#beautiful but a little odd

[cowboythewizard726]

THE TOUDEN SIBLINGS, THE TOUDEN SIBLINGS!!!!1!!!11!!!!!2!1!!! REJOICE REJOICE EVERYONE GATHER AROUND THE TOUDEN SIBLINGS OH HEAVENLY TOUDEN SIBLINGS!!!!!!1!!!!!!1!!!!11!!

TOUDENS TOUDENS TOUDENS!!!!!!! YEAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[akascow]

ik it was the 70s and everyone dressed gay in the 70s but the way they dressed charles and erik in Days of Future Past theres not even a hint of heterosexual in those men

not to mention charles yelling 'you abandoned me' at erik while crying lmaooooo sounds like a bad breakup to me

and logan saying 'the professor ik would never turn his back on someone he loved' to charles after JUST talking about erik

[apotelesmaa]

I don’t think ppl give enough credit to rui for his dedication to fucking with people (outside of tsukasa of course) like. Knowing & acknowledging that nene wants nothing to do with him and Tsukasa on her first day of second year and deliberately following tsukasa to loudly ask if she’s getting along with people (just to be a jackass)? Implying his gift to akito will explode even though it won’t bc he wants to bug akito? Like I think rui at his core is full of love and a desire to make ppl smile but I also think he’s 200% committed to the bit first and foremost. If something will be funny he’s going to do it regardless of the consequences. Guy filled with zero social anxiety & a never ending desire to embarrass his friends.

[quesadilla-day]

shrine maiden 🌸

[sapphorror]

The Nightmare Begins in general excels at establishing long-running precedents, the chase scene being one of the best and most obvious examples even if I think that in a vacuum it was by far the weakest part of the episode—I mean, I've already made it VERY clear how passionate I am about the pursuer/pursued dynamic at play here. But while I don't necessarily think this was the writers' conscious intent, the sleep cuffs themselves being the centerpiece in Zim and Dib's first conflict can actually ALSO be interpreted as a kind of brilliant bit of symbolism

Because there's an underlying joke here that the shady 'alien sleep cuffs' ordered by a twelve year old out of some random magazine almost CERTAINLY do not work as intended—I mean, they're notably not even one of Membrane's experimental creations, which is the device generally used to supply Dib with inexplicable anti-Zim tech. This renders the whole chase meaningless, since even if Dib HAD caught Zim and cuffed him, it wouldn't have mattered—just being restrained isn't an issue for Zim. This is NOT a strange or difficult conclusion to come to for anyone paying the slightest bit of attention, but Zim and Dib both buy into it (actually, even Zim seemed a bit suspicious of their validity, but it was like his second day on an unknown planet and he was not taking any chances). It's only through their mutual belief that the stakes become real, and then only between the two of them.

And that's... that's the whole show. While it's very rarely right up and explicitly stated, every viewer watches with an implicit awareness that no matter what is happening on screen and how much the characters care, none of it will ever actually amount to anything. Partially because cartoon law states that neither Zim nor Dib can ever truly win, lest it destroy the status quo, but more importantly because even if they DID succeed in their stated goals, it wouldn't matter. Zim's mission is, of course, fake, that's key to the story's entire premise, and it's made increasingly clear as the show goes on (+ explicitly confirmed through Zib in the comics) that no amount of proof will ever sway humanity to Dib's side. Everyone besides them can recognize these fool's errands for what they are (even if they don't necessarily understand the full truth as to why), but within this self-contained bubble, the unerring conviction shared solely between two opponents gives the conflict weight. It's pointless, and you know it's pointless, but you get caught up in it anyway.

And y'know. Intentional or not, I just find little thematic microcosms like that really neat.

[freakinator]

i need to get crazier about zamdoons i think

[faezevahid]

Sleep time 😴😪

[cepheusgalaxy]

Missed opportunity in Wish tbh

[Image description: The blonde triplets from Beauty and the Beast, color coded in red, yellow and green. /end ID.]

[Image description: Picture of a paper sheet, with a sketch of three guys in similar, medieval clothes, each with a different color (red, yellow and green). An arrow points to them and says "all blond" and a note above them all reads: "based on the triplets from Beauty and the Beast". /end ID.]

Yknow. With all the references

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Raised in Amphibia AU Marcy has a very complicated relationship with Andrias. They love each other and see each other as father and daughter. He never yells at her, never raised a hand at her, yet she's so utterly terrified of him. She doesn't even know why she feels like this, but all she wants is to not lose his love and to make him proud, and feels like she's always in debt, always failing at earning her place, always desperately two steps behind, never quite pleasing him.

She gives up so much of herself to earn his love and approval... she keeps most of her less useful interests secret, she doesn't have any friends except for maybe Lady Olivia, she drops whatever she's doing, no matter how important, to go to her father when he calls her, she "forgets" about her feelings when they're inconvenient to him...

She used to wear her hair long because he liked it. He never pressured her to wear it like that, possibly didn't even notice the effects his words had on her, but he once said it's what's traditional for the Leviathan royal family, and that it looked good in her, and she was determined to keep hers as long as possible, until one day she can't handle all the stress and anxiety and she desperately cuts it all in her bedchambers. Now it's so short, barely reaching her jaw. She cried herself to sleep that night. Andrias didn't say anything about it, only that it looked nice, and Marcy feels her heart sink - she let it grow for years no matter how uncomfortable it was or how little she liked it for nothing.

[bluemantics]

ok guys i know i normally don’t post about my irl life but this is an urgent question. i have traveled to 3 countries in europe now, and i am deeply concerned for my european oomfies based on y’all’s toilets.

do y’all think butts are square shape? cause most of the public and hotel/airbnb restrooms i’ve been in have SQUARE TOILETS. why...???

i’m so sorry u guys have to feel painful corners digging into ur butts as u shit like fr 💔 america does a lot worse than many european countries but the toilet experience is much rounder and shaped to booties.

[autisticrosewilson]

First of all, you have given me so much to work with, thank you so much. Second of all, I’m really glad you could see where I was going with Grant’s real test not actually being about killing Slade. Third of all, I absolutely love what you’ve suggested with the powers and I am currently designing met gala esque outfits for the trio and Tara’s specifically is really fun to play around with. I’ve been thinking to show they’re becoming more divine I’ll change their hair and eye colours but not their faces for the most part. I was drawing robin Jason with Natalia and decided he should have brown eyes and a crooked nose from breaking it as a kid but once he returns his eyes get weird (eg go blue and occasionally other colours), a patch of his hair went white and he lost all of his scars. Also, I think the closer they get to divinity I’m gonna draw cracks on their body that glow with their specific colours just to hammer home how they’re shedding their mortal forms.

With Tara being able to see the strings of fate, I though it’d be fun to give her a harp and then with Jason having the see no evil trait I thought it’d be fun to give him weighing scales since lady justice wears a blindfold. Idk what to give Grant though. I mean probably a weapon of some sort or maybe a Shepard’s crook that he can turn into a scythe to play into the sheep, wolf, Hunter thing.

With Jason and Tara’s splintering, I love the idea of them making fun of Grant for being the baby god. He hasn’t even had a cult yet, gosh he’s so young. Also them being besties just holds a special place in my heart.

And I just came up with this, of course they have parallels to the trinity but in universe rumours of their existence have been around much longer than Bruce, Clark and Diana. They’re the big three of the justice league but these guys are justice gods. So they start calling themselves the justice trinity but then people get confused about which trinity is which because the justice leagues’ trinity sounds awfully close to the justice gods’ trinity. The new all caste is certainly more distinctive branding but the point isn’t to be distinctive, it’s to be petty.

I'm so glad my unmedicated rambling helped!!! And I'm so excited for the outfits!!! I love when characters start becoming less and less human, when they're stuck in that uncanny valley spot of not quite human but not entirely Other, when they lose control and the cracks start to show...um I should probably give a warning for slight body horror elements. Not in the gore sense, in the "this body is not made of flesh and there is something divine clawing it's way out". Uh also there are teeth. Just. Teeth. I dipped into a little bit of cosmic horror at the end there because I wanted to cover my bases with mixed mythologies

Jason, with his defined splinters, is usually depicted with three faces in ancient texts. The Child, gaunt and dark colored, is said to appear before the downtrodden and impoverished. The few stories remaining tell of kindly people who give him an offering, and in exchange he reveals his true form, with his crown of golden ivy and beautiful strong wings to gift them bounties of food and water and riches. Other stories tell of not so kind encounters, where The Child witnesses an injustice - typically against women or children - and again reveals his true form, one with clawed hands and a mouth dripping with blood. Scholars argue what the wings looked like, but whichever All-Caste member annotated it before has compared their likeness to either a Robin or a Shrike.

There's also The Ghost, He appears young at first glance, but his hair is wirey and gray, his eyes milky and unseeing, in bloodied armor he greets the souls of the damned as they're delivered to him, and with scarred hands he wipes the tears of children taken too soon. Accounts of this face are few and far between, but all of them are entrenched in sorrow.

Finally there is The Soldier, scarred and still smoking from the ruins of battle he emerges, giving voice to the weak and resources to the needy. He champions revolutionaries and philosophers first, a strategist who delights in the liberation of the people from corrupt systems. Accounts of him usually come from times of famine and war, and he was particularly popular with poor villages, who would mark the graves of their dead with the symbol of his sword as offerings. For some reason or other, he got particularly popular with the youth, girls and boys both seemed to pray for him and leave him offerings.

The way these manifest on Jason is subtle at first. I could go the body horror route, but I won't. Yet. Instead I think his splinters show up as reflections, shadows, imprints. The faint echo of bell-like laughter when Jason does a move he learned as Robin, the image of a younger him with longer hair and unblinking eyes staring at him in the mirror. It gets worse when he gets the blades, the white streaks his hair, the swirling mark covers more of his skin every time he uses them, he trails the scent of smoke and blood behind him like a signature. His scars...they should disappear. They have for everyone else who used the pit, but instead his skin starts cracking. Any place he's ever been scarred glowing cracks break up his skin. He can't feel them, but he's always aware of them, the meaning behind them, the divinity literally leaking through his body. His eyes aren't brown anymore. They aren't even green. He looks in the mirror and they are copper, molten and burning. He tries his best to keep his mask on.

What do you think of when you imagine the word divinity? Probably something like Tara. Something with skin carved from stone, with moss and fungus crawling up her legs and snow laden shoulders. They say her hair is made of swirling clouds and the sun and moon are her eyes.

Some say she's a nymph although no one knows what kind. You're just as likely to see her name among the naiads as the dryads. Whether flowers bloom where she dances or waves crash when she sings, she's known to be more vicious towards suitors than her sisters.

Others have said she's a faerie, who takes the faces of lost daughters and lovers, slipping into their places seamlessly, forcing unruly men to pay their dues. Others say she's a shifter of a different sort, with a shawl of feathers and a crown of twine and gems. Stories range from men trying to steal her coat (and paying dearly) to lost children returned safely home on the back of a swan.

Tara doesn't think about it at first, the way gravity tends to cede to her, she doesn't notice how sunflowers turn their faces towards her instead of the sun. She doesn't notice the way her face...shifts. it's imperceptible really, and it's not like she looks in the mirror all that often. But everyone around her notices it, on some level, the way her expressions are off. A little too exaggerated. The way her limbs bend just a little too oddly. The way she never looks quite the same as she did the day before, the way she picks up features from the people around her the way she picks up rocks from ground to add to her collection. Clay molded subtly into the image of those she loves, a museum of everyone she's ever met. She does notice when her hair starts going white at the ends, the strange way her hair starts to curl unnaturally, almost floating. She's not so upset about her eyes, the deep blue of her father that has glared down at her day after day, she has changed her hair, her face, her language but she could not change her eyes. It seems she didn't have to, when she wakes up with one a little too silver to be gray and one a little too gold to be brown. And then her skin starts splitting, a cavern made from a broken rib and ravines made by the slashing of knives. She doesn't even bleed anymore, they never scab over. They crystallize, amber like ambrosia, like ichor. Her body a geode waiting to be cracked open to let the thing within finally break free.

They know the least about Grant, whatever he used to be. Half written scrolls, torn or burnt or simply stopped abruptly, illegible journal entries with symbols never recorded in any known language, half finished sketches where the details are never quite clear. A few things are usually consistent though, signs that he's been there, usually from hunters down on their luck or the particularly old and sickly. First, the howling. Like a wolf or a storm, although later accounts would add that it occasionally sounds like a mechanical whirring. Then the rabbits, dead and gutted, but not a trace of blood. Piles of them left in heaps on doorsteps or windowsills. Some have reported knocking at strange hours or finding teeth in their homes, a mix of human and animal. There is one photo on record, the most recent thing in the archive most likely, of claw marks on the side of a barn, too big and oddly serrated, certainly not from anything native to the area. Elderly that report these phenomena typically pass from heart problems within the week, according to some of the old medical files.

Grant came back wrong. Physically, at least. He knows that he's still himself for the most part, dying didn't make him a selfish asshole he did that all on his own, but...but something is wrong with him. It's the way lightbulbs flicker when he's mad and how cameras, no matter the quality, never quite get a clear shot of him. The way Joey can't ever grasp his features, not fully, the details slipping from his mind like water. The way eyes on his face slide right past, unable to look directly at him. It's in the gray spreading from his roots and his eyes too wide and dark to belong to something human. It's the way death clings to him like a second skin, sickly and pallid turning the tips of his fingers gray. His teeth are starting to feel too sharp for his mouth, and he hears things no one else does, whispers of voices that Are Not and Can't Be. The worst part is the orange, liquid candlelight under his skin, lighting up all of his veins and scars, webbing together like the world's worst game of connect the dots. No, there is no mistaking him for something human, so there is no reason to try. If this is his fate then he will take it, because he is not a sheep and he will not be a wolf, he is a hunter, and he is hungry.

[jervis-tetch-my-beloved]

what is this guys problem

[kitsune-kaos]

Finally finished Attack on Titan. My God. Just. Wow.

[lvebug]

who wants to write dumb as shit 911 threads inspired by classic movies with me like 911 does for rear window and for speed etc

[opens-up-4-nobody]

I can't express to you how much I adore Weaver Márquez. The ghost in the static. A mystery not a puzzle. A person gone but still taking up space. A thing still leaving marks after it's gone.

[04tenno]

There’s just. Something. About Mine going to hostess clubs but only paying attention to the men that brought him there and his love for working out and all of the stuff about how men are more into that than women and more it’s all so aaaaaaaaaaaa

The note about Mine looking unhappy in the beach card is something I noticed about his face in contrast to the heavy sex appeal of the rest of the image. Makes me wonder what it’d be like then if he was trying to draw in the attention of a man-

YEAH MAN... It's a lot...

Okay funny you say that because at the time, the Charm status effect had yet to be introduced (not that any male characters have it yet regardless), so Mine instead inflicts Confusion at the start of battle. Guy who makes you question your sexuality with but a glance