break up his skin. He can't feel them, but he's always aware of them, the meaning behind them, the divinity literally leaking through his body. His eyes aren't brown anymore. They aren't even green. He looks in the mirror and they are copper, molten and burning. He tries his best to keep his mask on.

What do you think of when you imagine the word divinity? Probably something like Tara. Something with skin carved from stone, with moss and fungus crawling up her legs and snow laden shoulders. They say her hair is made of swirling clouds and the sun and moon are her eyes.

Some say she's a nymph although no one knows what kind. You're just as likely to see her name among the naiads as the dryads. Whether flowers bloom where she dances or waves crash when she sings, she's known to be more vicious towards suitors than her sisters.

Others have said she's a faerie, who takes the faces of lost daughters and lovers, slipping into their places seamlessly, forcing unruly men to pay their dues. Others say she's a shifter of a different sort, with a shawl of feathers and a crown of twine and gems. Stories range from men trying to steal her coat (and paying dearly) to lost children returned safely home on the back of a swan.

Tara doesn't think about it at first, the way gravity tends to cede to her, she doesn't notice how sunflowers turn their faces towards her instead of the sun. She doesn't notice the way her face...shifts. it's imperceptible really, and it's not like she looks in the mirror all that often. But everyone around her notices it, on some level, the way her expressions are off. A little too exaggerated. The way her limbs bend just a little too oddly. The way she never looks quite the same as she did the day before, the way she picks up features from the people around her the way she picks up rocks from ground to add to her collection. Clay molded subtly into the image of those she loves, a museum of everyone she's ever met. She does notice when her hair starts going white at the ends, the strange way her hair starts to curl unnaturally, almost floating. She's not so upset about her eyes, the deep blue of her father that has glared down at her day after day, she has changed her hair, her face, her language but she could not change her eyes. It seems she didn't have to, when she wakes up with one a little too silver to be gray and one a little too gold to be brown. And then her skin starts splitting, a cavern made from a broken rib and ravines made by the slashing of knives. She doesn't even bleed anymore, they never scab over. They crystallize, amber like ambrosia, like ichor. Her body a geode waiting to be cracked open to let the thing within finally break free.

They know the least about Grant, whatever he used to be. Half written scrolls, torn or burnt or simply stopped abruptly, illegible journal entries with symbols never recorded in any known language, half finished sketches where the details are never quite clear. A few things are usually consistent though, signs that he's been there, usually from hunters down on their luck or the particularly old and sickly. First, the howling. Like a wolf or a storm, although later accounts would add that it occasionally sounds like a mechanical whirring. Then the rabbits, dead and gutted, but not a trace of blood. Piles of them left in heaps on doorsteps or windowsills. Some have reported knocking at strange hours or finding teeth in their homes, a mix of human and animal. There is one photo on record, the most recent thing in the archive most likely, of claw marks on the side of a barn, too big and oddly serrated, certainly not from anything native to the area. Elderly that report these phenomena typically pass from heart problems within the week, according to some of the old medical files.

Grant came back wrong. Physically, at least. He knows that he's still himself for the most part, dying didn't make him a selfish asshole he did that all on his own, but...but something is wrong with him. It's the way lightbulbs flicker when he's mad and how cameras, no matter the quality, never quite get a clear shot of him. The way Joey can't ever grasp his features, not fully, the details slipping from his mind like water. The way eyes on his face slide right past, unable to look directly at him. It's in the gray spreading from his roots and his eyes too wide and dark to belong to something human. It's the way death clings to him like a second skin, sickly and pallid turning the tips of his fingers gray. His teeth are starting to feel too sharp for his mouth, and he hears things no one else does, whispers of voices that Are Not and Can't Be. The worst part is the orange, liquid candlelight under his skin, lighting up all of his veins and scars, webbing together like the world's worst game of connect the dots. No, there is no mistaking him for something human, so there is no reason to try. If this is his fate then he will take it, because he is not a sheep and he will not be a wolf, he is a hunter, and he is hungry.

[wonder-worker]

Any judgement on (Richard III)’s reign has to be seen as provisional. The critic of the reign only has to consider how the Tudors would now be regarded if Henry VII lost at Stoke, to realize the dangers of too many assumptions about the intractability of Richard’s problems. But it would be equally unrealistic to ignore Richard’s unpopularity altogether. The fact that he generated opposition among men with little material reason for dissent, and that the disaffection then continued to spread among his own associates, says something about what contemporaries regarded as the acceptable parameters of political behaviour. There is no doubt that Richard’s deposition of his nephews was profoundly shocking. To anyone who did not accept the pre-contract story, which was probably the majority of observers, the usurpation was an act of disloyalty. Gloucester, both as uncle and protector, was bound to uphold his nephew’s interests and his failure to do so was dishonourable. Of all medieval depositions, it was the only one which, with whatever justification, could most easily be seen as an act of naked self-aggrandizement.

It was also the first pre-emptive deposition in English history. This raised enormous problems. Deposition was always a last resort, even when it could be justified by the manifest failings of a corrupt or ineffective regime. How could one sanction its use as a first resort, to remove a king who had not only not done [nothing] wrong but had not yet done anything at all?

-Rosemary Horrox, Richard III: A Study of Service

[anothermonikan]

There’s this TikTok account who’s whole gimmick is like, posting DDLC facts everyday until there’s a ‘new DDLC game’, and people are so mean about the technicalities of that in the comments, they’ve explained countless time that they mean Project Libitina, and they still keep getting comments by people who think they’re being smart by pointing out that there’s not gonna be another DDLC game, like. They are having fun posting about a media they like. And also people are like ‘Your gonna run out of facts DDLC isn’t a big game’ which I’m like. Wrong. X. Buzzer. I still learn new things about DDLC and I’ve been an active fan of the game since December 2017

[anghraine]

I was backing up some old Tumblr posts, and ran over one that was babbling excitedly about the original Divinity: Original Sin and what an interesting job Larian (whom I otherwise didn't know) had done with it and how fun it was.

And not to be all "I liked them before it was cool," but it was kind of heartwarming to read something from before I had any idea what was coming down the pipe with D:OS2 and BG3.

[nomairuins]

had 2 take a break 2 think abt a different one of my princesses. back 2 it

[xmcu-fietro]

possibly a hot take, but if Charles (particularly First Class “I’m going to drink and party all night in-between writing/defending my dissertation for my PhD” era Charles) appeared alongside any other characters, he’d come across as the Matt Murdock of the group—the lawful, good-hearted but chaotic and somewhat unhinged guy who cares more about others than his own safety—but because he’s surrounded by Erik and Raven at all times, he comes across as the only sane one in the group

[casual-eumetazoa]

I’m having surgery on Monday (it’s elective and I’m very glad to be having it) which means I will spend all of next week and possibly more laying in bed and doing nothing. 

Therefore I am collecting suggestions for TV shows, YT video essays, YT videos in general, and podcasts (fiction and non-fiction). Sci-fi and horror are my go-to genres for everything fiction. For video essays / podcasts: science and literature are my preferred topics but I am willing to watch 10 hours of someone talking about, idk, competitive dog grooming or 17th century Hungarian folklore if the essayist really cares about it. Though I am kind of tired of super political/depressing/heavy topic video essays tbh. Not in fiction! In horror, I go as hardcore as it gets.

So yeah, if anyone has suggestions, please throw them at me. Not taking recommendations for books cause my TBR is 47 positions long :) And it terms of games I’ve been playing nothing but Hollow Knight for the last 2 months and I don’t see that changing any time soon. 

[cakesdown]

i have to become the ceo of kimblee because 90% of his subfandom makes me clutch my pearls and scream in fear. literally i only trust my f/ma friends with him. unfortunately im too lazy to put in the work cant i just telepathically project it

[citrus-cactus]

My red-hot, totally-still-relevant Digimon take for the day is that Kizuna TOTALLY missed an opportunity to use Offenbach’s “Le Papillon” as a motif during the battle scenes and that's a real shame, because a) classical music in Digimon whips ass, and b) there is one section of the score (Act 2, Scene 1, Part 3) that would have been perfect for this purpose.

[genreawareness]

THAT GUY WROTE FUCKING NOTTING HILL AND LOVE ACTUALLY?

[kurthorton-moving]

i want to play my stupid little horror game but im so sleepy

[royalreef]

@howljock​ inquired: Head Canon  + insecurity Headcanons - Accepting

(( Miranda kind of fundamentally hates herself.

It’s not like she lets anyone know or wears it on her sleeve. After all, she’s still a princess and still with an ego to match, so if you asked her, she wouldn’t describe herself in those terms. Miranda doesn’t even think of herself as the type of person who hates herself, and never uses those terms with herself unless she’s deep into a particularly bad episode. If anything, Miranda refers to herself and thinks of herself in terms of grandeur, constructs the image of herself as self-aggrandizing and perfect in all ways.

In fact, all of this thought of herself as someone who is perfect and great and flawless is what enables her self-hatred, or even becomes just another aspect of it. She acts differently than how she actually, concretely feels about herself, because doing so allows her to ignore and hide how deeply dissatisfied she is with herself. She doesn’t have to interact with nor acknowledge how actually upset she is at being who she is, if she simply convinces herself that it’s not there, and even pointing out the existence of that self-hatred is making it true.

Very simply, Miranda’s self-aggrandizing is what she thinks she should be. She should be a perfect, flawless princess, she should be confident in herself and assured in all that she does. She should have all of this power and self-worth and be wholly unchallenged in that. One single flaw in that image, one single moment of her being revealed to not be that kind of person, and it sets off a cascade where none of it is true. She will not reveal that she doesn’t like herself or even despises herself, because that alone validates all of her self-hatred and sends her back into a spiral.

She hates that about herself. She hates that she’s not living up to her own potential, she hates that she has flaws that can be exploited and exist at all, she hates that she’s not who she says she is and who she’s desperately convincing herself that she is. Everything about Miranda both is and isn’t an insecurity, because they are insecurities so deep and painful that she’ll refuse to engage with them at all. If other people think she has ego problems, if she thinks she has a big ego, then it’ll have to come true.

Miranda is a person who is constantly putting on an act in every regard in her life, because simply being in any way that is not wholly what people expect to see is dangerous and potentially lethal to her. She cannot reveal her true intentions, she cannot tell the whole truth, she cannot let someone see who she really is, because that’s not the nature of the play she’s been born to act within. If one thing falls, everything else does as well.

This combines badly with her life on land. She cannot tell someone that walking around bipedally so much hurts her, because that would promise that she can be hurt. She cannot tell someone that she feels like a perpetual outsider amongst even her own friends, because then she would be an outsider. She cannot let anyone know that she feels deeply dissatisfied with her own life, because that would mean that there’s something wrong going on. To look it in the eye is to make it real, even if it’s a fairly simple and fixable issue. It cannot be a simple problem, because Miranda is not supposed to have simple problems. She would sooner sit in the flames and be consumed by them than to acknowledge their existence and all that they’ve destroyed. Pain is easy, but exposure is unthinkable.

Miranda can’t tell people how much she hates herself, or doesn’t want to live the life she’s supposed to have, or doesn’t want the body she was born into, because then it’s real. If she acts like she’s madly in love with herself, and willingly chose this life for herself, and that everything about her is the epitome of perfection, then it becomes closer to the truth, or at least prevents anything else from being real.

In truth, Miranda’s a bundle of insecurities and fears, yet acts like she’s everything but. If she can convince herself of this, then she can convince the world, and that’s basically the same thing as it being true.

[floorpancakes]

i do actually tweet about other things but lately ive just posted all my holic thoughts here. not out of shame i just need the space. everyone over on tweeter knows im an embarrassing holicinator over there already LMAOO