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nouverx · 3 months

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The thing I love the most about Alastor is that we can't truly know what to think of him, if he is being truly manipulative or if there's a genuine undertone behind any of his words, and that allows people to interpret him differently from one person to another. Like "oh he's being so sweet and supportive", to "no actually he's just saying what people want to hear because he's an evil manipulator". Maybe some fans are being too trustful, just like Charlie, and falling into his lies. BUT maybe there's a true genuine undertone to everything he says, maybe he can be a sweetie behind his evil mask. And maybe he'll turn out redeemable. Or not at all. Who knows?

His character could go in two completely different directions in the next seasons and we have no way of telling how he'll turn out. It's still fully open because he showed he can be awful and evil and manipulative, but since there's been very few hints here and there that he could get attached to the hotel, that means he could be sweet despite all that. The mystery and uncertainty is keeping us thinking and hoping and I LOVE that. He's such a unique and amazingly written character.

On a personal note, I think the two different directions his character could take should coexist. Yes, he's going to be a main villain in the future seasons and betray Charlie and the hotel, yes he's an evil manipulator, BUT he could also get attached to them and show redeemable qualities at the same time. For me it would make the heartbreak even greater and his character even more satisfying.

#text #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #this man is rotating in my brain non stop I needed to get it out of my system #either way I cant wait to see him challenge Charlie's idea of redemption #by being either SUPER hard to redeem or completely impossible to redeem #cant wait for the anguish the pain and the heartbreak he will bring in future seasons ❤#YES I KNOW I havent posted in so long i'm sorry depression and artblock had me on a chokehold #I'll be back with more art I just needed to let out my thoughts about HH

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incorrectly-quoting-mxtx · 5 months

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So I have theory about Luo Binghe’s fake jade pendant.

(Major spoilers if you haven’t finished the book btw)

I was just reading a fic and author pointed out something about Luo Binghe’s pendant and how it’s a metaphor for Shen Yuan.

Looking back at the book, there are a lot of parallels between Shen Yuan and the necklace.

The pendant is a counterfeit jade carving of the god Guanyin.

Shen Yuan is a counterfeit of Shen Qingqiu, a powerful Peak Lord who dresses in jade colored robes.

Guanyin is noted to be associated with compassion, and Shen Yuan changes the entire fate of the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way by being compassionate.

Luo Bingmei ends his story with his one fake jade pendant while the extras specifically note that Luo Bingge has several real jade necklaces in his possession. Those necklaces are even called out to be fine grade and best money can buy.

Obviously the real jades are a metaphor for Bingge’s harem of peerlessly beautiful women while the fake jade, which has infinitely more value to him, represents Shen Yuan, aka Luo Bingmei’s one and only true love.

However I think there’s more to it than that.

If you track the pendant throughout the book, you’ll notice that Luo Binghe is only ever in possession of the pendant when Shen Yuan isn’t there. In fact, he actually loses the pendant shortly after Shen Yuan transmigrates into Shen Qingqiu. For the rest of the book, the pendant is in Shen Yuan’s possession, only returning to Luo Binghe at the climax.

But here’s the thing that’s strange about that scene: for whatever reason the System could not load the pendant when SQQ tried to summon it. At no other point in the book has the System have a problem loading things in.

So why is it when it does load in, it’s right as Shen Yuan dies for the third time?

My theory is that Shen Yuan is the pendant itself.

Now obviously Shen Yuan comes back and Binghe still has the pendant, but in the last couple scenes of the book, Shen Yuan is always right by Luo Binghe’s side.

Now I know that Shen Yuan was an actual person before dying and becoming Shen Qingqiu, so therefore he isn’t the necklace given human form. So how can Shen Yuan and the pendant be one and the same?

Well let’s go back to the aforementioned climax scene where the System cannot physically summon the pendant until Shen Yuan dies.

Seeing as how the System is essentially an AI and/or a computer program, this kind of issue reminds me of how a computer cannot open a file if another of the exact same file is already running.

I think, that when inserting Shen Yuan into PIDW, the System needed a way to tie his soul into its program and Shen Yuan’s fate to the protagonist. The System needed a physical entity to tie him down so it linked his code/soul to the fake jade pendant. That’s why Luo Binghe loses the pendant so soon after Shen Yuan transmigrates and why the System couldn’t load it in until Shen Yuan’s soul left his body because they’re part of the same file.

This is also evidenced by how when Shen Yuan dies the second time, out of all of his items, only the Jade pendant is kept in his inventory when he wakes up in the Sun and Dew Mushroom body.

Not to mention that Shen Yuan and the pendant have the same effect on Luo Binghe! The pendant has the ability to essientially shock Luo Binghe out of a qi deviation, but is only a one time use. But during Luo Binghe’s first qi deviation, Shen Yuan is able to do the exact same thing but doing so kills him. The pendant reduces Luo Binghe’s anger, and Shen Yuan is the only person in the world Luo Binghe will ever be soft and submittable to.

Tl’dr; The System tied Shen Yuan’s soul to the fake Guanyin pendant.

#I can’t write I’m so sorry #but hey thats just a theory #A SCUM VILLIAN THEORY #thanks for reading #svsss #sorry had to get the Game Theory reference out it was scratching at my brain #Luo binghe #Shen Qingqiu #bingqiu #scum villian’s self saving system #theory #Long post

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princerevelucide · 7 months

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#gravity falls #gf #Sorry i just had to get this out of my system before it haunted me

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leecherish · 2 months

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#sorry sorry sorry this is so low quality but i had to get this out of my system #sorry all of my revstar memes are just poorly rehashed twitter memes. im truly sorry #unfortunately these are funny to me.#tbf i could probably make one of these with almost every revstar character #but in any case nana had to be first.#daiba nana #nana daiba #revue starlight #shoujo kageki revue starlight #revue starlight the movie #gekijouban revue starlight

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sun-snatcher · 2 months

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🌾 ・ OF CLARION CALLS

summ. The rebellion runs into trouble, & Jet takes the brunt of it. In the aftermath, you fight to keep him alive. pairing. Jet x f!medic!reader w.count. 1.5k a/n. So little Jet fics/imagines around so i had to take matters into my own hands. Enjoy!

The moonlight casts a halo above your head, and for a brief moment, Jet thinks you’re a divine spirit, perhaps a goddess— or whatever it is his mother used to read to him before bed.

( In some ways, you are. )

…Jet, he hears, distant. He can’t pinpoint exactly where— every sound is either muffled or echoing, and the world keeps tipping in and out of a blur. All he can sense through the haze is the belt of dull pain creeping up his chest, and the cotton-numbness engulfing his head. Right. He’d been shot clean through his armor plate by a wayward arrow after he’d jumped infront of Sneers to protect him. He remembers now, vaguely. It had been an ambush on their way home.

...et, stay with me.

Jet.

“Jet!”

The world focuses. He inhales, sharp, and the pain blinds him white as he gasps.

“Easy there, handsome,” you joke (not really), holding his twitching body down and trying to meet his dazed look. The blood is thick enough to taste, and one look is enough to tell he’s walking a tightrope between life or death. He's growing colder, and losing colour by the minute. You make quick work to staunch the gaping wound in his chest, hope he can’t detect the shakiness in your hands, or the tears gathering in your eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“Will he?” comes a voice behind the two medics crowding him. It’s Smellerbee, standing at the step of the medical tent; her voice sounds uncharacteristically frightened, and it sends a pang through your heart. I’m fine, Jet instinctively wants to insist, but you answer for him instead. “Yes. He will." ( And, well, surely such a small deception would not count against you, not when it was meant to give the others some measure of peace. )

Jet blinks, finally orienting himself enough to look at you and not through you— and blinks again. You’re lying. He could feel it. He could always tell, whenever it comes to you.

…Stay, he thinks, suddenly and senselessly, and clasps his bloodied hand around your wrist. He calls your name, voice straining in pain. But he must’ve said it aloud instead, because you’d smiled at him as gently as you could— even when it looked as if the effort of doing so would wound you— and said, calmly, convincingly: I promise, I’m not going anywhere.

“With me?” he asks, again, even when he knows he must’ve sounded like a madman. Perhaps it’s the bloodloss. Likely, it was. It wouldn’t be such a bad end, though, so long as you stood by his side. He wants to tell you this— been wanting to for a long time, now— but the strength has left him, leaving him floating somewhere between the world of waking and dreaming.

“With you,” comes your reply.

You catch the ghost of his trademark smile just before he slips away.

Jet survives.

That’s the first surprise.

The second is that; you’re here. Just as you’d promised.

He must have been out for longer than he thinks, because the atmosphere in the medical tent seemed to have ebbed to something much more conducive than last he remembers. The tinctures of alcohol and sedatives surrounding him and his bloody bandages that night are now replaced with dry ingredients; yarrow half-crushed in a mortar and pestle, mixed herbs and colourful liquids corked in tiny bottles and tins he couldn’t begin to name. His armour had been stripped from him, lying above a chest by the corner.

Ever the leader; “Sneers,” is the first word out his mouth, once he’d stirred awake on his cot and recognition returned slowly to him. It’s early sometime in the morning, judging by the colour of the sky outside the tattered tent flaps and the still quietness in the air. Beside him, an incense of sandalwood burns. “Sneers—”

“Is alive, thanks to you,” you override. The faint bitterness in your voice is not lost on him.

Somehow, someway, seeing him conscious now seemed to make you bristle. You think— no, you know— that it’s unfair of you; that it’s simply the pent-up frustrations and stress overflowing from the night he’d been hauled back to camp with one foot in the grave. But Longshot’s harrowing clarion call for a medic from the trees still rings clear as a bell in your head, just as much as the cold shock that had seized you the moment you realised the birdcall was for Jet.

“Good.”

“Not good,” you correct, “Not when you of all people pay the price.”

( Jet doesn’t delude himself into thinking that there could possibly be another meaning to what you said. It would be impossible. ) “You would’ve done the same,” he bites back, and takes your silence as quiet agreement.

“You’re upset,” Jet points out, narrowing his eyes. “Why?”

A sigh. “You just woke up,” you dismiss, if only to get him off your scent. “We can talk another day.”

“We’re already here, so let’s settle it now. The mission went well, and as far as I can see, I’m the only one in here, which means nobody else got hurt on the way back but me. Atleast, not as badly.”

It’s a debrief, you recognise. A coping mechanism for him— to spur himself into action and settle himself. Given the stress and trauma his body has been enduring the past days, you let it pass.

It’s only when you shift out from your seat by his cot, standing to begin putting away the bowls of medicine prepared, that Jet realises your fingers had been holding his wrist before. You must have stayed up for, what he can only imagine to be long nights, to keep track on whether his pulse was still beating. ( Something inside his chest burns. He can’t tell if it’s your doing or the injury being fussy. )

“I’m sorry,” he huffs, sighing out. “If that’s what you wanna hear.”

“For what?” You set the mortar down on your table with more force than necessary, and looked at him sharply from over your shoulder. Jet, damn him, still looks at you straight in the eyes, confident as ever. You want to kiss him. You want to break his nose. “For being a hero?”

“No.”

“Playing martyr?”

“No.”

“For saving Sneers? Everyone?”

“No—”

“Then what?”

“For scaring you,” he says, simply.

Your heart starts.

A frisson runs through you, and you feel the back of your eyes begin to burn.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that,” he emphasises, and doesn’t say, I’m sorry I made you cry, because your prideful self would have denied it instantly, even if he remembers it clear as day. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

He yanks at a loose thread on the blanket you’d laid on him a night ago. It must have been terrifying to see him be dragged to the table, half-dead with a broken arrow in his chest, and leave a mess of blood and horror in his wake. It must have been terrifying, indeed, to be the one responsible for him against Death itself— to carry the weight of his life on your shoulders, while the rest of the Freedom Fighters watched on.

“It’s, it’s my job,” you turn away to close a drawer of medical instruments, because you’re not quite sure you can stand meeting his gaze. Not when it only reminds you of just how much he lived, breathed and bleeds chaos and revolution; not when you know this accident definitely won’t be the last.

You can’t handle him. Or maybe it’s yourself you can’t handle, when it comes to him. “Just, be careful.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he salutes mockingly, albeit with a wince. The flinch is what kicks you back into action.

“You’re staying in bed until you’re better,” you order, curt, ignoring his groan. His wrapped shoulder still seems painfully defiant despite all the numbing you’d given him; it would be a couple of weeks longer before he’d be fully healed, but knowing Jet— he’ll be up performing duties within a week. “That means no strain at all. No scouting or recon or hunting, got it?”

He lulls his head, but there’s a dash of humour on his face. “Since I’m bedridden, does that mean you’re at my every beck and call, then?”

Your face twists. He lets out a laugh when you answer, "In your dreams, Jet."

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

You roll your eyes, though without heat, and place a bowl of fresh water by his side. There is, at the very least, a smile on your face, and Jet’s sure he can sleep well tonight knowing you both are, at the end of the day, okay.

“Hey,” he calls your name, once you've begun making your way out the tent. You try to ignore how much more sweeter it sounds coming from him. “I really am sorry. I’m serious.”

He had caught your sleeve when he spoke, so your fingers now brush against his. You try not to focus on the touch too much. “So am I.”

“We can’t lose you, Jet,” you continue, unsteady; because saying I can’t lose you would have been unthinkable.

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saintbleeding · 5 months

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[ID: A seven-panel digital comic of Jon and Elias from TMA. Jon wears glasses, a collared shirt, and a cardigan, and has wounds and scars in various states of healing all over his visible skin. Elias wears a three-piece suit and half-moon spectacles. The first three panels are flanked by an anatomically correct eyeball and a heart-charm, with the two halves reading "wors/ties". In these panels, Jon says "So, if you could share some actually useful information to help me circumvent the apocalypse, that would be appreciated. ...Elias. *Elias.*" As he says this, Elias smirks wordlessly and looks directly at the viewer. In the next two panels, he speaks directly 'to the camera'. He says "This is sex to me. Don't tell Jonathan." His lower third says "Jonah ('Elias'): Long term acolyte/nefarious bureaucrat. Is in his "gone mild" era, astoundingly." The final two panels show Jon also speaking to the camera. His lower third says "Jonathan: Special little chew toy. Like the lovechild of a wet napkin and an overstimulated chihuahua." and he says "He *what*? ... jesus fucking christ." as he pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. End ID.]

in all frankness i just feel like whatever i have done here is Peak Jon/Elias Dynamic. sorry you're welcome

#tma #the magnus archives #jonelias #is there like. another ship name. idk #jon sims #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #scopophobia #eyes #eye contact #eye horror #body horror #ask to tag #nonconsensual #(just to be safe since. creep behaviour)#(SORRY i had to get this out of my system. srry. a bit)#my #saint draws #tma spoilers

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orionis13 · 1 year

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Comics with a target audience of exactly 1 (me bc I can only think of mtg whenever they mention will being a planeswalker)

#starchive #art tag #jrwi #jrwi prime defenders #william wisp #mallard conway #i relistened to episode 10 for this and then drew this in class lmaooo had to get it out of my system #anyway wiwi mtg kid real and true in my heart hes just like me fr #tomorrow will is gonna call origami jace belleren or whatever his name is and get killed <3

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franzias-cave · 2 years

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forbidden icon in ninth house inner sanctum depicts unrealistically curvaceous woman

#alecto sweetie i;m so sorry #i'm so sorry an ugly ass bitch would eat you and stick your leftovers in hollywood hair barbie #more alecto art to come i just had to get this one out of my system #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #alecto #franzia's art #tlt #tlt art

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larabar · 7 months

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falling star

#something something parallels. sage wasnt there with him. he was on his own. role swap from the sa2 ending but nobody was there to catch him #instead of flying back to the ground he fell the entire way. the other 'stars' were falling with him but he wasnt a shooting star #he was falling with them #he had everything and lost everything #he got back up with a smile #<<< DO YOU SEE THIS. i love this dlc with my whole heart #sth #doodles #sonic frontiers spoilers #frontiers dlc spoilers #SO sorry for the spam today i need to get it out of my system #also i wish i could make polished art rn .. ive just got little crumbs but they work

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ooshu · 1 year

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“what if we’re not meant for each other?”, you asked mark.

“well,” mark swept away the tiny strands of hair falling on your face. “it’s okay. at least i get to know you. you’re wonderful, baby.”

you reached for his hand and rested his palm on your cheek. mark smiled at the gesture. he was sitting in front of you at this table at your favorite local coffee shop. he ordered matcha. you, on the other hand, ordered americano.

closing your eyes, you leaned more into the touch. mark chuckled. he thought you felt like a cat looking desperately for warmth and affection—and he is more than willing to give you anything, even the world.

“what if—oh, wait.” you opened your eyes and saw him, with his head tilting to the side, curious about what you are about to say. “then why waste time… all of this… if i’m not the one for you?”

“time is never wasted when i’m with you, baby.”

“so…” you see mark. his face, amused. you can see the crinkle of his eyes lit up. these are just one of those moments where you theorize the present and future. and sure, mark loved that about you—always so curious, always so full of wonders—and he is more than willing to get the answers to you, even if he has to go to the ends of the world.

“no regrets?”

“not even a single bit, love.”

“how are you so sure?”

“because i’m already sure that it’s going to be you.” he reached for your hand this time and kissed it.

“out of all the what ifs you asked, this was… ah, really!” he shook his head while laughing. “this was challenging.”

mark squeezed your hand. it almost felt reassuring that it will never happen. “i already told the stars about you, baby. you’re the one for me.”

“yeah.” you bit your lip and let out a faint smile. “i know you did."

mark smiled, and got up from his seat, and said, “enough of this already, hmm?”

you nodded.

“words, baby.”

“okay, mark.”

“want some strawberry donuts? heard they're great!”

“would love to.”

“be right back.”

mark walked toward the counter to order but halted in his tracks. he turned around and returned to your table.

you looked up at him and waited for what he was about to do.

“forgot something…?”

“you’re more than wonderful.” mark said, his hands fidgeting until he inserted them in his jacket’s both pockets. “in fact, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, baby. nobody, no one, could ever compare. just… i just want you to know that.”

a few seconds later, he walked back to the counter to order. you watched him talking to the cashier. after getting the order done, he turned around, facing your direction to see if you are doing okay. and you smiled reassuring that you are. almost teary-eyed—so overwhelmed with the feeling of being loved and being in love. and with all the timelines and universes you will pass through, you will always look for him, even if it has to be away from him, just to see him from afar would be alright.

but it never slipped your mind there would be one universe that will no longer trace you back to mark.

you stared at your half-zipped shoulder bag sitting beside you—a plane ticket staring right at you, waiting for you to make a choice.

and fuck, you’d hate to be the one breaking mark's heart.

and you just wish he knew early, that you wish his the one was the name he told his stars about instead.

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