#figured he deserved one too

[valachia]

The "a" in "Mac" part of MacKinnon is unnecessary and you cant convince me otherwise. Therefore this works.

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) hi sorry for back to back marvel fanart I swear I still have dc stuff lmao. However I did recently read X-Men: first class and got a bit carried away doodling this after Lmao

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

i feel like maul would get into tea because the perfectionism and theatre of good tea making would appeal to his inner neurotic thespian. he would also just enjoy flavors, after knowing food scarcity. a small 6oz cup is probably the right rate of hydration for him post lotho minor, on fuckin repeat all day of course, so i imagine he picked the habit up naturally.

[tblsomedoodles]

Some Venus ideas

seriously debating on adding Venus to FW so here's some early designs. (like i'm not sure i'll keep the eyebrow marks, they look kinda funky at times). Mostly b/c them having another sister would be adorable. And it would piss Draxum off, which would be hilarious (for reasons i'll explain.)

some more about her under the cut. But it's mostly just random brainstorming i did at 3am

18 yo (3 years older than Raph)

Mutated Ornate Wood Turtle (using some of Lou's DNA.) (so no spider traits.)

Technically their Half sister since Big Mama's not her mother. (not that that will stop Mama from mothering her. She'd get her own room in the hotel and everything : ) )

Was mutated 'first' to test the mutagen.

She was 5 when the boys were mutated.

Venus got misplaced during resulting explosion. eventually found and taken in by the Library Bats. Which is exactly what pisses off Draxum b/c he knows exactly where she is but the bats refuse to give her back to him lol. And no one messes with the bats. (he's got thrown into the kiddy room several times for trying lol)

she's very quiet, shy, and very anxious about and unsure how to socialize with people in general. (✨social anxiety✨)

I don't think she's much of a fighter. like at all. Pretty sure the only way she would fight would be mystics (ie standing in the back taking magic missile esc pot shots wizard style.) she might actually be more of a pacifist than anything. I'm getting the feeling that she wants little to do with fighting or violence personally. Like she wouldn't judge her siblings on it, but she doesn't want to participate. (the only exception being that if someone/thing is hurting said siblings. b/c once she's emotionally attached to those kids, anything seriously trying to hurt her siblings do not get the luxury of her just standing by.)

that's about it.

and a meme about how thoroughly this au is going off track.

[local-limebug]

jason todd has so many underrated canon love interests. essence, isabel, artemis, and rose are all characters i love with him. like those are good ships. why is everyone ignoring them?

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

thinking about the elections tonight... bad, cellbit, baghera, and forever are four candidates who are devoted to the island- more specifically, to the residents of the island. They care for the eggs, and they care for each other, and the way they exhibit that care through their primary presidential strategies is fucking fascinating.

Bad is who I watch the most, so I know him best. He's a classic mother hen. He doesn't like to take risks with the eggs, and he likes to prepare. If there's any sort of variable that could hurt an egg then he wants to control it. They have a stable relationship with the federation right now- it's not great, but they know the parameters. Don't trust cucurucho. don't follow cucurucho. send the eggs to NINHO every time there's a threat. the time of day changing means you need to run. Other than that they're p okay and roughly safe. But adding a president could potentially change everything. What if the president makes a rule that makes it easier to kill the eggs? And what about the way a president could cause tensions between the players to rise even higher? The dynamics of the island could change drastically. It's safer to neutralize that threat before it ever becomes a threat. It's easier to stop a war before it can start.

Baghera's primary concern is the way the election is designed to pit the residents against each other. All of them know that the Federation is a threat and she, like Bad, is focused on not letting them hurt more people. But, unlike Bad, she's less resistant to change. If the power is spread to multiple players rather than just one, it will be harder for the Federation to corrupt any one of them. Each time before the Federation has gotten to someone it's done so by isolating them. Felps, Cellbit, Jaiden- they've all spent a lot of alone time with Cucurucho. A council isn't just to consolidate the ideals of the island; a council would protect the players themselves. Sure, there might be disagreements and arguments, but they've had those before (and they're having them now!) and there's no reason to think they wouldn't be able to get through them again.

I hit a bit of a wall with Forever and Cellbit's pov here. Everything I know about their plans are from the debates and paraphrased discussions that have been translated here on tumblr, I'm going to talk less about their explicit plan and more about what the result will entail- a single president who takes responsibility for the island. It seems to me like they've recognized the presidential seat as the powerful opportunity that it is, and they want to take advantage of it. Here's some extra personal speculation but, adding rules, adding or removing mods, proposing public works, enforcing laws- those are just the abilities that are listed. Those are incredible opportunities to make the Federation take action, which is more than they've had before. We've seen before that the Federation isn't perfect; the Federation makes mistakes.

By working with the Federation, by making them take action (in a semi-controlled, semi-predictable way) you open them up to more opportunities for them to fuck up (while benefiting you). And, maybe, one of those fuck ups will be the key to taking them down. Maybe they could reopen ender chests. Maybe they could open the nether. Maybe they could learn why the Federation is holding an election in the first place. It's possible to do all these things with Baghera's plan, sure, but that's not a guarantee and, if someone like Bad is on the council, there's absolutely no way to be sure it would get done. And, if there's a council, then that opens up everyone on the council to the Federation's wiles. If there's just one president, then that's where the Federation's focus will be. By using a single person to build a relationship with the Federation, they only risk that single person. By electing ministers instead of a council, they can ensure that the island residents' needs are being heard while placing the federation's focus on that one person. A point can be made that they've done that before- with varying results. like kidnapping. selling your soul. etc. But! overall, I think they've gained more than they've lost by singling out one person. Because of them, we know that Cucurucho can't be trusted. We know that the Federation has a series of tunnels underneath the island. We know that the Federation not only has some sort of cryo technology, but had some unknown reason to use it. We know that there was another person working with Cellbit to take care of Felps (theorized to be ElQuackity), so we know there's at least one more Fed that isn't Cucurucho + blank-faced workers. There's been risk, but there's absolutely been rewards. This is just a very long meandering way to say that their plan to sacrifice Forever to the presidential seat reminds me very much of Cellbit's plan to sacrifice himself to the federation. They're saving their friends by potentially damning themselves and I, for one, think that is cool as hell.

they all care about each other so much. bad's plan means taking on no more risk. baghera's plan means spreading that risk evenly to stand strong together. and cellbit and forever's plan means taking the risk onto themselves so they can reap the rewards for others. am i reading too much into things? no this is tumblr and this smp is about LOVE and i really genuinely think that their election plans are a fantastic example of just how much they love each other

[nerdy-hyperfixations]

It's hard being someone who does genuinely get infuriated with Ford's actions and acknowledges a lot of his flaws and the people he hurt, while also liking (and relating) to his character enough that I would like him to have nice things sometimes and don't believe he's satan

[wyvernquill]

One more snippet of the Dreamling Anastasia AU

...in which we witness Hob and Murphy's very first conversation (spoiler: it doesn't go well). Please enjoy!

Link to the Masterpost!

(Tag list, let me know if you want to be added or taken off: @10moonymhrivertam @martybaker @globglobglobglobob @anonymoustitans @sunshines-fabulous-legs @dreamsofapiratelife @malice-royaume @kcsandmanfan @acedragontype @okilokiwithpurpose @tharkuun @silver-dream89 @i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch)

---

For a moment, the scene unfolding before Hob makes him think he’s stepped into a fairytale - or perhaps a sweet and strange dream, haunting you ever so gently even after waking.

Once upon a time, thinks Hob, there was a Dream King draped in a cloak of midnight, and he held court over the ravens in a silver-winter forest under heavy, snow-laden boughs…

But then he blinks, and the silly, fanciful vision fades. The cloak is but a dark coat three sizes too large and marked by at least ten years’ worth of dirt and wear, the forest only a small and pitiful park fenced in by roads, and the snow a dirty grey, barely more than half-melted sludge where countless feet have trodden it down.

And the Dream King is only some beggar called Murphy, of course, uncanny resemblance be damned.

But there are ravens. Birds of all kinds, really, the sounds of their wings and their various songs nearly managing to drown out the noise of the city around them. Yet Hob is a practical man, and knows that they gather around their ‘king’ only because they’re clever little buggers waiting to be fed, and not thanks to any strange magics.

(Magic died when humanity rose up and brought the Endless low; and what little survived has fled, concealed itself, and would know better than to enchant a hundred or so birds in broad-if-cloud-dimmed daylight.

Magic died with Dream of the Endless, and all that is left are shadows and cheap facsimiles.

Magic died, and nothing will bring it back.)

And yet… there’s potential there, Hob thinks, as he watches Murphy draw his giant coat more tightly around himself, shivering but still holding his head high and proud, surveying the assorted fowl around him as if they were his subjects. There’s a sharp, delicate arrogance in his bearing that will serve their deception well.

And. Christ alive. He does look like him, doesn’t he. Like the Sandman himself, made flesh and bone and sweat and dirt. Made human. If Hob didn’t know, with absolute certainty… he could swear...

Ridiculous thought. Dream of the Endless would never sink so low as to get himself thrown out of a pub swearing and spitting, human or not.

Murphy’s eyes suddenly snap up, and Hob flinches instinctively, contemplates ducking behind the next tree or the column advertising the latest local plays - but the man’s gaze passes over him carelessly, long neck craning out from the ratty scarf wound around his throat as he scans the sky.

It’s the raven. The large, coal-feathered beast Murphy had with him at the pub, with the clever glint in its eye - and in its claws, it holds a whole loaf of bread, clearly pilfered from some bakery or street stall.

The raven drops the bread into Murphy’s lap, and then lands on his shoulder, cawing and nudging its beak against a sharp cheekbone in a strange avian gesture of affection.

Murphy rasps some sort of acknowledgement in his dark, hoarse voice that Hob is too far away to parse, stroking a finger along the bird’s side, before turning his attention to the bread.

His spindly, dirty fingers tear into it with the hungry desperation of a man who remembers with precise clarity when his last meal was, and also that it’s been far too long since then, and Hob’s stomach gives a sympathetic pang. He’s been there. Not so much recently - but he knows the slow gnaw of starvation, and will never forget it.

(He hasn’t gone hungry since meeting Gilbert, who’d rather skip on his own technically unnecessary meals if it meant his young human companion could eat his fill. Sometimes, Gil even hands Hob fruits he’s seemingly conjured up out of thin air, which are never as filling as the real thing, but taste heavenly enough to stave off hunger for a few more hours at least.

There must be some dream-magic there, something to do with Gil being, in all technicality, a meadow - but Hob doesn’t think about it too much. It’s sweet, the actions of a friend who truly cares, and that’s enough for him.)

Murphy raises the first morsel of bread up to his mouth…

…and feeds it to the raven.

Hob blinks.

Watches, as the man takes his own bite, chewing ravenously, and then tears another bit off the loaf, throwing it to the ground, birds immediately flocking around it, picking for their share.

The process repeats. Murphy goes through the entire loaf that way. One bite for the raven who stole the bread, one bite for Murphy himself, and one for the flocks of birds around him. Halfway through, the raven refuses its bites, presumably full, and from then on it’s one bite for Murphy, two for the birds. It’s already not the largest loaf, and a third of it is hardly enough to sate a grown man’s hunger - strangely selfless, this Murphy character. No wonder he’s thin as a rake.

(Then again, Hob supposes there’s strategy in it, teaching the birds that they’ll be well-rewarded for any bounty they bring him.

Altruism, or shrewdness? Hob wonders.)

Soon, there’s nothing left of the bread. Murphy still looks hungry, but it’s an exhausted, resigned hunger that’s there to stay. Hob doubts the man can remember a time he wasn’t hungry. This city is not kind to the starving, to the poor - Murphy might get a place in a workhouse, if he tried, but Hob doubts that quiet pride still shining through the veil of hunger would let him. And besides, they’re dying institutions, these days, workhouses - the modern world is turning up their noses at anything that might help the destitute, even as it churns out more and more of them. It’s a dark and miserable time they’re living in, and none of the glamorous parties the rich so love to throw these days will convince Hob otherwise.

But, well. If their scheme goes off without a hitch, then at the very least the new ‘Dream of the Endless’ will never go hungry again. Hob’s doing a public service here, if you look at it from the right angle - though he’ll be the first to admit that his main motivation is anything but selfless. Immortality is too rich a prize to pretend he doesn’t want it with every fibre of his being.

And he’ll not get it standing idly by and watching, that’s for sure.

Hob straightens his coat lapels, takes off his hat to comb his fingers through his overlong hair, places it back at a jaunty angle - and walks over to finally officially make this Murphy character’s acquaintance.

“Afternoon,” Hob says, still a few steps away, smile widening into a grin when Murphy’s gaze immediately fixes itself onto him, cold and filled with the sharp suspicion of a man most people go out of their way to ignore, and who does not trust direct address.

(The eyes give him away. Dream of the Endless had eyes like midnight stars, the depths of space and the glitter of distant galaxies eternally reflected in them. Strange eyes, inhuman eyes, endless eyes.

Murphy’s eyes are a pale, washed-out blue-grey, slightly sunken in their sockets, and perfectly ordinary.

No matter - they will already have to sell some cock-and-bull story about Dream having been forced into human form, the eyes will be the least of it.)

“What do you want?” Murphy growls, and that is perfect. The voice. Easily his best asset, besides the overall look. It’s right, scratchy and roughened by disuse, but just as deep and sonorous as Dream of the Endless's was. The harsh tone and tendency to curse like a sailor Hob witnessed at the inn will need to go, to be sure, this man speaks too much like a London gutter rat and not enough like the Lord of Stories - but, well, nothing a few lessons can't fix. Nobody else ever got the voice even remotely right, and this’ll already give them a lot more to work with.

“A moment of your time, m’lord. Nothing more.” Hob affects a cheeky bow, and does not waver under the cold disdain he receives in return. Mr. Murphy’s not a fan of teasing and gentle mockery, evidently - unfortunately, that is about 50% of Hob’s personality. They’ll get on just splendidly, won’t they. “Hob, at your service. Are you aware your lady sister is looking for you?”

A quick blink, even as Murphy’s entire scrawny body and haggard face goes very, very still.

“...I do not have a sister.” He says, only the slightest edge of uncertainty and confusion wavering in his voice. And then, “piss off, Robert Gadling” he adds, uncouth and vulgar, a scowl scrunching up his face. Oh, they’ll need to train that out of him, most certainly.

(Hob has not introduced himself as Robert, and certainly not as Gadling. That Murphy has named him thus nonetheless goes over both their heads.)

“No?” Hob smiles. “You’re not Dream of the Endless, then?”

Another blink - and then Murphy laughs, a horrible dissonant sound that seems like it ought to hurt his throat, the raven on his shoulder letting out a single caw alongside him.

“Are you drunk?” He snorts. “Dream of the Endless is dead. Every child knows it.”

“Every child believes it to be so. There’s a distinction.” Hob tries to take a step closer, but the sea of birds at their feet steadfastly refuses to part for him, so he thinks better of it. “You look exactly like him, you know. You might well be.”

“And you would know that, would you?” Murphy raises an arch eyebrow. “I think I’d remember having once been the personification of dreams.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Memory can be a funny thing.” Hob shoots back. “We don’t remember being born, do we? And some lose track of even more than that. How’s your recollection of your childhood, hm?”

Ah. Jackpot. The moment he speaks of remembering and childhoods, Murphy looks away, uncomfortable. Hit a sore spot there, has he? Memory issues. How interesting. How perfectly convenient.

“...you’ve had your fun now,” Murphy rasps, shifting uneasily, no longer so willing to defiantly meet Hob’s eyes. “I want no part in whatever game you’re intending to play with the London Poor, Gadling. Fuck off, before I make you.”

“Now, now, I really do think we’re on to something, here.” Giving up, Hob knows, is for fools who don’t really want to become immortal. “I’m quite certain-”

“Fuck. Off.” Murphy repeats, and turns his pale, unfortunately-human eyes on Hob again.

So do nearly a hundred birds, feathers ruffling and beaks clacking. The raven on Murphy’s shoulder caws, low and threatening.

Hob swallows, and takes stock of his options. Wonders if tactical retreats might not be just the thing for intelligent men who don’t want to die by bird before ever getting to take their stab at immortality.

“I’m only saying-” Hob tries instead, because he’s a reckless idiot.

Murphy’s eyes narrow, and he spits out a throaty sound like a command, the flock of birds rising as one, led by his personal raven jumping into flight with a sharp battle cry.

Shit.

Gilbert glances up when Hob returns covered in feathers and bird droppings, skin smarting where sharp beaks have pecked at him until he fled.

“I take it young Mr. Murphy was not particularly amenable to your proposal…?” He asks, delicately, lip twitching around a politely-repressed smile.

“Can’t say he was.” Hob shrugs easily, only wincing slightly at the way the movement pulls on his skin. “But I think I can convince him, Gil. Given enough time.”

“If you say so, young friend.” Gil, for his part, does not look particularly convinced either. He rarely is, when Hob first pitches his ideas, but he always comes around.

And so will Murphy.

Hob knows it’s only a matter of time… and, perhaps, some clever bribery.

[okikurumi]

Finally picked back up a project I started a long time ago! Wanted to paint a Hayabusa figure! I took a lot some creative liberties esp with his stripes, but I'm pretty happy with how he's turned out :]

Still need to seal the paint, and get some scrap fabric to make his bandana but he's really coming along!

[uygfiug]

sometimes my parents make me want to commit violent crimes

[swiftcast-selene]

been thinking about how hard MSQ must be on the body, especially for someone who isn't exactly in the best shape of their life. must be hard to keep up with the warrior of light! which ended up in a couple studies of how Negi's carried his weight through the whole adventure, with a couple extra mostly-non-spoilery notes on each expac~

[sonknuxadow]

everyone is always making sonic a pegasus or a unicorn in their sonic characters as mlp characters art. but im an earth pony sonic believer forever i don't care what anyone says

[dazais-guardian-angel]

I hate to nitpick the Atsushi hallucinating scene in the new episode cause it was SO well done otherwise, but I'm still really sad that they cut out Francis being there. Like... it's not entirely necessary, I guess, but it just adds so much to his character and to the scene itself?

The Francis in Atsushi's mind is this looming, intimidating presence, because Atsushi did of course fight against him, he was his enemy at one point, but I think it undeniably says a lot that he's even included here at all.

I'm pretty sure I saw this discussed back when this chapter first came out, but while everything Atsushi's hallucinations say to him are framed as negative, putting him down, they can also be read as letting him know that the burden of responsibility for making such a huge decision isn't on him (hence why he decides to let Fukuzawa decide instead, because he can't make THE choice, but he can still choose to act to let someone else decide, and not simply do nothing), and Francis is no exception in this regard. Since he's naturally haughty and arrogant in his personality, this fake version of him doesn't at all feel out of character, coldly saying that "nobody expects anything of you", but again, I think this line especially can also be read as "you are not expected to do anything". In that way, it feels more reassuring, and maybe even dare I say kind -- the fact that Atsushi even considers him important enough of a figure in his life to think of what he would say to him in this moment means that he counts Francis among his allies now. Yes, they didn't get along at first when Francis lied and told him that he only wanted to revive Margaret just so she could kill Hawthorne (because god forbid he actually admit out loud that he cares about people, smh), and obviously because of the whole almost burning Yokohama down and trying to kill him and Akutagawa thing lol, but I'm pretty sure Atsushi changed his mind about him after he saw the state Margaret was in, and recognized how much Francis cares about her and wanted her to be alright. He probably still remembers him talking about his desire to bring back his daughter and save her and his wife, too. The guy still probably isn't someone Atsushi would want to hang out with and be buddy-buddy with during his free time lmao, but the airheaded vain old sport still has a good heart, deep down, and I think Atsushi has seen this by now, because he's a kind person, and so I think it speaks volumes that he unconsciously looks to him for advice here. Francis is just a really good and underrated character, and this is such a small but meaningful moment that shows his development so well, the only moment with him we've gotten or any of the Guild really in such a long time, so it makes me sad to see this cut 💔

I also just feel like not including him kind of weakens the impact of Akutagawa's appearance here?? Like, there's a progression of the order of people Atsushi hears/sees in this scenes: first, people from the ADA sans Dazai, who are all portrayed as on the same level, because he cares about them all equally, aside from I guess Kyouka (again, sans Dazai, the most important person to him). Then, there is Francis, and not to say that Francis is more important to Atsushi than the ADA, obviously not, but he's one of the last to appear because he used to be his enemy, and so he commands much more of a presence, has more of an impact -- but at the same time, like I said, it's complicated: he's not really his enemy anymore, but something between a rival and a friend, and so for that reason his words carry more weight. He is someone Atsushi, logically, shouldn't trust, after what he did to him in the past, and yet he does, because things have changed since the Guild arc, and he knows he can count on him to be there for him and the ADA now.

And then, after him, there is Akutagawa. Who is basically exactly the same as everything I just described for Francis, but times one hundred. Of course Akutagawa would be last. Of course, if there's someone Atsushi would simultaneously and paradoxically be both intimidated by and yet comforted to hear their advice because of their tumultuous history together, far more than Francis, it would be Akutagawa. The progression of ADA members > Francis > Akutagawa in that order gives Akutagawa's appearance much more weight imo than just going straight to him from the ADA members, especially with the specific framing of him standing in line behind Francis to judge/advise Atsushi.... it's just much more powerful, and I wish they'd kept it like this, for both Francis and Aku's characters.

[snowthedemonfox]

sometimes you just zone out and draw the same character multiple times in a row without realising it

[undistortedworld]

xiyao shrine xiyao shrine!!!!!! \☆0☆/

[nerosdayinanime]

auuuhhh crying thinking about muichiro and giyuu.....