#(not a full au just thoughts <3)< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[hinamie]

siren!megumi concept sheet i whipped up in a single-minded fever state fr @uriekukistan

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Master manipulator vs Master manipulator

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[couch-house]

Fleebay Beepo playlist! [youtube link] [zip link]

it's been foreverrr since i finished a character playlist--i missed doing this! tracklist and director's commentary under the cut teehee :)

if you disagree with any of my choices, just remember: 1) this is my playlist for me to listen to made of songs I like for me 2) you just don't see my vision 3) you don't know him like i do 4) make your own so i can disagree with yours too.

WDKYWMYAK -- Rabbit junk

This is a Killing Game After All -- Gadgetor

chance bought this cd from the comic store. i think the album is Doom-inspired? pretty cool! check it out! anyway this first section is pretty obviously all violence killing and maiming etc

3. All Futures -- The Armed

4. Bears -- Mass of the Fermenting Dregs

5. You Know What You Are -- Ministry

6. 1969 -- Boards of Canada

we're coming down out of the chaotic songs into some confusion for the amnesia arc, starting with ministry and boards of canada. 7 references an unwilling change of the self, and just fits the vibe right now. 8... should be obvious lol.

7. Long Road Home -- Oneohtrix Point Never

8. I Don't Remember -- Peter Gabriel

9. Come Back June -- Pussy

sorry i heard a psychedelic rock song that starts with a big cat meow and blacked out. EBONY MOMENT!!! this and the next couple songs are again more about contributing to the Feeling of the groovy train than a direct relation to the lyrics. though 10 can be justified by the fact he's british.

10. Hey, Mister Sun -- Bobby Sherman

11. Baby All the Time -- Julien Love (NOTE: NOT IN YT PLAYLIST)

12. Handlebars -- Flobots

i didn't think i would end up keeping this song when i threw it on here but it just... works really well structurally. sigh... okay well it kind of works thematically. we're moving into some merger au territory at this point, which is my way as a fan to give fleet more of a self-actualization arc. establish his own identity, make friends, accept his existence a bit more. 13 is again more focused on the caring environment of groovy train (and the idea that this won't last forever) but we'll come back around to merger in a second.

13. Cursis Melodías -- Natalia Lafourcade

14. Flagiolletes -- Billy Mahonie

15. Wake Up To Be You -- The Aesthetics

i'm so obsessed with this as a song from fleet to sonic. esp focused on the idea of fleet being the trauma dump that everyone wants dead and sonic being the one who gets to keep their friends. another lucky cd find--this time thrifted. this band still has their old website up--you can contact them if you'd like to get ahold of your own copy!

16. Every Home a Prison ft. Jello Biafra -- DJ Coldcut (Inevitable Alien Nation mix)

i'm in love with this song. we're back in merger au btw. fleet is now a goddamn hooligan in the street (teenager socializing outside with his friends).

17. Default -- Django Django

we're getting to the end of his life! canon, not au. once again on the idea of fleet (dying, cringe) being a comparative failure. the next two songs are our big explosive end! 18 is another band i found from a thrifted cd. lucky!

18. Werewolf -- Progger

19. light speed drift ft Kasane Teto + Adachi Rei -- frog96

the end! thanks for listening! ^_^ as a treat, YOU get to see the special bonus track: The Adventures of Little White Baby -- No Soap, Radio.

[anxiously-sidequesting]

I personally love and obsess over disillusioned and self-isolating protagonists which is one of the reasons why I advocate for a Young Wizard who just leans so much into their role as the Savior that they're now just this broken down individual who now genuinely shares everyone's fears and legends of them of being this Ultra Powerful, Non-Human, Above-All-The-Peasants Legend Amongst Men. Being picked apart and analyzed (INCORRECTLY might I add) by strangers and people who fear/hate/revere you, no matter where you go or what you do, over and over and OVER it just literally whittles away at who you used to be, what used to make you happy and now you're replaced with what everyone made you into. Not You, but a Hero.

But you know what's even better 😈😈😈 a wizard who cracks in a different way and is now just baaaareeely holding it together. A wizard who just is not All There anymore. A wizard who's Good Maybe, but someone who genuinely gives you a GOOD REASON to fear a switch in allegiance. Someone who reminds you that your entire life depends on their mood

Give me Harley Quinn YW, give me a YW who cackles and shrieks in joy as they batter the evil to the ground, give me a YW who pushes at the very edge of the EXTREMES even when they don't need to. I want a YW who doesn't carry around a gleaming sword, or a mystical staff, but a bat with nails studded inside or a rusty machete; I want poems and songs of not a Hero but a wolf in sheep's clothing who just barely gets by in masquerading as the Commoners. An unhinged YW is the second to best Bad Ending you could ever get from this situation and I want everyone to think about this actually

[dukeofthomas]

When I want to think about a happy Jason I think about my Never Robin AU... He's still adopted by Bruce, but just never becomes a Robin, and therefore never dies either. He purposefully keeps out of the Caped community, and is going to college. And because he was never put into the Lazarus Pit, he never got big, so he's like, 5'1 at most. Someone asks if he wants to be a vigilante/hero like the rest of his family and he goes "ew why would I 🤨"

[quirkle2]

who wants zombie au writing. don't answer that ur getting it anyway (1.6k words)

His shoes knock against the old flooring of the house, wood creaking under rubber soles that slide over the woodgrain. He drags them a bit, lifts his limbs up no more than he strictly has to, and they lead him to the nearest sittable surface.

The couch is old and dusty and has likely gone untouched for months, much like everything else nowadays, so he watches the thin cloud of dust billow off the cushions largely with disinterest. He collapses into the fabric heavily, feels the whole thing scoot back an inch and hit the wall behind him. The sound echoes, carried by lifeless rooms, while he unceremoniously drops his backpack to the floor by his feet.

The breath he lets out is slow and methodical and born of pent up muscles, aimed at the ceiling where he rests his neck against the back of the couch and relaxes every limb one by one. It’s a process he forces himself through, if only to rid the constant ache beneath his skin.

Slow, sweeping footsteps meander around the room in front of him, and Ritsu angles his gaze down from his craned back position to look at his brother. He wanders, like he so often does—seemingly aimless, but there’s something procedural about it that he’s convinced he just hasn’t figured out yet.

Shigeo’s empty eyes crawl along the hearth of the fireplace, explosions of ash sprayed out across the red brick. His head tilts up to trace his attention around the angular lines of the television, hung on the wall and screen grey with dust. He flits back and forth between the roundness of the bricked mantle and the sharp edges of the screen, like he’s taking notes.

Shigeo paws the television. Four lines of muck are cleared. The zombie blinks, paws at it again with dusty, curious fingers. Ritsu watches him make a mess of the television screen in silence, blinking tiredly.

He almost closes his eyes, but he fights against the urge and moves his fingers down his lap to reach for his bag. His middle hooks around the loop at the top and he lugs it up and into his lap, where he unzips it and peers into the shadowy contents.

Ritsu fishes out the water bottles. He finds the one with the messy R scribbled along the cap in sharpie and takes a big swig of it. It’s warm going down, constantly insulated in a bag of old, sweaty clothes. He feels like he can taste the odor in it, but it clears the grain in his throat from stomping all over dirt roads today, so he’s still grateful.

He holds out the one labeled S to Shigeo. “Thirsty?”

Shigeo looks at him from where he’s crouched down to the floor now, inspecting the soot along the hearth. Unfortunately, he sees handprints in the black already, and when his brother reaches a hand out to take it, his palm is covered in soot.

He lets him have his fun and settles his own bottle back in the mess of tangled clothes and rolls of bandages. Ritsu rakes his fingers through their stock with no real purpose—he knows exactly what’s in here, and none of it is useful.

They’d been searching all day; Ritsu doesn’t really know how far they’d walked, but it had to be a lot of miles. In and out of stores, up and down empty houses, weaving between warehouses—they didn’t really stop for a break. Not when Ritsu can hear Shigeo’s stomach from here and he himself has shaking hands. They can’t afford a break.

Nothing, though. Not a single goddamn thing worth taking. A settlement must have come through here long ago and swept the highway. They’re in the countryside, where houses are spaced out acres from each other and there’s entire cow pastures between properties. And yet every house they’d seen and entered provided nothing.

Ritsu stares into the negative space in his bag where there should be supplies. His stomach cramps and if he smells another whiff of that godawful sweaty, bloody sweatshirt he still carries, he’s going to throw up bile.

He leans away from the open pouch, eyes wandering to his brother who draws… something into the soot of the hearth. His water bottle sits on the floor, abandoned and still unscrewed. Ritsu leans forward with great effort and a grunt, leaning over his bag to grab at the top of it.

It takes him two tries to get Shigeo’s attention, and one more for an answer on where the cap is. It’s then placed in his palm, covered in soot and also saliva. Ritsu swallows down the nausea that rolls up his throat and wipes it off with his frankly already disgusting sleeve, and screws it back on.

He leans back again, succumbing to the urge to let his eyes rest, and he listens to the very subtle swipe of his brother’s hands across brick. There’s birds outside, chirping, and even though it’s still very much a common occurrence, Ritsu cannot help but feel nostalgic about it.

If he ignores the awful hum of silence, and the distinct lack of an electric thrum throughout the walls, and the fact that this is a stranger’s couch and not his, he can almost imagine normalcy. He can almost say this feels like those quiet moments after school, when he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone in a house that only holds him and his brother because their parents simply aren’t home yet.

He can almost hear the creak of wood from Shigeo walking around his room upstairs. He can almost tap his fingers on the couch cushions to the pattern of his brother making his way down the steps. He can almost hear the fridge opening, and the sound of milk being poured into glass.

Almost. But Ritsu listens to sharp silence instead, and he tries not to think too hard.

He drifts for a while, feels himself truly sink into the couch and let the cushions claim him, and he thinks about nothings because if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose it. He carefully sifts through the nothingness of his mind, through the passing thoughts that have no bearing, and he focuses on that, on the lack of substance. His head is too full of things that have too much substance.

He misses boredom. He tells himself he misses boredom—the complete insubstantiality of it���because if he lets himself think of what he really misses, it’ll drive him insane.

The cushions move, and Ritsu peels his eyes open and lets himself get pulled from liminal mindspace. The cotton in his head recedes, and he blinks, and then he’s swiveling his head to look at his brother who sits in the cushion right next to him.

His hands and the cuffs of his hoodie are smothered in black. Shigeo sits hunched, gaze still wandering even when there’s not much decoration in this house to look at. He studies the off-white walls, the chips in the paint, the holes drilled in where there maybe used to be photos hung.

Ritsu gazes at him quietly, chest instinctively rising and falling to match his brother’s rhythm. He watches the expansion there, under his hoodie, in the subtlety of the folds and the way they warp over the movement. It’s slightly quicker than what he’s used to, but Ritsu knows his brother’s heart rate is much slower. He’s felt it before. He’s listened to it before, with his ear against a chest.

Ritsu’s attention moves to his eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them, and the paleness of his pupils and the ghostlight of him underneath that. He stares into them, looks for stray, familiar thoughts that might enter his head. Looks for old memories that might shine through in the form of recognition when he sees furniture layouts, and candy wrappers, and ads for soda.

Ritsu looks for it all the time, that glint of familiarity. And he finds it, sometimes. And really, he thinks that’s keeping him going more than food ever will.

Shigeo turns his head, and looks at him. Sometimes, when his brother looks at him, there’s not much there. No substance, no anything. And Ritsu finds it a bit evil that he craves silence in his own head, and yet noise in Shigeo’s, and often times it is the other way around.

His brother looks at him now, though, with that comforting recognition. That growth of the pupils, that softening of the hard edges of his face where unknown stressors have gotten to him. Ritsu wonders what zombies get stressed out. He figures it’s the same deal with humans, considering they’re largely alike.

Ritsu wonders if Shigeo knows he’s sick. He wishes he could ask him. He wishes for a lot of things. Silence in his own head is one of them.

Ritsu swivels his head away and stares at the ceiling, if only to force the thoughts to pause. He studies the popcorn ridges above them, traces the peaks with his gaze. It calms him, gives him something to focus on. He looks for patterns in the shadows they make.

Shigeo shifts next to him. And then he shimmies down, settles into the cushions, and plops his head right down on Ritsu’s shoulder.

Static roars in his mind and his heart stammers. Ritsu swallows the lump in his throat but that just makes it bigger, so he clamps his mouth shut and breathes carefully through his nose.

The tears cut through the grime on his face. He plops his own head down against his brother’s, and lives in the noise.

[maddieandangel]

Had a weird Hollow Knight-related dream a couple days ago, so I decided to draw a major scene I remembered from it dgsgshf

More context will be in the tags, for those interested!

[skitskatdacat63]

And here is the bull himself >:)

+ lore notes

I was like, ah I should make the shadow something interesting, and then I'm like GIVE HIM BULL HORNS???? OKAY SURE !!!!! I'm glad such thoughts can strike at 7 in the morning....thanks brain. But hehehe I'm glad bcs now this matches up super well with the Nando one!

New ship dynamic: who's the bull and who's the matador :)

I think, in this AU, Fernando is generally pretty fond of Seb when he first meets him. Like "ah yes my very own protégé, very nice, I shall mold him in my image." But then Seb starts veering off that course. Bullfighting is all about being dramatic, but Seb maybe has a bit too much(🤏) flair for the dramatic. This escalation starts while he's still Fernando's assistant but he keeps it generally at bay. But god when he becomes a matador himself, he's just off the rails insane.

Bullfighting, to me, is a sport about reckless endangerment of one's self in the pursuit of drama and performance(its literally described as a tragedy in three acts.) But Fernando thinks Seb endangers himself *too* much, not because he cares or anything, but he's making a mockery of the sport!! Especially when Seb starts doing that bull hand symbol(seen above), Fernando just keeps become more enraged with him, not anything to do with the fact that Seb is threatening his records and threatening his own wellbeing, nah of course not.

Seb's gesture is making a mockery of the sport, he's disrespecting the culture, the very nature of it, blah blah blah. Jenson once asks Fernando, after noticing him seething while watching Seb do his gesture, "Which bull are you really trying to defeat?" One could also describe Fernando and Seb's relationship as a "tragedy with three acts."

Anyways Fernando gets very tied up with this rivalry. Even after suffering a severe injury(I have yet to decide, but y'know mchonda electrocution core), he quickly returns to the sport, loath to let Seb get any more headway. And then Seb gets injured, poor little sweet Seb, and neither of them can handle it. Though I already covered this in my prev lore post 🤭 and I think I put it pretty viscerally there so!! I digress.

They're both matadors, but the bull itself is not the only bull Fernando wants to conquer. Conquer as in death? Hm.

[pyrriax]

[baylardian-1]

Some more cringe baby stuff as I emerge from my tiny little hiatus lmao.

Top one was just a silly little hypothetical of like,,,,, the idea being that Kathryn and Chakotay would hold off on wanting to know what their baby is gonna be and look like. I think it’d be slightly more exciting for them to wait ‘cause of the blend of normal and hyper-evolved human DNA and all that haha. But I think because Kathryn would so frequently have to be in sickbay because of the weird gestational issues that they’d eventually find out before the baby’s born. I think Kathryn would be in denial of the tail lol like SURELY the weird and constant fluttering she’s feeling is just baby kicks riiiiiiiiiiiight.

And then I was just having fun with the nesting instincts idea again hahaha. Lowkey-delirious sleepy tired Kathryn making her baby a lil nest to lay in when he’s born so he’s all situated and comfortable like a lizard baby. :3 Is she fully aware that she’s doing it and that it’s kinda weird for her to be making a nest out of her and Chakotay’s clothes? Prooobably not haha. Actually drawing Liam in it though hehe. He’d just flop and roll around in there he’s SECURE so the nest does what she made it to do and I’m sure a part of her (while embarrassed) is proud of it. :)

[b3ast0fburd3n]

Passed half my GED so ofc im thinking about my muses in college

Suri would be one of those art majors that's basically stoned all the time and seems like an airhead until you see her test scores

Elias would go to culinary school slightly later than everyone else. He'd have to go back and get his GED first but then he'd be a very diligent student and refuse to party/stay up late or any of that.

Charlie. Ugh he would be a TA but the WORST kind of TA where he grades papers as if he were the teacher and writes mean notes (just about the work itself but he's definitely had to scratch out "dumbass"). He's a holier-than-thou asshole in every universe lol

Hayes in college? Like, for what? He's that older freak that haunts campus in search of college girls

And Eden uhh. Maybe art tbh, like sculpting? Her preferred method will always be carving, but I can totally see her sculpting a clay bust of that biker she can't stop running into (it's Vaas and he didn't go to college)

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

having made a handful of like. 0 line background characters to fill space in the nhw tidalwave fic I have since been thinking about just like... easter eggs to stick in the bg of the au just for funsies . I love doing this sm

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

It's the 6 month anniversary of this blog! Check out these cool bugs I found.

(EDIT: Check out this amazing fanart by thecornermushroom!)

Part 2 - Part 3

[honestlyvan]

Seven Deadly Sins Xenoblade 3 Edition

PRIDE — Juniper: Do Tradition to Death (It's alright, we support trans wrongs.)

GREED — Alexandria: gotta be the very best, like no-one ever was

ENVY — Teach: can't live with your fuckups? simply become different person

LUST — Valdi: Hyperfixation go ✨brrrrrrr✨

SLOTH — Fiona: Do nothing! Deliberate on your problems forever and tell nobody as they get progressively worse!

GLUTTONY — Ashera: pick a fight. pick every fight. the world is your bloody oyster.

WRATH — Isurd: Bottle those feelings up, professionals don't play with fire

[liathgray]

I just finished reading everything about the Green Screen AU. Do you have any other headcannons for this AU? How does Lou Jistu handle telling his kids the truth about where they come from?

He doesn't tell them for... a long time.

Because honestly he was very, very scared. The mystic city was the crux of a lot of his traumatic experiences. He'd be essentially held captive for 10+ years in the mystic city, escaped, and then subsequently shoved into parenthood. Parenthood, might I add, for children he had no idea how to care for and had to wrestle with the thought that Draxum or Big Mama might come looking for them. The idea of his kids experiencing, or even knowing about what he went through there makes him wanna do a tuck and roll out the nearest window and scream for an hour. Absolutely fucking not <3 they shall live in epic blissful ignorance

He doesn't tell them a thing about where they're from because, even if he's new to parenting, he knows this about kids: they're curious. If they know about the city they'll look for it. So, almost comically, he tells them that they're super special beings--ones from mythology and folklore that people think are fake, but are clearly real! They didn't come from anywhere, they just are. He doesn't use the word Yōkai often, but as far as they know, thats what they are.

[fisherrprince]

thinking about motorcity dandelions again