#struggling to find the will to care?

[keicordelle]

It's kind of impressive how good Astarion is at primping when he can't see his own reflection. Like, he's vain, sure -- he has to be, to lure people back to Cazador. A pretty face is much more likely to draw people in, especially with his particular skill set. But...

All those years hunting for Cazador. Dolling himself up just to trap some poor fool in a tavern or a seedy back alley. His appearance always perfectly put together and beautiful.

Did the other spawn help get ready? There certainly seemed to be no love lost between them, especially for Astarion, but... Did they act as each others' mirrors, helping to style hair and apply make up? Did they help each other, in as much as they could, at least where it came to drawing in victims? Each consigned to the same fate, did they offer each other that smallest kindness of a brush run through hair?

Or did Astarion learn alone in the dark, to slick back his hair and hide his bruises? Is that why he's so put together at the start of the game, when you ought to be at your worst, injured and lost in the wreckage of your life? Practice?

[sunlitsoil]

there is always tomorrow

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Kiss Kiss Fallen Tree!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[keferon]

Okay I’m. Usually. Usually I don’t enjoy human aus and usually I hate drawing transformers as humans because it feels so wrong to my brain.

But then I stumbled upon Dream of something more by Gemma_Inkyboots and aaauuuhh fuck. Here’s the pile of the most vague and unspecific and undetailed fanart. Because I’m being torn between “I can’t drawing human designs” and “If don’t draw something for this fic I die”.

[pokeberry5]

directionless anger

(or, something like: the robin mantle is a curse, but that isn't inherently anyone's fault and someone has to wear it)

i adapted the two pages below the cut bc they were haunting me—tim having a nightmare the day of his mother's funeral, from Batman (1940) #455: “Identity Crisis, Part 1”, from this post

[umblrspectrum]

i think the idea of v finding uzis last name hilarious is a really funny one

[enemywasp]

I HATE tiktok and the Internet in general rn for the obsession with "oh this person's smellyyy" "Brother it STINKS over here" "BOO 💧🧼🧽🚿" and stuff like that. I wish I could put into words how demeaning and patronising that whole idea is and people implying anyone they don't like doesn't wash.

For one there's something grating about being insulted in a manner like we're in nursery again. But also WHY is that the go to insult. Why do you associate these things? Especially to those you deem "chronically online". Like I don't want to sound pathetic but it feels so nasty to me.

is it extreme to say this feels tied to ableism? And classism too?

[philshotcocoa]

Dans little gestures :)

[awriternamedart]

"How do you do it, gambler?"

Aventurine glanced up from the drink in his hand, an identical one clutched tightly in Dr. Ratio's.

"Do what?"

"Maintain a relationship."

Aventurine blinked, before his head shot up again to look at the doctor. Veritas didn't even spare him a glance, eyes glued to the scene in front of them— a grand IPC ball, held for investors and connections to be made. It was always a busy and grand event, one the Intellegensia Guild had to attend to maintain the IPC's investment.

It really wasn't Dr. Ratio's scene, but he had been chosen as their representative anyway.

"I'm not particularly adept at that, my dear doctor." Aventurine chuckled, watching the alcohol swirl in his glass.

"You are far more able then I am. Even upon falsities and fake promises, you managed to chat and converse with people in a sort of ease," Ratio slowly tore his eyes away from the crowd, glancing back to Aventurine before his eyes dropped to the floor in front of him. "..Its admirable."

Aventurine could just barely process what Dr. Ratio was exactly saying— direct praise?? From the good doctor himself???— before Veritas set down his now-empty drink on a bypassing waiters tray.

"Do you ever feel.. second-rate?"

Aventurine paused, taking another languid drink as he contemplated. It wasn't often the dear doctor opened up— he should tread carefully.

"I can't say for sure. Why?" He kept his tone even, trying not to distract from Veritas' thoughts. It was hard enough to get to know him in the first place, to squander his trust like this would be a waste.

The Doctor took a deep breath, practically hiding himself in the shadows of one of the many grand pillars decorating the room.

"I am not adept at conversation."

Aventurine could agree with that. Something about the doctor made it difficult to respond in kind— he was dry, a vague bit brutish, and if Aventurine dared, a little bullheaded. He seemed so sure of himself, founded confidence that was backed up by his many achievements. It was a little intimidating for the average person, he supposed. But as he looked on, that sort of Dr. Ratio seemed to fade ever so slightly, leaving behind someone who was still sure in his knowledge and discoveries— but struggled nonetheless.

"I find people.. grating, sometimes. But connection is one of the few necessities of livelihood, and so I try to converse with my peers as often as possible. It is.. difficult. It often feels as if they have no interest in what I am saying, neither asking questions nor inquiring further, and when I try to do so to show interest in their research, they often retreat back, saying it is not finished or the such. Offering to help only ever seems to drive them further away." Taking out the laurel clip in his hair, Veritas' thumb drifted over the gilded leaves, the polish in the finish reflecting his face back at him. "Despite my best efforts, I rarely ever follow up because I fear I intimidate them. I have seen them recoil at the mere sight of me."

Aventurine could just watch on in surprise— Veritas had never shown an inkling of this before. When he had first gotten to know the doctor, he had assumed Veritas simply didn't work with his peers due to a difference in dedication, or perhaps view. He was among the brightest and best in the Intellegensia Guild, always praised behind his back for being one of their stars.

Perhaps that wasn't the front Veritas had put up at all. Perhaps it was what Veritas was forced to wear in the face of his peers, forced to be seen as the cold unobtainable, the pinnacle of what they should be.

Being on a pedestal like that, it must be lonely.

"Do you not go drinking with your coworkers or something?" Aventurine leaned against the wall, cold of the stone seeping through his suit. Veritas glanced up at him, before looking back down.

"..I was never invited. It is against social convention to come along if you aren't invited, isn't it? I'd rather not strain and worry them more. It could impact them negatively if I were to come along and invite stress to what is supposed to be a time they unwind." He turned the laurel over in his hand. "..perhaps I missed my opportunity."

The light of the pedestal Dr. Ratio sat on seemed to blind all those who looked at it from underneath. They couldn't see his face, only his back— but as Aventurine leaned against the wall, gazing at the doctor in front of him, he got that different perspective.

There was.. resignation, in his eyes.

"Perhaps I am just doomed to be a looming figure above many. And yet, I'll still never be enough." His voice tapered off slightly, head dropping even just that hint bit more. "I am fully aware how much others are compared to me, and I hear them speak of my achievements behind my back. I wish they would stop, if I am being honest. Or at least tell me of my praise directly."

That surprised Aventurine.

"What, do people not give you a compliment or two? For someone so easy on the eyes and as esteemed as you, doctor, I find that hard to believe!" He chuckled— but it quickly faded out as Veritas looked to the side.

"Not often do I get comments directly on my achievements, no. Nor on my appearance, before you came along." He sighed. "You are.. the only person who does so."

The only one who's tried.

-

The Only One Whos Tried - awriternamedart

[mrmeepsmadmind]

rewatching this over and over again.. mainly bcs tarn makes soundwave into a manlet but also bcs it's hilarious

[ali3nboyfriend]

i see a lot of talk of fellow adhd and autistic folk feeling like they’re too much for other people but i don’t see a lot of talk about feeling like you’re not enough. low energy adhd and autism where it takes a lot of effort to use words so your way of showing affection is to sit there and vibe in people’s presence but it comes off like you’re not paying attention or it’s not “active” enough to count, or forgetting to reply to DMs (or like i said, Words Hard), and it again comes off as you not caring or ignoring people. it’s really hard to be putting in so much effort to maintain friendships you value only for that effort to not be seen, or to be read as apathy, or for it to be seen but still not be what other people want. even worse when you try and talk more and be more active in a relationship but you end up burning yourself out because you don’t have enough energy to maintain it.

[tangents-within-tangents]

Thinking about the song "Ship in Port" by Radical Face and clones

Thinking about the line "Farewell to the chains we were born into" and what that can mean for the clones

Thinking about how "But I have always stayed in place/Under that old illusion that it's safe" could equally describe Hunter, Echo, and (s1+2) Crosshair's complete opposite approaches to the Empire and post-war life.

The way Crosshair clings to his identity as a soldier of the Empire

And Echo as a soldier of the Republic

But Hunter puts his identity as a soldier behind him

Crosshair fights for the Empire to gain purpose

Echo fights against the Empire to save his brothers

And Hunter decides the Empire is too strong to even try to oppose

"A ship in port is a safer one"

"but it's not the reason it was made"

"So forgive me if I wander off"

"And forgive me more if I just stay"

Thinking about what The Bad Batch could have been if it had more fully explored the differences between those ideologies

(Thinking about what The Bad Batch could have been if it had dedicated more screen time to the 'reg' clones within the Empire and the underground network's fight to free them , instead of just sidelining Echo and Rex for a hypothetical clone rebellion show we might never get)

[mintjeru]

it probably wasn't the smartest decision to start an ongoing 1000+ chapter webnovel when i know it'll consume my every waking thought but here we are

open for better quality | no reposts

[spookygibberish]

I've sort of developed a strange relationship with the concept of "realism" in the things I make.

Something I was very into as like, an eleven year old (im not implying this was immature to be into, just that it was formative for me), was speculative biology specifically for dragons, and now, specifically in the case of dragons I find a lot of attempts to make them biologically plausible fully missing the appeal of dragons at all.

Thinking specifically about the supernatural elements of JoM and where the line is drawn. The dagnyds are made from the remains of godlike entities, and are not entirely earthly animals. They have a supernatural origin. It would be fully justified in giving them magic abilities or making magic an aspect of the setting, but have absolutely zero interest in doing so. It doesn't interest me. I think about shit like healing powers or glowy energy attacks and my reaction is just "what does this even add? Why do I need this? Does this make things more interesting?" And it simply doesn't. Healing is more interesting as a prolonged process, combat is more interesting with teeth and claws and metal and blood. These are options which are more realistic, closer to real life, but the realism isn't what makes them interesting: it's physicality.

When I design a creature for this world, I am not thinking about making it biologically plausible, and yet, I try to design things which look like they could 'move under their own power'. There is a sense of heft and mechanical "soundness" which I value more than realism, but often also aligns with looking 'realistic'.

I would say that it's better to serve a narrative than strive for absolute realism, but I don't actually write stories, although I do have ideas for them occasionally. I guess a version of this which is more relevant and applicable is that i prefer to strive for a particular vibe.

[unordinary-diary]

Arlo’s Height

I’m gonna say it right here and now: making Arlo super short as a Freshman and Sophomore is the funniest decision Uru has ever made— hands down. It gets me rolling every damn time.

But beyond that, it’s symbolic. I’ve mentioned the symbolism of Arlo’s height before— he’s 6’3”, and he is never once drawn next to someone taller than him. He commands the authority in every room he walks into, and his posture is immaculate. You see Arlo and you just know: that is the King. Arlo's height symbolizes power.

But in these flashbacks, Arlo is shorter than everyone. He’s around the same height as freshman Remi. Not only is he short, he has a bad case of baby face. This is more than a visual shorthand for the audience— the other characters pick up on it as well. His behavior is the same, but he is respected so much less. People perceive Arlo as young and weak. He has to work thrice as hard to get anything done because he has to prove himself constantly.

This parallels his struggles as King exactly. As we know from what he tells Blyke, Arlo had a lot of trouble in his first year as King. The Sophomores and upperclassmen all rejected him because he was Rei’s successor, the school was chaos, and the other Royals refused to work with him. In flashbacks, we can see that the freshmen don’t respect him either because he looks unimposing. The timeline matches up perfectly— he is short, he is disregarded. He is tall— he is respected.

Arlo’s height both symbolizes and contributes to how much power he has.

[saltyb0ba]

a deep blood moon, a starless night

dark enough to see the light