#where the parents look like siblings

[erigold13261]

what suit do papa and esther have [as mama is hearts and yinu is clubs]

I at first had Papa with diamond, only to realize he wouldn't have one because he is not biologically a part of Mama's family.

I am still deciding on if I want Esther to have the face marking or if I want Mama's father to have the face marking. I kinda like the idea of Esther being a plant person and then her husband being a human, or at least whatever species has the face marking.

I'd probably go with Mama's father having the face marking, and it would probably be the diamonds or also the clubs! I don't have much about him in my head yet, but I see him as a farmer or at the very least someone who gardens a lot (which got him and Esther together).

Apparently card suites have meaning to them! The meaning changes depending on the source, but one that I saw is that the Heart symbol stands for the struggle to attain inner peace, and the Club symbol represents strength and achievement, which do really sound like Mama and Yinu respectively.

So I don't really know what Grandpapa (Pap Pap maybe?) would have right now. I know he would be a hardworking man who tried to provide a good life to his family, paying for Mama's music lessons and to go to a good school. But I can also see him as being tough sometimes.

I can see him accidentally scaring the shit out of Papa when he found out Papa was dating Mama, kinda like that "You mess with my daughter you are gonna regret it boy." Which of course he didn't have to worry about with Papa, but it still was something that happened lol.

So yeah! I'll try to get back to you on what symbol Grandpapa has one day! After some research on card suites! :3

[gingermintpepper]

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 

It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 

Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 

He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 

Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  

Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 

He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.

“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  

There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 

Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 

A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 

Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -

“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 

He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 

“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 

Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  

There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 

“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 

(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 

Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”

Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 

A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 

Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”

Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)

[goatpaste]

Huge SA warning for the next chapter. I really do hate that Araki keeps falling on using that as a shock factor/writing crutch twice to the same character now. Though doesn’t the recent chapter kind of confirm Dragona is trans now?

yeah no iv already read the chapter so i knows what up

but for anyone else who hasnt read todays new jojoland chapter PLEASE read this

but im also like

anyone with a brain alreadY knewW she was trans, ARaki im already in her corner, I already support her, you don't have to keep brutalizing her to make her compelling or whatever

im so sick of the transmisogynoir, pick out something else to do with Dragona for the love of god!!!

araki the last 3 parts, seeing a woman and asking if anyone is going to do gross sexual harassment to them and NOT waiting for an answer

[thetimelordbatgirl]

Generally love how anyone who at least watched a little Horrid Henry agrees on one thing: those parents were beyond shit and Henry will very likely go no contact as soon as he's an adult.

[izzyspussy]

i feel like i remember people posting happy birthday character posts for mickey in june? is that right? well, even if he doesn't have a canon birthday (or if he does and it's. wrong.) he has a summer birthday To Me. and i've never seen a guy who is more obviously a capricorn than ian, so! if mickey's summer birthday is indeed in june specifically (i'm thinking cancer, but it would also be really cool if mickey and mandy are both gemini - twins who aren't twins), then mickey is technically two years older than ian for about half the time.

[shiningstarr15]

I love how “Gregory has PTSD” is an official tag on ao3, but “Vanessa has PTSD” is not…

[sunshine-zenith]

The other night, for some incomprehensible reason, I dreamed Bakugou and Shigaraki’s moms started dating while their kids were little

I haven’t watched or read MHA in years and only occasionally browse the tags out of curiosity, but I get the vague impression that certain events from the last couple chapters would make this scenario a bit awkward

[minakoaiinos]

Lost my original post of this from the other day but I genuinely don't understand how Black Butler discourse ever shifted into the does Sebastian ~really~ like Ciel or is Ciel just dinner line of conversation that is pervasive as it is because Sebastian is the one that has absorbed his whole existence into Ciel's. Sebastian's face is what Ciel wants Sebastian's whole purpose is doing things for Ciel Sebastian's every hell of a butler yes my lord speech is about how he's Ciel's and Ciel is the one going around saying shit like whatever Sebastian is just my pawn 💅

[skin-slave]

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[moongothic]

I think kuja theory stuck cause its a fun thematic/narrative idea: what if a lady on an island with 0 men and 0 concept of men found out about men and was immediately like “oh shit thats me”

Oh yeah that's fair (and some/many queer people in general would probably find that (being the only queer in a specific setting growing up and feeling isolated/estranged from everyone else because of it) relatable)

Also to be fair, Crocodile and Hancock do have the same hair texture (like most Kuja have colorful hair in all sorts of textures but those two in particular both have shiny black hair) so there is that minor visual resemblance there too

[animmal]

getting a handle on mavis is kinda 😵‍💫 bc on the one hand she's an empath (literally) and is shown to generally have more emotional intelligence/maturity than dr🅰️x/nebs/rocket combined, but at the same time she apparently saw no problem at all whatsoever w kidnapping kevin 🥓 for peter 😭 which is like???? i mean maybe those two things can be true at the same time but like... How. 😭 is she an empath or is she okay w taking people against their will to give as a present to her brother ?

[cuteniaarts]

Digitalised + coloured + redesigned version of my Suiren and Vaatu sketch from two days ago, as promised!!

Coming up with Suiren’s design was a very long process of trying and failing because after you’ve drawn 9+ different versions of one character, the creativity starts to run a little dry, but I’m actually really proud of this one, she looks absolutely adorable <3

(Also yeah I did mostly just scribble Vaatu’s pattern because who has the energy to draw the all out accurately. Not me, that’s who, I’m chronically tired. People who draw him on the regular have my utmost respect. He’s still a funky little guy though :D)

Bonus, Raava incessantly screaming inside Suiren (and being completely ignored because Suiren is tired of her) while all this is happening:

[aftermathing]

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[vampyr3wife]

Your nose is so big and pretty

Thank u :D !

[boba-thot]

hey boy how'd you get so LONG

[lotusliasart]

Some more DA-ocs I've got in the works for this portrait page! Not all the characters I have will fit, so I'm mostly just doing protags and their siblings/kids and a couple ttrpg dorks from old games.