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#how many months of this has it been
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months
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Flagrant Favourism.
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strayklds · 6 months
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wish you back / 220918 (credit)
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aroaceleovaldez · 1 year
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HoO is so funny to me when you actually think about the ages of all the characters. Octavian is 18. Percy and Annabeth are 16, almost 17. Reyna is presumably 16. Frank just turned 16, Jason’s about to turn 16. Leo and Piper are like 15. Hazel’s like 14 and a half, and Nico is 13.
The Death Sibs are both the youngest and oldest on the Argo II. Octavian is a college freshman getting into petty drama with a bunch of high schoolers. He gets told to shut up at one point by a random 8th grader. Everyone is scared of the 8th grader. We Sent A 13 Year Old To Superhell and he came back weirder, Just Like Middle School. TLH was just three high school sophomores being sent to do a task and it going Exactly Like You’d Expect. Percy’s the only demigod on the ship who can legally drive (though Reyna gets her drivers license at some point before TOA). What Is Happening.
#pjo#hoo#heroes of olympus#riordanverse#my second favorite thing related to this is like every time Hazel references someone's age especially in SoN it's just. blatantly incorrect.#she goes into very specific detail about how she's 14. detailing like exactly how many months it had been since her birthday#and when she died and when she was brought back. just like ''okay. im 14 and a half. got that? good.''#''anyways here's Frank. he's 3 years older than me'' like literal next chapter. we are told Frank is not 3 years older than her.#Hazel: Here's my older brother! [Nico is younger than her in literally every way feasible]#ive just decided Hazel is an unreliable narrator who is just really bad at guessing/remembering how old people are#which like. adhd mood. forgetting how old everybody is.#and she has the bonus excuse of saying her sense of time is skewed from being a ghost for so long#but it's just so funny every time she's just. with the upmost confidence. blatantly the wrong answer.#i want a scene of Hazel looking at Percy and just going ''hm. I bet he's like 20.'' and then learns he's 16#and she's just [surprised pikachu]#also we know it isn't an error that she's 14 cause in TOA she's like ''oh yeah im learning to drive!''#so she's 15 by then#it is however an error that *Nico* is said to be 14 in hoo cause he's 12 in TLO and 14 in TOA#but we know in HoO the reason that error was made was cause Rick hadn't figured out Nico's birthday yet#and he was flipping it between January or March#so he just forgot how old Nico is for a series and then we went back to normal
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clansnaphance · 1 month
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I'm really not vibing with whatever staff is doing now. Not only does there seem to be a total internal communication breakdown, there also seems to be an absolute disregard for how the players are affected by this.
Like, ignoring the fact that the consistency argument doesn't even hold water, their takeaway from the Fern/Paisley thread seems to have been "oh we gotta change Breakup and Hypnotic too!!"
And then completely reversing Sandsurge Blend on top of that? A gene that's been out for over half a year and was only listed as having the gradient softened, not reversed? Just a total failure to communicate and an absolute bullheadedness in pushing the changes through despite the very reasonable player concerns?
To top it all off, none of these are bug changes, they are style changes. Someone saw these genes before they went live, greenlighted them, and put them in the game. And now, months upon months later, someone else (presumably) says "fuck that, I want the gene to look like this instead" and that complete change is just... pushed through??
Like. Did they learn nothing from the Butterfly debacle, from Obelisk Flair, hell, from the Eyepocalypse?
What the fuck is going on behind the scenes?
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d3epfriedangels · 1 year
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I love ur artstyle so much and I wondering if you could draw luminara and shaak ti as padawans? No pressure ofc but I just think they'd look rly pretty in ur style ^^
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kachow!
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luck-of-the-drawings · 4 months
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OOOH BABY THIS ONE WAS A LONG TIME COMING. NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE NIGHTMARE!!
YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A DAY LIKE ANY OTHER. A DAY OF ADVENTURE WITH YOUR CLOSEST FRIENDS. OH HOW TIGHTLY YOU HOLD THEM TO YOUR CHEST, AND OH HOW TERRIFYING IT IS TO WATCH THEM GET EVISCERATED BY SOMETHING YOU DONT UNDERSTAND. MAYBE IF YOU JUST LISTENED A BIT MORE, IF YOU LET THE SMART ONE LEAD THE CHARGE, THIS WOULDNT HAVE HAPPENED. ONCE AGAIN YOUR IMPULSIVENESS LEADS TO DISASTER. HEAR ME NOW, YOUNG TIDESTRIDER, YOUR STUPIDITY WILL BRING THE DEMISE OF EVERYTHING YOU WERE BORN AND FORGED TO PROTECT. HOW COULD THE PROPHECY HAVE CHOSEN SOMEONE SO USELESS? I BET YOU WISH YOU CHOSE THE RIGHT LEVER. FAILURE.
#jrwi fanart#jrwi show#jrwi riptide spoilers#jrwi riptide#cw gore#cw blood#cw eyestrain#THE NIGHTMARE ARC WAS CRAAAZY IVE BEEN WORKIN ON THIS SHIT SINCE THAT EP CAME OUT OHHH MY GOOOODD#ITS DONE ITS DONE I DONT CAAAARE I CANT LOOK AT IT ANYMORE JUST TAAAAKE IT#IT WAs meant to just be a buncha silly doodles and. well. then i saw all the beautiful colors in the world#and i just really wanted to draw jay getting fucked up by a lazer#IGNOREEEE THE DIFFERING ARTSTYLES THIS HAS LITERALLY BEEN COOKING FOR MONTHS AND I AM TALENTED IN MANY DIFFERENT WAYS#I LOVE COLORS!!! if you look clooosesly youll notice that gillions eyes are bright green everytime#the dream stuff is all reddish and the waking world stuff is blue#I ALSO LOve drawing tears and that weird thick blood pouring from the wounds in his chest#i also LOVE drawing Dead Eyes (eyes of some1 who is dead) poor chip lmaooo everyone point n laugh at this guy who got Power Word: killed#he care so much for gillion tho... when he was breaking jay out he was like 'we gotta save gill' BUT#THAT WAS DREAM CHIP. THATS HOW GILLION SEES CHIP.. gillion knows these two love n care for him so much AUUUUUU#MORE IDEAS: i like to think gillion knows what price looks like bc chip has shown him Via his funny magic Disguise Self Bandana#also kinda unrelated but still in this episode. ive never seen gryffon act so homosexual. admitting he goes to like. 'male service' or wate#like that was all in gills dream. does gill just see gryffon as a fruit or somethin. does he Know?#okayokay i think i got most o the worms out of my BRAIN. i just love blood and terror and horror and fear so mmuuuuch#and i hope u love it too. have a good day if you can help it
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cuubism · 1 year
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Joy
Dreamling | T rating | Retired Dream | on emotional repression
I was thinking about a post, which I cannot find alas, about retired Morpheus struggling to deal with the fact that his actions and emotions don't have universe-wide consequences anymore. Like, he's allowed to just feel things now? And as someone who's also been extremely checked out of their own emotions at various points I can tell you the transition is… not easy. Anyways.
--
Morpheus is out when Hob gets home, or so he assumes. When he steps into the hall, the flat has the utterly still quality of total vacancy, no noise or distant movement. For all that Morpheus is a relatively quiet person, generally speaking, Hob has still become attuned to what his presence feels like, or the lack thereof.
Or so he thought.
For when he reaches the kitchen, Morpheus is there, sitting at the kitchen table, completely still. Hob almost doesn't see him, that's how still he is. Back straight, hands folded on the table, looking down at them as if he's meditating, or working out some complicated problem in his head.
Hob quietly sets down his bag and sits across from him. “Hey... love? You okay?”
He almost whispers it so as not to break the silence. Normally Hob would leave him to his devices if he was in the middle of something, but despite the fact that Morpheus is not given to unnecessary movement, the complete stillness sends something uncomfortable creeping up Hob’s spine. Morpheus hadn't even seemed to hear him come in.
With glacial slowness, Morpheus nods.
“It’s just…” Hob continues, biting his lip. “You’re not moving. At all. I almost didn’t think you were breathing.”
“That is the idea,” Morpheus agrees, still looking at his hands.
"Not breathing?"
"Not moving."
"Can I ask why?"
"I am. Preoccupied. With." His fingers flex against each other on the table as if forcing stillness. "Movement within."
Hob doesn't know what that means. "Can you elaborate?"
"I must make it still," Morpheus says. "I have before. I will."
Which clears up nothing. And Hob is getting the increasing sense that something is wrong but he's floundering as to what.
"Will you come sit on the couch with me?" he finally asks. "You look like you're about to snap in half."
"If it will please you," Morpheus says. Like his own pleasure-or-not in this matter is something he'd prefer not to touch.
"It will," Hob says. Morpheus follows him to the couch, moving like– like he did before. That ethereal creature that considered every step like he was crossing a thinly frozen lake.
So that's what it is.
Morpheus sits down beside him, drawing his knees up to his chest in a movement that, Hob is almost relieved to observe, is very much not like before.
Hob drapes the blanket from the back of the couch over his shoulders. Morpheus flinches, but doesn't push it off. "What's going on, hon?"
"It is..." Morpheus admits, slowly, "loud."
Hob frowns. "In your head? I thought you said it's been quieter since–"
"No." Morpheus presses a hand to his sternum. "Here."
Hob touches his chest, carefully, hand resting beside Morpheus's. All he can hear, or rather feel, is Morpheus's heartbeat, still a new and learning thing. "Your heart?"
"Everything. It... resounds. And drives off reason."
"Okay." Hob rubs his hand up and down over his chest, as if that might soothe him. Hob is aware enough of the feeling of overwhelm, and of Morpheus's particular brand of it, now that he has so little to distract him. "Just give it time and it'll pass, love."
Morpheus shakes his head. "That is not–" his lips press into a distressed line. "Duration is. Not the issue. It is. What will be left. After. Detritus."
Hob's own heart clenches. "Your feelings aren't a storm, love."
"Are they not?"
"You aren't going to make storms in the Dreaming, now," Hob says, though he knows Morpheus knows this.
"I speak not of weather, Hob Gadling," Morpheus growls. "I can– raze minds, I can spin balanced consciousness into euphoria, I can twist it all on its head with no effort and I will–" his fingertips dig into his chest, and Hob thinks that if he were still capable of manifesting claws he'd be drawing blood even through his shirt– "I will make it stop. It will be quiet again, I swear it."
"Only thing you're spinning is yourself," Hob says, gently.
And the thing is, he knows Morpheus knows this. Knowledge isn't the issue. It's sort of like how he never quite believes that Hob will never want to die, no matter how many times Hob tells him. I know that, Hob Gadling, he will say, but Hob can never quite get him to feel it.
"I know that, Hob Gadling," he says, again, now. That same tone. How dare you not believe it. How dare.
"Give me your hand," Hob says.
"Hob–"
Hob takes his hand and pulls it to himself, pressing Morpheus's palm flat to his own chest. Morpheus makes as if to pull away, then surrenders.
"Look," Hob says. "It's not hurting me, is it?"
"No," Morpheus admits, reluctantly, still with that tension through his shoulders.
"What about the room? Is everything shaking into pieces? Is it all going haywire? People rioting in the streets?"
Morpheus shakes his head no.
"See?" Hob says, squeezing his hand. "It's alright."
"I want it quiet," Morpheus says. He no longer sounds frustrated. More defeated. "It should not be... here." He touches his breastbone. "Here." His throat. "Here." His head.
"Where's it supposed to be, then?"
"Gone."
Hob sighs. This will not be an easy fix, not at all. He leans in, awkward though the angle is, and kisses Morpheus's chest, his neck, his temple, then stays, leaning against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, love. I know it's not easy. I happen to like you not gone, though, for what it's worth."
"Me?"
"Uh-huh. You. That's you in there, you know, not some brain-eating amoeba."
He gets a tiny huff of an almost-laugh from Morpheus. "Is it?"
"Yup. The part you weren't allowed to see because everything else was so loud." He rubs Morpheus's chest again, where he keeps saying it's hurting.
Morpheus's mouth opens as if to protest, and Hob adds–
"I'm not going to criticize you for it, okay? I promise I'm not."
Hob gets it. Well. He can't get it, actually, he's never been in charge of the entire dreaming world, but he tries.
"I thought you were supposed to go out today?" he says. "Weren't you getting tea with Rose? What happened with that? You were looking forward to it, I thought."
"I was, yes." He says it as if this is bad somehow. "Looking forward to it, that is. Her company is... enjoyable.”
“Okay? That's good, right?"
But Morpheus shakes his head. "It is too much."
"Too much?" Hob asks. "Were you nervous about it?"
Again, Morpheus shakes his head. “Joyful.”
Hob's heart is actually going to break. He knows this is part of why Morpheus left in the first place. And yet it's still tormenting him, which feels criminally unfair. And the worst part is there's no one to really blame, he knows why Morpheus did it, he can't and won't fault him for it when he was put in such a position.
He asks quietly, “So that joy didn't feel good to you?”
Morpheus shakes his head, biting down hard on his lip, and then, to Hob's horror, bursts into tears.
For all that Morpheus is prone to drama and moping, Hob has never actually seen him cry. He hadn't cried when he’d told Hob of his imprisonment, offering only a hint of scorched anger to indicate how he felt about it, the words, I had not realized what it was to be isolated and embodied until then. It was agonizing, said with the even cadence of the moon in orbit instead of the rawness they deserved. Nor had he cried when he'd shown up on Hob's doorstep and, when greeted with a concerned Hey, Dream, are you okay? – because he certainly didn't look it, drenched to the bone and his cloak absent its swirling inner cosmos – answered merely, You should call me Morpheus, I am no longer Dream of the Endless. The closest Hob had ever seen was the glimmer in his eyes when he'd thought Hob no longer wished to live, all the way back in the 1600s, and even then, his tears had not fallen.
“Oh, darling.” Hob pulls him into his arms, rubbing his back. “It’s alright.”
“It does not feel,” Morpheus continues, voice remarkably steady given the tears streaming down his cheeks, “good. It feels loud. And I am not in control, I am subject to these whims and I am no subject, Hob.”
"Those feelings are part of you. Not subjecting.”
“I don’t want it,” Morpheus insists, with the bitter frustration of a former king, used to shaping the world around him as he wishes. “If they are free I do not know what might come out.”
What comes out are parts of you, Hob thinks, but doesn’t express it again. The raw parts that you think are so awful. “Well, if there’s any feeling to try it with, wouldn’t it be joy? Happiness?”
Morpheus huffs. "Do you think that sorrow and rage are the only feelings with the capacity to destroy? Joy can become hysteria, joy can ruin, I have seen it, I have done it, when I was much, much younger and did not understand my abilities. Strong feelings have power, the very Dreaming is crafted of them. It could not exist out of apathy.”
“Neither could you,” Hob points out, and Morpheus just huffs again, shaking his head.
“I thought that if I relinquished my responsibilities, I would no longer have to worry so about everything outside of myself,” Morpheus says. “And how it entangles with me. Only now. It is still there, but I can do nothing to stop it.”
“But listen, darling.” Hob squeezes his hand. “You’re allowed to be tangled up with everything, now. You’re supposed to be.” He twists their fingers together. “I want you tangled up.”
“I will— without access to my realm I will step wrong, and—”
“And you can fix it,” Hob says. “Promise. No rebuilding a whole universe required.”
Morpheus sniffles, and Hob wipes the tears from his cheeks. “You always kept yourself above it all, didn’t you?”
“It is my responsibility to keep the collective unconscious in balance,” Morpheus says. He hasn’t quite stopped talking about his responsibilities in the present tense — Hob thinks it will be a while before he fully internalizes the lack of that weight. “Not to sway it to my feelings. Historically, when I have involved myself, it has… not gone well.”
“It doesn’t always as a human, either,” Hob says, and Morpheus’s frown deepens. “I mean, we’re all just bumping up against each other, you know? But you’re allowed to have space there, even if it doesn’t always go right.”
“If you mean this to be very comforting, I will have to disappoint you,” says Morpheus, but there’s more humor in it now, and he’s stopped crying. He pushes his head into Hob’s shoulder, and Hob wraps his arms around him tighter, holds him close.
“I wish it could all be immediately easy for you,” Hob says. “I’d do anything to make it so.”
“I did not expect this to be easy,” Morpheus says, voice rumbling into Hob’s chest. “But the challenges have repeatedly come from unforeseen directions.”
Hob kisses the side of his head. “I’m glad you’ve stuck with me anyway.”
“You have been very patient with my… meandering attempts at basic humanity.”
“Always will. I love you.”
It’s another thing he’s struggled to get Morpheus to truly accept, that Hob’s care for him was never contingent on any of his abilities or powers. That Hob won’t be scared away no matter his mistakes, because Hob has faced a lot of terrifying things in his life and the worst is the prospect of losing Morpheus entirely.
This time, Morpheus doesn’t reject it. He just hums and lets Hob pet his hair, lets Hob keep him and quiet him towards ease, which Hob intends to do until Morpheus can find it himself, and then after, too.
And several weeks later, when Morpheus comes home from the park with a colored pencil drawing Jed made for him, smiling and holding it to his chest with real joy in his eyes, Hob shines with pride, and the part of his heart that might have broken just a bit listening to Morpheus cry that day heals over again.
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lover-of-mine · 10 months
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― Annelyse Gelman
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canisalbus · 9 months
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I'm so glad you're pursuing the Machete Vasco romance arc. They're so cute together, their chemistry is *chefs kiss* and it definitely adds to the tragedy of Machete's fate.
I'm delighted to hear you think so!
Their relationship has been in the backburner for at least 6 years and probably more than that so this isn't a new development, I've been just too timid to really explore it in drawn form (and then there's the fact that at some point I managed to convince myself that my oc stuff is bad and embarrassing and people don't want to hear about it but I'm trying to get over that).
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valcaine · 8 months
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*Glides down into you inbox*
I got two things!
Um ok for the first you said you wanted drawing ideas? Mmm have Philza going mock fucking 10 as tech holds a speedometer and ran panics
And also what other cursed birdza/ emerald duo headcanons do you have
Teeth stew anon you have sparked my interest
-I'te
*takes off*
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they are trying to see if his wings healed
(they did) (he destroyed the lawn)
cursed headcanons? uhhh philza can and will eat bugs and mice, he is the resident pest killer
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purpleshadow-star · 7 months
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Here's a reminder that Frank does not have adhd or dyslexia like most demigods, so he was stuck on the Argo II with at least five to six other teenagers with adhd at all times. I wonder what that was like for him...
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hebruh · 3 months
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3 hostages were killed yesterday. i am heartbroken and furious. i turn my head to the right; there is nothing but uncritical justification for the actions of the soldiers and any anger i have is met with "well let's put YOU in the middle of gaza and see how you respond!" i turn my head to the left; the same people who celebrated october 7th and tore down posters of israeli hostages are using this as an opportunity to gloat about how "they told you so!" and point to this as 'proof' that the IDF has a policy to target civilians. i close my eyes and feel my grief and rage in silence
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spaceratprodigy · 1 month
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*gulp* deacon/iris "please just kiss me" intimacy ask........ NYE party- (i am shot)
@oldworldwidgets — [ intimacy prompts ]
It's in the stars, it's been written in the scars on our hearts
We're not broken, just bent, and we can learn to love again
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pose reference
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smimon · 3 months
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Giant K series #14: you can always count on Jesse 🧡
Okay this episode is a bit different so the text part goes in the beginning! Fair warning that this story is not comedic but very emotional, however with a hopeful conclusion 😊
Change of tone! Today we cry 🤧
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taegularities · 2 months
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🤍🫂🌹
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justaz · 22 days
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me: i hate cliches. theyre so predictable and overdone. i just want something new-
every fic ever: character A confidently/impulsively kisses character B who freezes under their touch causing character A to panic and begin to pull back just as character B remembers themself and kisses back with a passion
me, born to ascend, forced to act casual by societal norms:
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