wip for another rdr2 sketch page (it's not all Javier i swear) but he just looks SO-
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“No more regrets”
Got permission to share the comic page I made for @EaglesBox zine "Serenity"!
Thought it would be nice to share it in my other art pages as well, because why not. :)
At my request there was a team debate about the setting I was going to do. Because I had no ideas! There were so many options that got me overwhelmed.
In the end was decided that would be from angsty to sweet. So here's some good old Edeleth (what else would it be from me, right?), where Byleth has rewound time over and over again and retained the memories of every timeline she killed Edelgard, which manifest through her nightmares.
Please do reblog, do not repost!
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going thru some tough times rn pass the badly doodled saul goodmeow
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priest: i don't, ah, quite know what to say to you. if you are in such terrible danger, why are you taking it all so calmly?
constantine: hmh! i dunno, father. i had a bloke beaten to a pulp earlier this evening. that sound calm to you?
priest: you did what...?
constantine: i must've been off me bleedin' rocker. i've never done anything like it before in me life, y'know?
constantine: but there's header gets his guts blown out, and george is stickin' his head in the noose, and helen gets ... jesus, then friggin' sarah bites me head off — ! everything's coming to bits in me hands and it's so easy to just see red and now, shit, they could've killed the tosser for all i know!
and now i'm just like the bastards i've hated all me life! kill him! fire him! close them down! piss all over him! screw you, i can do whatever i want! i so much as blink and you're dead, pal! i'm in charge!!
...
constantine: 'scuse me, father. i'm always like this when i don't get me own way.
— hellblazer #81, "rake at the gates of hell pt. 4"
babygirl you are just....so, sooooo offputting. (and grieving, and guilty, and terrified, but yeah: offputting.)
anyway, it's issues like this one that remind me why i kind of hesitate over some of the retcons in the recent spurrier runs, like the one with him now having opened dream's pouch of sand and stolen some before they even met. because like, it's easy enough to look at john constantine now — with 70 years of worst possible choices and unresolved trauma crystallizing underneath his skin to cover up all the soft, hopeful bits where he's used to getting hit — and assign him arbiter of ill intentions, magus of wasted potential, saint of shit choices, but man . . . he was new to this, once. he was still new to this 80 issues in.
80 issues in, and he's not used to losing friends yet; he even has time enough between catastrophes to grieve each individual one. still has enough left to live for at this stage to necessitate running and hiding, instead of bodily throwing himself at the problem like he learns to later, or sitting apathetically by to do nothing except smoke and watch the world fall apart when he finally gives up. fuck, he still apologizes.
and you're telling me this guy, this soppy wet cat motherfucker hiding from the devil in a church basement, so guilty over not knowing what happened to the guy that he paid people (paid chas, so chas could pay people) to attack that the bottle he's holding in this scene isn't even his second or third........this guy's past, more innocent self lied right to the face of DREAM OF THE ENDLESS and got away with it?
hm. i just don't know about all that.
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while i do think it's a little silly, i am actually so serious about jackstice it might be my favorite ship
there's an inherent romantic quality to literally having part of another woman's memory inside of you. you are a synthetic woman who's emotions are all programmed and artificial, made to neutralize the weapon that the woman who's mind you hold fragments of has become. you look like she did, you remember the things she did, but you are not her and she's not herself anymore either.
your sole purpose is bringing that woman back. to return her humanity at the cost of your own existence. but upon combining with her, she decides not to come back. she decides the world has no place for her, and you become human instead. now the emotions you experience are no longer artificial and your body is no longer synthetic. you hold that woman inside of you, full and alive. the woman who decided not to exist so that you could live a real life
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I'm only human, I make mistakes
I'm only human, that's all it takes
To put the blame on me
(Don't put the blame on me)
@thethistlegirl @malewifebillcage
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i am very normal about vincent charbonneau
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your honor i pleads woopsie daisy
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Love how james cameron gives some characters 3 min screentime and the atwow fandom just comes up with 20k word pdf docs of detailed character analysis.
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i dont need friends who assume the worst of me
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guess who just bought Hangman's dog tags? not me
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the old gramophone behind his shoulder hums some melody that should be haunting, but it’s as familiar to leon as it is to donna, an old italian operatic that had played over and over in his youth in the backgrounds of the childhood memories that hadn’t been locked away to a dark and unreachable place. as @sailento paints his nails, leon carefully reads through the faded instructive script on the back of the dye he had used on his hair several times before, his trusted and true brand for the shade of platinum blonde that set him apart from looking like a mirror image of his twin brother, scott.
“ i think blonde will suit you so well, you have a few dolls with blonde hair, no? you’ll be just as beautiful as they are, i’m sure, puffetta. ” he teases her fondly, just as he would tease the one he’s related to by blood, no difference made, donna still seen as his sister even if they had found eachother a few years late, reaching out with his unpainted hand to twine a finger around a dark lock of hair, carefully guiding it away from where it masks her emergent cadou. plans were already in place to evacuate her, to keep her out of harm’s way when the time came for miranda to be brought to her knees, beneviento would be just a whisper on the wind, if everything went according to plan. “ just as this shade of blue suits me, in fact. or is it purple? pervinca? ”
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I was in the beginning of case 1-5 of the Ace Attorney trilogy, but I already want to duel Marshall at high noon.
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