#muses to add:

[immortalmuses]

I'm gonna have to update my muse lists, oof. this is what happens when I exhibit no chill

[madeleinefjall]

i'm normal about them

[butcharium]

Never once have I thought that a butch looks less masculine for visibly having boobs

[razziematazz]

LEE SUPPORTS SUPERVILLAIN STONE!! I CANT STOP WINNING!!!!!!!!!!

[cruel-hiraeth]

grinding on a man’s hairy tummy while he’s lying down with an arm lazily bent behind his head. he’s greedily soaking in your every movement and sound, pawing at your tits with his free hand—pointedly not helping you get off because you insisted you could do it yourself…

[viridescenttemple]

THINK I SETTLED ON HOW I WANNA DRAW YAMATO

bonus hole'd hat

[chipper-smol]

i need to just start collecting videos of intersex/transgender animals that occur naturally in the wild because i just stumbled on a trail cam video narrated by a southern drawl matter-of-fact man talking about a deer that they suspected to be an antlered doe (because of it being in velvet in a season where every deer has already shed their velvet long ago, for its physiology, and for its unusual non-buck like behavior)

also apparently this enough of an occurrence that actual hunting regulations and the hunting community by and large phrase deer as "Antlered" vs "Antlerless" because hunters regularly enough brought in antlered doe

idk something about the foundations of hunting norms having to be rephrased due to intersex/transgender deer happening frequently enough, means something

[dreamdripdistance]

suspension, sacrifice, surrender

[beepboopappreciation]

I always see people talk about how cool becoming a cyborg would be, replacing parts of our flesh with metal and pistons and cool gadgets.

Why don't we talk more about the horror that is the opposite of that?

A computer who grafts lab-grown skin in patches onto their own form to feel. To experience a gentle and cool breeze passing by, or the oppressive sweat-inducing heat that their systems produce.

A robot with an organic eye to help them see as their creators once did. Imperfect, sure. But it seems to have quite an uneasy effect on organics, and doesn't that make it more than worth it?

A machine with blood coursing through its systems, flowing through the central chambers, in and out of its beating heart. Perhaps if the heart holds up, it could add lungs to help circulation.

A being that resembles a man at a distance, but upon closer inspection it is clear that he is instead a cacophony of skin, mismatched body parts and features, with just a few robotic limbs and mechanical parts visible. It smiles at you, the wide grin revealing that none of its teeth match.

He lurches toward you, hair from at least three different scalps falling carefree in front of its shoulders. You take a step back.

Where is the line drawn between cyborg and robot with human parts? Do you know? Does it know? Does anyone know?

It gets closer. You continue to retreat. Your back brushes against a wall.

You don't know where that line is, you've decided, but you're positive this individual has crossed it.

Having cornered you, it reaches its mechanical hand out, fingernails grafted on the metal tips. You blink, locked completely still from fear for just a few moments. It angles his hand in invitation. He wants you to take it. You hesitantly accept.

Under the metal you can feel . . . something, flowing, pulsing just beneath the surface wanting to escape. It's warm.

"Wh.. what do you want?" You manage to sputter out.

The being shakes your hand, his smile returning. "A friend," it replies.

[hismercytomyjustice]

Are they…

You know…

Scientists to lovers???

[expectiations]

The Doctor does NOT and has NEVER loved River Song (And If You Think Otherwise, You Must Be Watching a Different Show)

Listen, folks. It’s time to face the facts. The Doctor has NEVER loved River Song. Not even a little bit. And I have 17 rock-solid, completely canonical, absolutely not contradictory reasons to prove it:

He only took her to Calderon Beta to show her the starriest night in the universe on her first night in space jail, which was also their honeymoon night. A night that is literally impossible to replicate with anyone else ever again. But no, not romantic. At. All. Just two people who happen to be married, spending a totally meaningless night under the stars.

He only stuck around for the mystery of her and once it was solved, he… checks notes …continued planning elaborate dates, risked his life for her, wrote her poetry, spent centuries in her company, and doing domestics with her. But yeah. Definitely just a phase.

He kept an entire diary to track their time together. But that’s normal, right? Just an intergalactic, timey-wimey version of a Google Calendar for the woman he definitely does not feel any sort of romance for.

He was willing to let all of time and space collapse just so they could have a linear married life. You know, because that’s what you do for a woman you have no strong romantic feelings for whatsoever.

He planned intricate dates just for her, dressed up for the occasion despite usually looking like a sentient pile of laundry, and bought her custom-tailored outfits so they could match. You know, just friendly little outings. Buddies. Chums. Mates.

Whenever she calls, he comes. No matter the situation, no matter how much danger he’s in, he drops everything and rushes to her side. He’s probably just really into checking his voicemail.

He wrote her love poetry. But, like, strictly in a platonic way. Just some totally neutral iambic pentameter for the fun of it.

Despite being universally known for his terrible time management, he is always perfectly on time for her. Which, of course, doesn’t mean anything. He just suddenly became a scheduling genius when she was around.

He keeps asking her to travel with him. Like, repeatedly. Like, he can’t take the hint that she has a life outside of running around in space. Almost like he wants her there. But that would be ridiculous.

The entire universe knows that the easiest way to lure the Doctor into a trap is to put River in danger. Because he will always come for her. But that’s not love. That’s just… reflexes.

He “only” took her to Darillium because he was lonely. And then, in an act of sheer, meaningless, absolutely not-love-driven desperation, he spent 24 years (and more) being domestic with her. Just hanging out. Not a big deal.

He built a whole planet just so they could have a little more time together. You know, because nothing says "total indifference" like terraforming an entire celestial body.

An entire archipelago, famously known as "The Lovers Dreaming Island", exists where the islands literally form the shape of their intertwined bodies. That’s just standard planet-building, really. All geography is accidental.

He physically defied the laws of the universe to hold onto her data ghost. The whole "ghosts can’t be touched" thing? He literally said, "Mmm, no thanks" then proceeded to french kiss her goodbye. But that’s really just the kind of farewell you give to someone you were forced to be with.

He keeps a spare TARDIS key inside a book called The Time Traveler’s Wife. No significance whatsoever. Probably just the only book lying around.

Her words gave him hope when nothing else could. Her voice became his mantra. But no, not love. Just, you know, some lady saying things.

But yeah, sure, he never loved her. The universe must be wrong. The Doctor must be wrong. The literal geography of an archipelago must be wrong. The foundations of time itself must be wrong. Or… maybe the Doctor is just the most emotionally repressed idiot in the cosmos, and we’ve all spent years watching a romantic tragedy disguised as sci-fi nonsense.

Final Conclusion: The Doctor absolutely, 100%, definitively does not love River Song. And if you believe that, I have a prime piece of real estate in the Medusa Cascade to sell you.

[werewolfbarista]

new sona . if u even care..............

[gloochi]

So I was chatting with @sayohazawa about the latest Iruma-kun chapters, and she pointed out something very fun to me that a friend had pointed out to her. In chapter 375, we see Lied getting dressed up as Lindy, but then in 376, we see her in a completely different outfit with a completely different hairstyle.

So not only does she know how to do her own makeup and put in her own hair extensions, but she also has multiple hairstyles she likes AND owns multiple outfits for this (which can't possibly be Shakky's 'cuz she's a completely different size), and she must have been actively deliberating on how she wanted to dress up.

I had then pointed out some other fun details, namely how it was Lindy who suggested they do the mall date anyways. Gyari just told them to do what they want.

Just about no hesitation, not a thought of going home and getting changed, just diving directly into a mall date as cute girls.

They were even taking selfies to remember the occasion with!

They both need estrogen, but holy fucking shit, Lindy. Are we sure she HASN'T figured it out yet, or is she just sooooooooo close but not quite there yet?

[kandadze]

I believe that one day you'll meet the person who makes you want to live.

Fangs of Fortune, ep 6

I wonder how these two met. Maybe Zhao Wan'er was doing her rounds in the Wilderness one day and came across this stunning guy, all decked in furs, just sitting there, staring vacantly at the sea. Maybe he reminded her of her brother. Maybe she befriended him because he seemed lonely, and she was lonely, too. Maybe it was just their thing to sit on the shore and watch the waves together. And then they became close, enough for her to gift him with her brother's name, enough for him to tell her about the torment he was living with. And maybe she knew that there was only so much she could do, but believed that there would be others who could do more, who could help him in ways that she couldn't. So she let him know and then just continued sitting by him, watching the sea.

Also, I find it interesting that we get two pairs of siblings - one by blood and one by choice - in the same ep; both pairs are shown in a memory, talking about the future. ZYC's brother believed his Xiao-Chen was going to find like-minded companions; ZYZ's "sister" believed the Great Demon was going to meet someone who'd make him want to live. Both were right.

[cruel-hiraeth]

Every ten years, two young adults from your village are offered to the King of Curses as human sacrifices.

A pair of souls plucked at peak ripeness is all that will appease the mythic monster. Otherwise, the selection process is random—or so the elders claim; you suspect that happenstance alone isn’t why the chosen are always orphans. There’s no harm in throwing away the lives of those who have neither social status nor loved ones.

Who will mourn their loss?

Since you were a knobby-kneed child, you assumed you would have to forfeit your existence for the “greater good” (though you never believed your meager life would account for much). Whispers have followed you like a shadow for as long as you can remember.

Rumor holds that your parents abandoned you to the elements because you consumed your twin in the womb; you were born a demon, a cursed child. The only reason you walk the earth today is because a monk took mercy on a wretched babe, delivering you to an orphanage for a life of isolation and servitude.

It’s a somber morning when it occurs: inky clouds are a funerary shroud over the earth. Your breath remains steady when a procession arrives at the door of your master’s home, announcing that you bear the honor of representing the village this year. Unable to so much as gather your few belongings—what does a spirit require in death?—you leave the residence immediately, heart heavy with foreboding.

The next several weeks are a blur. You reside in a crumbling temple on the outskirts of the village where you begin the purification process—an endless cycle of fasting, meditation, and ablution. Here you meet your companion on this journey to premature death: a fellow orphan named Itadori Yuuji. To your knowledge, you have never met him before; you’re positive that you would remember him if you had.

He’s too striking to forget.

Itadori is tall and broad, his skin sun-warmed and tawny, with freckles smattering his shoulders and face. His eyes are swirling pots of honey, smoother and richer than anything you have ever seen—is the gilt nectar as luscious and sweet as they claim? The shock of hair atop his head is a coppery gold, more befitting of royalty than a poor farmhand.

But perhaps his most distinct features are the identical, crescent-shaped scars that outline his eyes. You wonder how they got there and what they mean. Are they an omen? A generational curse? A mark of death? You never muster the courage to ask him, though, as the day of your offering is upon you.

The wind whips the hem of your silk robes, the chilly air seeping into your bones, a shiver wracking your frame. You wobble to you knees before the shrine as you begin reciting the sacrificial rites—the elders standing back at a safe distance—waiting for the King of Curses to claim you. Your heart is a storm: sorrowful rain, vengeful thunder, thrilling lightning. Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, Itadori grasps your left hand, his palm dwarfing your own.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers.

You glance at him in your periphery; a knowing smile tugs at the corners of his lips. What makes you so sure? you want to cry out. You taste the words on your tongue as his scars crack open to display another set of eyes a bloody claret, dark tattoos unfurling across his face and limbs. He now speaks with a gravely voice, much deeper than he ever has before:

“This isn’t the end, brat—it’s merely the beginning.”

[softaspects]

Jean Vicquemare, because I too keep reaching into the fire, against all reason, to save people I am loyal to who do not want to be saved, and every time I reach in, I get a little more bitter, a little more desperate, and the years coil around us like barbed wire; we bleed, and I hold on tighter, mangling the pieces that are left, the parts I can still see that I cling to - remember me, remember us? It’s not healthy, but it’s all we got - and you slip away more often than I can yank you back, but I’m stubborn like that.

You won’t pry out I love you from my mouth, the way thank you will never leave yours, but we’ve got our teeth in each other’s heart just the same.

My pain wears sarcasm as a face, and lash out as I may, my grip won’t loosen, even if it kills me a little more every day; your liquid eyes staring into mine, and what it all comes down to is, i’ve got you.