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#most of the time i do not care
sungbeam · 2 years
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do i post too much .
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2.12 Chimney Begins - 2.09 Hen Begins - 2.16 Bobby Begins Again - 7.04 Buck, Bothered and Bewildered
Tommy's family arc
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brother-emperors · 9 months
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something. about. the horror of being sent on an impossible (death) quest and obligations and hospitality politics. the trauma of not having a home, and then the trauma of being in a house that becomes actively hostile to you, one that would swallow you whole and spit out your bones if you step out of line. all of this is conditional, your existence continues to be something men want gone.
it's about going back as far as I can with the perseus narrative because there's always a version of a myth that exists behind the one that survives. the missing pieces are clearly defined, but the oldest recorded version of it isn't there! and there's probably something older before that!! but it's doomed to forever be an unfilled space, clearly defined by an outline of something that was there and continues to be there in it's absence.
and love. it's also about love. even when you had nothing, you had love.
on the opposite side of the spectrum, this is Not About Ovid Or Roman-Renaissance Reception, Depictions And Discourses On The Perseus Narrative.
edit: to add to the above, while it's not about Ovid, because I'm specifically trying to peel things back to the oldest version of this story, Ovid is fine. alterations on the Perseus myth that give more attention Medusa predate Ovid by several centuries. this comic is also not about those, either! there are many versions of this story from the ancient world. there is not one singular True or Better version, they're all saying something.
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Perseus, Daniel Ogden
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Anthology of Classical Myth: Primary Sources in Translation, edited & translated by Stephen M Trzaskoma, R. Scott Smith, Stephen Brunet
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 5 months
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He was just being a silly little guy!
[First] Prev <–-> Next
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lilyvines · 2 years
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went down an ao3 rabbit hole and this is the first time in my life i’ve seen a dni against women
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teethkid67 · 2 months
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PAYDAY
aka a valentine for the lovely @itsnotmystic / @corvids-calling - fanart for stars fic of the same name, which you can read here !!! i really enjoyed this concept and wanted to do some art for it :3 hope you like it because i REALLY loved your work & i hope this shows that !!! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY !!!!
this is also a loose love-letter to the wonderful @arginnit 's crazy background-drawing-ability and style/skill at portraying environments . wadds your stuff is insane and i love it
happy @mcyt-valentines exchange !!!!
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julijbee · 2 months
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girlbossing too close to the sun.
#art#ive literally just been treating this game as a library simuator#i walk from bookseller to bookseller opening up all of their books#vivecs sermons are either a highlight or the point at which i stop reading#ive been trying to convince the ordinators that imitation is the highest form of flattery but it hasnt been working#let me wear your helmets please theyre so funny..#posting morrowind in 2024 isnt a cry for help but youre not wrong to be concerned.#morrowind#almalexia#vivec#im going to explain the chitin armor give me a moment#so the bonewalker nerevar on the shrines is adorable and it was only after drawing it however many times that i realized#it looked relatively close to a modified chitin armor#and so i modified chitin armor a few times and this was probably the cutest result#i also know i drew almalexia relatively pristine and untouched by years and vivec not so much but my thought process was#vivecs role as if not a favorite then the most accessible divine or the most “hands on” in a manner of speaking#acting in ways visible to the general population or actions explicitly brought to their attention#like not that almalexia isnt doing anything she is#but the dissemination of information regarding that is very different etc etc etc#anyways to a certain extent a god is the face on a shrine or in art or upon a statue or carving#but vivecs presence is interwoven with the geography of vvardenfell especially and his actions and writings with pubished materials#and the arts and culture and customs etc etc etc#so to me the face of a god you know and feel a commonality with or a god that walks alongside you is a face you would recognize#and vivec is already otherworldly looking enough#the simple mark of the years on his skin in some way grounding him in reality felt more right#that and i think the ways in which he and almalexia care about outward appearance are slightly different- they prioritize different things#and the ways they present outward power and their embodiment of their respective attributes share some similarities as they both have that#important preoccupation with physical power and physical strength to a certain degree#oh my god nobody read this i am yapping so bad.#tes
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turtleblogatlast · 2 months
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Mentioned this before but as much as I adore the medic Leo headcanon, my favorite type of it is when it’s basically just Leo knowing the most surface level of stuff and carrying around a super basic first-aid kit in his pack. So he knows how to use gauze, and he’s got a ton of Jupiter Jim branded bandaids, and if you really needed it then he can hit you up with some ibuprofen but other than that? Nothing.
But. I love the idea that that changes post-invasion.
They’re pretty sturdy, all of them, so they can take more than one beating and really only need a bandaid for the fun of it. But the invasion hit harder than ice packs and “lots of rest” would help with, and I can bet that a post being beaten to a pulp Leo would have a lot of time on his hands to reflect and, maybe, learn a thing or two as he waits to get better.
It’s nothing excessive, not at first, but he watches veterinary videos, and live surgeries, and other videos in that same realm (because the books are, uh, a bit too jargon-y for him) multiple times over. Just so he knows. Just in case he needs to know.
In his pack, there’s a first-aid kit. With the use of a mini portal for extra space, the kit has grown to include everything from scalpels to butterfly stitches to sutures to even fiberglass patches.
And obviously the Jupiter Jim brand bandaids stay too.
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bruciemilf · 1 year
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One of my biggest pet peeves is the justice league being labelled as " The Avengers of DC" and its like. No? The avengers are law enforcement. The Justice League are volunteers
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linya333 · 3 months
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I feel like everyone has been lying to me about Shen Qingqiu being oblivious! Reading this I really feel like he absolutely knows how he feels about Binghe! He's the one who called himself s grieving widow! Not anyone else!
Many times from his pov he mentions feeling some sort of way. And then quickly follows this up with 'teacherly feelings' or 'so filial' but then there's the '(or something)'. Man knows what he's feeling and is trying to brainwash himself out of it!
This man is very twisted up about his own sexuality. But I really don't think being ignorant of it is the the problem?
Perhaps he is deeply ashamed. Or just so completely certain it wouldn't be reciprocated. Probably just so ingrained that this is not socially acceptable so avoid avoid avoid!
Sqq has *experience* in brainwashing himself. Perhaps this behavior started well before he became Shen Qingqiu.
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parksrway · 3 months
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"celebrating fictional characters' birthdays is stupid" WRONG. HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHEIK <3
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xysidhequeen · 1 year
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The King and his Red Knight
DPxDC crossover fic
Part 1
Really sorry to everyone who suffered through the fact that I didn't know about the existence of readmore. I can't fix the thread now but the individual posts are better? Sorry I have like a very rough idea of how this site works 😭
Check the: The King and his Red Knight tag to find all the parts
"Go here, Danny. Go then, Danny. Go to a random cemetery in the middle of the night for no reason, Danny." A voice grumbled, accompanied by the sound of sneakers rhythmically tapping stone.
Danny Fenton, currently Phantom, sat on a gravestone, his white hair a beacon in the dark night. There were no stars in the sky for him to gaze upon, their light hidden behind swaths of smog and neon lights playing off the gray clouds.
Clockwork had dumped him here, with no explanation for why. Not that he ever really explained much when he sent Danny off on his tasks. He supposed he should be grateful, at least he was in the same when rather than being transported a thousand years into the past.
"Wait here King Phantom. You will understand in time." Danny mimicked his mentor's voice as he let himself float off the grave he'd been dumped on after Clockwork shoved him out of a portal. His body floated higher until he could flip around, his legs crossing. He sat upside down, his chin in his palm as he glared petulantly at the assembled gravestones surrounding him, his toxic green eyes glowing.
"So far all I've seen is a concerning amount of ecotplasm for a city without a ghost portal and some blob ghosts! How long am I supposed to wait here?" Danny asked the air, and the aforementioned blob ghosts who were hanging off his body, soaking in the ambient ecotoplasm he radiated at all times now.
Neither provided him with an answer to his question and Danny let out a frustrated groan as he lowered his still flipped body to look once more on the gravestone he'd been tasked with waiting on.
Jason Todd, the name read. The dates, too close together, made something in Danny squeeze painfully. He'd been young, barely older than Danny when he stepped into the portal. Only for this teenager there had been no ectoplasm to bind to his dying body and repair the damage of death and force him back into a semblance of life.
"Who were you and why did Clockwork send me to you?" Danny asked the gravestone, one clawed finger tracing the words before he pulled back with a sigh when the gravestone gave him no explanation. The dead didn't always speak, not even to their king.
Turning his body Danny looked over the rest of the cemetery. It was empty, as most usually were this time of night, of the living. There were a few shades wandering around, circling closer to him, drawn by his presence. No full ghosts though, but oddly enough there rarely were in cemeteries. This was where the dead came to rest. To remember, if they wanted to. Cemeteries were sacred spaces to the dead, much as a temple or a church would be for the living who were religious. Ghosts who still clung to life, to their obsessions, did not frequent cemeteries, did not dare trespass and disturb those who had already found their peace.
Danny himself was an oddity. He had never shied from cemeteries, enjoying the peace he found in them, the guarantee of safety offered. And perhaps, he mourned that he himself would never have a gravestone for the living to place their flowers and their tears at. Who would make a grave for someone who was both alive and dead? There would never be a body to bury for him. His human half would continue to live on so long as his ghost core remained and could fuel it.
Maybe that was why he found peace in cemeteries, for all his whining that Clockwork had dumped him here. Cemeteries were for the living and the dead, one of the only places both existed in harmony naturally. For someone who was as much dead as he was alive such a place held a certain degree of belonging for him.
Danny straightened out in the air, letting his body lie above the grave as he folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the covered sky. He complained and whined about this task, but he was secretly glad that Clockwork had given him something to do. Even if it was just 'hang out in a random cemetary'.
Ever since he'd graduated high-school, revealed himself to his parents and discovered how deep prejudice and hate could run, and he'd run away to the Infinite Realms for sanctuary while his friends moved forward with their lives, he'd felt unmoored. A ghost with no haunt. Bored was too light a word for the gaping emptiness he felt in his chest, for the loneliness clawing at him. Clockwork, Wulf, Pandora they could help chip at the ache inside of him but not banish it. Not now that his family, his friends, were spread so far apart and so distant from him.
Not that he resented their choices, their distance, in fact he'd fought for them to do just that, to get out of Amity Park, to go to college, to become more than overworked teen superheroes. Still he missed them, even if he could visit them whenever he wanted. It was becoming clear as time moved forward that the world they belonged to and the one he did were two different things.
Danny Fenton couldn't go to college when his parents had declared him dead. Danny Fenton didn't exist as far as the government was concerned. Danny Phantom couldn't return to Amity when those same parents were waiting to capture him and tear him apart 'molecule by molecule'. Danny Phantom couldn't go back when the GIW were crawling over the town like ants.
So neither Danny Fenton or Danny Phantom returned to Amity after that day. And he made sure they couldnt follow him when he ensured the portal that took his life to function never opened again. He didn't need the portal any longer to get in and out of the Infinite Realms, and it was safer for the ghosts, his subjects, if the temptation of the Fenton portal was gone.
The world of the living was not yet ready to accept that the dead didn't always stay dead. And Danny would keep his people safe until they were.
Danny jolted from his lazing state of reverie when a pulse of emotion rocked through him, the strength of it stealing his breath if he had any to take.
Fear/Trapped/Dark/Fear/Help/HELP pounded into him and Danny frantically flipped around, head swiveling, poisonous green eyes wide as he triedf to locate the source. The emotions, the plea for help, burned his core, his Obsession screamed at him.
Help/SomeonePlease/Dark/Trapped/CANTBREATHE/HELP another wave of messages, of emotions pushed themselves at Danny and this time underneath the onslaught he could hear a rhythmic thudding. Danny looked down, horror filling him when he realized the thudding was coming from under the ground. From the grave he'd been hovering over for an hour now.
Danny flew down, sending back a wave of I'mHere/HelpIsComing/I'mComing to the boy trapped in his own coffin, feeling the intense wave of relief and hope sent back before he dived into the earth as if it wasn't there. Danny paused for a moment when he passed the thick wooden coffin, seeing a boy in the dark with wide, panicked blue eyes and fingers tipped with shredded nails and fresh blood.
"Hey, I'm going to get you out of here, okay?" Danny told the boy, keeping his voice gentle, soft. The boy jolted, fixating on the only source of light, Danny's growing green eyes. Danny hoped his smile came off as calming instead of 'freaky AF' as Tucker liked to call it. He grabbed the boy, Jason, as carefully as he could and then let his intangibility wash over the terrified teen as he lifted them both out of the coffin.
When they emerged from the coffin and the ground Danny set the teen down, leaning him against the gravestone, his own gravestone, and pulled back a bit. The boy was gasping in air as if the fetid, polluted air was the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.
Danny tilted his head as he watched the boy ground himself. Now that the emotions were leveling out and his Obsession was purring in contentment rather than growling in a frenzy, Danny could feel something off about the boy.
Disregarding the fact that he'd just come back from the dead, of course. But that wasn't the oddest thing Danny had seen in his afterlife. No the boy felt... not like a normal, living human. Not even like an Amity Park resident, who all felt more than slightly liminal. No this boy, this Jason Todd, felt closer to liminal than even Jazz, Tucker or Sam, who were three of the most liminal humans Danny had ever been around.
Jason felt almost...like a ghost. But not. Danny could feel the tickle in his throat that proceeded his ghost sense but the tell-tale mist never emerged. It was as if Jason was...like him. But Danny couldn't sense a core either. Even halfas had cores.
"Who are you?" Jason spoke, breaking Danny from his thoughts and examination. Jason was looking at him with a mix of gratitude and suspicion. Which, fair. Danny had just pulled him from his own coffin and there were so many questions that could stem from all of this, disregarding all the weirdness that was just Danny himself.
"I'm Danny, Danny Phantom. Or just Phantom. I go by either. And you're Jason, right?" Danny asked, smiling at the teen and oops, yeah that was definitely his scary smile based on the slight flinch there. It wasn't his fault his teeth were too sharp now and his lips split a bit too wide.
"How did you know that?" Jason asked, blue eyes narrowing. Danny nodded at the gravestone the boy was leaning against with a raised brow. Jason turned and almost toppled over from the movement. Danny frowned as the boy caught himself on his gravestone. His skin was still pale, too pale, and as Danny watched Jason swayed again.
"Shit. You're fading. You didn't form a core and your body isn't stabilizing." Danny cursed, moving towards the boy who scrambled back, only to be stopped by his grave.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jason asked, hands fisting as he tried to rise only to fall back to the ground when his legs refused to hold his weight.
"Saving your life. The dead aren't supposed to come back. There's always a price to pay, a balance that is struck. Currently, as you are, if I don't get enough ectoplasm in you to form your core, you'll fade and turn into a brain-dead husk." Danny told Jason, tone stern and no nonsense as he grabbed him. Jason made an effort to break free, but it was weak, and even at full strength, he wouldn’t have been able to break Danny's hold. Few in this realm could.
If they had the time, Danny would've approached this situation in a far different manner, but this close he could hear Jason's heartbeat, a weak flutter in his chest, skipping beats as it tried to fuel a body that was past saving. Jason didn't have the time for Danny to approach this gently and kindly, to coax trust out of the teen like he would a feral cat.
Jason had minutes left before his ectoplasm starved body consumed itself trying to make a core and failed because while wherever they were had more ambient ectoplasm than most places, it was far from enough to sustain the birth of a halfa. Maybe if Jason had stayed dead for another year, he'd have naturally formed a core and risen as a proper ghost. But that wasn't what happened, somehow he'd gathered enough to fix his body of whatever wounds or illness had put him in that coffin to begin with and come back to 'life' but without a core to sustain his body he'd be dead, again, in minutes. And Danny was not about to watch while a teenager, another teenager, died.
"How do I know I can trust you?" Jason hissed as Danny pushed his arms down and laid his clawed hands on Jason's chest.
"You don't. But you don't have another choice." Danny said with a shrug. "Now are you going to let me save your life or not?" Danny asked, not moving his hands. He'd save Jason either way but this would be easier if Jason worked with him.
"Fine." Jason spat and Danny smirked as his hands began to glow a toxic green that matched his eyes.
Ectoplasm pooled out of his hands and rushed into Jason, filling him until the boy glowed bright enough to rival the neon lights of the city around them. The green light flared around him like an aura, slowly shrinking but getting impossibly brighter as the glow centralized around his chest until a small glowing ball of green, like a trapped star, blazed from his chest.
Jason gasped, back arching as Danny pulled his hands away and the light vanished under Jason's skin. For a moment Jason's blue eyes burned green and his hair flashed snow white before returning to black, with one single lock of unearthly white left above his forehead. Jason collapsed back against his grave, chest heaving. Danny watched, eyes full of a sad understanding.
"What the fuck was that?" Jason panted out.
"Welcome to the world of the half alive, half dead." Danny said with a smile. "Want to get a burger and talk about it?" He asked, standing up and dusting off his hands.
"Make it a chili dog and you've got a deal."
~~~~~
Fixed some typos added some lines
Maybe I'll continue this AU. Maybe not. This scene was in my head for days and I wanted to share
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aimseytv · 1 year
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growing up queer is realising you will have to not only come out once but have to come out every single day of your life
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mayasaura · 1 year
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I think the best possible time travel fic would be to slingshot Harrow from the end of Harrow the Ninth back to the beginning of Gideon the Ninth. Highest hilarity potential, highest angst potential, highest pining potential
Things Harrow knows now that she didn't before:
Who Alecto was
The names of God and his lyctors
The secret of lyctorhood
That the lyctor trials are a death trap
Gideon could be easily persuaded to die for her
Gideon dying for her is the worst thing possible
She would do almost anything to prevent Gideon from dying
Gideon's sword is haunted by a very angry and oddly familiar-looking woman who bears a remarkable resemblance to Gideon
Things Harrow still doesn't know:
What Alecto is
Gideon's parentage
Jackshit about BOE
Mercy and Augustine are both traitors
Things Harrow knew then and still knows now:
Gideon—this Gideon here and now—hates her
She owes a debt of two hundred lives and a future to the Ninth
The survival of the Ninth depends on her becoming a lyctor
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azure-clockwork · 7 days
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I love three houses discourse because I'm pretty sure everyone just picks their route based on which house leader they're the most gay for and then tries to defend their pick by pointing out the other sides's war crimes via twitter memes. Reader, all four of them do substantial quantities of war crimes. So many. We're just here because the woman with Issues and a big fuck-off axe said so, and then we gotta justify everything she did in the name of dismantling the class system. I mean, I'm here for that, but you could also try justifying Charm Man uses poison and perfidy to try to stop racism, A Sad Little Meow Meow gives no quarter instead of doing therapy, or the Thicc Pope tries to bring back her mom via human experimentation, depending on your tastes
#This is 100% swinging at a hell of a hornet's nest#Do I tag it?#Yeah fuck it we ball#fe3h#fe16#edelgard von hresvelg#claude von riegan#dimitri alexandre blaiddyd#rhea fire emblem#I should probably clarify that I love all of these characters quite dearly#Well except Rhea#I think she's a good character but I'm not feral about her like Edelgard or charmed by her like Claude or desperate to save her like Dimitr#discourse#edelgard discourse#Edit: I actually don’t care about 3H discourse either way lol#there’s plenty of interesting shit to talk about in this game#also I get that the people who say “x did war crimes” actually don’t mean “this was bad because it violated the Geneva Convention”#but any time I see something about how many war crimes someone did (usually Edelgard or Dimitri) I just think:#“Hah it’s a war crime to deploy Cyril to rescue Flayn because he’s still 14 then”#also I got into this game because someone told me ‘so there’s a gal with an axe and trauma’ and I booted it up#and I have a friend who likes Rhea despite his moral reservations solely because ‘she’s hot tho’#and that’s also really funny#point is I don’t really wanna participate in most fe3h discourse cuz I have shit to do but this post isn’t meant to be a dunk on anyone#I’m not upset when I see it; it’s either funny or fine or sometimes right#I’m just gay for Edelgard and amused by the idea of applying the Geneva Convention to a world where it Clearly Isn’t A Thing
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caeslxys · 8 days
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I’ve mentioned this elsewhere but it feels relevant again in light of the most recent episode. Something that’s really fascinating to me about Orym’s grief in comparison to the rest of the hells’ grief is that his is the youngest/most fresh and because of that tends to be the most volatile when it is triggered (aside from FCG, who was two and obviously The Most volatile when triggered.)
As in: prior to the attack on Zephrah, Orym was leading a normal, happy, casual life! with family who loved him and still do! Grief was something that was inflicted upon him via Ludinus’ machinations, whereas with characters like Imogen or Ashton, grief has been the background tapestry of their entire lives. And I think that shows in how the rest of them are largely able to, if not see past completely (Imogen/Laudna/Chetney) then at least temper/direct their vitriol or grief (Ashton/Fearne/Chetney again) to where it is most effective. (There is a glaring reason, for example, that Imogen scolded Orym for the way he reacted to Liliana and not Ashton. Because Ashton’s anger was directed in a way that was ultimately protective of Imogen—most effective—and Orym’s was founded solely in his personal grief.)
He wants Imogen to have her mom and he wants Lilliana to be salvageable for Imogen because he loves Imogen. But his love for the people in his present actively and consistently tend to conflict with the love he has for the people in his past. They are in a constant battle and Orym—he cannot fathom losing either of them.
(Or, to that point, recognize that allowing empathy to take root in him for the enemy isn't losing one of them.)
It is deeply poignant, then, that Orym’s grief is symbolized by both a sword and shield. It is something he wields as a blade when he feels his philosophy being threatened by certain conversational threads (as he believes it is one of the only things he has left of Will and Derrig, and is therefore desperately clinging onto with both bloody hands even if it makes him, occasionally, a hypocrite), but also something he can use in defense of the people he presently loves—if that provocative, blade-grief side of him does not push them—or himself—away first.
(it won’t—he is as loved by the hells as he loves them. he just needs to—as laudna so beautifully said—say and hear it more often.)
#critical role#cr spoilers#bells hells#orym of the air ashari#cr meta#imogen temult#ashton greymoore#liliana temult#this is genuinely completely written in good faith as someone who loves orym#but is also about orym and so will inevitably end up being completely misconstrued and made into discourse. alas#I could talk about how Orym’s unwillingness to allow the hells to actually finish/come to a solid conclusion on Philosophy Talk#is directly connected to one of the largest criticisms of c3 (that they are constantly having these conversations)#all day. alas. engaging with orym’s flaws tends to make people upset#it is ESP prevelant when he walks off after exclaiming ‘they (vangaurd) are NOT right’#which was not only never said but wasn’t even what they were talking about#he even admits as much to imogen like ten minutes later! that he is incapable of viewing it objectively#which is 100% justifiable and understandable but simultaneously does not make his grief alone the most important perspective in the world#also bc i fear ppl will play semantics on my tags yes the line ‘i hope she’s right’ was said but it was from ASHTON#who does not believe they are at all and wasn’t saying they actively WERE right. orym just heard something to latch onto and ran with it#ultimately there is a reason orym only admitted that he was struggling when he had stepped away to talk to dorian#who has not been around and thusly has not changed once n orym's eyes#and it isn't that the hells never check in or care. they do. they have several times over#it is dishonest to say they haven't#the actual reason is that all of this is something He Is Aware Of. he doesn't mention it bc he KNOWS it's hypocritical and selfish#he says as much!#EXHALES. @ MY OWN BRAIN CAN WE THINK ABT MOG AGAIN. FYRA RAI EVEN. FOR ME.#posting this literally at 8 in the morning so I can get my thoughts out of my brain but also attempt to immediately make this post invisibl
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