#just cobbled this one together

[seltzher-bottel]

Dave Brubot, the best for last

Forgot to color something in but I’m too lazy to go correct it. Think it came out alright tho!

[hiemaldesirae]

all current references ive made for madman's vice because its officially pride month now

vox

alastor

* i debated giving him a slicked back curly look but i couldnt make it look right so bear with me pls

niffty, velvette and valentino

the morningstars + the hotel crew are still being worked on but heres what ive got so far and honestly im not that upset with them all

[whaliiwatching]

hobie in a croptop that says ‘thot crime’

and proud of it too

[kanalaure]

(*i dont know what kind of dog huan is, but he sheds. a lot. caranthir just wants to have ONE (1) space thats not covered in shed fur)

assume this is in the context of a modern au, or else that everyone is miraculously back from the dead and generally getting along fine and in the interim aman has had its industrial revolution and produced a more eco-friendly equivalent to our technologies

dont take this too seriously or get upset if your blorbo isn't represented, i filled out the ballot on a whim lmao. if you have someone you are Convinced would have one that isn't on this ballot, please do mention it in the tags

[incomingalbatross]

I have a groundbreaking concept.

A wedding episode/story where nothing unusual goes wrong (or even NEARLY goes wrong) and the audience and characters both just get to enjoy this big event without it going off the rails at any point.

[mrpenguinpants]

oh my god I finally got this card (The Hero's Journey and it's one (1) bullshit requirement)

[shady-tavern]

Deals and Revelry, Quin's Backstory

The lovely @fyrenwater requested some more pieces for Deals and Revelry and I started with Quin's backstory. Hopefully it's a fun read! With Quin there is of course a warning ahead for implied murder.

***

The temple was old and not in the broken, long abandoned kind of way, overgrown and damp and too dangerous to enter. Quin had seen plenty of old places, had walked through plenty of runes. He lived for the danger, made a living out of going where no one else wanted to thread.

The upper temple had looked like one would expect, half swallowed by the swamp, covered with plants and little pieces of walls and fallen pillars stuck out of the knee-deep water and morass. 

He had even found the remains of a statue's face, nearly whittled to be unrecognizable by time and the environment.

The place clearly had been looted to hell and back, but something had felt different. Something had compelled him to stay. So he had looked around, using every single ounce of his talent and bullheaded tenacity until he had found it three days later. A hidden entrance.

The temple that laid below the broken skeleton husk above ground was not destroyed or crumbling. It was perfectly preserved, even if water had clearly found its way in. Nothing had grown, however. There was no slick algae, no signs at all that nature and the elements had wriggled through the cracks.

A few roots dangled from the ceiling, but they were all dead, crumbling when he reached up to touch them.

The temple was old, old in a way that told Quin it had withstood the tooth of time without a single scar for centuries. Something was still alive in these halls, even as everything that touched it died.

For just a brief moment he felt like he inhaled something otherworldly, a strange kind of power permeating the air. Whatever was down here wasn't even hiding that it existed, even if its presence had barely made it above ground.

This was what he had felt, what had made him trudge through mud and water and get bitten relentlessly by mosquitos for days. 

His steps echoed as he walked, a heavy presence to the silence around him. The sort of presence that only came with something ancient that refused to disappear. That refused to die even after it had been forgotten.

Quin wasn't a fool, however. He took his time, carefully examining his surroundings, disarming traps and escaping the few he didn't notice in time by the skin of his teeth.

The first time his blood spilled he felt the entire temple around him sigh and tremble. As if a great beast had tried to move in its cage.

And this temple was a cage, he realized as he walked and considered the ancient writing on the walls, his rations dwindling by the day. But he couldn't leave, it was almost feverish how he kept looking and searching, being drawn ever deeper into the temple.

Or rather, the tomb. This was meant to be a final resting place for something too powerful and ancient to comprehend.

A part of him knew he was pulled along by whatever was entombed here, but he allowed it to happen. He wanted to know what was down here.

He found his answer in a comparatively small, circular room. Paintings glittered on the wall as through freshly finished, the paint still wet.

Plaques with text were left below the artworks, as well as big words pressed into the floor. A strange kind of metal had been used to form the letters of a civilization long gone.

The presence was strongest here and Quin set up his camp, studying the ancient texts. A warning was on one part of the wall, showing two giant beings battle it out. The next text was easier to guess, if only because of the depiction of one giant being slain and the people at its feet using its blood and bones to seal the other.

Just as his last crumb of food was devoured and his last sip of water swallowed, Quin figured out the ritual. He still didn't understand too much about what exactly was down here and what exactly had been done to it to put it there, but he knew how to at least...wriggle loose the bars of its prison a bit, so to speak.

He used his blood to write, each ancient letter precisely placed between the metal writing on the floor. The moment he finished, his blood glowed a dark and deep red and he heard a sigh in the very air itself.

The being's presence became cloying and overpowering and while he couldn't quite make out words or any kind of spoken language, he could make out intent. A pact. A promise of power and wealth and everything he could possibly ever want, so long as he carried it out into the world.

Quin didn't hesitate so much as he turned the offer over in his head. He knew the stories of deals made with devils, with sealed away entities and rumored demi-gods and of course with very human monsters. He knew they were always a bad idea.

One could not trick or out-deal creatures that lived and thrived on such things.

But this deal was the very thing he had been searching for when he had first started dungeon delving. Power. Purpose. To be more than he was now, to no longer walk with blunt teeth and hidden daggers.

He wanted to be sharp and dangerous and deadly and powerful.

So he reached out with all that he desired and the being accepted. His world turned dark and black as, in his mind, a maw massive enough to swallow the sky opened wide.

*.*.*

The thing was in his head now, kind of. Quin was not fond of this part, but he managed to figure out how to shield his thoughts as he traversed the ruin, collecting the treasure the thing was guiding him to. Wealth was a part of power after all and power was what he had wanted, first and foremost.

It was...exhilarating. He was no longer human, he knew that in the very marrow of his bones. He bled red still, he learned and his emotions and thoughts were the same as before. He hadn't lost his humanity, however much of it he had possessed in the first place.

But he was stronger, faster and sharper now. As dangerous as he had always wanted to be and he reveled in it.

His bags filled with gold and jewels he emerged from the tomb-temple and the world was just slightly sharper around him, his senses stronger. He knew he could actually track something down by scent alone if necessary and it made him grin.

He set out with a confident stride, tall and fierce in ways he hadn't been able to even emulate as a human. He was different now and as he traveled, he slowly got used to all the changes.

Of course, every pact came with its downsides. People who had spoken freely with him before or had been willing to share information or even secrets over a couple of drinks shied away from him now.

Quin found that no one dared to meet his gaze and he checked his small pocket mirror multiple times, but his eyes were still the same. Dark and soulful, as his mother had once said. Gods rest her soul, she had always encouraged him to do what he wanted. To take what he wanted.

Quin traveled on swiftly, outstaying his welcome at every new place within mere moments. The thing in his head wanted something, but communication was still iffy and frustrated the both of them.

Then Quin stumbled across a whip-thin young woman, left bleeding at the side of the road. She was dying, that was easy to see, but her eyes told a different story. She did not shy from him the way everyone else did, a defiance to her as though she believed him to be the reaper and she was going to cling to this life with all she had.

Quin wasn't her end. If anything, he was her knew beginning, as he produced a contract for her through his...what was the thing, a patron? It was no benign entity, that was for damn sure. It roiled with malice and bloodlust whenever he focused on it.

The woman took the contract and found herself healed and changed, much like Quin had. They traveled onward together and Quin realized that people avoided her as much as they avoided him.

"What are we?" the woman asked as they camped outside a village that had refused to house them.

Quin shrugged. "Better," was all he said with a smile he knew was too sharp, dangerous in a way human smiles weren't. "Eat up, we're having a long road ahead tomorrow."

Treasure weighed heavy and it soon brought the unsavory attention of bandits and robbers. Quin had never shied from bloodshed, from protecting what was his and this was no different.

The fight was almost too easy with all that he was capable of now. He and the woman stood over the dead once it was done and dealt with. He inhaled the smell of blood, sweet and coppery, iron and salt and smiled to himself.

"You are right," the woman said quietly as she helped him loot the bodies. "We are better now."

They continued on together, picking up a couple more people along the way. A man tossed out on his ear by his family for loving another man, twins who were rumored to be born with black magic, a couple that had fled from their wrathful noble families. A betrayed merchant left in rags.

They all accepted the contract Quin offered them and soon he called them his hunters. They were vicious when necessary, absolutely deadly and no longer quite human. They weren't as strong as he, the contract he could offer a diluted version of the pact he carried in his soul and mind.

They approached a city a couple of weeks later and the thing in the back of his head stirred, hungry and greedy, feeling all those souls within calling out. It pressed images into his mind, of deals and contracts, of all the ways he could feed it. Make it stronger. Help it break its cage in given time.

Quin did not like that he didn't have much of a choice in this matter. The thing would take back the pact if he didn't listen and that would kill him and his hunters. And curse him, but he had grown fond of this lot of lost souls that followed him like he was their shepherd. 

Maybe he was, in a way.

His treasure got him what his charm no longer could: people willing to listen. He found an empty, unexpectedly large tavern and settled in. It was nice to have a home, he had to admit, after traveling for so long.

He soon had to concede the business side to employees who had no deals with him. For if he or his hunters were behind the bar or walking around with serving trays, the few that had shown up left swiftly.

It took time and effort to build a bit of a reputation, but slowly he carved out a place for himself in this large city. Mostly he was known for his deals and his tavern for offering nice ale and food to acceptable prices.

As he sat in his usual booth, waiting for people to approach him for a piece of his patron's powers, he realized that this wasn't quite the life he had wanted for himself.

Sure, he had gotten quite a lot out of the pact, but mostly he had wanted to be free. To do whatever he wanted. To have all the different versions of power to be untouchable and uncontrollable. To be really, truly free.

He watched a man gather the courage to approach him, his arms gripping a clearly sick babe. He'd get the mildest contract Quin could create.

Quin would help the guy for free if his patron allowed such things, which it of course didn't. For all of Quin's occasional depravity and ease at murdering, he did not like to take advantage of the truly helpless.

Of the people his parents had once been.

'Well,' he thought to himself as he smiled as mildly as he could when the father walked towards him at last. 'If this is my lot in life, I better make it a damn fucking good one.'

So he remodeled the tavern, hired performers and grabbed his carefully hoarded treasure. He spent and invested the gold, bartered and made deals that had nothing to do with the coiling darkness connected to his mind and soul.

He set himself free in almost all aspects. The pact had given him many things while shackling him down and even if the shackle was something he had to live with until his dying day, there were still other chains to break.

Chains made by society and stupid rules even he had stuck in his head despite his best efforts.

So Quin set himself free as much as he could and built his reputation anew. He built the Revelry and it grew beyond the bounds of his tavern with every year, gold flowing back to him first in a small trickle and then in a big river and he took it and invested it into his business, his street. His life.

Within a couple of years he was as powerful and untouchable as he had always dreamed of being. He had the sort of reputation that made people avoid his gaze for more reasons than one. 

Some days he could delude himself into thinking that it was his bloody and dangerous reputation alone that made folks inch away from him, rather than what his patron had turned him into.

Sometimes it was a lonely life, sure, but he had a...yes, a family now. His hunters meant the world to him and he cared for his employees, making sure they had everything they needed to be happy.

In return, they were fiercely loyal, bringing him rumors and secrets and warning him of backhanded deals and impending betrayals by business partners. He grew untouchable in more ways than one thanks to them.

He kept his patron fed and content, made sure it had everything it could possibly want. He was careful, however, never quite feeding it as much as it really wanted.

He didn't want it to get out of its tomb and while he knew some day it would happen, he'd drag it out as long as he possibly could.

Quin made the Revelry and dedicated himself to it, gave it his heart and blood and most of the time it was enough. Most of the time he felt like his life was nearly perfect.

As long as his patron was quiet, he pretended as though every part of him, his everything, could be dedicated to what he had built. That all his choices were his own and could not be controlled by another.

This was a good life, he reminded himself, trying to ignore the greed for more within him. The greed to reach that extra little inch to true freedom, the shackle on his foot keeping him firmly grounded.

He had a rich, free, powerful life. The sort of life written about in stories and that he had dreamed about as a boy while helping his mother scrub pots and pans and his father with mending clothes. 

He almost wished they were still alive to see him now. Sometimes he poured a drink in their honor and hoped they were watching from whatever afterlife they were in now.

He hoped they were proud, that he had taken all their lessons and challenged the world. That he had come out the other side as the person he wanted to be.

He hunted and made pacts, terrified foolish nobles and bartered for information to get the city guard fully under his thumb. He already had a number of people on his payroll, but he really wanted to get his claws into the captain. Then the city really would be his at long last.

He had no idea how soon his wish would be fulfilled.

It was a night like many others, filled with joy and laughter, wild partying and people cutting loose in a way that fed his very soul and spirit. Quin was in a very good mood as he made a contract with a burly man who could scarcely stand to even glance in his direction.

"My right hand will take care of things," he said, gesturing lazily and his first hunter melted out of the shadows.

His oldest friend, sometimes pain in his ass and a stalwart, loyal companion. Quin knew, deep down, that he would have withered away emotionally without his hunters at his side.

The deal made and on its way to being fulfilled, he got up just as someone tripped, stumbling towards him. He caught that person just in time, casting a brief glare at the drunk woman that had decided shoving his guests was a good idea.

The woman hurriedly looked away and Quin plastered on his best smile, straightening up the one in his arms. "Now there, usually I have to put in some work to make people swoon like this."

And the first thing he noticed was that the stranger met his eyes, unafraid and unflinching, before listing a bit to the side. Ah, a drunkard.

Or not, he realized when, for the first time, someone refused to be parted from him. Cold fingers clung to his silk doublet and the feeling that something was wrong tingled in the back of his mind.

So he reached out, hooking his finger under an equally cold chin, not yet knowing that he was looking at the one who would change his life forever in all the best ways.

The one to set him free, truly free, at long last.

*.*.*

Tag List:

@those-damn-snippets @the-cash-cache @queenofbooknerds @14-lizards-in-a-trenchcoat @fern-writes-whump @bexterbaileyw @setsailforthestars @piperjistic @addrai @catloverlawyer @permanentlydepressedpigeon @tama-on-vetta @marateleam @transparentdiplomatlandgoth @cheesecakev2 @myst3rious-figur3 @warriorofbooks @aprilraine

[amygdalae]

If we are mutuals u can ask to see the lingerie image I took on 4/20 btw I'll DM it u if you'd like a look :^)

[ccbatman]

woe. bruce and dinah friendship be upon ye:

"Someone has to have our backs. Keep us honest. That's why I'm here." / "Batman needs a conscience? Okay, I'll bite."

{ The Brave and the Bold (1980) #166 • JLI (1987) #13 • Batgirl Year One (2003) #7 • JLI (1987) #6 • JLI (1987) #7 • JLA: Incarnations (2001) #4 • Green Arrow/Black Canary (2007) #1 • Injustice 2 (2017) #4 • JLI (1987) #13 • JLI (1987) #11 • Justice League of America (1960) #84 • Justice League of America: Rebirth (2017) }

[tentytarts]

Presenting: Sampo Koski but he's dressed as the various Brughel Poissons in his character profile stories aka the gift that keeps on giving

Yes i gave him bigger and bigger boobs its all for the scam

[identityquest]

lizzie get two wolves 👍

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

I had a thought about the welcome home character designs. Is it possible that Wally was made/designed by someone different from the other puppets?

I'm not just talking about the fact he is the only one without a nose (though that is what started me thinking down this line), but everyone else (sans Eddie, but maybe we haven't just been shown) seems to push The boundaries of what a puppet could be: Barnaby and Poppy are Big, Howdy has four arms and four legs, Frank's spinning head, Sally's head needing more than one puppeteer, Julie's hair, heck, Home is a freaking house. Wally compared to this colorful crew seem... Well, I don't want to say plain but he definitely seems to be the vanilla ice cream of the bunch.

oh god YEAH OKAY um my brain's a lil too smooth lately to answer this correctly but there's. oh fuck ok there was a Thing i saw - a theory, im blanking on who was talking about it but it was Top Fucking Tier - about how Wally might be like... not a projection

but a... sort of mirror? an Ideal Self? to the in-canon playfellow creator, Ronald Dorelaine. the theory had a thread (if i remember correctly) of connecting the creator's name to Wally, similarities in sound and meaning and even some of the etymology i think they said...

but that could explain why Wally is a little... different. more... pure? im missing the right word rn but idk, his design is Graceful and Composed in comparison to the others. he Is indeed simpler, but in an "ideal" way. he's very appealing and non-cluttered to look at. he resembles a human, while not being too human-resembling like Eddie.

[carma-tjol]

man i’m trying really hard to be happy about opm but the way they did tatsumaki a few chapters ago left a sour taste in my mouth that i can’t seem to get rid of. i cannot believe what they did to her design i STILL feel betrayed it’s ridiculous

i’ve already bitched about this on twitter a while back but i’ve been feeling upset about it the past couple days so i’m gonna complain again.

pictures of the old way she was drawn vs the new way plus my rambling dialogue on the way fanservice changed in opm under the cut

(old tatsu on the left new on the right)

she looks more like a kid now and yet is simultaneously more sexualized at the same time. it is STRANGE i don’t like it

i think when i read these chapters i suffered the whole time but was in denial about it like “ITS NOT THAT BAD…” until i saw pic #2 and finally said “it is… it really is that bad.”

i’m not even someone who’s super annoyed by fanservice (i mean obviously i’m an opm fan). and i can usually ignore it easily…

as long as it doesn’t fall into 3 categories

1. involves sexual assault/it’s disrespectful

2. the fanservice is just the boring male protag getting boobs shoved in his face

3. sacrifices having a good design for the sake of being “sexy”

the crimes against #3 are straight up egregious.

tatsumaki used to have an extremely solid design. her dress had a lot of emphasis on the iconic tendrils and it complimented her well. her hair was very curly which matched the tornado theme and was an overall joy to look at. her eyes were sharp and cold which also felt iconic for her character and it reflected the harshness of her personality. her freaky eyes were always one of my favorite parts of her design.

In the new design, her dress has been shrunk to try to reveal as much as possible. it doesn’t match the flow of the legs like the old way used to and just feels awkward. the tendrils are translucent too which again. messes with the dress. her hair isn’t as curly anymore it lacks the DRAMA the old hair has. the eyes are too soft now, and it doesn’t feel intentional. i can already hear someone going “oh well the eyes are like that to show she’s enjoying herself.” except the eyes haven’t been changed slightly, they’re changed completely. they look exactly like the eyes of any other character.

I’m giving proportions a whole section to itself lol. they’ve widened her hips, somehow shrunk her already small torso even MORE, and gave her a bobble head, and more emphasis on boobs. looking at her, especially in pic 2, it feels like you just gave a hentai artist a pen and told them to draw tatsu. there’s zero regard for her original design and proportions it’s just skimpy clothes slapped onto an unrecognizable face and body. i mentioned this earlier but they babyifyed her face and made her act more “childish” than she already kind of did while sexualizing her more it’s extremely uncomfortable.

#1… the disrespect…

sexual assault isn’t really in opm for fanservice… yet… (i do not trust murata to not draw some non consensual boob groping at this point) but the disrespect, the objectification and complete lack of regard for the characters is palpable

i don’t read one punch man for the fan service and i never have. the reason why i’ve gotten this far without getting pissed off is that i felt like the fanservice, while excessive, wasn’t totally disrespectful. it felt like the characters were like that, not 100% for the audience, but because they were comfortable with it too. i don’t know how to describe it but nothing about tatsu’s design now says “i dressed myself like this, i feel good, i’m going outside now”

she feels less like a character and more like an object to be placed in situations she wouldn’t be comfortable with and react in ways she wouldn’t typically react, stripping her of her personality to be more “ideal” exclusively with the audience in mind and robbing her of what made her unique in the process.

#2 ehhhh not as applicable

(#2 mentioned because i already wrote about 1 and 3 so leaving it out is awkward.)

saitama truly does not give a fuck lol. he doesn’t even feel like a middleman for the audience he’s just there. the fanservice feels more viewer based than self insert/projection based. that’s the only box opm isn’t currently ticking. saitama hasn’t had his personality revoked for the sake of the audience (YET. again i trust no one anymore)

final thoughts

every time i see the recent chapters and the art style just i think about her and just feel this sadness and sense of betrayal. i don’t think i would’ve had a problem with the psychic sisters arc if the tone and execution were more like the webcomic (rare words from me lol. i love the webcomic but celebrate the manga for its differences) and if tatsumaki was still drawn like an adult. I MISS HERRRR

i even get a little upset seeing fubuki now too. i don’t know if i would’ve if it weren’t for how tatsumaki has been demolished but i look at her and see how she’s posed and how her dress has somehow gotten tighter and feel sad none the less.

anyways i could continue but i actually need to move on with my day and i don’t feel like drafting this to expand on later since it’s just a rant lol. sorry for any grammar or spelling errors i wrote this at 7am after staying up the night before working on a quiz with heavy writing that i didn’t realize would take SIX HOURS. thanks for reading. hope i’m not alone here.

[rebornofstars]

Hey! How do you feel sepfember is going? I've enjoyed seeing all the lovely art and writings. Hope you're doing well!

luna!! hi!! thank you for the ask 💞

sepfember is going more brilliantly than i ever could have hoped. it's been absolutely wonderful seeing people coming together to create things! i've been trying my best to express my joy in the tags of my reblogs, but i'm not sure anything ever could! it's been truly wonderful. i have loved every minute of it so far - writing the prompt drabbles every day, and checking the tag for other people's work to reblog, and sniffing out beautiful art for the queue... a couple of times people have pinged me on the LU discord too, to show me sepfember art, and it entirely melted my heart. and i can't tell if it's coincidence but i'm seeing more sepfember-unrelated/untagged female focused art on my dash too!

in a franchise that caters a great deal to male gamers (and in my own linked universe bubble where all of our main characters are men), my only wish for this event was to balance the scales just a little - create a little bit of brainspace in our minds for the women. show more people who they are and what their names are and what they do! spare a moment to wonder about their goals and motives and characterisation. because they do exist! there are more women in this franchise than even i thought before this event! and i think they're worth celebrating, don't you?

[basaltbutch]

i love the little religions long-term travelers create.

[augustheart]

this AI-generated bird calendar was designed in a lab to torment me