#noticed that while looking for reference

[aghw18]

A compilation of kuro-related art requests while i was gone

[screwpinecaprice]

Made adjustments with an older winter connverse because sometimes I like to revel on what improvement I had by 'correcting' my earlier stuff. Lol

[ryssbelle]

Inspired by these comics by @zivazivc and this comic by @chongotheartist

This has been chilling in my mind since I first saw ZivaZivcs comic and I finally got the energy to make it XD

[dreamyblanket]

Sorry guys, wafer on the brain, it's terminal u.u

Anyway, I'll elaborate on this in the tags bc omg I'm going to yap your metaphorical ear off.

[milkbreadtoast]

quick yoojin phone doodles from memory/without reference... im surprised it turned out so accurate considering i havent drawn him much(this is like the 2nd-3rd time) but ig it's bc im always taking notes in my head when i look at my screencaps of him... 😳

[nhura]

What's up guys I'm going to be a panelist at RATIOCON 2024 giving an improvised presentation on how silly and weird this guy is

[vieoeil-riae]

okay but imagine you get isekai'd into black myth wukong but you're chronically online and have played the game, like if you make any cultural reference or joke or jargon you'd just sound insane

like imagine you accompany the destined one and zhu bajie and you end up having to explain why you know so much despite very much Not Being From Here and you quote "this is an RPG, what role am I playing? the fucking victim?" while describing the combat or start yapping about how insane it would be if BMW was an open world because if that happened and the graphics were the same then your console would like, explode, and they just look at you like you've grown 3 heads

like you could be the funniest mf out there but you giggling at your own jokes just makes them worry about your own mental state 💀💀

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

I usually write Ghost fanfics but my little musical theater enthusiast brain has been buzzing since I saw Les Mis in Paris, so, there you go. Also, feels strange to write about my french little guys from a french book in english, given that I am, yes you guessed it, french, but oh well. I like my writting better in english anyway.

It's the light scraping of his chair that betrays Grantaire. He's been sitting in silence for quite a while now, content to watch Enjolras furiously scribble under the flickering light of dying candles for as long as the blond's engrossed mind will allow him.

The sudden noise puts an end to it, as it makes Enjolras look up, sharp eyes, barely dulled by the shadows underneath them, locking on Grantaire's slouched form. Impossibly bright blue flickers toward the bottle in his hand, pink lips, bitten raw in deep reflexion, pressing into a thin line. Grantaire watches mournfully as Enjolras' brow knits.

"I would have thought you'd be gone by now, Grantaire. Gone or asleep, at least. Has your liquor not knocked you uncouncious yet ?"

There isn't as much bite to the words as Grantaire expected. Enjolras' voice is steady, if not slightly strained with the exhaustion that no doubts weights on him. Stripped, for the moment at least, of his scalding enthusiasm and righteous fury, messy hair golden in what little light it catches, tie sitting as loose and askew as ever, Enjolras seems less marble, more flesh. Grantaire blinks slowly, feeling the effect of his own tiredness, huming lowly.

"It seems that today, my dear mistress absynth has left me before my eyes could close, and in such hurry that she took my legs with her. I will just sit here, if you'll let me."

Enjolras' face scrunches up as he lays his pen next to his work, careful not to smuge the still-drying ink with his sleeve.

"I do not understand how you could call mistress something that hurts you so much, Grantaire."

The disarming earnestness with which the reprimand- because it is still one - falls from Enjolras' mouth is almost enough for Grantaire to forget his wit. Almost. He reclines further in his seat with a half-smile he knows Enjolras abhors, twirling the bottle in his hand.

"You say that as if yours only ever did you good. How many times did Patria dear hurt you, Apollo ?"

The blond's expression sours further, but he doesn't snap. Instead, he gets up, leans over the table to gently pry the bottle from Grantaire's loose grasp. It was mostly empty anyway, and in doing so, Enjolras' undone collar gives Grantaire a great view of his collarbones. They're nice collarbones, and he is not strangely hypnotized by the sight, not at all.

When Enjolras drags a chair closer to Grantaire, plopping there with a deep sigh, it feels like the earth tilted on its axis just a bit. Because Enjolras is sitting right here, ankle propped on his knee while the other brushes Grantaire's, watching him with only a spark of annoyance and much more curiosity. There's a grace to Enjolras that Grantaire's wretched hands never quite managed to capture on paper, something that makes the way he rolls his sleeves just now captivating. The Musain is long closed, the backroom barely lit, shadows waiting in the corners, but Enjolras is still a vision. Grantaire's unworthy eyes are roaming, too much exposed skin, too close ; he is afraid an inch closer and Enjolras' simmering fire will melt him like those poor dying candles fighting to provide light.

"Patria hasn't hurt me."

Grantaire huffs, something both fond and painful swirling in his chest.

"No, my aplogies. You've hurt yourself for her."

Enjolras shakes his head, curls bouncing around the sculpted angles of his face. He has his stubborn face on - his everyday face, really.

"I've hurt myself for my beliefs. For the people. Such an important battle requires sacrifices. What I don't understand is how you can love something that causes you so much aimless pain so fiercly."

Saying so, Enjolras gestures toward the discarted bottle, but Grantaire feels like they're straying from the subject, like maybe Enjolras meant something else. Or maybe alcohol is encouraging his self indulgent thoughts. However Enjolras is still waiting for an answer, leaning just that much further toward Grantaire. It's dangerous, to trust him with that face up close and personal, the arch of those eyebrows, the sparkle of those dream-like eyes, the slight crookedness of that nose, sharp cheekbones and even sharper jaw, oh, and Grantaire can't bare looking at Enjolras' mouth, at the pink of perfect lips.

He would lean back, put some distance between them, but he can go no further, the chair's back digging in his spine. It takes a too-long pause and a clearing of throat before Grantaire can answer.

"I believe it happens more often than you seem to believe. As you know, le coeur a ses raisons. Sometimes, the hurt isn't nearly bad enough to move on from the good. Sometimes, the hurt is so entertwined with the good it becomes one. Sometimes-"

There Grantaire's voice breaks, but he is determined to finish his sentence.

"...sometimes, the hurt is all that is deserved."

Because he's sitting so close, Grantaire can see the way Enjolras' expression crumbles at that, taking pieces of his already mangled heart with it.

"R..."

The nickname, both foreign and familiar, rolls off Enjolras' tongue with a pained accent. It's like for once, he's at a loss for words, rethoric failing him perhaps for the first time in his life. Grantaire would jest about it, if he didn't felt naked under the steel of Enjolras' eyes. Then a hand covers his, and his brain officially stops functioning, nothing but a low hum running through his head, because even when Grantaire is sure he can't anymore, Enjolras surprises him.

The stray spots of ink on Enjolras' fingers smudge on Grantaire's own when the blond tangles them together, thumb running along the veins at the back of his hand. He is warm, something that somehow always startles Grantaire. There, in the backroom of the Café Musain, as the shadows keep gaining ground, threatening to swallow them both, Enjolras and Grantaire hold hands.

"You don't deserve the hurt," Enjolras whispers after a long pause, urgency tainting his words, as if making Grantaire believe that was of the highest importance, "you don't. And if I gave you the impression that you did, then I apologize. I apologize, R."

Nothing could have prepared Grantaire for the way Enjolras then bows his head, pressing his lips to R's scarred knuckles. The touch, light, tender, unexpected, like the suspicious shine in Enjolras' eyes when he straightens, takes Grantaire completely by surprise, leaving him to stare with his jaw on the floor. He doesn't say anything, can't, really, which Enjolras seems to take as a bad omen, for his hold on Grantaire's hand slackens.

R can't let that happen, not when it feels like Enjolras letting go would shatter him, a man turned porcelain doll by the simple squeeze of slender fingers. Grantaire's hand convulsively tightens around Enjolras'. One of the candle dies, the shadows lunge closer, but they're still vaillantly held off by the last two flames burning low. Even now, Grantaire can make out the relief washing over Enjolras' face, and he doesn't need light to feel the blond matching the strenght of his grip.

It should be studied, the way Grantaire's heart manages to miss at least three beats, then jump into a frankly concerning rythm when Enjolras leans closer, free hand delicately cupping R's jaw, like he's something to hold with care, like he's worthy of a touch that's careful, a touch that admires. In his wildest dreams, Grantaire would have never imagined this : Enjolras' head tilted so he can maintain eyecontact through the dark curls tangled on R's forehead, so close they could accidentally headbutt each other at any sudden movement.

The look on Enjolras' face is familiar, something that's usually reserved for when Combeferre's migraine has him excusing himself from a meeting, or when Eponine slinks in the back of the room to pretend she's not looking for Marius with a look of utter exhaustion, when Feuilly collapses on his chair with a sigh heavier than him, when Jehan curls in on themselves instead of chatting with everyone.

Worry, Grantaire's brain supplies.

"Let me take you home," Enjolras hums, absent-mindedly brushing a strand of hair away from Grantaire's face. It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to answer, his smirk somehow less convincing than he would like it to be.

"Why, dear Apollo, that is certainly an offer."

Pink spills on Enjolras' cheeks, a delicious flush Grantaire longs to know the extend of.

"I did not mean...I simply want to make sure you get some sleep."

"I know what you meant, Apollo, I'm only teasing you. I am surprised, though, i'll admit it. Do you even know where I live ?"

Enjolras nods, with the steel-clad certainty of the ones who are rarely wrong. He may even be smiling, if Grantaire's wishful eyes aren't deceiving him.

"I do. You rent a room a few blocks from here ; it is a rather short walk, but one you like to prolong by wandering through streets you needn't take."

It's said so matter-of-factly, like that little bit of Grantaire's routine is a well-known constant somewhere in Enjolras' brain. R doesn't remember ever explicitly mentionning his tendency to roam the streets aimlessly to anyone other than Bossuet and Joly, maybe Bahorel too. Unless, of course, Enjolras was paying more attentions to the conversations unrelated to the cause than Grantaire thought.

"Besides," Enjolras adds as, once more, R let the silence stretch on for too long, "I was talking about mine."

"Your-"

Grantaire might just faint at this point.

"Yes, Grantaire, my room."

This conversation feels like a fever dream. Enjolras of all people, asking Grantaire to follow him to his room, with barely enough space between them for the words to really leave the blond's mouth; it is so deeply incomprehensible Grantaire can do nothing but chuckle, now only drunk on the sheer astonishment he's feeling.

"Now you're just asking me to twist your words," he grins, leaning slightly more into Enjolras' hand, willing his shaken brain to memorize the feeling. The blond scoffs, but despite the deepening blush now spreading on his neck, he smiles, dangerously charming and charmingly dangerous.

"I'm afraid I share a wall with Combeferre, a thin one. Whatever you wanted to imply would never happen here, unless you don't mind the audience."

The laugh that spills from Grantaire's lips is crazed, whole body shaking with it. He feels like he's going insane, because there is no way Enjolras anticipated a crude joke and went along with it. Not only that, but the way he phrased it- it almost sounded like the option was only off the table because of the risk of making Combeferre an unwilling witness. No, Grantaire can't think about this, can't read into it, so he just laughs, face slipping from Enjolras' hand when his head falls back.

"Ah, Enjolras, it looks as if your humor awakens after the witching hour."

Standing up, the blond allowes himself to smile down at Grantaire, holding himself in a looser form than in the light of day.

"I didn't intended it to be half as funny as you seem to find it, Grantaire. So, what do you say ?"

Grantaire stares at the hand Enjolras extended for him, palm up. He shouldn't do this. Tonight is going better than he would have ever expected, but he and Enjolras walk a thin line, all the time. If Grantaire had to describe their relationship, he would call it whiplash-inducing, always pulling them back and forth in opposite directions. And tonight, Enjolras is hauling the both of them further than they ever went, like pulling taunt an elastic ; Grantaire should think of his poor little heart, of how it'll hurt that much more once the elastic snaps, and they're yanked back to the opposite end of their dynamic.

Instead, he takes Enjolras' hand and let him pull him to his feet. For a beat too long, they stay like this, chests almost brushing with each inhale, both aware of the importance of the moment without being able to fully grasp it still.

Then Enjolras clears his throat, taking a few steps back to collect his things. Grantaire busies himself by pushing the chairs back where they belong, keeping an eye on Enjolras as he pats his pockets for the double of the keys Musichetta let him use so he doesn't have to leave when she does.

Wordlessly, Enjolras splays a hand between Grantaire's shoulderblades when he goes to blow the remaining candles out. Suddenly plunged in darkness, they shuffle out, Grantaire following a few feet behind Enjolras. As he crosses the threshold, the blond looks back over his shoulder, eyes locking with Grantaire's.

It's colder outside than R had anticipated, goosebumps raising on his skin. Before he can do anything about it, a warm weight lands on his shoulders, and he finds himself wearing Enjolras' infamous red coat. The man in question watches him with all the intensity Grantaire dreams of, and even chuckles when R exageratedly squares his shoulders, tugging the collar up like Enjolras does when he feels especially dramatic. With a mock reverence that earns him a sigh, Grantaire is the one to offer his hand this time, adding some unnecessary flourish just because he can.

"Shall we ?"

Once again, Enjolras takes Grantaire's hand, and the world is just a tiny bit brighter thanks to that.

[lbhslefttiddie]

thoughts on orv as of ep 45:

i love women they are all so cool thank god for women

i am now 1500% certain something is deeply Wrong with kdj (affectionate)

if anything happens to this child im gonna scream and cry and throw up

took a look at the wiki bc im still not wholly sure if i should be saying gilyoung or gilyeong and this is how i find out the webcomic is an adaptation of a novel (when questioning for orv was, long ago, i just googled orv and looked at the first thing that wasnt the wiki)

in the original novel GILYEONG DOESNT EXIST??? fucked up im shaking and crying

[rosieyart]

Hello! I hope that you are well!

I was looking through some of your drawings of Shuichi Saihara (which are amazing, by the way!) and noticed that you often draw him with piercings.

It's a great design and suits him well, but it made me wonder what you think of Rantaro Amami's design. Unless I am misremembering, he is the only character in Danganronpa V3 that has piercings (and a lot of them, haha). If you ever drew him, what would you add, change, or take away from his appearance?

On the same topic, what are your general thoughts on Rantaro? Do you have any head-canons of him?

Thank you for your time, and keep up the amazing work!

- Saber

hi, thank you so much for your compliments! i’m quite flattered haha

as for your ask, i like rantarou! he’s really neat and i was actually so devastated that he was the first to go because upon first meeting him, i knew he was going to be a possible favourite. as of now, i’m more so indifferent, and i don’t really care for green characters too much, but my feelings for him lean towards positive. i think he’s neat. seems really chill

can’t say i really have a whole lot of head canons since he’s admittedly not someone i give too much thought to, but overall i would give him an eyebrow piercing and imagine he has a few sets of snake bites he alternates through. i gave him an eyebrow slit, too, to match with his piercing in my recent work. he already has so many piercings i cant say i’d give him more — maybe more on his left ear though, since his right is uh. very heavily pierced haha. i could see him having a piercing at his clavicle though, or maybe his tongue. again, i wouldn’t add much more, personally. if anything i’d give him some tattoos. i can easily see him being a tattoo artist.

despite me not caring for his specific shade of green, i actually love his design a lot and think he’s definitely an underrated character (or maybe he’s not? i actually don’t heavily interact with the drv3 fandom so perhaps he’s more popular than i think he is). initially, in my first play through of v3 and when things went wrong, or there was a death of some sort, i’d tsk and shake my head, telling my friend i was playing with that none of this would’ve happened if rantarou were there haha. he was just an enigma that haunted my v3 experience and when i found out his effigy was just… hanging upside down in ouma’s room i lost it because i thought it was so funny. proceeded to then be heavily disappointed that clicking on his effigy did nothing and we, as the audience, never truly learned why ouma hung it in his room……. right by his bed no less 💀 (reason was likely just due to his evidence hoarding tendencies, but still)

[petrichormeraki]

wip that i couldn’t keep to myself, they’re so CUTE

[slumberinglabyrinth]

from left to right: the textures used by Giffca when transformed in Radiant Dawn and Path of Radiance, and the textures used by Caineghis when transformed in Radiant Dawn

hi. i missed something incredibly obvious while making this post: every beast laguz in path of radiance shares their markings with other members of the same class and even though caineghis isn't playable, he still uses those markings in one of the prerendered cutscenes (and in concept art) so it's not like they switched them around between games or anything. there's still some weird stuff going on with his models, but the markings (and just the markings) are consistent with how other characters in fe9 are treated.

original text of this post (for reference):

Today's episode of I Might Actually Turn Into the Joker for Real This Time is brought to you by Giffca having the same marking on his body in fe9 as Caineghis does in fe10. Also for some reason he's wearing the clasp Caineghis uses to wear his mantle (compare the far right part of the textures on the bottom row) (on both models, this particular piece of geometry appears around their neck).

Our only point of reference for what the markings should be is the artbooks (which are curated after the fact and as such do not necessarily convey the intent on PoR's release), where there's concept art of both Giffca's and Caineghis' markings and they correspond 1:1 to their RD textures. Off the top of my head, this could mean several possible things:

Giffca's PoR textures are an error and he was always meant to have his RD textures

Giffca's (transformed) design was intentionally changed between fe9 and fe10.

Between fe9 and fe10 they realized they wanted to use those markings for Caineghis instead, and changed Giffca to accommodate that, possibly not expecting anyone to notice.

Caineghis was meant to be playable in PoR instead of Giffca. Giffca was changed to be Gallia's Gotoh late in development, and they didn't have time to create/design completely new textures and either deliberately repurposed Caineghis' or forgot to change the markings in the rush to finish the game. (Caineghis has unused bases/growths and a map model in PoR, which could also be a result of this)

Giffca, as an entire character, was added late in PoR's development and they either didn't have time to create/design new textures and either deliberately repurposed Caineghis' or forgot to change the markings in the rush to finish the game.

Giffca, as he appears during Repatriation, was actually Caineghis in disguise.

[hychlorions]

imagine they don't give you eyes and you think it's probably because of your glasses but the guy next to you has glasses AND eyes so what the fuck. you just don't deserve eyes i guess. anyway

[anerol152]

You know how you can be in a fandom for years and simply not think or notice things?

Hakuba Saguru. Saguru Hakuba. S.H. Sherlock Holmes.

How did I miss the joke for years-

[gentil-minou]

wangxian rookies in showbiz au where newbie idol Wei Wuxian is on set of a commercial wearing a ridiculously uncomfortable outfit getting yelled at for dumb reasons by his incompetent agent while bottom-of-the-totem-pole production assistant Lan Wangji is being bossed around by the awful director

Except wwx isn't actually a newbie he was once popular child actor Wei Ying seen everywhere, the golden boy of the industry known for his upbeat personality and the smile constantly on his face.

That is until his final role when he was 13 where he played a dark jaded teenage psychopath in a psychological thriller and was forced to perform intensely emotional scenes without any counselor or anyone there to keep an eye on him (his manager at the time Madam Yu's focus was always her other children's careers, Wei Ying was just an extra way to make money you see). He even got badly injured on set, and now has an ugly burn scar above his heart from a poorly done fire stunt.

But the movie flops and things just keep getting worse from there...

It gets no attention from critics that is until former golden boy becomes the teen misfit all the gossip rags talk about, with constant cover stories showing him at 15 doing drugs and partying and eventually getting kicked out by his manager/aunt at 16. The narrative becomes clear that Wei Ying is a flop and another failed child star turned deplorable diva

He disappears for a few years, only ever coming up in a low budget TMZ special or some commentary youtuber's videos, but Lan Wangji never forgot him.

Lan Wangji had often worked with his uncle when he came on as a consultant on set and so was able to watch and admire Wei Ying from afar. He's especially fond of Wei Ying's role as the happy go lucky middle child on a popular sitcom role and his smaller movie roles where he played a genius child inventor and solved crimes alongside a precocious bunny rabbit.

So well Lan Wangji has always been a fan of him so he's shocked when the new idol on set of their cheap commercial stage looks so similar to Wei Ying.

But at the same time, they're not the same at all. While Wei Ying was known for being friendly and silly, Wei Wuxian is acting like a pompous and cocktail overly confident ass, flirting with the director and everyone else while making a show of whiny and being cutesy with hopes for more screentime.

It's very unnatural and there's a moment where LWJ thinks he must have been mistaken but there's a moment in between when he's running back and forth on the producer's order while balancing cups of coffee when he spots WWX sitting by himself, huddled in a corner of the soundstage deep in the shadows where no one else is around.

He's staring at the fingernails they've painted and stuck gaudy fake jewels on and fiddling with the ridiculous black demon wings he's wearing, as he picks at the layers of makeup and stickers they've put on his face. He's tugging on his red crop top, cut indecently short and revealing so much, as watery eyes dart back and forth in front him like he's worried someone important might see.

In general he doesn't seem anything like the person he was under those lights just minutes ago.

As lwj approaches he sees that actually wwx shoulders are shaking his hands are clenched into fists, his eyes shut tight so that his makeup doesn't run

Wei Wuxiann watches as the director is barking orders for someone to fix the set as another idol takes wwx's place and finishes the shoot. Apparently his acting wasn't "peppy enough" so they've replaced him with someone else

But this was his first gig in months, years actually but months since he tried to come back and for it to fail like this, so fast without anything to show for it is absolutely devastating. He'd tried so hard to give them what he thought he wanted, desperately hoping for his big break. Only to fail again.

What does he do? What can he say? Why does he even bother?

He's staring at the floor like it might have the answer to all his problems when a pair of white sneakers appear.

He tracks those sneakers up to meet the stonefaced stare of one of the PAs he's seen running around, the youngest one who's been doing the most menial tasks. He looks somewhat familiar but his face is impassive and wwx can't tell at all what he's thinking

The PA hands him a bottle of water that wwx takes with both hands, too taken aback to do much else. Then the PA slips his headset off and sits next to him, the black faux feathers of wwx's wings brushing against the PAs arms, though he doesn't seem to mind

And so they sat. Two nobodies hidden in the shadows of a forgotten corner in a busy studio, far from the reach of the shining spotlights and stage. Little by little, wwx finds it easier to control his breathing and stray sniffles.

Eventually, the PA starts taking off his hoodie, revealing a plain white t-shirt underneath. He reaches into his pocket and holds out a marker for wwx to take as he turns so his back is facing him.

When wwx, understandably confused, doesn't do anything, the PA glances over his broad shoulders and just says "Sign, please."

Wei Wuxian blinks waiting for the punchline but it never comes. He's not even on the roster for any boy group, just a trainee idol whose only fans are the diehards who follow the trainee circuit and his sister. And this guy doesn't seem like the former and he definitely isn't the latter.

But the PA just sits and waits, back facing wwx.

Eventually, almost mechanically, he signs his new autograph, the one where he uses the 2 W's to make a smile.

He asks for a name to make the signature out to, and the PA answers in a quiet hesitant voice that he can barely hear over all the background noise, "Lan Zhan."

That name sends a spark up his spine like it should be familiar but wwx can't figure out why. So he finishes his autographs with a star and a flourish. He hasn't gotten to test out the new signature yet. He thinks he likes it better than he'd expected.

Wei Wuxian beams up at him, heart beating a beautific beat against his ribcage and asks, "Why would you want a signature from a nobody like me?"

He means it as a teasing joke but the PA, Lan Zhan his brain corrects him, gives him a grave look that steals the breath from his lungs.

"You're not nobody, Wei Ying"

Lan Zhan takes the marker and slips his hoodie back on, covering the autograph with their two names side by side, and with a final nod he walks away, melting into the general chaos of the production floor.

It takes a long moment for Wei Wuxian to realize he'd never told the guy his real name.

(originally a threadfic here)

[ludoka]

I need someone to understand why I think Eduardo and his father's eyes look like this:

Because THIS is what their eyes look like when they smile or laugh:

His eyes are small and half slanted. They barely see when they smile 😂