#always meant to happen

[gbirrd]

4/9 - Tim Drake tarot card designs for Complete Candor by @vexfulfolly as part of the @batfam-big-bang

Read the fic here!

Other cards:

1-Babs 2-Cass 3-Bruce 4-Tim 5-Damian 6-Jason 7-Duke 8-Steph 9-Dick

Image IDs

Image 1:

A design of "The Hierophant" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE HIEROPHANT". A symbol of a spider-web is visible behind the numeral "V".

A young Tim Drake stands facing forward, holding a camera in front of him, and his right hand raised as though taking a pledge. He has large pupil-less white eyes and there is a ring of glowing blue city buildings behind his head. There is a spider-web pattern in the background behind it, and one of the lens cap of his camera. In front of Tim facing him are Dick and Jason, both in their Robin uniforms.

Image 2:

A design of "The Hierophant" tarot card. It has the texture of recycled paper and reads "THE HIEROPHANT" upside-down. An symbol of an eye is visible behind the numeral "V".

Tim Drake stands facing forward in his Red Robin uniform. He holds his bo staff in his left hand and has pupil-less white eyes. Vague silhouettes of Dick and Damian as Batman and Robin are visible on a dark red background. A red eye behind Tim's head casts a dim red glow. The inside of his cape is covered in red eyes. The entire card is upside-down.

[posalis]

Acts 2:23: "This man was handed over to you by God’s deliberate plan and foreknowledge [...]"

The Arcane is waking up.

[lazylittledragon]

ok i swear i'm not going to talk about my breakup forever but the thing that just keeps bothering me:

i know that not getting what you need in a relationship is a COMPLETELY valid reason to end it but also. i feel like having a very vulnerable moment where i opened up about my struggles with intimacy and being relieved that i didn't have to keep doing things i wasn't comfortable with, then being dumped a YEAR later because of my lack of intimacy. is something i should be allowed to be very hurt by???

[ohitslen]

Something other about his eyes

Bonus! Based on this quick thing I did this afternoon and the idea took a bit more shape and turned into that thing from above uEK

[erinwantstowrite]

i think im not a fan of what dc keeps doing with jason because they keep having him, the abused, become an abuser in some way shape or form. and the classism they don't want to talk about (i am being so for real there is a genuine problem of both writers and readers who do not understand jason's background and it pissed me off so bad because it always shapes their opinion of him in the wrong way and they don't care to even try to listen). and how if they were going to have him come back they should have had delved into his identity crisis and the inherent horror of coming back but not knowing how or why or what to do about it and not knowing what you were doing while dead and having to deal with time jumping forward on you and the fact that you will never get the time back and no one will he the same as they were before you died and how isolating and lonely that would be. and they also definitely weren't prepared for the fact that jason was grieving his life and his death and his hopes for his mother and his dad who didn't get there in time and the dc writers are fucking cowards. which brings me to my next point: why do we keep listening to them about shit because they are quite literally always fighting with each other and projecting their own personal biases into characters (i.e. making them worse than they are/2 dimensional/trying to make them iredeemable so their favorite character gets to shine) and also they are all freaks of nature with a consistent problem of being God Awful People who why would we trust them with these characters. jason todd they don't get you like i do

[cosmicrex2301]

Bruce and Clark Testing Differnt Types of Kryptonite Pt.2

Bruce: *Stares at Clark expectantly*

Clark: Uhhh, how about that one? *Points to box labelled 'X-Kryptonite'* Sounds kinda cool?

Bruce: Hn *opens the box and frowns*

Clark: I don't feel anything. Maybe it doesn't do anything, like the pink one?

Bruce: *not listening, eyes closed and brow furrowed*

Clark: Bruce? Are you all good?

Bruce: *Puts his hands over his ears* Please stop talking

Clark: *Worriedly steps closer*

Bruce: *holding his hand out to stop him* No! Don't move either! *sinks down to his knees, hands over his ears once more*

Clark: *trying very hard to figure out how to help without talking or moving*

Bruce: *whispering* Clark... Clark, it's so loud

Clark: *whispering as quietly as possible* Bruce?

Bruce: *looks up, eyes watery*

Clark: *blinks in surprise before floating and, as slowly as he can, flies over to the table and closes the box*

Bruce: *buries his head in his arms, ears still covered*

Clark: *slowly and quietly sits down next to Bruce*

Clark: *Whispering* It's going to be alright, Bruce. I'm here

Clark sits with Bruce in complete silence for an hour, waiting for the effects to wear off. At some point, Bruce shifts so that his head rests on Clark's chest, allowing him to listen to his heartbeat and block out the noise.

[sforzesco]

I got. thoughts. about valens and voices in imperial roman history. but I also got a lot of thoughts about uhhhhhh choosing your brother for co ruling the Fratricide Foundation Story Empire. many thoughts about themistius' oration too

Brotherly Love, Themistius (trans. Peter Heather & David Moncur)

⭐ places I’m at! bsky / pixiv / pillowfort /cohost / cara.app / insta

[demonslayedher]

Rengoku-san was so, so close to cutting off Akaza's head, yet Akaza still felt more terror about dawn.

[lovesickeros]

☆ de fontaine

{☆} characters furina {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings angst, suicidal thoughts, hurt / no comfort {☆} word count 1.4k

This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair. This wasn't fair!

She thought, for one moment, she could put the mask down and breathe – for one moment of daydreaming, she thought she could just be Furina. She thought she would finally get to live the live she should've had in the first place, the life she threw away to play God to an audience who saw her as nothing but a circus animal, dancing to their whims. Furina just wanted to be selfish for one brief and fleeting moment..and it was gone before she could even grasp it in her hand. A comet soaring past far out of her reach.

She can barely keep her hands from violently shaking as she looks down at them – broken and bloody and more a corpse then a person – and she feels so numb she can't even feel the rain pelting against her back. None of this is fair, she wants to scream, why is it always me? But her voice is silent beneath the torrent of rain. She wonders if the ocean would take her if she sank into it's depths – just for a moment, she wonders how it would feel to finally be able to sleep at ease.

Furina is tired.

But Furina is nothing if not useful, isn't she?

So she forces her feet to move, dragging against the stone beneath her heels, and drags their bloodied body into the nearest empty building, letting the rain do the work of washing away the smeared blood following her path. The smell makes her feel sick, the feeling of it sticking to her hands and gloves makes her lightheaded, but she persists. Because Furina is useful, because Furina won't let them die out in the rain, because Furina won't stand by and just let them rot on the streets like some..pest.

Furina wants to go home. She wants to sleep and she isn't she if she wants to wake up, this time. But she keeps going anyway.

Because it's all she's ever done, and the habit sticks.

An Archon she may not be, not anymore, but the expectations of five hundred years still linger like eyes on the inside of her skull. They watch her, pry and prod at her thoughts, mocking laughter and judging eyes following her as she forces herself to dance to the song they weave with glee. Furina never stepped off that stage – she's still there, she thinks, watching the crowd stare at her in disdain as the curtain call looms above her like a guillotine. She still hears Neuvillette deliver her damnation and salvation with a trembling voice, still feels her hair stand on end when electro crackled like the crack of the whip, Clorinde's blade aimed at her like a loaded gun.

She's trapped on that stage and she never left, not really.

She hates it. She thinks she hates them, but it's not their fault. They didn't ask for this, didn't ask for everyone to turn against them, didn't ask for her to save them. Neither did she..yet here they are, she thinks.

She tries to tell herself she's in control this time, though. She can stop performing her part in this horrible, bloody play any time she wants. It makes her feel better, just for a little while, if she convinces herself she's still Furina, painfully human.

And Furina has always been good at lying.

It's the believing that's the hard part.

There isn't time for her to wallow in her own self pity, though. They're still bleeding out onto the dusty, creaky floorboards of some random, broken down house and she's just standing there as the blood stains the wood. She can fix it – she's good at fixing things. She's done nothing but fix things – try to, anyway – for five hundred years. She can fix a little wound, how hard could it be? Her hands are clenched so tight they ache as she kneels down, wincing at the creak of the floorboards beneath her heels– she hesitates just long enough to wonder if she's making a mistake before she peels away just enough of the outer layer of their clothes to see the deep, bloody gash across their chest. She tries not to think about it – it's deep, too deep, and she feels dizzy just looking at it, but she's handled worse, right?

Furina can fix it. That's what she's good at.

She doesn't feel so confident when she tries to wrack her brain for..something. Five hundred years, and a little wound stumps her? No, she had to have learned something, right? She's decidedly not trying to buy time because she's panicking, parsing through hundreds of years of memories like flipping through a book. Furina isn't made for this, not really – she's running on nothing but adrenaline and she's really not sure what she's doing, but she's trying. And just like before, it won't be enough, will it?

She'll fall short again – she'll be too late to fix it before she's alone again.

Furina was an Archon..used to be. What use would she have for that sort of knowledge? Which makes her predicament all the more harrowing and bleak. What was she supposed to do?

Furina had heard it first hand, that vitriol in Neuvillette's voice. She isn't sure she's ever heard him that..angry before. She's not sure he would listen to her if she tried, either. And that scares her more then anything. All of Fontaine was up in arms about this..imposter, yet here she was, staring down at them bleeding out in front of her, and she was trying to save them.

Why? Why is she throwing away her only chance at normalcy for a fraud? Why didn't she just turn them in?

They were dying – that should've been a good thing, shouldn't it? So why didn't it feel like it?

"Why you?" Her voice breaks as she speaks in harsh tones, grabbing the front of their shirt in trembling, bloodied hands. "Why now?" She wants to scream, to demand answers they can't give, to claw back the reprieve she was promised after five hundred years of agony..and all she can do is sob into their chest, pleading for an answer that will not come. "Why me?"

Silence is their answer, and it hangs heavy on her trembling shoulders as she cries.

Of course they don't, she thinks bitterly, no one has ever answered her pleas spoken in hushed sobs. Not her other self and certainly not them.

Furina has always been alone. Furina will always be alone.

Because Furina never left that stage, never left that moment when she looked at herself in the mirror and took up a mantle too heavy for her to bear. She always finds her way back eventually. There's no one on the other side anymore – she stands alone on a stage, waiting for an inevitable end she isn't sure will come.

"Please," She pleads through tears and choked sobs, clinging to them like they are all that keeps her from sinking. "Please don't leave me, too." The words burn on her tongue – how pathetic is she that she craves companionship from the bloodied body of the imposter? Perhaps she's truly lost her mind after all these years..perhaps she's finally gone mad. She must have.

But their presence is like the first feeling of gentle warmth upon her skin as the sun crests the horizon, like the gentle lap of tides along her heels, the sway of branches and leaves as the wind blows through them like an instrument all it's own. They are the soothing sound of rain against the window as she watches the dreary skies in fond longing, the first bloom of spring as color blooms upon the landscape like paint had been spilled across the hills and valleys.

They are like the faint spark she carefully nurtures and stokes, so fragile even the smallest wind could blow it out like a candle. She cradles it within her palms, pleads with whoever will listen – prays that someone finally listens, because if not for her, then for them.

She's failed to protect too much already, let too many people with so much trust in her fall between the cracks of her fingers like grains of sand. She won't let them go – she can't.

If nothing else, if she couldn't be saved when she begged for salvation from that five hundred year long agony, even if she never got that chance..

Furina will make sure they do.

[kateis-cakeis]

I think what really gets to me with the finale is that Merlin was so close to getting Arthur to the lake. Yet, there was no plan beyond that. It's like even if they did get there, who knows if anything would have happened.

The idea that there was still more tragedy awaiting even if they made it, that yeah despite all of Merlin’s magic, he couldn't save Arthur's life.

It was always the possibility of the Sidhe, but there was no guarantee. It was all hope from the start, endless hope that failed them in the end.

Because well, it was always supposed to happen like this anyway... Arthur was meant to die so he could rise again, there was no alternative

[ghostfiish]

Happy ten years to transcendence au and almost as long to Brian the organ duck! How time flies...

I haven't drawn anything for this au in ages but I did remake the 8tracks playlists on Spotify if anyone uses that. Before Brian shows up, imagine Dipper and Mabel are discussing songs to add to the answering machine playlist (which. that's. Did I mean hold music all this time? lol)

[crypticsketchpad]

HEY FOLKS DIDJA MISS ME. anyways here’s something I’ve been workin on for the past few weeks, some actual reference pics for the folks from these posts! I think it’s time they got a proper ref and lore post (it’s been, what, over a year since I made them?), soooooo :] buckle up. individual pics + bios under the cut; content warning for death, gore/body horror, unethical science and/or medical malpractice, I guess some minor mentions of self harm and emotional abuse… let’s just say they’ve been through a lot

CHIMERA

they/it - 23’5 - ~400 y/o - epic wubbox..?

Chimera can only be described as a true monstrosity among monsterkind. Its three components were unfortunately torn apart in an interdimensional travel accident, and in a desperate attempt to save them, their sibling Matrix decided to combine the three into one semi-intact body. Whether or not their efforts were successful is debatable; Chimera is highly physically unstable, and isn’t exactly all there mentally. It’s usually kept away from the eyes of the public, housed in the bowels of the Ethereal Island castle.

Resents Matrix for bringing them back, as they use this fact to control them. They insist that Chimera owes them their lives, and that they should be grateful, but constantly mistreats and neglects them.

Most of its original mechanical parts were damaged in the incident, so their body’s construction is supplemented by the body parts of other ethereal monsters.

EEKTO

The “primary” head, Eekto has the most control over Chimera’s body. It’s the only one who can see and hear clearly (though not by much…), so it serves as the collective’s eyes and mouth. Associated with the element of plasma, it now constantly leaks plasmic goop from its mouth, eyes, and neck joints, making it hard to speak without choking on its own saliva. The flame that engulfs its eyes grants Eekto enhanced vision in the dark, and allows it to detect things that aren’t visible to the average monster. In life, it was the oldest of the five siblings.

NOCK

The second most active head, what Nock lacks in hearing and sight it makes up for in chattiness. It’s the main mouth of the body, consuming large amounts of food at once in order to sustain all three of them. While usually relying on Eekto to be its eyes, it can also “see” by using its long, snake-like tongue to smell its surroundings, and is capable of picking up minor sound vibrations with the membranes of its Grumpyre wing “ears”. Nock’s demeanor is almost always disturbingly cheerful, and it seems to be in blissful denial of its current situation. It’s always happy to strike up a conversation with whatever monster happens to stumble upon them while lost in the castle- unless it’s Matrix, of course.

FRAKTAL

Fraktal, associated with the element of Crystal, was the worst fatality of the trio. Its head is basically all that remains of its original body, but even so, it’s in very bad shape. Frozen in a state of decay, it’s become a host to many crystalline growths that have covered its mangled face and “neck”. It is completely unresponsive to outside stimuli, and only ever moves when one of its other two siblings decides to move their shared body’s tail. The other two, however, act as if it is still alive somehow, treating and addressing it as such. Sometimes, though, one of the other heads may sense a signal from their tail; a faint, abstract thought that is not their own.

MATRIX

they/them - 11’1” - 431 y/o - rare wubbox

A self-proclaimed “genius” scientist, Matrix loves nothing more than to upgrade themself and others through body modification. Creating questionable prosthetics from miscellaneous materials, they kidnap and experiment on monsters against their will, leaving them mutilated at best, and in some cases, whatever unfortunate victim enters their lab never comes out. Matrix’s mission is to “improve” the lives of the Ethereal monsters, who they’ve proclaimed themself the leader of. They see other monsters as nothing more than test subjects who should be happy for the help they’re providing, falsely believing that their work will benefit monsterkind as a whole, and that anyone who opposes is simply ungrateful.

The first rare wubbox to ever exist, Matrix used their supernatural ability to create interdimensional rifts to access the human world. Inspired by what they saw, they rebuilt every part of themself in order to reflect that technological influence. Pleased by their transformation, they created copies of themself, which they distributed across the monster world; as such, nearly every rare wubbox is a clone of Matrix, with a few exceptions.

Using their aforementioned interdimensional abilities, they’ve shut off Ethereal Island from the rest of the monster world, preventing anyone other than themself from entering or leaving. Any Ethereal monsters who live on the Natural Islands are descended from ones who left their home island before Matrix and co’s arrival.

They were the one who rebuilt Chimera, and the perceived success of this operation is what inspired them to experiment on other monsters in an attempt to make them better than they were before. They also use this fact to keep Chimera under control, constantly reminding them that they literally owe them their lives.

Their extra set of tail-arms were assembled from parts leftover from Chimera’s creation. These arms are very flexible, and can extend and retract slightly, though they are not as strong as one may think. (Which means that unfortunately, Matrix can’t do the Doc Ock arm walk thingy.)

While Chimera’s components are affiliated with three of the Ethereal elements, Matrix is affiliated with the Mech element, and was taught the basics of engineering by one of their creators, a Vhamp named Khord. In the present day, they find Mech-element monsters the ideal subject to use for their projects.

ZYPHUR

it/its - 12’3” - 427 y/o - common wubbox

Scarred and damaged- not just physically but mentally- by the horrors it’s had to participate in, Zyphur is Matrix’s unwilling lab assistant. Serving as the brawn to its sibling’s brains, its main role is to gather subjects for Matrix to use in their experiments; it’s easily large and powerful enough to capture and restrain the other Ethereal monsters, but that doesn’t make the process any easier for all involved. Zyphur resents its job, and feels terrible forcing its captives to participate in the twisted whims of its older sibling, but it really doesn’t have a choice. It depends on them for food, shelter, and care, and feels obligated to help them due to familial ties. Despite this, Matrix constantly berates, mistreats, and manipulates it, keeping it as their own little lackey for whatever tasks they need done.

It was forced to help gather Chimera’s body parts immediately after the accident, and assisted Matrix in reassembling them. It was in a state of shock the entire time, still reeling from its own injuries, and begging its one remaining sibling for some semblance of comfort, which it never received. Before the accident, Matrix was often dismissive but still kind towards Zyphur, but this soon changed to pure disdain and superiority towards it in the aftermath.

Ended up the least scathed after the accident, with its most major injury being a severe head wound, practically ripping half its face apart. Despite Matrix’s efforts to repair it, this wound never healed properly, leaving a massive scar on one side of its mouth.

Associated with the Poison element, which is clearly visible in its eyes. Its major bodily fluids (notably tears, blood, and saliva) are tinted a vivid green and are somewhat acidic, leaving marks on whatever they touch. They are also toxic to other monsters and may cause skin damage or poisoning when exposed to them. In theory, Zyphur is capable of spitting jets of poison saliva as a defense mechanism, but tends to just let it passively drip out of its mouth.

Due to the extreme neglect, trauma, and isolation it’s had to endure, Zyphur is somewhat developmentally stunted, and behaves much younger than it is. When the Cataclysm and subsequent accident happened, it was mentally around 15 years old, and hasn’t emotionally progressed much since.

Most of the time, when its parts haven’t been repaired for a while, the edges of its gauntlet pieces are broken, with pieces of the prongs on the end often missing. This damage is self inflicted, fueled by Zyphur’s guilt towards the pain others have suffered because of it. It feels that Chimera’s components didn’t deserve to undergo such a horrible fate, and that it should have taken their place instead. Matrix simply sees this damage as the result of clumsiness, and often scolds it because of this.

Refuses to interact with Chimera- or any other monster, really- whenever it can help it; the feelings of guilt it holds about their situations are too painful to bear.

Very malnourished, and doesn’t get to eat real food very often. Its main diet consists of Matrix’s leftovers and whatever mutilated, “unusable” monster parts remain after their experiments.

ALVA

it/its - 13’5” - 433 y/o - common wubbox

A brilliant (albeit shut-in) scientist, Alva is the creator of Wublin Island and its denizens. When not looking after its “children” (the Wublins), it spends most of its time tinkering and experimenting with new ways to put the knowledge gained from its previous projects to good use. Between these two tasks, it’s almost always exhausted, and tends to overwork itself, refusing to sleep for days and putting its work and the needs of the Wublins before its own well-being. Despite this behavior, Alva is mostly satisfied with the life it’s built for itself.

One of the oldest living wubboxes from the Dawn of Fire, and one of the first to be created; it lived through the Cataclysm but doesn’t like to talk about its experience very much.

VERY bad at caring for itself in general; it doesn’t replace its parts as often as it should, causing itself chronic pain and fatigue. Alva tries to remedy this by occasionally using a shoddy cane it made for itself, but doesn’t do so often, insisting it’s fine- often while visibly having difficulty standing and walking.

Adores the Wublins and would do anything for them; though it’s quite exhausting caring for them all, it loves them very much, and tries its best to keep them happy. This also involves it hiding any sort of negative emotions or pain it feels in front of them, as it doesn’t want its children to worry about it.

Inherited the gift of the spark of life from its creator, a Galvana named Ivolta, who was the original inventor of the wubbox.

Typically doesn’t interact with the outside world much, but periodically allows airships from other islands to bring it supplies and monster eggs. It doesn’t like to leave the island, but may do so on rare occasions if its expertise is needed- namely, it was recently contacted by a team of monsters who want to use its statue-waking tech to reawaken the newly discovered Celestials.

Before the fall of Starhenge, Alva was Matrix’s best friend; the two were very close, bonding over their similar interests in robotics and bioengineering, and often collaborated on projects. However, after seeing how drastically different they are now and how harmful their “work” has become, it is disgusted by them, refusing to speak to them, despite their constant, oblivious attempts to befriend it again.

——————————————————

PHEW that was a lot haha, anyways, if anyone has any questions about these guys, feel free to ask in the replies or my askbox! (i’ll try and respond in a timely manner lmao) been working on this storyline for a while now and I can definitely expand on some of these things if anyone’s interested :]

[frogaroundandfindout]

As a child, Dick liked to tease Bruce by dropping his voice as low as it would go and mimicking the Batman voice.

As an adult, Dick stares at the tattered cowl clutched tight in hands crusted with his fathers blood and thinks of how much it used to hurt his throat.

Why does it always have to hurt with Bruce?

[ratsbanes]

im a firm believer in trans dipper. why is he embarrassed by his name? THAT'S HIS CHOSEN NAME THAT MABEL CHOSE FOR HIM. HE GOES BY DIPPER AS A LIFELONG NICKNAME DO YOU SEE THE VISION

[kod-lyoko]

so people are saying that glenn said that macdennis won't ever be canon

[usahanna]

feeling sad about springbonnie