#based on something I read

[pemizart]

[reginrokkr]

Given to some observations of mine since I've decided to write Jinhsi, I came with the decision of withdrawing from posting calls consistently as I have, meaning that I won't write more starters basically. If you'd ever like one or don't see a way to strike an IC interaction, I encourage you peeps to approach me via what's more comfortable to you (I'll keep it private, of course) so we can come to an agreement, work together to make it happen!

[katsinspats]

Thematically appropriate comic for Make a Terrible Comic Day!!

I saw the original post this morning and it made me get out of bed to make something, so thank u Pseudonym Jones mission accomplished

[forgettable-au]

FORGETTABLE-AU (Page 61-64)

* I-I don't think we were talking about the same thing...

[BEGINNING] [PREVIOUS] [CONTINUE]

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

hope you feel better soon!

I am riddled with ailments, but I stay silly!

[hothammies]

two guys arguing at the aquarium? must be lovers (fic)

[ihavesomejays]

text transcription:

Many springs ago, I perceived a sea of flowers upon a lake. I thought to myself that those fleeting colors held indescribable beauty.

The next time I perceived those colors was many years later, when the medic’s tent had blinded me to all but red. The radiance of that shining star was lost on my eyes.

Now, my eyes no longer perceive the subtleties in the colors around me.

But I am content.

For I can now see the most brilliant colors in my universe.

anyways yeah why did they fucking do that to jiaoqiu bro

the planning for this experimentalish comic is under keep reading

[formulanni]

Zhou Guanyu as The High Priestess:

High Priestess is a card of mystery, stillness and passivity. This card suggests that it is time to retreat and reflect upon the situation and trust your inner instincts to guide you through it. Things around you are not what they appear to be right now.

To direct your will outward one must also be able to understand one's internal world. The High Priestess is the guardian of the unconscious and beckons the traveller to the world within.

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls

[turtleblogatlast]

Leo getting hit with a truth curse but instead of forcing him to admit to super sad or worrying things it’s things like “it was me who broke the remote” “I saw Mikey prank Donnie and helped hide it because it’s way funnier if he didn’t know who it was” “I rip my clothes to look more like Raph’s because he’s really cool” “my stripes aren’t even red they’re pink!”

[seiwas]

sellllllll it's meeeeee. hehehehehehehehehhehe

so for ur writing exercises.... deku + light? please? pretty please?

:3c

heheh heheh hehe niku. this will be the death of me. me writing izuku for the first time 🥲 i will only do this for you </3

contains: established relationship, spoilers for the end of the manga, aged up deku but sometime in between the final outcome (he doesn't get the h*** s*** from bakugo yet), mentions of sex and scars

deku + light

izuku only sleeps with the lights off.

it isn't uncommon; many people you know can't sleep with even just a sliver of light turned on somewhere in the room. but the difference with izuku, you learn, is not that he's unable to stand the light―it's that he refuses to.

you quickly pick up on it the first few times he sleeps over.

he fidgets in bed, pretty badly, actually. the nightlight you sleep with glows a warm yellow, illuminating the side of your face and coating him in its afterglow. you chalk it up to nerves, how he pulls at his sleeves and adjusts his position constantly; he is, after all, one of the most anxious people you know.

and this relationship―it's new. heck, even you feel a little jittery with his arm wrapped around you.

the rhythmic tapping on your hip only increases pace. you don't think he realizes it, so your hand gently reaches for his, intertwining your fingers as you turn around in his arms.

he's close, nearly touching you nose-to-nose; the proximity leaves you fuzzy, a little ticklish, so you giggle, a soft "oops," as the freckles dusting his face almost glisten under the warm light.

"hi," you whisper, meeting his eyes; they stare back at you wide in surprise, "can't sleep?"

he looks almost guilty at your question, as if you’ve caught him with the one thing he's been trying to keep from you.

"just—" his voice comes out louder than intended, prompting him to chuckle nervously as he readjusts his volume, "just winding down, sorry."

you inch closer, nuzzling his nose lightly, "it's okay."

"did i wake you?" he asks, cheeks flushing pink as his eyebrows furrow in immediate concern. his expression is something caught between stifling a grin and feeling sorry.

you shake your head against the pillow you share, strands of your hair tangling with his. "just winding down," you tease, watching as his gaze turns softer, eyelids drooping heavier.

sometimes, you think, izuku holds the world in his eyes―a deep, dark green, the color of life. most times, they look at you with wonderment, bright and alive; photos from inko tell you they're the eyes of his inner child.

on nights like this one, however, they hide a depth in them weighted by what you can only assume is time, and all that has happened to him in such a short span of it.

you try your best to understand what lies beneath them, knowing full well he'll never tell you outright what truly bothers him.

"is it the light?" you bring up, some time after laying in silence.

"hm?" he clarifies.

"do you have a hard time sleeping with the nightlight?"

his eyes widen briefly once more, as if shocked that you've caught him again. these split second reactions are ones you've learned to be attentive to when it comes to izuku.

"no," he tries to lie, but you know better as you turn to your nightstand and reach for its switch, "you don't–"

"it was hurting my eyes," you quickly make up an excuse, tucking yourself closer under his chin as you cut off his attempt to deny it again.

finding out that the light was the problem was the easy part—

you'd begun to notice much earlier on that izuku was barely rested on the nights he'd spend at your place. it was only when your old nightlight broke that you began to notice him waking up much later than you did, groggily rousing from a deep sleep.

—what was hard, was figuring out why.

at first, you suspected it was his scars.

"s-sorry, it's not—" he'd warned you, right as your hands gripped the hem of his shirt the first time you were about to have sex, "—it's not nice."

you didn't care though; you still don't care, and you've made that abundantly clear to him since. you love izuku and all his parts―all the nicks and jaggedy pieces of skin that make up who he is.

when you eventually ask him about it, with a request that he be honest with you for once, he tells you that it is and it isn't―the reason why he exclusively sleeps with the lights off, that is.

it's an odd, comforting relationship he has with his body—that he is simultaneously grateful and sorry for how its become a canvas, both painted and marred to symbolize japan’s historic last stand.

you find out the real reason when you catch him staring at his hands.

he does it often, when he thinks you aren't looking—his fists bunched up in the same way he used to watch the power of one for all course through his fingertips; the same way he used to prepare them in battle.

there’s a faraway look in his eyes that lingers, you notice—a little wistful if anything.

“do you miss it?” you finally ask. he gives you the same shocked look he does every time, as if he’s been caught with a secret he’s been trying to hide.

he’s learned a fair bit about you now, too, though—lying to you is futile when you’ve perfected reading his truth. he stares at his fists again as you take a seat beside him, moving to give you space. you rest your head on his shoulder gently, waiting.

“sometimes,” he admits, but you know it’s an understatement.

“i think about the vestiges a lot. i miss them the most, i think,” he continues, clenching his fists tightly, “i always try to reach out to them, but i guess it doesn’t work that way.”

“i… i try to replicate the right conditions every night, but…” then he lets go, stretching his fingers out wide. the scars on the surface ripple through his skin, telling its own story.

you hum, acknowledging what he means. silence sits with the two of you as you take his hand in yours, slowly unfurling his fingers until his palm reveals itself to you. it’s rough to the touch, seasoned with hard work and all that he’s been through.

“is that why you prefer the dark?” you ask softly, after some time.

it's not often that you stay up later than izuku does. when you do though, you catch him shifting in bed, moving from side-to-side. you pretend you aren't awake, but you hear him mumble their names, dwindling in volume as he dozes off to sleep.

he stares at his palm for a moment before he admits quietly, "yeah." his brows furrow as if contemplating whether to say more, but he shakes his head, dark green strands swaying to the beat of his embarrassed chuckle, "nevermind, it's silly."

"it's not."

you intertwine your fingers, sandwiching his hand between yours. a slight sheen glosses over his eyes as he tilts his head up to look at you. he draws in a breath, before it spills over.

"it's..." he finds the words, and you squeeze his hand in comfort, "it's easier to believe it was all real when the lights are out, and that maybe it can happen again."

[starry-bi-sky]

yall ever think Shen Yuan went through like, internet withdrawal after being transmigrated into Shen Qingqiu? Like, he's canonically a NEET shut-in who did nothing but spend his time online, you can't tell me that for the first week or first few weeks of being SQQ he wasn't twitchy.

Like, reaching instinctively to his pockets for a phone that wasn't there, having an obsessive itch in the back of his mind that he should check and see if X or Y novel or webcomic has updated -- only to realize he can't anymore and being irritated by it. Wanting to go and see if there's new posts about this or that, but again realizing that he can't.

When he's bored or uncomfortable or just feels like wanting to escape he tries to go for his phone to distract himself, but oops! Not there anymore, and now he has to find a new and different way to distract himself from his feelings. And going through system notifications, quests, etc only does so much.

And there's that Tetris Effect too. SQQ makes a mistake while writing and instinctively goes to backspace on it except hey-ho that's not a keyboard and now he just dipped his pinkie into a bottle of ink or on a still-drying letter.

With him scrambling to fix his reputation and learn how to be a peak lord, I think his abrupt cold-turkey from all things internet would just be another straw on the camel's back that he promptly Ignores until it goes away on its own after he acclimates to his new surroundings.

[lilithofpenandbook]

Imagine the reason Severus Snape agreed to join the Death Eaters wasn't any of the reasons everyone else had of hating muggleborns and muggles and agreeing with Voldemort's ideaology

And it wasn't because he wanted to lash out and hurt people because he was hurting like the other bitter kids

And it wasn't because he was forced into it like other weaker kids

Imagine it wasn't for any of those reasons.

Instead, it was for knowledge.

Severus Snape, the boy who invented curses, hexes, and spells. Severus Snape, who knew more of those in his first year than any of the seventh years. Severus Snape, who rewrote text books.

He joined the Death Eaters because he was tempted by knowledge. Knowledge of dark, forbidden magic. Knowledge of terrible, frightening power. Knowledge of things he had never had the chance to learn.

Imagine it was Lucius who approached him, knowing that Severus was a genius who wasn't satisfied with what Hogwarts taught and wanted more, wanted the freedom to explore and learn and experiment in ways that shocked people. Or perhaps it was his housemates, who decided that, poor he may be and impure his blood is, Severus was a formidable weapon to whichever side he ended up on, and they decided to convince him to join them before Dumbledore asked Severus to join him. And they promised Severus he would be free to experiment and learn as he pleased without the limits Hogwarts had enforced.

And he agreed, and became Voldemort's most precious student. He was but a boy, the youngest of the Death Eaters, yet his talent was equal to Bellatrix Lestrange herself. The two were of the most talented that Voldemort taught and he couldn't help but notice the small boy who was equal to an adult, who could grow to become the most powerful wizard to ever live. Unfortunately for him, the boy's heart was too gentle, too tender to be put on the field just yet, and his tongue was too smooth and his mind too sharp for he easily slipped away in times of action. He was a scholar, a poet, an artist. Not a soldier.

No matter. Voldemort could wait. Eventually the boy would become a man, a man with a brilliant mind but no heart, if he was encouraged to seek knowledge even at the expense of others. It was Voldemort's own fault to assume a great mind would cancel a great heart.

And so Severus Snape sold his freedom, his goodness, for the pursuit of knowledge.

Only to sacrifice it all when the knowledge he shared was the thing that put the one he loved in danger.

[muri-ne]

buncha lil ace attorney doodles :] i am very obsessed with this brush no pen pressure has unlocked a diff section of my brain

also friend and i are playing layton crossover so thats what the last 2 pics are for

[sableeira]

there is something about magic systems that borrow from a specific craft that makes them so special. Maybe it’s because they feel more tangible and it’s very easy to get swept away by the passion for the craft that is clearly written on every page.

Whether it’s the art based magic system in Witch Hat Atelier. Or the translation based magic system in Babel. Or the alchemy/chemistry based magic system in Fullmetal Alchemist.

The relation to a specific craft makes the characters passion for their magic feel so personal and relatable. Because there is magic in art, in translation, in chemistry and any other craft that people partake in. The magic system becomes a love letter towards creation and everyone who creates and there is nothing world building wise that could be more charming.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

ORV is about enduring the horrors in real time.

(for @everyonesfavoritebastard)

[thecruellestmonth]

Remembering stuff like Alfred having Bruce and cutting his hair and and dressing him. Which could mean anything but really reinforce the upstairs/downstairs servile relationship. The lack of modesty or shame a rich person has around their staff is something else. And it’s just a like. Almost a Caste system where Alfred is second class and can never BE on Bruce’s level as an equal let alone authority figure. And Alfred is happy with that! Because that’s the story and he is, after all, the butler

[laufire's cool post on Alfred & Bruce]

Yeah, Alfred is not Bruce's father. Bruce is the pater familias of his household like his father before him, and Alfred is his very cherished manservant. Alfred can be a caretaker and a confidant, he can even be parental (-ish), but he's not a parent. (Note to self: rant about the awkward and aggressively enforced line between "parental" and "parent" in Batman mythos.)

IMO one of the most compact arguments on Alfred's role is in Batman: Year One (IIRC the very comic that established Alfred as an old servant of the Wayne family, instead of his original story of being hired by Bruce). Grant Morrison was on some podcast (I think either Kevin Smith's podcast or "Hypertime to Podcast"?) talking about the significance of how Bruce's first act as Batman is to ring a bell to ask for Alfred to help him. We see Morrison emphasize this moment in The Return of Bruce Wayne, where The Bell is a relic on the same level as The Pearls and The Gun.

I can agree it's a defining moment. To some extent I'm willing to accept Morrison's suggestion that Bruce ringing the bell symbolizes the value of asking for help, teamwork, comradery, family, humility, etc—and most fans would be happy to sprint with that interpretation. But I can also juggle a separate interpretation that branches off and veers to the left...

You do not ring a bell to ask for help from your parent or friends or family—you ring a bell to summon a servant.

Bruce becoming Batman in Year One is the story of a prince reclaiming his kingdom. (The Return of Bruce Wayne is a renewal of that story.) Summoning the family manservant is the act of Bruce finally accepting his royal inheritance, after his foolish attempt to slum it with the rabble. A good king is kind and attentive to his subjects, and considers the opinions of his advisors��but they're never his equals or his superiors, no matter how much he cherishes them. They're his subordinates. Nobody is on Bruce's level as an equal, nobody can win a case against his authority, in Gotham. Bruce is the rightful heir of his kingdom. The king and queen are dead, long live the king.

—I know some vocal fans are very critical of Miller, but there's no disputing that Miller's Batman: Year One is the definitive Post-Crisis story of Bruce's invention of Batman, and pretty much every modern comic writer and fan recognizes it. It's likely no comic writer or story has had as much enduring influence on the Batman mythos since Miller wrote Year One and The Dark Knight Returns. Case in point: Alfred.

So yeah. Alfred isn't Bruce's dad. The Gotham TV series probably makes the strongest case for Alfred as Bruce's dad, and even then I personally think there is wiggle room to say eh they're family and they love each other but they're not quite parent & child. Everything else—Batman '66, BTAS, the Nolan movies, Lego Batman, Battinson—ultimately doesn't Alfred cast as Bruce's dad, for the best. Recent comics and the later Arkhamverse games try to force the father-son thing, but it's cheap and unearned.