#he has that much more energy again

[sanremengoni]

.

[reineydraws]

jason is a grandpa's boy and u cant take this away from me!!! they cook together, they discuss literature together, and when jay comes back, they clean their guns together haha. ofc they celebrate their birthday together too! 😌

✨️🎂 hbd jay & alfie 🎂✨️

[bacchuschucklefuck]

space sweepers but they're delivery people and are at no point on screen through the entire movie

[gardenofskeletonss]

THEY DON'T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO

[secriden]

excuse me i just stumbled on this photoshoot (?) on Twitter and

wtf why does peat have that rich 太太 (tai tai) energy?? (ie. a wealthy, spoiled, pampered trophy housewife)

why does fort look like his assigned bodyguard who is officially just there to make sure no one gets to his boss through his 'wife' but he's also totally fucking his boss' wife on the down low

they totally plot to murder peat's rich husband and have him inherit his fortune and afterwards fort stays as his kept man bodyguard and peat rules his financial empire with an iron fist.

why do i need a fic about this like i need to breathe.

Edit: so i wrote a thing (its mahasamut/tongrak and its way more intense then i even anticipated)

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

[jujuflakes]

Ohhhh boy. I have come with (yet another) Eldritch!Lucifer concept design. It will happen again. Ksnsbef

Inspiration taken from omori/madoka/genshin.

I have so many biblically accurate designs in the drafts bc I just. cannot see Luci with one definite look. Hence the hc that the closer his appearance is to his 'true' form, the more unstable it becomes. my baby would drive quantum physicists mad.

[dont-open-dead-inside-25]

*voice of boy who just experienced romantic/sexual attraction for the first time* did you guys see that. that was insane. wdym you live like this

[yzafre]

Roxas: Had the Halloween town kids throw bombs in his face for multiple missions in a row before finally breaking down and smacking them around a bit.

Ventus: The dwarves were rude and refused to talk to him, immediately resorted to chasing them down and whacking them.

Characterization I see frequently: Ah, yes, Roxas is the one always willing to throw hands and Ventus is a smol sunshine boy.

[starbuck]

peace and love to all of those who find joy in attempting to extract a coherent and “correct” narrative from Jenny from Thebes, but, in my opinion personally, a story is true, a story is untrue. as time goes on, it matters less and less.

[shirogane-oushirou]

hi hi hi :3c i'm aaaaaaalmost caught up on my dash after a couple of weeks of spotty appearances and a couple of weeks of being Straight Up Offline, and then i'll catch up on peoples' art and fics!! i miss being on here!! hi hi hi hi hi!!!!! 👋🏻👋🏻👋🏻👋🏻👋🏻

(also i have been Pondering over a ren sentient a.i desktop buddy AU while i've been gone bc. i'm a sucker for that shit. dunno if it'll go anywhere but for now i'm playing touys and it's fun hehehe if you see a new tag at some point then that means i'm keeping him sjndfkn)

[quietwingsinthesky]

in the amelia pond au, amelia’s aunt does still send her to therapy between doctor adventures, but since amelia is now secure in the fact that he’s Definitely Real since both rory and mels have also met him and because she lost a tooth last week from tripping on the stairs of the tardis, she doesn’t bite any therapists this time around. and besides, her therapist is a very funny lady. she reminds amelia of her doctor, with how her voice will flip and jump in volume and accent and tone on a whim, with how she’ll talk to amelia like they’re conspiring together. she keeps the pictures amelia draws of the doctor and their adventures for her, even hangs one or two on the walls. she listens very intently to every detail, which no adults in amelia’s life do save the doctor himself and river song, whenever she’s around. and best of all, whenever she tells amelia’s aunt that amelia is doing just fine, don’t you worry, she’ll grow out of this, she winks at amelia so that amelia will know her therapist is only playing along to wave away her aunt’s suspicion.

it is a little odd, though, that she insists on only being called Missy. but amelia is quite used to odd by now.

[dykedvonte]

I like to think in the P.E au that Anya and Curly specifically get haunted hard by Jimmy's weird reality crossing guilt manifested.

It's targeting them because Jimmy's guilt grows more around them. The idea of him acting and playing nice despite what he did. It's like a buffet that allows it to pick from their plates.

Anya sees this stagnant version of her, blood from her mouth, clutching her stomach with a bottle of pills in her other hand. She's talking about not being heard, a pixel, relief from a burden. She tries to ask a question and it's never the right one. She's not understanding but in a way, she's getting that this version of her is in pain. She tries to help, extends a hand and asks how she can help, stop it. She stares and there's utter despair and disappointment in her eyes.

What did you do?

Curly sees this burnt mangled thing. But he can't call it that. Even with no skin and chipping teeth, covered in sullied bandages and smelling of death overdue, he can see his face. He can recognized that eye, he stares at it a lot in the mirror, usually a second one is attached but he digresses. They are just watching, staring and unmoving. He asks himself what happened, how can he help and his own retched mangled voice comes out from a empty maw.

I told you.

They have no idea what it really means. They don't know who to tell. Flashes of a life they don't know or maybe a future they haven't lived yet. Perhaps they treat it as their own minds trying to tell them something. They bare that burden themselves and that alone makes it heavier. Plumper. More appetizing to the guilt causing it.

Tragically that guilt is not their own.

[carcarrot]

oh yea concert review . two!

[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.

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya deffo loves possessive partners, send tweet-