#but i'm loving how this is going

[fang-and-feather]

Yves + Magical Girl/Boy AU? :o

Yves magical item is his mother's earring. It's rare for someone to directly inherit power like that and Yves might be the only one of his brothers to do so (to his knowledge, at least)

For the most part, Yves avoided using his powers, both because he feared them at time, and because people didn't react well to his, as they called it, "Obsidianite Powers", that were considered dark and unstable. Even today, with full control over them, and even in more private situations, Yves doesn't use them much.

When he was younger, especially on his teenager years, Yves had poor control of his powers, especially his transformation, that was often triggered when he felt himself in danger or when his emotions enhanced his powers.

He often heard of some of his brothers that, probably because of getting his mother's magical item, too feminine powers, since among Yves's unique abilities was that of enhancing the beauty of things, as well as imbuing his sweets with powers that could enhance natural healing or temporarily boost their emotions positively (the later could work with his music too). But these were all things Yves claimed to be able to do without his powers (and he was mostly right, his powers were just, in a sense, stronger and worked even in situations his natural charm and skills couldn't).

While all the others had one "transformation outfit", Yves could modify his at will.

Yves general magic is light based, and his purification abilities are among the strongest in the castle, despite his fighting powers not being too great compared to the others

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hey now, Let her cook!

[chimchiri]

gideon & harrow OR rd and sf as cowboys please please please

It's the cowgirl necro and her gunslinger cav! Who is so damn extra she's got three guns: one left, one right, and one in pole position! (She swears the ladies love it!)

[egophiliac]

still ruminating over Lost In the Book With Spooky Skeletons Part 1, so here's a selection of some of my favorite little bits! (...some more loosely paraphrased than others) (I just feel like Idia has no room to criticize in general, okay)

anyway, I'm sure we're just going to have a fun time celebrating Halloween and nothing bad is going to happen whatsoever! :)

[inkskinned]

at some point it's just like. do they even fucking like the thing they're asking AI to make? "oh we'll just use AI for all the scripts" "we'll just use AI for art" "no worries AI can write this book" "oh, AI could easily design this"

like... it's so clear they've never stood in the middle of an art museum and felt like crying, looking at a piece that somehow cuts into your marrow even though the artist and you are separated by space and time. they've never looked at a poem - once, twice, three times - just because the words feel like a fired gun, something too-close, clanging behind your eyes. they've never gotten to the end of the movie and had to arrive, blinking, back into their body, laughing a little because they were holding their breath without realizing.

"oh AI can mimic style" "AI can mimic emotion" "AI can mimic you and your job is almost gone, kid."

... how do i explain to you - you can make AI that does a perfect job of imitating me. you could disseminate it through the entire world and make so much money, using my works and my ideas and my everything.

and i'd still keep writing.

i don't know there's a word for it. in high school, we become aware that the way we feel about our artform is a cliche - it's like breathing. over and over, artists all feel the same thing. "i write because i need to" and "my music is how i speak" and "i make art because it's either that or i stop existing." it is such a common experience, the violence and immediacy we mean behind it is like breathing to me - comes out like a useless understatement. it's a cliche because we all feel it, not because the experience isn't actually persistent. so many of us have this ... fluttering urgency behind our ribs.

i'm not doing it for the money. for a star on the ground in some city i've never visited. i am doing it because when i was seven i started taking notebooks with me on walks. i am doing it because in second grade i wrote a poem and stood up in front of my whole class to read it out while i shook with nerves. i am doing it because i spent high school scribbling all my feelings down. i am doing it for the 16 year old me and the 18 year old me and the today-me, how we can never put the pen down. you can take me down to a subatomic layer, eviscerate me - and never find the source of it; it is of me. when i was 19 i named this blog inkskinned because i was dramatic and lonely and it felt like the only thing that was actually permanently-true about me was that this is what is inside of me, that the words come up over everything, coat everything, bloom their little twilight arias into every nook and corner and alley

"we're gonna replace you". that is okay. you think that i am writing to fill a space. that someone said JOB OPENING: Writer Needed, and i wrote to answer. you think one raindrop replaces another, and i think they're both just falling. you think art has a place, that is simply arrives on walls when it is needed, that is only ever on demand, perfect, easily requested. you see "audience spending" and "marketability" and "multi-line merch opportunity"

and i see a kid drowning. i am writing to make her a boat. i am writing because what used to be a river raft has long become a fully-rigged ship. i am writing because you can fucking rip this out of my cold dead clammy hands and i will still come back as a ghost and i will still be penning poems about it.

it isn't even love. the word we use the most i think is "passion". devotion, obsession, necessity. my favorite little fact about the magic of artists - "abracadabra" means i create as i speak. we make because it sluices out of us. because we look down and our hands are somehow already busy. because it was the first thing we knew and it is our backbone and heartbreak and everything. because we have given up well-paying jobs and a "real life" and the approval of our parents. we create because - the cliche again. it's like breathing. we create because we must.

you create because you're greedy.

[nipuni]

14 and not 14 😌

[zennesaph]

this is how logic chess works right

[littlefankingdom]

Bruce Wayne is canonically a very handsome man (he is called a "pretty boy" and he is in his 40s, for fuck's sake), and he is pretty famous as a rich philanthropist who doesn't want to leave his awful cursed crime infested city. So, there must be a ton of people thirsting over him on the internet. Fancams, edits, fanfics and imagines ("kidnapped with Bruce Wayne 😍 by a Gotham rogue"), the whole charade!

And anytime one of the batkids stumbles on a thirst post, they have the most dramatic disgusted reaction, loudly gagging, before sending the link to the batkids chat, because if they must suffer, then they should all suffer. Clicking on a link in this groupchat is like playing russian roulette, and getting rickrolled is a good ending.

[frenchublog]

[yubriamakesart]

"Scrooge said that he would see him—yes, indeed he did. He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that extremity first." - Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

[lotus-pear]

mourning black and the death of ideals

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The girls are back (from the grave)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID in ALT] I've made posts before about Talia/Dick co-parenting Damian moments (will never happen but let me dream) and this came to me in a vision. Took me ages to finish for some reason 😭 and then even longer to post

[egophiliac]

buckle up lads we're going BACK INTO THE BOOK

[uncanny-tranny]

I guess what gets me about fatphobia is seeing someone literally recovering from addiction and gaining weight being framed as a bad thing because a substance use problem that is eating you from the inside out is preferable so long as you are twenty pounds lighter.

It has never been about people's health.

[merrigel]

I want it back = I drag its dead weight forward