#maybe I'm being weird about it?

[thresholdbb]

"Happy Bell Riots" feels wrong

[tofixtheshadows]

This is one of my favorite minor details in Dungeon Meshi, firstly because what in the femme fatale, but also because it's one of those little things that raises so many questions about worldbuilding.

The Occam's Razor defense attorney in me says that Ryoko Kui gave Kabru a boot knife because she wanted him to escape from his bonds here. And Kabru is a very competent swordsman, why wouldn't he have a boot knife, sure. He's already got a dagger, he can have this too.

And yet: the implications. Kabru, why do you have that? That is not remotely something that could be easily accessed or used in combat. Nobody is pulling out a pen knife from the heel of their boot during a fight with a monster. It's useless in the dungeon ... unless you're the type of person who isn't just worried about monsters.

I've mentioned this before, but I consider one of Kabru's functions in the narrative as being the character who fully brings the idea of human ecosystems into the story. There's a reason why he's always connected to large groups of people (Toshiro's party, the Canaries). He (along with Mr. Tansu, briefly) introduces the reader to the social and political forces working on the dungeon, showing us that none of this is happening in a monster-filled vacuum. His confrontation with the corpse retrievers, who very nearly kill Kabru's party permanently with their reckless murder-for-money scheme, reminds us that monsters are not the only things that prey on humans. Kabru understands the ways the dungeon causes people to put profit over human lives.

We only get hints of it in the story, but like any gold-rush-style economic boom, it's implied that there is a lot of crime and corruption surrounding the dungeon.

So yeah, it really makes me wonder why Kabru keeps a tiny knife in his boot, meant to be carried on him even in situations where he would otherwise be unarmed. Stored exactly in the place where it's easy to reach, even if, for some reason, your hands are tied behind your back.

[inkskinned]

before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.

you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"

and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.

it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.

you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.

in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.

the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.

you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.

after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.

the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.

you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.

[francy-sketches]

weird little guy

[permo2003]

It's funny that I finished this today because.. you know.... Valentine's Day🤨

[sysig]

Two skeletons in a trench lab coat (Patreon)

Bonus:

He’s very careful! Everything was fine before you interrupted!

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[rebouks]

The first day of the new school year began much the same as any other; being accosted by the hallway monitor for dawdling, having inappropriate footwear and daring to possess yet another pair of headphones, only for them to remember who he was and abandon any hopes of receiving an explanation, or an excuse.

Robin thought he would’ve outgrown his selective mutism by now, but apparently, it didn’t work like that. He’d eventually seen a therapist a few years prior, but the poor man didn’t exactly have a handbook for “strange child who can’t speak sometimes due to other people’s overwhelming head voices but won’t/can’t explain himself to anyone other than a ghost who’s stuck in his attic” so, it’d fallen a little flat. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; but the older he got, the more he started to think he’d been using his gift as a convenient excuse for some of his issues. Maybe. Possibly.

Much less bombarded than when he was little, Robin could usually tune out the everyday chatter within surrounding minds, though he rarely did. He’d become far too accustomed to being nosy, and at this point it was weirder NOT to hear everyone else’s thoughts. It produced an intense itchy feeling that was almost impossible to ignore, as though he’d miss something important the moment he stopped listening.

As a result, Robin struggled to live in the moment, and for himself; constantly juggling other people’s thoughts and emotions as well as his own. Sometimes he wondered if he’d understand his brain better if it belonged to someone else, like if he could observe it from a distance as with everyone else, it’d make more sense-.. or maybe paying more attention in Mr Fitzherbert’s biology classes would help. He supposed he was still overwhelmed after all, just better at hiding it.

Either way, he wasn’t about to admit to all this nonsense out loud, especially not if it landed him in Doctor Abbott’s office again. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out how weird he actually was, least of all a psychologist. Think of all the experiments they’d want to do, all the prodding and poking-.. or worse. Robin shuddered at the thought. No, thank you!

Previous // Next

[pinkd3mon]

Bandee is the favorite son (actually is Kirby but it's a secret)

Day 6 of drawing kirby shitpost for every day of October

Bonus old sketch:

[snackugaki]

one orrrr

two?

[tofixtheshadows]

So I've been thinking lately about how Mithrun is Kabru's dark mirror (more on that another time- it needs its own post), and I thought it interesting that one of their parallels is that they were both cared for by Milsiril, but in opposite directions. She took Kabru in as her foster after he was orphaned and tried to convince him not to become an adventurer. On the flip side, she helped rehabilitate Mithrun specifically so that he could rejoin the Canaries.

And I kept wondering: why?

For Kabru, obviously she loves him a whole lot- despite any other shortcomings in their relationship, I do believe that.

So I get why she tries to convince him not to go dungeoning, and, failing that, at least prepares him as thoroughly as she can.

But why help Mithrun? She used to hate Mithrun, but after realizing what a secretly twisted person he was, she actually thought of him more positively (oh, Milsiril). So it wasn't as if she held the kind of grudge that might motivate her to make his already-depleted life even more miserable by sending him back to the dungeons. And it wasn't that she felt bad for him either, since she didn't visit Mithrun for the first ~20 years of his recovery.

The Adventurer's Bible says that Utaya was the impetus for Mithrun returning to the Canaries, but Milsiril is the one who made the trip to see him and tell him about it.

Why would Milsiril work so hard to get her old coworker back into fighting fit? Why encourage him to return to such a dangerous lifestyle, when she was the one who chose not to mercy-kill him?

That last panel is such a crazy thing to hint at and then never elaborate on. Without it we could have just thought that Milsiril wanted the Canaries' work to continue without her, even if it seemed out of character. I think some people even assume she's just a natural caretaker as a foster mom and handwave it to include nursing Mithrun too. What could Milsiril's suspicious motives be? What does she gain from Mithrun joining the Canaries that isn't an altruistic desire to see dungeons safely sealed? Feeling a sense of responsibility for the work she left behind isn't an ulterior motive.

My theory is: Milsiril, knowing that Mithrun was empty save for the burning desire to face the demon again, wound him up like a clockwork doll and pointed him back at the dungeons.

Hoping that he'd eliminate the biggest threat to Kabru's life, before it was too late for him.

Milsiril the puppetmaster.

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change

[silusvesuius]

steer clear of ....the illigitimate child of... nvm

[uncanny-tranny]

You know, I feel like other trans people might get this, but it's honestly kind of refreshing when a cis person has, like, undeniable tboy/tgirl/whatever swag. It's like when you come across somebody who speaks the same language as you and you only find out when they start speaking it, too.

[intuitive-revelations]

As I've mentioned in a previous post, I've been thinking a lot about the exact chronology of ancient Gallifrey, and specifically I've put a lot of attention on the Caldera and the Citadel, plus related things like the Eye of Harmony, the Crevasse of Memories That Will Be, the Untempered Schism etc.

All these things seem to be located in the same place on Gallifrey, albeit some at different times, and often overlap in nature. After some thinking, I think I've worked how everything goes together, as well as the order of events. At some point I want to create a fully history, but for the sake of this we'll focus primarily on the subjects above, with some other major events sprinkled in for context.

A Very Brief History of the Capitol

[ID: Surviving parts of the old Capitol, in an illustration from Lungbarrow. Crystal-like towers and walkways stand over a waterfall. The TARDIS, in pyramid form, dematerialises.]

Pythian Era - The capital city is built near the Mountains of Solace and Solitude (likely, in antiquity, a stronghold against the Gin-Seng cats to the south). Beneath the Pythia's temple, in the centre of the city, is the Cavern of Prophecy. Within the cave is a deep, deep opening known as the Crevasse of Memories That Will Be, which holds, in the astral plane, something known as the Gate of the Future, a tear into the time vortex far greater than the similar natural rifts that occur elsewhere on Gallifrey. Time flows out from it, from the future, to the past Gallifrey. In times of meditation, the Pythia sits in a hanging cage above the Crevasse, breathing in the rising vapours, which aid her in her clairvoyance.

[ID: Gif edit made by me, featuring the last Pythia sat in a small cage slowly swinging in a chasm as a mist slowly rises around her.]

The Intuitive Revelation - The Neotechnologists, led by Rassilon, bring a revolution. The Pythia curses Gallifrey with sterility and cuts the ropes holding her cage, falling into the abyss. The Gate of the Future inverts, forming the Gate of the Past. Visibly, the Doppler-effect like colouring of the vortex changes - no longer red, flowing towards the viewer, but blue and flowing away (ironically directionally the reverse of the real Doppler effect). Time from the new future flowing into the chaotic past.

The new government take control of the Capitol. A new age of space exploration arises, with the Shobogans taking on the name, for now, of "Space Lords". One of these first individual explorers, semi-authorised predecessors to future Time Lord renegades, is a woman named Tecteun.

The First Attempt - The stellar engineers, including Rassilon and Omega, make their first attempt at capturing the energy of a collapsing star, recieving the energy on Gallifrey using an obelisk, like that later used to channel energy from the Eye of Harmony, in the middle of the city, using the nature of the Crevasse.

The experiment is a catastrophic failure. A hole is punctured into the Spiral Yssgaroth, unleashing Vampires through openings throughout the universe, fracturing out from the experiment.

[ID: From The Book of the War, an illustration of the "Eyes of the Yssgaroth", human-like eyeballs looking through holes punctured into spacetime.]

Part of the Old Capitol is destroyed in a great blast, destroying the Cavern of Prophecy and opening up the Crevasse, leaving a giant crater: the Caldera. It is likely that many are killed. Left behind in the middle of the crater, is the Gate of the Past, now manifest in the physical world: an open gap in reality. In this form, it becomes known as the Untempered Schism.

(I also suspect this is when Rassilon is forced to regenerate for the first time, to the shock of on-lookers, having secretly previously recieved Tecteun's genetic modifications - I plan to expand on this theory in a future post.)

The Vampire War / Rebuilding of the Capitol - The exact circumstances of the experiment are covered up. Rassilon, leaving to fight the Vampire hoard, swears Omega to secrecy regarding the project during the Arcalian High Council's investigation.

[ID: A gif, rotating around the Citadel is constructed over the Caldera, from part of the (likely partially-symbolic) time-lapse in The Timeless Children.]

Though some of the city survives, including parts of the Pythian temple, a new colossal city-complex begins construction in the place of the old one, suspended over the Caldera, the centrepiece of the new Capitol: the Citadel. It is built as a defensive structure, both for the war, and to protect the new, growing elite, surrounded by a great circular wall named "Rassilon's Rampart". The "core" of the structure, on which the towers rest, reaches down deep into Caldera and the deeper Crevasse.

Meanwhile the Untempered Schism is taken out of the city by those fearing further destruction, to a place in the nearby hills that will one day be known as the Weeping Field, where prospective Time Academy students are initiated.

[ID: The Untempered Schism in the Doctor's time, as seen in The Sound of Drums. It sits in a stone frame on red grass, with the Seal of Rassilon in front of it, and flames on either side. Within it, the blue "past" variant of the RTD1-era time vortex flows away from the viewer. The Citadel's lights are visible in the background.]

(Side note: it's possible the Untempered Schism's 'ring' is deliberately designed to evoke the Caldera. Note how it's lined with pieces sticking out. Look a bit like the battlements on Rassilon's Rampart, don't they? Surrounding the hole into the vortex just as they surround the crater.)

The Anchoring of the Thread - Several centuries later, once the Vampires are more or less defeated, Rassilon returns home. He coups Pandak I, forcing him to resign, and takes the Presidency.

By now the Citadel is more or less completed, though for the next few centuries it still lacks its characteristic dome, likely added during a later founding conflict.

[ID: Gallifrey, around the time the first TARDISes are grown, from The Lost Dimension. In the background past a small outsider village is the Citadel, new and gleaming, but undomed.]

The Triumvirate retry their experiment at Qqaba / Polyphilos, attempting to capture the collapsed star. When the experiment goes wrong once more, Omega's ship falls inside, as spacetime threatens to crack open again. With temporal energy flowing though him (a la the Bad Wolf), Rassilon reshapes the laws of physics, forming an event horizon, and black holes as we know them.

The black hole is dimensionally captured and suspended in the moment it collapses and the event horizon is formed, creating the Eye of Harmony, controlled using the Obelisk of Rassilon storied in the Panopticon Vaults. Meanwhile, the black hole itself is suspended within the temporal singularity of the Caldera, deep below the Citadel.

Harnessing the power of the Eye and the Caldera rift, Rassilon "anchors" chronology around Gallifrey, creating the Web of Time and placing it under the control of the Gallifreyans, now Time Lords.

Future Developments - Over the years, many changes come to Rassilon's Gallifrey.

Over the years, the more and more of the old city is replaced with new towers, forming the new Capitol around a now domed Citadel. Interweaved with these buildings over 28 square miles is much of the new Time Academy, such that the Academy is sometimes considered a whole city itself annexed to the Citadel.

While the remnants of the Pythian Temple are eventually torched by Rassilon, hunting down dissenters, many old buildings remain intact. These continue to be inhabited far into the future, in a community known as "Low Town" or the "Lower Len", as opposed to the "upper" city above. Shanties surround the surviving buildings, some climbing up Rassilon's Rampart.

Another such community is based around the "Old Harbour", whcih once sat on the coast of the now recessed Sea of Time. Nowadays, it likely sits on the shore of the small (possibly designed) lakes near the Capitol, where streams from the mountains presumably once drained directly into the sea.

[ID: From Hell Bent: a screencap as Rassilon turns from looking out the window from an Inner Council chamber high above the Capitol. In the background can be seen some lakes between the mountains, with some signs of what might be buildings on their shores.]

(Side note: I reckon this shot above might actually give us a glimpse of Old Harbour. I might just be imagining things, but there's some small features around and on the lakes I reckon could be docks or buildings? Interestingly, this also comes as Rassilon asks about the Cloister Bells ringing, and Old Habour is well known for the bells in its clocktower, which might explain why Rassilon was looking out at it from the window.)

In the space around the Eye in the Caldera, the Cloisters, the core of the APC net and later the Matrix, are constructed. The structure itself is, externally at least, relatively small, but it generates an entire 'micro-universe' on the Astral plane once accessed by the Pythia. Indeed, just as the Crevasse once allowed the meditating Pythia to see the future, so does the Matrix create its own prophecies.

[ID: From Hell Bent, the Doctor and Ohila converse in the entranceway to the Cloisters, a dark space with glowing optic fibres running across cobwebbed columns.]

In the Matrix is a "womb-like" null-space is where most TARDISes are grown, taking advantages of the Caldera's spatio-temporal properties. Budding within the Citadel Cloisters, a TARDIS's "Cloister Room" is one of the first parts to grow.

By the time of the Time War, though possibly earlier, the sealed Caldera also forms the resting site for many dying Battle TARDISes, the Under Croft, where they presumably decay and fertilise the growth of new time ships.

[somegrumpynerd]

Do you guys wanna see a thing I tried writing? It's pretty unfinished and I don't think I will finish it but it was fun to play with and it might be okay as a lil snippet! I also have like no energy for drawing right now but I wanna post something lol

(The context is Cross and Killer are alone on a mission in some unspecified au when Killer goes stage 3)

“Killer?”

Cross looked over when he got no response, half expecting Killer to have wandered off in some direction as he did on these longer jobs. His loyalty to Nightmare was often at war with his attention span in the field, and you could expect a job to take longer if it was anywhere a cat was liable to appear.

What he didn’t expect was to catch sight of Killer’s wildly fluctuating soul glinting in the reflection of the knife that was coming right for him.

Cross managed to lunge back just in time for the knife to arc downwards into the snow in his place. Its wielder slowly turned his head, tracking the path to where Cross was now. His empty eye sockets gushed with more ooze than usual, stare somehow colder than the ice he was now shaking from his blade.

“Killer…” Cross began, trying to keep his tone steady and authoritative like a warning. He was ever hopeful that this was some stupid game Killer was playing out of boredom, but that hope died as he watched some of the black goop begin to drip out of the corner of the other’s mouth.

That only happened when he went stage 3.

Shit.

Cross felt his soul drop. He’d never dealt with Killer like this alone, usually they handled him as a team if Nightmare wasn’t there to take over. In the time it would take him to look down at his phone to call for help there would probably be a knife in his head.

This was fine. He could handle it. He always had more training and stamina than Killer anyway, he just had to play keepaway with his life long enough to go home with it.

Killer teleported in front of him, something that caught Cross off guard. In his right mind, Killer almost never seemed to use his magic in fights unless he wanted to fuck around with the other. 

[Put the fight part here idk pretend there was a really cool fight, it was so cool, you loved it]

Cross felt his soul drop again, but this time the rest of his body followed. Killer was using his gravity magic to hold him to the ground, and was shambling towards him ready to finish things. Cross struggled for a moment to see if he could fight his way out of the magic’s hold, but to no avail. He was pinned as his assailant now stood threateningly over him, knife raised. In a flash of desperation, he reached out both hands and grabbed Killer’s ankles, quickly moving his head to one side as a bone attack pierced up out of the snow and struck the other in the jaw.

It wasn’t his strongest attack, but it was enough to knock Killer backwards and stun him. As Cross felt his soul being released from the other’s magic, he quickly scrambled forward and sat on Killer’s chest as he lay sprawled out in the snow, pinning his arms down on either side of his head as he began to come back around. His face was leaking so much determination from every crevice that at that point it was hard to make out an expression under it all, but Cross could tell he was frustrated as he felt the rumble of bone attacks beginning to rise up out of the snow around them.

He followed suit, carefully forming a line of his own bone attacks closely around them to act as a barrier. He could feel Killer’s attacks bouncing off of his, each hit more desperate and frantic than the last like an animal clawing at the sides of its cage. He felt some magic encircling his soul again, but this time trying to raise him up rather than push him down. It was weaker than before, whether because Killer’s attention was split with still launching bone attacks or because he was beginning to tire out, but Cross managed to fight against it and stay put.

“Killer!” he barked, leaning over the other’s face. “That’s enough. You’re not going anywhere until you pull yourself together!”

The gravity magic seemed to cease at his shout, so Cross continued in the fervent hope that he was getting through to him.

“We’ll stay here all night if that’s what it takes, but I’m reporting back to Nightmare when this is over and I’m not leaving without you! Do you hear me?! I don’t care if I have to bring you back hogtied over my shoulder, I’m not gonna hurt you and I’m not gonna let you kill me!”

He didn’t realise he’d been shouting until the clinking and scraping of bone attacks had slowed and stopped altogether, and it was just the sound of his promise echoing off the bones and snow surrounding them.

And the strange gurgling sound coming from below him.

He opened his eyes again in confusion and stared down at the skeleton weakly fighting against his grasp, determination pooling and soaking into the snow from every gap in his skull. It took a second longer than he’d like to admit for Cross to realise that sound was Killer choking on it.

His bone attacks shrunk back into the ground and he shot backwards, landing ungracefully on his backside with a little curse. He hurried to pull Killer up and help him lean forward, swatting his back as he retched and spat the toxic goop up onto the ground where they’d just fought.

It was never an elegant dismount from these things, they’d found there was just no dignified way to get out a ribcage worth of black ooze. After a minute of heaving and gasping, Killer finally got a hold of himself and started glancing frantically around.

“Where’s Dust??” he managed to choke out with the urgency of a parent who’d lost their child. It always seemed to be the first thing on his mind when he came to from one of these episodes, Cross was never really sure why since any other time it seemed like they hated each other.

“He’s at home,” Cross assured, pressing one hand to Killer’s spine for support. “It’s just us, we were on a mission.”

He could see now that Killer’s soul had calmed down from the pulsating mass of spikes it was a few minutes ago and become somewhat soul shaped, still twitching nervously but a far calmer sight than before. That was a good sign that the attack was over. He wondered how much control Killer had over it, since he’d definitely seen it turn that way without having to go through a fight to the death first, but it was rare.

Cross flinched as he felt Killer grab him again, though this time instead of kicking him in the ribs he simply held on for dear life. That was another clear sign, after he was done puking up whatever goop had built up he usually cried for a while.

It was odd, especially the first few times, to see someone who always seemed so disconnected and unphased have a sobbing breakdown after trying to kill you.

“Hey,” Cross said, voice hushed as he wrapped his arms around the skeleton trembling in his lap. “It’s okay… you’re okay…”

Cross had never been the best at comforting words, but he knew Killer just needed someone to cling to while he got a hold of himself, and he was content to be that for a little while. Especially after being thrown around so much, his aching bones were more than happy for an excuse to sit in the snow for a bit. He could feel Killer’s soul being pressed against his chest as he wept silently into Cross’s shoulder, the fear and regret seemed to be radiating from it like smoke from a smothered flame.

He wondered idly if this was what Nightmare could feel all the time.

...

He also wondered just how hard it was going to be to get these black stains out of his jacket again once he pried Killer's face off of it.