#and the sun is associated with fire

[starridge]

....bill is gold...... ford is eudialyte........ their fusion is realgar..............

i jjust think that had billford been popular in 2016 we would have gotten steven universe toxic billford fusion AUs a-la malachite so im taking matters into my own hands. drew this in like 20 mins so the design is mid as hell.

[smile-files]

a blackhole of happiness, greedy for the light it cannot give back

[caestusvulpes]

playing with hikari's color palette will never not be fun for me personally. I dig pretty deep into her color associations. She surrounds herself in colors that are bright and soft. Pastel oranges, purples, and occasionally greens. Shades like tangerine, lavender, seafoam/mint. Secondary colors are usually associated with villains opposite of the heroes which are mainly primaries like yellows, reds, and blues. This dichotomy ( soft but bright / secondary villain coded colors ) is just another facet into how her character Just Kinda Works. Foot in two worlds you say? Do go on.

[articskele]

Incoherent thoughts about a Bloodborne-inspired Lorax AU that I am by no means confident in but HEAR ME OUT

Ok so instead of using the blood of the Great Ones, it’s the sap of ancient trees, discovered in a sinkhole below the city when people were investigating a problem in the sewers!

But as the night goes on, the trees start to grow in and around the rest of the city, spreading through whatever means necessary in an attempt to keep itself alive.

Something something the hubris of man harvesting the lifeblood of the world and using it for their own gain, and how that’s bound to catch up to them eventually.

So any supernatural happenings, like the beast plague or how the night goes on for what feels like an eternity, is because the balance of the world is fucked six ways from Sunday and they have no one to blame but themselves.

—

I imagine hunter weapons have an emphasis on axes and saws and the like.

To my knowledge, chainsaws used to be hand-cranked medical tools for removing diseased bone and aiding in childbirth! It wasn’t until much later that electric chainsaws were made to be used on wood! Which fits pretty well methinks ouo

FLAMETHROWER. FLAMETHROWER ATTACHMENT FOR FIRE DAMAGE. LET'S GOOOOOO

On that note beast designs are More Creature because I said so! Tree antlers babeyyyy! Also enemies with white flowers bc some white flowers are pollinated by moths and bats at night!

EVERYONE HAS THEIR OWN SIGNATURE FLOWER. I’LL GET TO THAT LATER

—

Can you imagine what it must be like to live in this place? Hearing stories of a bloodlike sap that can cure any ailment, the stuff of miracles, all found within the walls of this one city.

The architecture, a hybrid of several styles due to many different people from all walks of life coming here. Churches boasting imagery of trees and other plants. Old books about the roots of the earth itself.

The scholars in their grand university, well-versed in plants and flesh alike, finding new uses for the stuff every day.

Sap is often administered through injection and transfusion, though accurate to the time period, bloodletting and other such methods were used as well.

The sap, with its addictingly sweet taste, was even used for medicinal tea. A warm drink for whenever you’re feeling under the weather. Meanwhile, the brave and experimental swallowed seeds.

The branch of scholars who dealt with flowers were nicknamed hummingbirds for the reds and greens of their uniform, always flitting about the gardens and collecting jars of sweet nectar.

—

But with these wonders, came a price. The sap isn’t pure. Locals blame outsiders, nobility blames commoners, and the church blames anyone they deem corrupt. But in truth, it simply wasn’t meant for human consumption.

Too much for too long will render the eyes cloudy, the skin rough and almost bark-like, the lungs flooded with flowers and spilling out of your mouth hanahaki style.

No two cases are exactly alike, but the end result is the same. You are no longer human.

And so, people took up arms to hunt these beasts. A curfew was made, if there wasn’t one already, and civilians were told to stay indoors.

However, hunters are also using sap to heal themselves and boost their strength, so it’s only a matter of time until they become yet another beast to kill.

—

Many suspicions and superstitions were born of this time, out of desperation to keep the plague at bay.

Incense was hung outside houses, and those who showed “suspicious behavior” were killed before they even had symptoms of beasthood.

It was believed that the beast plague crept up the right leg, so hunter gear features a band there. As most hunters are right-handed, sap is injected into the right leg.

—

WAITTT. What if the Onceler’s dad takes the role of Father Gascoigne OH MY GOD

His mom going out to find her husband, disappearing into the night, leaving the Onceler to care for his younger brothers alone. Days passed, a week, but no sign of either parent’s return.

The Onceler crawling out the window, since the door was locked, assuring that he’ll find them and bring them back.

Searching the streets of the city, only to find the woman’s cold body and the faint whiff of her floral perfume on the breeze.

You know… She said she was going to find Dad, but she’s so close to the carriage that takes you out of the city… Nevermind. It must be a coincidence.

—

The Onceler set out to be a hunter just like his dad….. Maybe he never really had the chance to know the man. Having a relative that you’re supposed to be close to, but you’ve hardly ever heard his voice.

Daydreaming about what he must be like. How similar the two of you must be. What he’ll order when you go down to that little bakery together once this is all over. The sun has to rise eventually.

But when you finally see him after so long, when you finally witness what he’s become… Perhaps it’s best you never knew him.

As serrated metal blades screech against each other, you look up. He looks so, so much like you. Messy black hair that shines even in the dark. Sharp blue eyes and hazy, dilated pupils staring into you.

An old, visceral reflection that’s already too far gone.

—

Petrichor tainted with the stench of blood. Back against the tall brick walls of the city, sinking to the cold floor.

Chest heaving as you reach for something in your pocket; a small music box, softly playing a familiar tune as shaky hands bandage your wounds.

One of the few, hazy memories of your father was this song. A dreamlike sunny day with music and laughter in the air, the man picking you up and spinning you around. A time when nothing else mattered.

You even caught your mother humming the tune from time to time, though she stopped at some point. Things never were the same after that.

The wave of memories gets caught in the Onceler’s throat, pulling him back into the present. Pulling down the brim of his hat to cover his eyes.

—

I especially want to emphasize that feeling of becoming the thing you sought to destroy.

Hunters inevitably becoming beasts, getting drunk off the blood. Forgetting that their prey was once human, and thus, losing their own humanity in the process.

Blades cutting into bark, trampling flowers, lapping up sweet juice. You take and you take and you lose yourself in it until there’s nothing left, of you or the orchard.

Apple seeds in your stomach. Cyanide, growth, killing you from the inside.

The Onceler wants to end the cycle, to raise the sun in hopes of bringing everything back to normal. And he technically does end the hunt by burning all the trees, but in doing so, he brings about the end of the world.

—

Ok concept: One of his brothers goes into the sewers, but he falls through one of the holes that led to the ancient trees, and turns into a shambling mess with a big ol flower for a head

I dunno what Norma’s deal is here but. Chances are she’s not having a good time kajsfd- As her story progresses she falls ill, coughing up orange blossoms.

Comic in my brain of the Onceler coming back to see Norma dead, impaled by a blooming orange tree. His expression is unclear, unreadable. He picks an orange, peels it, and takes a bite.

Orange blossoms representing purity and they’re known for being used in weddings………

—

Ok hear me out. What if Artic was a doll. Just a cute cameo and reference to Bloodborne’s Doll, but maybe she was made out of wood from one of the ancient trees? Flowers just naturally grow in her hair ouo

Someone tried to create life using the wood, but things didn’t go as planned, and she was abandoned. Now she’s only seen in the dreams of hunters, a strange little place hidden in the folds between life and death.

Tending to gardens and graves, ever in a state of transience. Hunters come and they go in this endless cycle of bloodshed, but even in this brief respite from the world outside, they never stay for very long.

Maybe her signature flower is sakura! Life, death, renewal, optimism, and the fleeting nature of life.

—

WHAT IF THE ONCELER'S FLOWER IS MORNING GLORY. Wanting to bring back the morning and how morning glory is a vine- OUGHH I’m just picturing the vines wrapped around his arm

AND THE POSITIONING OF THE FLOWERS IS IMPORTANT TOO

ON THE ONCELER’S ARM FOR TAKING ACTION. SPILLING OUT OF NORMA’S MOUTH FOR HER WORDS. IN ARTIC’S HAIR FOR HER KNOWING THINGS THE OTHERS DON’T BC SHE’S MADE FROM THE TREE

YOOOOOOO maybe there’s a boss fight against Artic since she knows burning everything to the ground is Not A Good Idea so she tries to stop him

And she uses these dual swords covered in flowers both in reference to Bloodborne’s Lady Maria, and how other versions of Artic use dual swords!!

[inkperch]

Kinda obsessing over how agressively Serios is associated with the Dawn

[echthr0s]

I think part of it is that symbology and mythic concepts are like... fundamental to my existence, and weather/seasons are very strong symbolic and mythic concepts on earth for obvious reasons, so since I'm here I latched onto that

the symbolic and mythic implications of cold darkness are emotional realities for me in a way that is a bit neurotic -- it doesn't just feel bad, it's a threat to my existence, it is a suppression of my fire, a snuffing-out of my divinity

there is no way to convince my mind/body that it's "just weather" and it's fine. literally we are being drained of our vitality and power ok you wouldn't understand *emo hair flip*

[lokh]

rogue of time would also be an interesting typing.....

[angstandhappiness]

SOFT

When no one is looking...

[primary-colors-no-more]

About to add “Heatwave” by Glass animals to the System Playlist TM we have simply because us “main” three all associate with something heat and it’s really funny to me

-☀️

[cloudbattrolls]

I always call Toba by his nickname because it's funny to me but also because the character he was (vaguely) inspired by is also called Toba. Toba the Tura. You can see I didn't exactly strain myself coming up with mine's fantroll-ified name.

[wormkink]

URGENT: YOU CAN SAVE HAMMAD AND HIS FAMILY ❤️‍🩹‼️🇵🇸

VETTED BY ASSOCIATION: Hammad and his family are friends with Safaa [VETTED BY 90-GHOST]

$2,940 / $20,000

The last post about Hammad’s campaign is LOSING TRACTION FAST and DONATIONS ARE DWINDLING.

We need YOUR HELP to BOOST THIS POST: PLEASE REBLOG & SHARE ACROSS ALL OF YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA.

[DM FOR READY-TO-POST PICTURES & WORDS FOR HAMMAD’S CAMPAIGN SO ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS HIT POST]

Meet Hammad A.

Hammad is one out of 9 members of his family. He is the eldest boy and the sole provider of his family at the young age of 24 since his father has been battling heart disease, and consequently suffered a debilitating heart attack.

[TW: Close by sounds of heavy artillery shelling and bombing.]

Months ago, at the start of the war, the neighborhood that Hammad and his family grew up in, where they created and held so many cherished memories and bonds, was besieged.

For days, Hammad and his family were trapped, terrified, between the once stable, now crumbling, walls of his home that once brought comfort and privacy to him now threatened to crush him beneath the rubble and the violent shelling of bullets and bombs whistling past their ears through the air and decimating anything it came in contact with.

His family sat, hungry, terrified, praying to live, watching the sun make its rounds past the plumes of black smoke rising from crumpled homes that once lined their block. This is only a fraction of what Hammad has been forced to endure for the over 550 days.

He watched his beautiful home be destroyed — the memories of his childhood, destroyed; the hard work he and his family put into creating their home, destroyed; the pride he and his family had of their home, destroyed; comfort and security, destroyed.

So Hammad pitched a tent. In the face of exposure to harsh elements, forced conditions of unsanitary environments where disease and sickness spreads rapidly, and deprived of the most basic necessities with skyrocketing costs for flour, clothes, and shelter, Hammad persevered to keep his family alive and as safe as he could. He cared for his father as best he could, but his heart disease requires an operation that none of the besieged or otherwise destroyed hospitals of Gaza can do.

But a day came where deafening and core shaking sounds of shelling and bombardment shook the nearby area as they prepared food. Terrified, they ran for their lives. And when they were able to return, their tent has caught fire and burnt down, along with the few items in their tent that they were able to grab from their home before it was destroyed.

Faced with extreme hunger, thirst, displacement, and now the tent burnt down leading to more exposure to the harsh elements, Hammad’s father’s condition has only worsened. The resilience and strength Hammad has constantly and consistently shown only goes so far in the face of the lifeblood of his family suffering under such dire conditions, and I cannot bear for Hammad to have to endure the heartbreak of losing his father.

There is no more room for any more tragedy in his life. We cannot allow it.

While there is a lot of notes on the last post about Hammad’s campaign, traction has been dwindling fast and donations have been slowing down. I cannot emphasize enough the urgency of this campaign and how critically Hammad needs your help.

‼️ STAND IN SOLIDARITY WITH GAZA AND DONATE TODAY ‼️

Chuffed has a waiting period for processing and transferring funds. If you want your donation to IMMEDIATELY be sent to Hammad, paypal is linked below.

[help-i-need-a-cool-username]

I know Zoro and Law are the obvious answers but my heart still says Koby or Sabo

ANYWAYS two days left to vote!

What straw hat would be god of what?

EDIT: other characters suggested so far:

Yamato

Blackbeard

Robin

[torgawl]

okay, i know i am an overthinker but i'm not going to lie, a few lines from this event felt weirdly... suspicious?! i don't know if that's exactly the word i wanna use but you know how sometimes genshin uses events to foreshadow or introduce things? like "secret summer paradise" sort of hinting at the happenings in fontaine? i think it's not totally crazy to think some things might or might not be intentional in that sense. i'm not saying these lines mean anything but they definitely caught my attention.

"ahem... young adventurers! this is paimon, the guardian goddess of this region. tell me your goals and intentions of visiting this nation."

"ooh! to recover your glory! the goddess here has golden glory, silver glory and bronze glory. what is the one the prince has lost?"

[curiously paimon is called out for acting out of character]

"a descendent of a fantasy world in the real world. and at that time, the fairy tale became temporarily a reality, and it influenced the real things in our world. that was what happened..."

"yes... i think it would be a miracle"

i don't play the game in english so i don't know if the words match the original text or not but the use of the word descendent/descender in this context feels slightly out of place. why the implication of someone who descends as if the fantasy world is above the real world and not a fabrication of the mind? am i crazy?

[thepastisalreadywritten]

Crowds cheer as 'ring of fire' solar eclipse moves across United States

15 October 2023

Crowds cheered in New Mexico and Texas as a rare “ring of fire” eclipse of the sun began making its way across the United States. (Oct. 14)

[timmydraker]

Tim had a jumper that doesn’t seem all that special, but to Alfred, Bruce and Dick is incredibly important. Dare they say vital to caring for Tim.

It’s a big wooly thing, once a pale mossy green but now with a hint of brown and white from fading and use. It’s too big for him to the point that the sleeves have to be bunched up when worn and even than they hang over his hands.

It looks like a dress on him, which isn’t help but his naturally slim build.

The jumper is held in such high regard because when Tim puts it on it means that he’s not feeling like he usually does.

His confidence, his snark, his wit, and his mental strength is either hard to reach or impossible.

Tim, in the only instance he actually talked about what was going on when he wasn’t wearing the jumper, said he felt both like a tiny little fish in a giant pond and like his skin was a sheet of paper.

Bruce talked to Dinah about it and said it was most likely a form of mental regression, but Tim refused for it to be called him being ‘little’ or anything that would remind him of being a kid again.

Because he doesn’t act like a kid, but maybe it’s not right to associate Tim Drake with a normal child behaviour pattern. He doesn’t babble or whine or want to watch kids shows like Dinah had suggest he might, but he does go non verbal or only say one or two words in response to pretty much anything.

He puts his jumper on and will just… sit there.

Tim is always moving or thinking, always doing, but when he gets in his ‘jumper state’ as Alfred calls it, he tends to slow down completely and just want to sit somewhere warm and feel the fluff of his carefully maintained jumper.

Sometimes, he seeks out warmth outside of heaters and fires and the sun.

It’s on one of those days when Tim stalks down to the Cave with his jumper on, hair messy over his head and hands held up to his chest in an almost shy manner.

Jason notices him first and simply raises an eyebrow in confusion while Damian scoffs, “What on earth are you wearing, Drake? That looks moldy-“

But Tim doesn’t even look at him, eyes on the floor as he goes over to Bruce at the computer and pokes the older man’s shoulder once before retracting his hand.

Bruce immediately turns and opens his arms, an almost heartbroken look on his face as he lets Tim drawl onto his lap and bury his face in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve got you. Anything in particular or just one of those days?”

Tim speaks in a voice like a husk that Damian and Jason only hear because they’ve come closer and sound travels in the cave, “Janet, birthday.”

Bruce Wayne, The Batman, The Caped Crusader, then fucking coos and kisses his head before rocking him slightly.

“That makes sense. Do you need someone here tonight? I can call Dick or stay myself if you need.”

The two other boys in the room look at each other, shocked to hear Bruce say he will give up a patrol to seemingly cuddle someone.

Tim shakes his head, “Alfred.”

Bruce nods, kissing his head again and saying, “Thank you for coming to me so I can help you. I’m so proud of you for not making yourself go through this alone again.”

It’s not exactly a whine that leaves Tim, but it’s not a word that is Bruce’s answer.

Jason comes forward and awkwardly scratches the back of his head, “I don’t really know what’s going on, but can I like… help or something?”

Bruce smiled as Tim nods against him after a few moments, the boy in his arms turning to reach a hand out for Jason and then strangely patting the hand Jason offers up for him.

Damian, not trying to be rude but needing to understand what is going on, clears his throat and demands, “Explain what is wrong with Drake.”

Luckily Bruce had gotten better at understanding how his son communicates and looks to Tim for permission before answering, “Sometimes Tim needs to… be free of responsibility and just feel like a person for a bit. He isn’t always up for talking and just wants to be around people he trust, and me, Dick and Alfred have managed to convince him to actually come to us when he needs that.”

Bruce smiles at where at where Tim is holding Jason’s hand and swinging it around a bit before feeling over the rough calluses and thick fingers with apparent joy.

Damian frowns a little at his father’s explanation but nods regardless, “Very well, we shall set up the family room for the evening before we head out for patrol.”

Bruce smiled and pulls Damian’s head over to kiss his hairline as he hears Jason mutter, “Weird little guy, aren’t ya?”

Tim hums and pinches his finger and smiling at his older brothers yelp.

[a-la-sante-du-progres]

Happy Barrière du Maine Day