#will i ever stop drawing them as humans? no

[aonemanarmy]

'Now watch closely. This is but the start of things to come.'

Passing the clipboard to another assistant Hojo went over and picked up a scalpel from the tray of surgical implements before walking over to the restrained child who continued to struggle despite knowing the futility of the situation. It never did any good, but he couldn't help but try, especially as the sight of that looming blade filled his vision and caused the straining tears to flow freely down the sides of his cheeks as Hojo brought down the scalpel and made the first cut.

Red-hot agony encompassed the boy's mind and every sensation. Nothing else existed in that moment – not the cold stainless steel table beneath his naked skin or the leather straps digging into his flesh – only the razor-sharp steel of the scalpel's kiss.

In his world there was never such a thing as anesthesia or painkillers – it would taint the results and Hojo couldn't have that – and as such the child was very much aware of each and every new agony inflicted upon him. It was hell on earth and the boy was helpless to escape from no matter how much he might've tried, but even if it was futile he lacked the full awareness to appreciate that fact at such a young age. As such, it wasn't long before his screams and cries filled the air, but ultimately fell upon deaf ears as they always did.

“Stop!”

Another cut and the scarlet line on the boy's chest spread, opening up like a red gaping mouth from his trembling, which was now bordering on convulsions. A simple click of the tongue was Hojo's only response as he continued cutting, ignoring the boy's protests no matter how heartrending they would've been to anyone with the faintest shred of a conscience.

“I'll be good!”

Undeterred, the child continued to beg and plead with Hojo, unaware of how futile his efforts were. He was far too young, too shamefully naive to know that truth – that nobody cared and nobody would ever come to save him.

“I'll be good!”

He could feel his nails biting into his palms until they bled, but that pain paled in comparison to what he endured now. The boy's vision swam with tears, his eyes darting around as if searching for any hope of salvation which would never come. Not that any of it mattered anyway, as the child could scarcely see anything but the painfully bright lights of the room overhead and the floating visage of the man that haunted his every waking nightmare.

In the throes of such agony the child twisted his head to one side, his clouded vision unwittingly looking directly at the specter of the mother he'd never had or known, but who only existed in his deepest longings and childish fantasies. As he looked out at nothing at all he again cried out in desperation, almost as if speaking directly to Lucrecia, begging for an end to the suffering that would never come.

“I promise!”

Drawing the scalpel back with bloodied hands Hojo looked up at one of the awaiting assistants, each one standing by to play their part in a project that would let them be a part of something truly historic, or so they'd been told. Whether that was true or not they were all too happy to set aside any traces of humanity they might've had for the opportunity just like all of their ilk were.

“Silence the subject.” The scientist said coolly, setting the scalpel aside in the waiting tray and removing another tool, one which the child didn't know by name but knew all too intimately from prior experience.

The sight of the tool caused the boy to thrash and strain against the leather straps holding him down anew, but in the midst of his cries and pleas one of the assistants that Hojo had addressed stepped forward with another thick strap. With little preamble the strap was forced between the boy's teeth and fastened down to the table, pinning the boy's head against it and effectively silencing him save for muffled sounds that could easily be ignored.

'They come to hurt him everyday.'

As the scene played out the figure of Sephiroth loomed amid the ghosts of the past, watching with an unnerving level of detachment as things transpired. There was little reason for him to react – he'd already lived through the experience and continued to do so every day of his life until his sanity had finally shattered. It had been his only relief and now he was merely showing Lucrecia all of the 'progress' that her project had made in her absence.

'Do you see?' He asked, fixing his gaze on the woman as Hojo used the retractor to peel back muscle from bone, exposing it for all to see while the boy's eyes rolled in the back of his skull. 'No matter what he did, no matter how well he obeyed, it was always the same.'

The madman turned his back on the vision, not needing to see what happened as he already knew. But behind him the wretched professor proceeded, a pair of bone sheers already buried into the child's ribs and cutting away the last barrier between the prize Hojo sought and the open air. Besides, it wasn't as if Sephiroth had any rights in the first place, because a lab rat was meant to be studied, meant to be used regardless of how it might have felt.

'Each and every day was like this. The only difference was that sometimes the professor had sparks of...creativity he enjoyed partaking in.'

Sephiroth walked around the stainless steel table, a lone hand trailing along the mirror surface were a steadily growing pool of crimson met and passed through leather-clad fingertips. It was something he had found perplexing, because after a while he had assumed that he would've lost the ability to bleed the same color as a normal being long ago. Well, if he hadn't yet he would soon enough as the time of his ascension was nigh, but in this memory he had to continue to endure the torments of existence as a being that wasn't quite mortal and that was not yet a god.

'All so he could retrieve the precious specimens he sought.'

The madman peered down at the child's face. It was contorted in a mixture of terror and pain, the child's faintly glowing eyes continuing to weep for mercy that would never come.

Reaching out Sephiroth touched the boy's cheek, imagining how it would've felt if the touch were true. It made him wonder if he could feel the IV-filled lines containing green liquid fire coursing their poison through the boy's veins, making each beat of his heart another form of anguish. It was the medicine that was meant to make him stronger and more resilient, the very lifeblood of the Planet itself along with the blessing of Jenova who would ensure that he could survive it all and be able to repeat the cycle anew.

'Did you know that even at this point in time he still dared to dream? That he still dared to hope that someone would come and save him?'

It was no use, now. Vincent knew Lucrecia was at the mercy of Jenova and Sephiroth, and he would be forced to watch… just as he had done in the past. Once again, he didn’t have a choice. And once again, it was per Lucrecia’s request… to stand by and watch Lucrecia suffer. What he would have given to be in her place. But this was what she had wanted. She wanted to understand Sephiroth, and refused to let Vincent put himself in further turmoil for her sake. It was all just a vicious cycle of protecting the other, yet still suffering in the end.

At Sephiroth’s initiation, Vincent could feel Lucrecia shudder. But he could also sense her will. Vincent could only speculate on what Sephiroth would do, or what he would show her. But all he did know was that it was his duty to uphold the promise. This was her decision. He had to allow her to be a mother as far as possible. And if it meant suffering at the hands of her son… A promise was a promise... The Lucrecia kneeling before him wasn’t the true Lucrecia. It was merely her conscience. The real Lucrecia had crumbled away long ago. And sooner or later, so would her memories. He couldn't afford to lose that, also. So long as Sephiroth existed, he would serve as a reminder for Vincent's failures. But he would also be the one memory of Lucrecia that had the ability to last for eternity. Thus, Vincent battled with his thoughts while Lucrecia’s own mental war was about to begin. The frail woman in white trembled as she felt her thoughts invaded; hearing her son’s voice in her head gave her a mixed sense of composure as well as horror. For as much as she had delve into the science of Jenova, she had yet to truly grasp the power that came from this alien being. And now she would experience it through her son… A series of horrific scenes began to take place, starting with the view of a helpless child… alone, cold, and sorely abused. The initial scene was already enough to send a dagger through Lucrecia’s chest, and she had to choke back the tears from what she saw. She stood up slowly, unable to take her eyes off of the innocent child with hair of silver, fresh warm tears streaming gently down her cheeks. Her voice cracked, finding it challenging to speak anything but his name. “Se… Sephiroth?” Her motherly tone slipped through. At that moment, she knew what was about to happen. She began to shake and made a step towards Sephiroth, but was immediately stopped when the scientists came in. As the lead Sephiroth away, Lucrecia followed, wanting badly to tear the scientists’ arms away from her son, but it was everything she could do to remind herself this was all just an illusion. A part of her wanted to not believe it. But she didn’t have to search deep to know this was all the truth. She recognized the people, the instruments of science, the room, and even the garments Sephiroth had to wear. “No… this can’t….” She couldn’t even finish her words, knowing this was all true. Just then, that dreaded familiar face came into view...Hojo. Lucrecia's fears were immediately replaced with hatred. She had been struggling to console herself all the while the scenes were playing, but there was no one there to guide or comfort her. Vincent was no where to be seen. Latex fingers reached for the instruments of torture, and Sephiroth’s tiny arms were strapped. It was too much for Lucrecia to bear any longer and she rushed forward in a fury of anger and horror for her son’s safety, hardly noticing the figment of Sephiroth’s shadow in that moment. “Let him go! Get away from my son!” Lucrecia screamed and attempted to attack one of the scientists strapping Sephiroth down, but ended up falling to the ground as the illusion vanished and moved to yet another angle, reminding Lucrecia that this was all just a vision. But this didn’t make Lucrecia stop. In her passion of anger and pain, she then lunged for Hojo, but something held her back. She started clawing and struggling. “I’ll kill you… I’ll kill you!” She collapsed to the ground once again on her knees, and that was when she heard Sephiroth’s voice. She briefly looked up, following his voice and finally taking note of his silhouette. Everything in her body wanted it all too stop. But if this truly was what Sephiroth… her son… had endured… she couldn’t turn away. “Sephiroth…” It was all she could say in response to his words, knowing full well this was merely the beginning of the most painful nightmares Sephiroth had endured. Growing silent, she accepted her fate, and awaited the unfolding of even more horrific scenes.

[glitterdragonthegreatprotector]

Woke up from a nap, and I'm rotating Not Remotely Possible In Canon™️ warhammer ideas.

What if daemons could be "normal" somehow? I just randomly thought of chaos daemons doing good things that fit them, and it's probably gonna go on my long list of shit I wanna draw.

Chaos Trying To Be Good AU

A bloodletter being a surgeon, and dedicating every drop spilled in the act of saving a life to khorne. Since he's honed his blade (the scalpel) he's known as the best surgeon in the world, making it high demand for him to do ANY surgery, no matter the risk. He has spilled more blood than any other daemon, despite not being on the battlefield often, and dedicated the skulls of organ donors with the highest respect in his own dark heart. Also GREAT advocate for patients, because he will threaten insurance companies and incompetent doctors with being a more traditional sacrifice to khorne. Using his rage to protect the health of his patients rather than destroy. He never gets stronger or any blessings from khorne due to his small but consistent sacrifices, but he does get praise from patients, and letters up until their deaths. He keeps track of the letters, and gives him a pat on the back when they stop at either a reasonable or surprisingly long number of years.

A Changer of Ways, that's a special ED teacher and tutor. Never once using the same way of education twice for each of his students. Manipulating fate to make sure his students get 100% for all their homework and tests. But he never let's his students cheat, always making sure they understand the material, even if they understand it at a different angle. All his students love and respect him more than any cultist he's worked with in the past, and he has entire tomes dedicated to his students art of him, with their pictures on one page and descriptions, his positive opinions, and various ramblings about the young artist on various other pages. When the mortal children reach adulthood, they are able to excel in whatever field they desire, even when their new teachers at college teach them differently than their beloved teacher Mr. Bird, because they merely study their own way and succeed no matter how their professors look at them. So many people say the children who become his students won't ever succeed in life for being "lazy" or physically unable to do their work. He teaches, not just for the love of the kids, but because he thinks it would be really fucking funny for these kids to succeed anyways.

A great unclean one whose a heretic, seeing past his warped view, and seeing how much mortals actually hate disease. While he doesn't understand why mortals don't want the grandfather's love, he actively finds different ways to share it, becoming an anthropologist to fully understand mankind. He runs experiments every now and again, to see what mortals truly willingly receive, and what they give into because of having no other choice. He spent years growing various types of fungus in random places to gauge and write down mortal reactions. Do they collect it to eat? Do they just kick it away in disgust, or with glee? Do they avoid it at all costs? Do they destroy it? It narrows down the species of mushrooms drastically, limiting the "love" he can show through decay, but at least the mortals are feeling the love now. He studies the reactions of humans during plagues caused by his brothers, and starts smaller epidemics of his own, being extremely controlled with how he infects his subjects. He learns while mortals technically NEED plagues, they don't want them all the time, so he starts epidemics in moderation. Making weaker brights and pox to study over the next several weeks, accidentally making mortals more resilient against plagues, which is something they WANT. While all daemons of nurgle "love" all life, this one Unclean One truly loves humanity, and loves them how they need.

A group of daemonettes who work in rehab to try and get mortals to overdo it, only to take great satisfaction in actually helping. They're the only ones who actually do the job right, and treat the people there as people. I could see them in the hospital with the bloodletter, under silent truce of "You don't fuck with MY job, or MY patients, we're fine." They relish in the torment silently whenever their patients are freaking out from withdrawals, then bask in the praise when their patients make a full recovery. They give "false comfort" to their patients when in reality its more comforting than an actual doctor or therapist, because they ironically don't demonize the addicts, since they themselves 100% have had worse.

Maybe he could also get into farming, making plagues to invasive insects so farmers don't need pesticides, or he could help food rot faster to make fertilizer. Hell, he could make his own manure, watching what he eats and doing that one attack on a field to spread it around.

Or maybe instead of working in rehab, they could clean houses for free, restoring the simple luxuries, before giving their clients excessive gifts to keep them on their feet. Food in their clean fridges, expensive shampoos and cleaning products, beautiful decorations, and whatever else their client needs. Hell, maybe these could be daemonette groups that work together, restoring the homes of ex-addicts so they have some place more than just livable to return to.

It's fun thinking of chaos daemons doing "good" on purpose, both in the sense they would never logically do that, but also the stank eyes they would probably get from more traditional daemons.

[fourphoenixfeathers]

My disappointment was immeasurable when i realized there was a canon humanformers TF:Animated episode, and the human designs were just this:

THIS WAS SUCH A MISSED OPPORTUNITY! THEY ARE SO BORING! So i took it upon myself to redraw it. 😌

I know Prowl wasn’t in this scene, but i wanted an excuse to draw him anyway. He’s silly and i love him.

I tried to push the scale a little bit too, because i imagine the team would be feeling pretty small in a medbay built for cybertronians. Imagine Ratchet is standing on something out of the shot.

[7roaches]

not canon at all but i had a vision

[mightymelancholy]

I agree with everything you said here. Not going to go out of my way to try and change minds or say their religion is stupid out loud to their face. But religion should stop being used as an excuse and organized religions shouldn't be a thing at least. The idea of a single person or a few others spreading harmful beliefs to a mass of people isn't cute. I'd rather people make stuff up in their private lives than a pastor draw an audience in with unsubstantiated claims and outdated viewpoints to spread to 20, 100, or 1,000,000, people and more. Faith based reasoning and how people's minds logical part does a double standard 360° for religion is one of the reasons I'm against people believing in these things. Faith based reasons and supernatural claims shouldn't be anywhere near logic based discussions and our intelligent brains, especially when it comes to human rights. We can be smarter than faith can ever allow.

Some people also diminish their own hardwork and efforts and instead create a narrative of every good thing is from this God or messenger is sad. But it's annoying when negative things with root causes being social exclusion, lack of education (particularly for Sex Ed), poverty, police violence, discrimination, mental health and the stigma around Cluster B neurotypes, or just injustice in general is seemingly lightly acknowledged or just hand waved away to instead circle it back to 'sin' and 'Hell'. Or that the person didn't try enough even though it's the system were all in that doesn't always or hardly tries.

People are allowed to practice it of course as much as other people are allowed to smoke and or drink alcohol. But I'd treat religion like cigarettes, non-prescriptive drugs, and alcohol. I don't think it can be "eradicated" entirely but decreasing the population of people who follow them would be a fine start. People can engage in the things I mentioned if they want but it shouldn't be encouraged and people should be hesitant to do it and actually think about the pros and cons of religion. Obviously followers wouldn't be fully gone but making people question if joining one is a good idea while still giving them the freedom to choose. So, I think keeping the optionality of religion would be best. The prospect of joining a religion should make people feel like trying alcohol, like peer pressure and make the person truly think for themselves. Because I think making religion illegal or anything similar limits people's freedoms and doesn't allow further deconstruction and critical thinking and choices for the individual. I think some people base some moral and ethical decisions based on 'well the law/authority figure said so' and I really wouldn't want that. Our reasons for doing things should be deeper than 'because law/authority good'. Which sometimes is pretty vague and still in the U.S. we treat criminals and prisons like punishments and retribution, instead of rehabilitation.

I also understand why kids are indoctrinated into it because it's easy to gain followers like that and parents think the teachings are helpful (Fuck the poor queer kids or anyone who may deal with some outdated teachings and followers). But honestly people need to leave the kids out of it and at most let them decide to practice and or believe in religion and deities when they want to.

But just because someone can doesn't mean they should. I think religion should be left to study not practice because most of the stuff is outdated, and the 'good' parts just make it worse, because then people want to cherry pick the appealing stuff to bring people in and not use critical thinking and deconstruct their reason for believing in such ancient ideas.

But I try to judge religious people based on the doctrine/s they support and practice or are tolerable of. Being tolerant of those who engage in incest and say 'it's just their religion' or 'it's just their culture'. Are delusional and are the exact reason why faith shouldn't be near any serious discussion that's economical, social, scientific, or political. And remember tolerance isn't acceptance. A person who tolerates women, physically disabled & neurodivergent, POC, queer people will happily vote for your rights to be swiftly taken away if it'll benefit them and their personal piece of mind. Religion, if people are gonna practice it should at the very least just be treated as a hobby and an opinion with little weight. No, one should get in trouble for saying religion isn't very helpful for today (or even back then really). When it gets to a point where people get upset when someone uses science or any facts against religion, because it's 'disrespectful' or 'not the person's place', that's when things have gotten out of hand. Denying the most basic of facts and simplest, scientific explanations for natural phenomenons shouldn't be so normalized in the modern day.

I try to respect people whenever I can but the minute what you practice, believe, and or tolerant has a negative effect on people then I don't give shit what culture, religion, or childhood you had, you cut that out and get some help from a psychologist if possible. And if not available or just unaffordable then you have a library or other humans with different opinions than your biased friends and family to talk to. You don't have to pay to talk to potential atheist Jason or Emery down the street. So, for anyone still reading this and or just wants to repeat this information to someone else, don't act up and use where you're from or how you grow up as an excuse. Because those are merely explanations not excuses for dumbass, misguided, power hungry, and or dangerous behavior.

Religion has always been a powerful thing, for many years. People cling to it for comfort, security, and a sense of belonging. I understand why. Fear of death is terrifying. The unknown is terrifying. It’s easier to believe that there’s a grand plan, that suffering has meaning, and that someone is watching over you. But I don’t think the comfort religion offers is worth the damage it causes. It demands people sacrifice their reason and individuality in exchange for that comfort. Institutions that claim moral authority have twisted and used faith to control the masses for centuries. Even now, religious influence seeps into governments, education, and personal beliefs.

I don't hate people for believing. Most of the time, they aren’t even aware of how deeply they’ve been manipulated. Faith is often introduced in childhood when belief is unquestioning. Parents, schools, and religious leaders teach children that doubt is wrong. Questioning becomes a sin. That’s not spirituality. It’s indoctrination. By the time people grow up, they’re so attached to those beliefs that challenging them feels like attacking their identity. I don’t see people like that as evil. They’re victims of the system. But when they spread harmful beliefs, even unintentionally, they become part of the problem.

Religious thinking limits people. It discourages curiousity and replaces it with obedience. When faith is valued over evidence, people lose the ability to think critically. That’s why religion so often opposes progress. It fights against science, human rights, and social change. People justify cruelty with outdated texts,, they cherry pick scripture to condemn whatever makes them uncomfortable. Even when believers act kindly, their faith still supports a system that enables bigotry, violence, and ignorance. Intentions don’t change the damage caused.

I'm not real unrealistic with this shit,, religion is woven into society. Eradicating it entirely isn’t possible, and I don’t think it’s even necessary. People will always believe in something. What matters is limiting religion’s control over others. Governments should be secular. Laws should be made with reason and evidence, not scripture. Schools should teach critical thinking, not religious doctrine. People should be free to believe what they want, but that freedom ends the moment those beliefs infringe on others. Coexistence is only possible when no belief system holds power over those who don’t follow it.

I also think it’s important to treat individuals with respect. Belief alone doesn’t make someone worth less. Most religious people are simply doing what they think is right. I don’t look down on them for it. I’ve met plenty of believers who are kind, intelligent, and willing to listen. I’ll have a conversation with anyone who approaches me in good faith. But I’m not afraid to challenge harmful ideas. If someone tries to push their beliefs on me or defend something irrational, I’ll respond. Some people get frustrated when they can’t justify their beliefs. Others double down. But once in a while, someone listens. That’s what matters.

In the end, religion is a choice. Even if it’s a choice many don’t realise they’re making,, it’s still a choice. I believe people should be encouraged to question, to think critically, and to embrace uncertainty. The world is complicated. That’s not something to be feared. It’s something to understand. And understanding will always matter more than believing.

[potatounicoorn]

Real bitches don't limit their warrior princess/human cat creature toxic yuri shipping to Catradora

[m0ch1gh0st1]

Hi sorry for late night posting on a Saturday but...

Yall I got problems

I just made an entire fucking dystopia AU for Cookie Run while playing the Secret Garden event thing (recently finished the Hunger Games in ELA. Would recommend)

An entire

Fucking

AU

Alright so here's the basic premise (big boi post be warned):

Pure Vanilla Cookie (who's called Vanille in the AU) is just chilling on the farm his parents own when a note from the government comes in. It says something like "Due to your inability to meet the quota of wool needed for this winter, we have decided to shut down your farm. Also the kid is coming with us lol." After receiving that, PV's parents are like, "FUCK YOU WE'RE HIDING OUR KID!" and actually do hide PV away with his little sheep (named Cream, since the sheep in game are called Cream Sheep). PV's parents are yoinked away for some god awfully fucked up punishment for not being able to supply their kiddo.

After witnessing that, PV goes on a quest to find and rescue his parents, meeting this AU's fellow Ancients (Golden Cheese, White Lily, etc.)

Keep in mind they're all like... 10-16. Except Shadow Milk and his "kiddos," Candy Apple and Black Sapphire (they're more like his younger siblings in the AU)

Uhhhhhh...

Names in the AU and their nicknames:

Pure Vanilla - Vanille/Vani

Dark Cacao - Cacao

Hollyberry - Holly

Golden Cheese - Gold

White Lily - Lily

Candy Apple - Candy

Black Sapphire - Sapphire/Saph

Shadow Milk - Shadow/Shad

The Cream Sheep - Cream/Buttercream (...do NOT ask)

Everyone's ages:

Vanille - 13

Cacao - 16

Holly - 15

Gold - 12

Lily - 14

Candy - 7

Sapphire - 9

Shadow - 19

...

Let me know if I should make refs for them

[gunstellations]

theyre looking at pictures of sumo

scene from:

[badassxbirdy]

How can it do that? How can it talk about Matt, about any of them, as if they’re nothing? As if they aren’t even people? Tyler is practically vibrating with rage, her fists balled up so tight that her nails dig deep into her palms. Deep enough to draw blood. Somehow it keeps getting worse with every word it says. Every word with that pleasure written all over his face.

The tapes. Yes, she’s seen them. Well, she hadn’t been able to gain access to all the footage, that asshole of a producer wasn’t fool enough to make that mistake, but she’s seen enough. More than she wanted to. Certainly more than she is willing to admit to Lance. Images she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to get out of her head.

Have you ever heard him beg?

Don’t hit it. Hitting it would just be hitting him. Don’t hit him. Don’t hit him, don’t hit him, don’t hit—

It’s just words. It’s all just words. Hot air. It doesn’t matter. Nothing it says matters. Nothing it says will change a damn thing. And yet it keeps managing to hit her buttons. Oh, she wants this thing dead. She wants this thing to hurt. Badly.

“Wow. I knew you were dumb, but a god level idiot is almost impressive.” The idiot god. That sparks recognition. It sounds... familiar. Why is that familiar?

���People suffering? Can’t say that’s ever been my cup of tea.” Such a liar. Still playing human, even as that far more hellish part of her fights to the surface, and those less human traits start to show. In particular, that violent side of her that she spends so much time pretending doesn’t exist. The part that had made all those people die screaming when the thing it called a beast had finally snapped. “But you suffering? Now that shit’s gonna be satisfying.” It’s so much easier to embrace it when she’s angry, when she can direct all that rage and hate at her enemy instead of at herself.

“It’d be a pretty one-sided conversation. Or did you miss the part where they’re all dead?” Just like you’re gonna be, the cambion almost adds, but then her eyes spot something that makes her stop in her tracks. Something… something isn’t quite right. Well, nothing about this is right, but more specifically right now something is different. The way it’s moving, the way Lance looks more… Lance.

It’s not enough for her to tell if he’s awake, if he’s actually back, but it’s enough for a flash of anxiety to break through that bubbling rage. Anxiety at the thought of Lance being able to hear her, and inadvertently learning about her ‘track record’. Anxiety at the thought of him knowing what she’s done, of him knowing that she was a god damn murderer. A murderer and a hypocrite.

"Pft. Certainly not mine" it snorts, with barely a hint of mild annoyance to its voice as it does so. As if Matt barely even mattered, had been a nuisance. Boring. A nonissue. Though all of that makes way for genuine excitement when she asked it the question.

Why him?

"You saw the tapes, didn't you?" it purred, utterly debauched by now as it took a good minute of silence, taking a deep breath, inhaling and exhaling, even closing Lance's eyes for a moment as if reliving the memories. Cherishing it.

"That resolve. All that time spent. Tough to crack. Tough." It says it with such certainty. With such adoration. Such joy and pride. When it opens his eyes again they're wide, Eyes wide, radiating lunacy.

"More than anything, because he was the only one to ask me" it drops the bombshell, smiling sweetly. "Begged me, really. Have you ever heard him beg?" it snorts and huffs and shakes his head, winces. "Oof. Impossible to say no to. Which happens to be a nice bonus to get what we want now. Out here. Like this. Together" it explains, twirling her hair still. It only snorts, laughs and lets go when she calls it an idiot.

"The idiot god no less! Well. That's one of the names that seem to have stuck. Hm. I wonder why."

It notices it then. The way she starts smiling. The way she starts thinking. Picturing. Doesn't even have to invade her mind to figure just what it is that she is thinking about. Still, it bothers to ask her, or mock her, or none of the two.

"Satisfying, isn't it. Getting a good hit of other people's suffering. Even when it's still to come."

It clicks it tongue at her and winces with a fake theatricality to it, though that one doesn't do nearly enough to hide what is still simmering beneath - hatred. Seething hatred and disgust.

"You should share that list with me sometime. I'm dying to hear what they have to say" it replies with a hollow grin, only to withdraw at last, position the body it is possessing back on that bench. So he doesn't fall. Run into it. Doesn't hurt when he's bound to return. Soon.

"Unless you want to hit me with it right now. I bet he'd love to learn more about your track record, too."

Has the audacity to give her a wink, making the sight before her all the more grotesque. With Lance's breathing speeding up more and more and his body getting restless, now that he's on the brink of returning, the body language no longer matching its words, its actions at all. Yet Lance's eyes, its eyes still, are completely transfixed on her like an unblinking snake. As if daring her to. Tempting her to. Waiting.

[drpeppertummy]

Idk if you'd be interested but you should draw a character you like to use to represent yourself. I’m mostly just curious and stuff.

honestly ive tried a few times & i either wind up not liking the design or not feeling like they represent me enough😭😭😭 but i Do wanna have a character like that i need to like commit to something

[normalcannibalism]

i feel weird and self conscious about my art again. sigh

the entire post ended up in thw tags ohb my god

[mechawolfie]

so glad ppl like my angel lady I love her too. here is a quick doodle of her in a more modern outfit bc the og was made before we got to see raph 😭

[pepprs]

spent the last several hours on art fight and like. the sheer VOLUME of characters people have. it’s scary and also awesome.

[lemonynuggets]

I’m a guy that has so many personas

[pears-trinkets]

.

[honey-tongued-devil]

↞[arcane preference] founding out you were injured in crossfire↠

Since I've created a Bluesky profile and wrote my thesis on Arcane, I'll be posting both old and new drawings there as soon as the time comes. I'm taking advantage of this little space to promote my other social account. honey-tongued.bsky.social Also, I've received both comments and requests, but Tumblr decided I couldn’t post for a week (my internet connection is terrible). I want to let you know that I appreciate them, and I'll get to everything as soon as I can. So, feel free to leave comments, feedback, or requests!

Jayce: 

- This is the worst news he could receive: he's a scholar, he has no idea how to handle these situations, and, most of all, he's forced to confront his pride.  

- Not only was he unable to protect you now, but what if it happens again? Even if he's there, he wouldn't know what to do.  

- What if there's a next time? What if it doesn't turn out as well next time?  

- His self-sabotage leads him to distance himself from you for a few days, not because he doesn't want to be near you while you're hurting, but because he's ashamed of not being able to protect the person he loves.  

- On the bright side, for even just a second, he remembers the original purpose of his research: making the city safe, helping people.  

- But on the negative side, with no one to blame, more than ever, the people of Zaun appear to him as beasts, second-class humans who can't be redeemed in any way.  

- When he finally gathers the courage to see you again, he tries to make amends for everything: for not protecting you, for not being able to, for allowing someone to hurt you, and for not being there during your recovery.  

- He'll literally do anything to be forgiven: every morning you'll find breakfast in bed, if it's cold at night he'll prepare a warmer for your feet, and despite his squeamishness, he'll personally tend to your wounds, even if it makes him feel queasy.

Viktor:

- He tries to help you in every way possible, even ignoring his own pain.  

- He feels sadness, regrets that you went out alone and ended up in such a situation. He can't help but imagine the fear you must have felt, the confusion, and the loneliness when the guards intervened, and you woke up alone in the hospital.  

- He may be a scholar, but first and foremost he's a man with a moral code, and secondly, he's from Zaun: if he has any work, appointments, or lectures, he'll skip them all, maybe muttering a few insults in his thick accent at the most insistent people, and make up for it at night.  

- Plans, ideas, codes, anything – but he won't leave you alone unless you ask him to.  

- He takes care of you meticulously, respecting schedules, bringing you meals in bed, changing your bandages until your skin heals, and you're able to stand on your own again.  

- He doesn't mind helping you – as a chronically ill person who refuses others' help, he's learned to do everything on his own, and he's almost happy that his skills can be useful to someone else.

Ekko:

- Is it something totally normal in the lanes? Yes.  

- Does this stop Ekko from panicking? No.  

- He's the one who finds you and brings you to the others, but he doesn't want, nor can he afford, to be seen panicking. So, he swallows his despair and tries to act as normal as possible while ten other people rush to help you.  

- His face remains expressionless as the most skilled remove debris, clean the wound, stitch your torn flesh, and bandage you, but his foot keeps tapping the floor with force and speed, revealing his anxiety.  

- When the others insist that it's best you stay in the makeshift infirmary, he tries not to protest, but suddenly every moment of the day becomes an excuse to pass by: to bring you stolen sweets from Piltover, to tell you about some expedition, maybe even steal a kiss or fall asleep leaning against your mattress.  

- It's an overwhelming fear, but the fear of losing you makes him unable to think rationally, and all he feels is how much he misses you, even while you're right there with him.

Vander:

- A crossfire from the other side of the river was already a big enough provocation to alert him and prepare to defend the city or, if absolutely necessary, to strike back.  

- But you, as an accidental victim, are a huge problem.  

- He doesn’t have the heart to pull away from you, and when he does, he can’t help but feel frustrated, angry at himself, knowing he hasn’t been able to keep his city under control like he promised—to you, to Piltover, to everyone.  

- He’ll ask for your forgiveness by kissing the scarred skin every day, even if you insist it’s not his fault, and if you remember even one of the faces, he’ll go and handle the problem.  

- Not with violence, unless necessary, but it’s not about personal justice; rather, it’s about protecting the other citizens of the alleys too.  

- Even after you’ve healed, he’ll insist it’s absolutely necessary to carry you everywhere you need to go, claiming a very good doctor told him so.  

- And the memory of the scar will be tiny compared to all the marks Vander has left on you.  

Silco:

- Private justice is absolutely the first option, even though you were an accidental victim.  

- He’ll call all his goons and associates for a meeting while you’re still bedridden, to see if they’ve heard, seen, or been involved in any armed conflict, and if he doesn’t get a face or a name from them, he’ll turn to the brothel, the house of all information,  

- Until he finds who hurt you and makes sure they can’t do it again.  

- Silco isn’t fazed by blood or open wounds, but despite having enough experience to handle it himself, at least on the first day, he’ll take you to Singed to make sure you’re in the best condition.  

- In the following days, he’ll take care of you himself, but he has pride, a façade, and little emotional communication skills, so he won’t openly show how worried he is, relying entirely on the fact that you don’t know about the murder of your assailant and remember nothing of the visit to Singed.  

- But the only reason you heal so well and so quickly is that, even if he doesn’t know how to express it, all the love he feels is poured into the care he gives you.  

Jinx:

- Flashbacks. So many. Too many.  

- At some point, she’ll even convince herself that she’s the one who shot you, leading to a complete breakdown.  

- She punches her head, scratches herself without realizing it, her nose bleeds, and her eyes are bloodshot.  

- It takes her a while to convince herself that she wasn’t the one who shot you, even though the hallucinations overlap images of you with memories of her armed, creating waking nightmares that feel increasingly real.  

- As much as she’d like to ask her father for help, even just to give you a cleaner room, she feels responsible and is too scared that if she stays away from you, you’ll forget her. That’s why she sets up a little space for you and takes care of you herself, though not always painlessly.  

- She’s pulled bullets out of her own body more times than not after missions; what might seem like dangerous, delicate work to someone else is almost routine for her by now.  

- Once she has a suspicion of who might have done it, she’ll make sure they learn their lesson. 

 

Vi:

- Anger.  

- Why were you out alone? Why didn’t you leave as soon as you saw the crowd getting too big? Why were you in that area?  

- But her anger is just panic pouring out like a flood, the fear of not being able to protect the one she loves twists her stomach, making her feel like she might throw up, like she’s dying inside.  

- None of those questions mean she blames you, but she doesn’t know how to feel, what to think, or even what to do.  

- She’ll do everything to help you—bandaging you, cleaning your wounds, staying silent and giving her full attention to make up for not being there when you needed her, even though that’s not true.  

- And when the scar forms, she’ll kiss it every single day, every single night, like a little ritual between the two of you.  

Caitlyn:

- Safety first.  

- She’ll be the one to assess how bad the injury is, and if there are any foreign objects in your body, there’s a good chance she’ll try to handle it herself, even though at first it might seem a bit barbaric.  

- She’ll give you the guest room and call the family doctor to make sure you’re okay, that you don’t need anything else, and she’ll take care of what’s necessary, even teasing you a bit to hide her worry.  

- "A bullet in the leg from being caught in crossfire? Very vintage, I must say."  

- What you won’t know is that she’ll quietly increase security, not in an oppressive way, but just enough to make both you and the other citizens feel safer.  

- Her family won’t get involved directly, but they won’t stop her either. Sometimes Cassandra herself will make sure her daughter finds the tray to bring up to you, though she’ll never be too open about it.  

- The perfect rehabilitation? Long walks in the villa’s garden, so you can stop for some cookies or tea when you get tired.  

Mel:

- Flashbacks, but less personal than Jinx’s.  

- Her mother would call her weak if she knew how it kills her to see someone barely scratched by crossfire, and that realization soon turns into frustration, which then becomes anger.  

- She tries to stay calm, but her voice sounds like she’s scolding you, and then like she’s scolding the servants, or anyone else who crosses her path.  

- Two hours of lecture if you’re lucky—why you shouldn’t go out without a guard, why you shouldn’t put yourself in dangerous situations, why the enforcers are utterly useless and can’t find anyone responsible, even though the fight was so intense.  

- She’ll focus entirely on the bureaucratic side because little Mel was never taught how to deal with strong emotions, and she’s definitely feeling them now but can’t afford that vulnerability, even though she knows you’re safe.  

- She won’t take care of you herself, but she’ll always stay in the room. Not because she doesn’t want to, to be clear, but because she wants you to have the best care possible and prefers to leave it to a top professional rather than her inexperienced hands.  

- In return, she’ll triple the amount of affection and caresses—more to calm herself than you, but you won’t be the one to complain.  

Sevika:

- She needs a moment.  

- She knows she has to report to Silco that there was a firefight, that someone is threatening the people, but part of her just wants to grab those responsible and crush their heads with her bare hands, doing both you and her boss a favor. Yet, another part of her doesn’t want to leave you alone or take you with her.  

- She knows how to handle these things; she’s lost an arm, and Silco’s goons often come back in worse shape, which is why she’ll take care of you herself, in complete silence.  

- She’ll wait until you’re asleep to place a water bottle, a glass, some painkillers, and some bread on the nightstand next to your bed. And when she’s sure you’re fully asleep, she’ll leave a soft kiss on your forehead before putting on her cloak and heading out to the Last Drop.  

- There, she’ll release her anger in a brawl or two, talk to her boss, and search for the reason why she feels so awful at the bottom of her third glass of whiskey.