#and then it evolved from there

[staticymaticyyourlifeisatravesty]

Absolutely sad new lore for Lilith but also some hcs for the people of Baal.

I like to think that in the culture that Sanguinius and Lilith grew up in carved bones both for funeral and just in general. It's to the point that when Lilith sees all the bones used for decorations by the Imperium, she finds it terribly tacky to have uncarved bones. This is also how she ended up bonding with Sevatarion, Dorn, and Fulgrim.

Fulgrim might seem weird, but like, imagine her complaining to him about the tackiness of just using plain bones for everything. They'd get along.

Dorn finding Lilith carving some bones whether it be human or animal, and then silently joining her as they carve together. Maybe even swapping techniques, or showing different designs or runes.

Sevetarion being surprised when she compliments his bones carved with Night Lord Runes, and is even more surprised to find that she's not disturbed at all by it and even pleased by the fact he doesn't leave his bones unadorned. So they end up getting along and bonding over it, especially when she shows the bones she's carved.

But now onto the sad part, you know how I said the People of Baal, or rather the Blood carved bones for funerals? Yea, Lilith carved Sanguinius' bones to both prepare him for his burial and as a way of mourning. It was also a way to help put him back together after his death, even replacing his broken feathers with those of her own. I imagine a couple of her Uncles like Guilliman were horrified by what she was doing to her father's corpse, but Leman and Dorn were very understanding of why she was doing it.

It was very different from how she carved bones before, usually Dorn and the others had only see her art, the way that the bones weren't exactly carved with anything other in mind then to be pretty, but Sanguinius' bones...were carved with deliberate intent. Runes and sigils form a story, marks that any of the Blood would recognize to be that of an Honoured warrior and Father. Each Carving holding a meaning and made by the love of a grieving daughter.

It would be past into mythos of how the Angel's daughter carved each bone painstakingly, though in the wider Imperium it would be changed that a priestess blessed the angel's body before he was laid to rest, filled with imperial propaganda of the God Emperor and Sanguinius as a saint. Meanwhile on baal, the story told is much closer to the truth, focusing on the daughter's grief, and how she wept blood as she carved each bone as any daughter should for their parents. Both myths are often told on Saguinala, and in the Imperium it's the reason why they make small dolls that then embroidered to represent the Daughter and what she did, though they don't know it's because she carved the bones of the Great Angel anymore after ten thousand years. And after the devastation of Baal, only the blood angels and their successor chapters know the truth anymore aside from Lilith and her two uncles.

[pangur-and-grim]

[clumsypuppy]

wait for me

[chalkrub]

dinosaur in a lab coat - would you trust her with operating the centrifuge

[ohposhers]

shitpost based off of something that happened when I was watching my buddy play Chao Island smhhh

[leminaus]

red and vee :)

[demaparbat-hp]

In your Spitfire AU between Azula gaslight gatekeep girlboss attitude and Lu Ten II big puppy eyes they’re unstoppable duo

Woe betide those who stand in their way to greatness (aka Zuzu).

[starry-bi-sky]

im being hit with The Visions again

the Vision this time is a "homeless danny in gotham" au except its pre-robin Batman again because im on a batdad kick. --------------------

Danny finds a car.

Which-- isn't, like, anything super interesting or impressive. It's Gotham, it's a big city. There's cars on every corner, can't throw a stick without hitting one somewhere. And then setting off the alarm.

But-! It's a car, and it's past midnight-- or he thinks it might be past midnight, it's late enough to be. He doesn't have a watch and he left his phone at Vlad's; asshole put a tracker on it after the last time Danny ran off.

It's been over a month since, it's a new record -- last time it took just over two weeks for Vlad to find him and drag him back to the mansion. This time, Danny ran further. Left the state and everything. See how long it takes Vlad to find him now, hah.

People go missing all the time in Gotham.

Anyways-- there's a car, and it's midnight, and it's parked in an alleyway. Danny would've called it invisible with the way he pretty much trips over it, phasing through the wall of the building beside it and not watching where he's going, but it's not. So he doesn't.

Danny runs into the hood and nearly faceplants right into the darn thing with an 'oomph', hands catching himself on the metal as a flash of irritation flashes hot through his gut. It doesn't hurt or anything, but getting the wind knocked out of you sucks always, and he's tired and hungry, and as a result not in the best state of mind.

He's just about to sink his foot into the side of the wheel -- it wouldn't do anything, he's not that big of an asshole, but it's the principle -- when he stops.

Danny pauses.

He takes a step back, holding his hands out 'n' everything, and examines the car. He squints, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the darkness, considering the closest streetlight is twenty feet that way and positioned in a way that none of the light is hitting it.

Danny would not call himself a car guy. He doesn't think he counts, considering his size and lack of everything. But, but, he knows his way around a few cars, and he had an old obsession with older models when he was little that kinda petered out of existence after his accident. Had a bunch of little car models sitting on one of his shelves back in Amity, and Dad offered to get his hands on an old car for the two of them to fix up together so it'd be ready for Danny when he got his license.

...Anyways.

Point is: Danny can appreciate an old car, and this car has an older -- albeit obviously modified, if the matte paneling and plated wheels meant anything -- look to it. That kind of flat top went out of style years ago, and it's got this kinda rectangular look Danny doesn't see often these days on modern cars.

Other than the electrical cars, but he doesn't think those count. That's boxy, not rectangular.

Danny frowns, tilts his hands down, and leans back further as if that will let him get a better look at this thing. "...What model is this?" He mutters, it's hard to tell in this lighting.

Wait, he should see if there's anyone in the car. It's not running or anything, and nobody's come out to yell at him -- or shoot him -- but, still. People are crazy in Gotham, crazier than they've ever been in Amity. The last thing he needs to do is piss off some guy from the mob.

Danny peers into the window and-- there's no window, okay. Well, no window, and no driver. Some idiot left their car unprotected and without windows, in Gotham?

He pulls on the door handle just to be annoying -- it doesn't budge. Okay, maybe not that stupid. Especially since Danny didn't even see it until he was quite literally running into it.

So. Not that stupid.

Danny looks around warily, pulling his hoodie around him tighter, and then starts circling the car slowly. Like a vulture. No license plate; shocker. Hear how shocked he is? Clutching his pearls right now.

"Reinforced bumper. Cool." he says, er- whispers, really, quiet enough that it doesn't even echo. Danny squats in front of the car and runs his hands over the -- what, should he even call this a bumper? It's bigger than his head, and it's covering the grille. He picks at these... things on the side that remind him of leather straps. Probably to keep this bumper up? Like a ratchet strap?

Danny leans back until his butt hits the ground and he can sit back properly, propping himself up on his hands -- maybe not a good idea. There's probably broken glass somewhere here and he doesn't wanna pick shards out of his palms, again. It's like popping the world's most annoying zit depending on if it gets under the skin.

(He could always just phase them out, but the picking gives him something to do. It doesn't hurt that much.)

Eh. It'll be fine.

With one knee propped up, Danny looks the front up and down, and furrows his brows. The style kinda reminds him of a dodger, especially with the placement and style of the headlights. He plants his hands on the concrete -- hissing when he feels something cut into his palms, ow, there's that glass he was talking about -- and leans down to look under the car.

Hm, nothing jutting out that much. Looks pretty normal. Good space between the bottom and the ground.

He gets up and circles the side again, brushing whatever pebbles or glass that could've stuck into his skin off. He's really curious about where the owner got matte plating for it, or if it's just a wrap. The silhouette's definitely sixties or seventies; too angular for the eighties and fifties.

...There's no one here, Danny looks around again just to make sure, cranes his ears to catch anything. Nope, just the typical quiet rumbling of Gotham's underbelly. It kinda reminds him of Amity, or-- no. No, it reminds him of the quiet groan of the Zone.

That's far more comforting, he thinks. Danny's never really liked Amity all that much.

Back to the car: there's no one around, so Danny folds his arms against the side of the door and sticks his head inside the window. No keys in the ignition, should've figured.

Not like Danny was planning on stealing the car anyways -- anyone capable of modifying a car into this kinda beast -- or paying someone to modify -- was not someone he wanted to piss off. Danny's an orphan, not stupid.

Ignore the fact that he's got his head stuck through the window. The interior isn't anything interesting, but the seats are made of leather, which is nice. Must be a pain in the summer or winter, but leather is cool, and gets stains out better than cloth.

No stick shift though, he's a little disappointed.

Danny presses his mouth into a line and then slants it, humming in the back of his throat. Honestly, he's kinda tempted to crawl in and go to sleep. The leather seats look really inviting, and he's been sleeping on the ground or on park benches for weeks, and the car is really well hidden. No need to worry about being kidnapped.

But, it still belongs to someone. And they're probably using it for something shady. They'll come back for it eventually, so he should get this gawking over with anyways.

And, and-- and. He wants to get a look at that fucking engine. 'Cause holy shit!

Danny pulls his head out of the window and half-dances over to the back, his hand curling around one of the bars as a grin spreads across his face. Now, Danny hates Christmas, but this, this is like it came early and good for once.

"You could smuggle moonshine with this thing," Danny says to himself, grinning ear to ear and running his hands over the edge of the metal. The car is too conspicuous for backroads driving, but the engine, wow. What a thing of beauty.

One of Auntie's friends would probably know what engine it is -- or what type of engine it's based off of, it could very well be a bunch of different engines frankenstein'd together. Danny doesn't recognize it.

Which means it could be illegal. Again, what a shocker. In Gotham? He's clutching his pearls.

Fully satisfied with himself, Danny dances around to the front again and holds his hands out. He makes an 'L' with both hands and shuts one eye, getting the car within the frame of his fingers like he's about to take a picture.

"I rate you," Danny makes a camera shutter sound and mimics taking a photo, "one cool fuckin' car."

"Thank you."

Danny doesn't scream. He does not. He's taught himself better since ghosts started popping up in Amity, and honestly he deserves some credit for that considering they only started popping up over half a year ago.

He does, however, gasp. And he gasps hard, the type that has a high chance of giving you the hiccups afterwards; the painful, chest-thumping kind. Danny slams both hands over his mouth and stumbles backwards, eyes wide and his heart kicking into the fifth gear in his ears.

Bleeding out from the shadows is a man entirely drenched in black, Danny can hardly make out his silhouette and barely catches the white glints of his eyes. Fear like a prey animal burns in his lungs, wild and rabid, Danny has half a mind to bolt.

His ghost sense didn't go off, which might just be the most terrifying thing.

The man doesn't move any more than a step, just enough that Danny can barely see him, but he can feel him watching him. Shit. Shit. He should've never stuck around.

His hands are still over his mouth, Danny, shaking, flutters them open, "How-- h-- how--" he wheezes, "how long have you been standing there?"

[haliaiii]

Tatsuya’s turn (p5 x p2 au)

[fuckyeahchinesefashion]

OP: Those carps actually can make the jump.

Carp Leaping Over the Dragon Gate鲤鱼跳龙门liyu tiao longmen—A famous Chinese legend about perseverance and transformation. According to the myth, brave carps swim upstream against strong currents to reach the Longmen (Dragon Gate) waterfall on the Yellow River. If a carp successfully leaps over the gate, it transforms into a powerful dragon, symbolizing overcoming obstacles to achieve greatness. 

[daftpatience]

hes a handsome butch to me

[soni-dragon]

leaf sheep ghosties

[norrthie]

couldnt sleep so opened sai i havent opened in years and started sketching whatever came to mind. well guess who came to mind first

[bunnygirllover45]

Johann's very rushed info sheet.

[raconteur-wanpi]

Are you tired of me pointing out the Sanji & Usopp parallels yet? Well too bad! Here's more.

Gee, I wonder why Sanji, the guy who was told by his family he should "just leave" for being weak when he was a kid, got so upset when Luffy was about to tell Usopp, who was clearly feeling insecure for being the "weak" one of the group, to "just leave".