#YOU GOTTA TELL ME
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hotdogmchiggin · 1 year ago
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Motherfuckers stole my hearts cant have shit in hyrule
Glad we all seem to be united in the shared experience of being pantsed by these guys with nothing but four hearts and three sticks we found on the ground
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burnshope · 1 year ago
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this is a starter call specifically for mackenzie / arkham. if you are a multi specify who for. interactions will default to his main verse where he is tied to satan, unless stated or seen otherwise.
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hoodiehydra · 2 years ago
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Saw a prev post about drawing someone with wings and they ain’t attached to the body.
HOLD UP-
*stares at Cypress* WHAT OTHER SECRETS HAVE YOU BEEN HIDING FROM ME
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fallencelsetial · 27 days ago
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………..
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thebrainrotsreal · 9 days ago
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Drew this real quick because I fucking love these two so much ???? Especially Bee. I wish they interacted more so badly. PLEASE.
Also learning how to draw these guys.. slowly.
#IT WILL NEVER NOT BE FUNNY TO ME HOW DELIGHTED B GOT ??? FOR VIOLENCE?#the brainrotsreal's art tag ✧˖°:*♡#like okay you have d17/megatron okay#d17 got consumed by vengeance. iconic of him. you SEE him grow more ruthless/ violent........AND THEN YOU HAVE B 127#he got knife hands for 0.00937 seconds and immediately KILLED PEOPLE SO EASILY IM SCREAMING SDJKJSDS#did by accident and then did it gleefully. AND SO WELL TOO LIKE ???? bro got that hunger for violence ig. got that delight.#i wish we got to see d17 and b127 interact more cause imagine b got his knife hands early and d17 was like.... alright start stabbing#and b127 is LONELY. mf is deprived of interaction and CLEARLY clingy. i see him telling d17 to stand down so he isn't hurt.#not necessarily because he has the SAME morals as orion/optimus#like look me in my eye. tell me if d17 didn't say something like “needing an ally not a leader” (friendship bait)#AND UR TELLING ME BEE WOULDN'T FOLD AND HELP HIM? HM? HMMMMMMMM?#like i feel like b's morals are mostly match whoever he's around. if he was around d-17 more? WELP? let's assassinate together bestie!#anyways optimus and elita gotta watch b fr cause mf is already an incredible ally on the battle field SDKJKDSS#like just tell him where to go and that place would DESTROYED. NO WITNESSEES LEFT. LIKE HELLO#transformers one my beloved#d 16#megatron#tf one#tf one megatron#tf one b 127#b 127#transformers one fanart#never know how many actual tags to use istg.#imagine being isolated for years and all that shit went down like what is going on in b's brain rn. mf got 3 friends and then lost one#SO QUICKLY
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Part 2/2
By the time Stanley had realized he wasn't as alone as he believed himself to be entrapped in this ravenous abyss; he had honestly begun to suspect that he was finally starting to properly lose his mind.
In all the ceaseless miles that Stanley had journeyed during his apparent permanent residence within the dark devouring void, not once had he encountered another conscious, walking, talking being similar to himself. Every other formerly living creature that he had crossed paths with had been so... silent. Empty. Dead, in every sense of the word. It was as though the very essence of life itself had been sucked out of their bodies with a straw, their forms slowly falling apart piece by piece under the vicious gluttony of the darkness that surrounded them. They looked like they actually were supposed to be there, unmoving and comatose, unlike him.
So, when Stanley first began to encounter the twins, all of a sudden, he wasn't the only one in the dark.
When meeting the first pair of them, he found himself standing in a lake.
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He hadn't even noticed the changes at first. It felt as though he had been walking for weeks on end, his body moving purely on autopilot and his aching legs leading him towards a destination only it knew. A thick fog of forgetfulness and flickering memories had descended upon his brain like a heavy blanket of numbing static as he had traveled. In this absentminded state, he hadn't even realized that the ever-present undulating, buzzing darkness surrounding him had begun to gradually shift and morph to form a horizon line; stretching into tall looming cliffsides that almost seemed to close in on him. Once the nonexistent floor beneath his soles abruptly began to ripple and warp, like the disturbed surface of a shallow puddle; only then did he finally notice his transformed environment.
The transition was seamless, almost dream-like. One moment, he was still surrounded by that filthy, overwhelming abyss; and the next, his boots were suddenly plunged deep into the cold, dark lake water.
The silence didn't leave, however. It still choked and stuffed its way into Stanley's ears to clog up his mind with thick cotton; the eerie quiet not quite matching the calm, almost serene scenery the void seemed to have abruptly transformed itself into. Like a movie with its sound cut off; leaving only the unsettling hum of the projector to fill the empty air.
It was odd. The lake was surely incredibly deep. He could obviously tell from how thin and pathetically small the shores appeared all the way from where he now unceremoniously stood in the middle of the lake. Stan could look down and see the darkness below his feet swallow what meager light that managed to break through the murky waters. The overwhelming black almost seemed to beckon him, gaping and haunting; a bottomless underwater pit of pitch black that never seemed to end.
And yet, he didn't sink. Stanley remained perfectly level, the almost ink like waters stopping just at ankle level, as though he were held up just above the surface by some invisible force. Even the writhing waves seemed small and low, as though the waters were shy to climb up his legs further than that. It was odd, so very odd.
However, it wasn't nowhere near as odd as the sight that greeted him when he finally lifted his eyes from the waters.
Stanley had crossed paths with truly unbelievable sights in this strange somewhere; from bursting, collapsing stars; to the imploding heat death of entire universes, but none of them seemed to hold the candle to what he saw then when he lifted his eyes:
Children.
Two, to be exact. Two, nearly identical looking children stood motionless before him; completely soaked through to the bone as though they had taken a plunge into the frigid water that pooled around their ankles. It was a girl and a boy, both adorned with twin expressions utterly devoid of emotion, their wide eyed stare seeming to burn holes into his thin jacket. Their drenched clothes sagged off of their scrawny frames; thin rivulets of water dirpping off of them and disturbing the glassy surface of the water at their feet. The little girl's hair had messily stuck to her face in thin sodden strands, her cheeks still full and round with youth just like the boy's. They looked young. Too young to be in a place such as this.
Oh, but their eyes; their eyes.
They burned with such anger; such injustice, brighter than any dying star or galaxies he had ever seen. Anger towards the world, to fate, to whatever cruel deity that had deemed them fit to be sent to this wretched place so prematurely. They were too young to be here; to be entrapped like he was amongst this hungry darkness. And yet, here they were, sheer denial against their own untimely deaths being the only thing keeping them awake and conscious amongst the dead and rotting. A show of juvenile defiance to nature itself so vehement even the all-consumign darkness seemed hesitant to devour them whole just yet.
It saddened him. It saddened him to know that they belonged there, that they were supposed to be there. He could see it, he could feel it; they were dead. No amount of determination could deny that universal fact.
When they spoke, Stanley could hear anger:
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Stan chuckled in a futile attempt to lighten the suddenly heavy atmosphere that threatened to crush him whole. "A lake monster? You kids and your imagination," he teased, hoping to somehow rid the poor kids of the haunted look that seemed to whirl in their glares. No child should have been burdened with such a knowing look; such eyes that looked like they had seen everything there was to see about the world, the horrid and the good.
Clearly, it had been the wrong thing to say, and Stanley's faux pas was rewarded with a scowl from the little boy. A world's worth of sour contempt etched into every contorted groove that his grimace seemed to dig into his much too young face. Stan suddenly felt guilt squeeze at his weary bones for having caused that.
"That's what they all said," the boy spat out, eyes shining with a sheen of wetness Stan wasn't sure he was prepared to deal with.
Stan left that first interaction with the twins with the feeling of guilt and sorrow still clining to him.
He couldn't have known, at the time. He couldn't have known that this wouldn't be anywhere near the last time that he would meet the pair. He hadn't realised just how many of them there were. After that first pair, his endless journeying within the Abyss was hardly be spent alone anymore. Countless more times, he came face to face with the exact same two young and impossibly worn faces; forced to meet one pair of beaten and bruised kids after another.
Not one pair had died the same death as another. Some had gotten lost, prey to whatever threat that had snatched them up out in the open; some had fallen from high up; some had been crushed under an incredible weight; some had burned; some eaten alive; some zombified. Some didn't even seem physically harmed at all, body perfectly intact, and yet that same faraway, distrubed look in their eyes remained.
He thought the worst ones were the ones he found alone. A little girl or a little boy, left all lonesome without their other half there. Twins, he remembered a pair of them telling him once.
Once, he had come across a town full of silent, stone statues. It was a rustic, shabby, almost nostalgic looking town- odd and strangely familiar. The sight of it had tugged at an aged memory that had long since wasted away in the back of his mind. It was serene, almost deceptively so. The sun shone; the air smelled crisp and fresh; numerous waterfalls continued to crash down from the tall cliffsides; and a soft nonexistent breeze whistled through the thicket of pine trees that blanketed the outskirts of the town. None of it seemed to match the gruesome scene of the hundred wailing statues that littered every inch of the town.
He had found the boy's statue on the other side of town, deep within the green forest and toppled over the gnarled roots of a towering tree. Like the rest of the townsfolk, he too, was frozen mid-shriek; his stone face twisted and contorted into a mock impression of a silent scream as his body lay paused in a writhing struggle. He made sure to be gentle when he carried the boy's statue over to place it beside the girl's, whose statue stood far deeper into the forest, sporting the same rictus grimace of terror as her brother's. It somehow felt wrong for them to have been so far apart from one another, even in death.
He had come to dread meeting of the twins. He hated every second he had to confront yet another pair of dead children that did not belong here, but fate had decided they did. He despised having to listen to their tales of woe as they wept about the injustice of the world, of having died young; he despised himself for being unable to do more than weep with them.
"We don't belong here, Grunkle Stan," he would listen to the little girl weep, calling him a title he didn't recognize. He never remembered if they had ever told him their name, but they all seem to know his, without a fail. "If we're dead, then what about you? What about Grunkle Ford? Mom? Dad? What about them? We can't be dead, we can't be," they would say, confusion and frustration written all over their faces. They didn't understand. They didn't understand why they had come to the darkness so early, so unfairly.
He never knew what to say, he'd never been good with words.
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All he could do was kneel down to their levels and engulf them in his arms, hoping he could somehow squeeze the pain straight out of their bodies in his embrace. He hugged them, because what else could he do?
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bookalicent · 2 months ago
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yeah so this was insane
#i feel like too many people reduce this interaction to jason being like ‘lol same’#but idk :/#this chapter is from jason’s pov#and leading up to it he’s like ‘people keep walking on eggshells around me bc of the the michael varus stab wound’#and he hates it so when he goes on deck to help out with the storm#everyone’s like wtf except for percy#and jason states how much he appreciated percy not treating him like a sick kid#and i feel like it’s echoed in this sentiment where jason could say so many things like#‘you should never feel that way’ ‘im here if you need anything’#but he doesn’t make percy feel alone in his desire to just…. end it all#which ik for some people that doesn’t work but you’re not a character in hoo and percy is dealing with so much guilt#and he can’t tell annabeth bc she’s a main aspect of that guilt#and he doesn’t wanna guilt her more and he feels ashamed and when he describes this he feels weird for feeling it#so having jason this tough guy be like ‘yo i understand it bc i felt the same way#that’s gotta mean a lot to percy#also insane how jason who also struggles to display vulnerability#allows it in one of few times in this moment just so percy this guy he’s supposed to be jealous about#feels comforted and not alone in his guilt and shame#and also it’s just insane how jason’s wanting to kay em ess does not get talked about AT ALL#and just seeing his mom and the pressure of new rome getting to him#like this scene is insane and i’ll never shut up about it#also ignore me i’m just finishing my reread of hoo that took all summer#jason grace#percy jackson#pjo#ashla.txt
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shepscapades · 6 months ago
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[dbhc flavored] Hermit a Day May: Day 14 — Doc!
Featuring both a current-day s10 doc and a verrry early s8 post-deviant doc! :]
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civetcider · 8 months ago
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there is no where in my room with good lighting where you can't see it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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chloesimaginationthings · 4 months ago
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Why is he kinda...
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These two asks were right next to each other, and I think that’s beautiful
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songthursh · 1 year ago
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Also a sunflower, because @stupidlynx have amazing songs for these two ///
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adustoflove · 1 month ago
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Hearing about the way other people interact so easily makes me feel like there is something deeply wrong with me embedded into my soul
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sforzesco · 1 year ago
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something. about. the horror of being sent on an impossible (death) quest and obligations and hospitality politics. the trauma of not having a home, and then the trauma of being in a house that becomes actively hostile to you, one that would swallow you whole and spit out your bones if you step out of line. all of this is conditional, your existence continues to be something men want gone.
it's about going back as far as I can with the perseus narrative because there's always a version of a myth that exists behind the one that survives. the missing pieces are clearly defined, but the oldest recorded version of it isn't there! and there's probably something older before that!! but it's doomed to forever be an unfilled space, clearly defined by an outline of something that was there and continues to be there in it's absence.
and love. it's also about love. even when you had nothing, you had love.
on the opposite side of the spectrum, this is Not About Ovid Or Roman-Renaissance Reception, Depictions And Discourses On The Perseus Narrative.
edit: to add to the above, while it's not about Ovid, because I'm specifically trying to peel things back to the oldest version of this story, Ovid is fine. alterations on the Perseus myth that give more attention Medusa predate Ovid by several centuries. this comic is also not about those, either! there are many versions of this story from the ancient world. there is not one singular True or Better version, they're all saying something.
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Perseus, Daniel Ogden
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Anthology of Classical Myth: Primary Sources in Translation, edited & translated by Stephen M Trzaskoma, R. Scott Smith, Stephen Brunet
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xxplastic-cubexx · 9 days ago
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your comic of erik "kidnapping" charles is living rent free in my head... I can't stop thinking of a scenario where somebody didn't get the memo about the vacation/kidnapping thing they've got going on and bursts into erik's Evil LairTM of the week to rescue the poor professor only to be mentally scarred at finding him making out nasty style with magneto
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i cant stress enough how fast i went to draw this as soon as i got the chance god help any new x-man to the team
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crabsnpersimmons · 4 months ago
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i was possessed the other day to draw a cute little sunguy in this style
please enjoy this cute little sunguy as he goes out and enjoys some simple everyday joys like ice cream, moon plushies, and being ignored by a cat
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bunabi · 4 months ago
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the heart wants what it wants
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