Tentatively attempting to be less of a recluse.
Last active 60 minutes ago
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
been going through the Sasaki to Miyano tag and seeing some people draw female versions of the characters, which is 👌👌👌 good stuff, though all of the fem!Miyanos I've seen have looked more or less like canon Miyano or at least still been shorter/smaller than everyone else. and I totally see where they're coming from, but consider: tall, broad-shouldered, masculine-faced fem!Miyano
fem!Miyano being insecure about being the tallest girl in class, hating when people joke that she should join the basketball team. fem!Miyano growing her hair long and always wearing makeup to "compensate" for her sharp features. fem!Miyano trying to take up as little space as possible and speaking softly to not draw attention to her voice that she thinks is too deep. fem!Miyano in middle school having a crush on a guy who doesn't seem weirded out by the fact that she's taller than him, only to have him make some comment that she's just like one of the guys.
fem!Miyano being volunteered by her class to participate in the school's crossdressing competition. fem!Sasaki seeing fem!Miyano trying on a boys school uniform or something and having to stop herself from kissing her right then and there. fem!Miyano apologizing for getting louder and more animated when talking about her favorite GL mangas and fem!Sasaki telling her that she's just happy to see her so excited. fem!Miyano slowly getting more comfortable with her own appearance thanks to her friends and Sasaki supporting her, to the point where she stops wearing makeup and eventually gets that short, practical haircut she's been wanting but was afraid to get. do you see my vision
35 notes
·
View notes
Text
(id in alt!)
dick/kory/joey for @dannyketch via @dcforgaza - less than 24 hours left to get your own request in!!
741 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love how tumblr has its own folk stories. Yeah the God of Arepo we’ve all heard the story and we all still cry about it. Yeah that one about the woman locked up for centuries finally getting free. That one about the witch who would marry anyone who could get her house key from her cat and it’s revealed she IS the cat after the narrator befriends the cat.
365K notes
·
View notes
Text

Here's the fucked-up heron I've been working on (more angles under the cut)



782 notes
·
View notes
Text
desegregate all sports now. no more gendered sports. its stupid
if you absolutely must, in primarily muscle force-based sports, create competitive classes like in boxing except separated by body comp, not just pure body weight. i mean, if you must. this will eliminate any tiny advantages in muscle mass. some will say basketball should have height classes but frankly some of the NBA's most impressive players were not tall so idk that this actually matters ever
the primary athletic impediment to all women is overwhelmingly cultural and psychological. i have won probably half the physical competitions with cis men that i have engaged in, friendly or otherwise. even without the benefit of a lifetime of people trying to make me throw or hit balls, i have won wrestling matches, sparring matches, funny backyard foam sword fights, video games, equestrian activities, dance, endurance tests of various kinds, etc. i'm small and weak. men think theyre stronger and more skilled than they are, women think the opposite about themselves
humans just arent that differently-sized or -shaped, as a species. we have almost no sexual dimorphism at all compared to the vast majority of other mammals.
animals that have similar levels of sexual dimorphism to humans, for example cats, dogs, and horses, do not generally have competitive events segregated by sex. the dog agility trials dont normally have separate leagues for male and female dogs (gendered competitions exist they're just unusual). because it doesnt matter. there is no kentucky derby 2 just for girl horses. thats not a thing
remove all gendered categories from online shopping websites and universalize clothing and shoe sizing. im sick of having to search two entirely different sections of ebay when im just trying to find a nice velvet loafer in size 39 EU. what the hell is "women's clothing"
27K notes
·
View notes
Text
been thinking about autolycus and his grandkids
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Help a queer indie press thrive!!
OUR CAMPAIGN IS LIVE!!!
The novel we've been working on is funding a print run!
The Traitor & The Wretch is a dark fantasy with queer romance about two minor henchmen determined to outrun their fates and build a happy ending of their own. It's an illustrated novel by me, @skulkingfoxes and Amy Phillips.
Want that fancy silver foil cover? A chance to snag the ebook and paperback for 25% off?? (We've got an early bird special!)
If you've been holding onto a pitch idea or short story/comic you've wanted editorial feedback on, we've got options for that too!
Check out the Kickstarter page and help us make this book a success!✨
300 notes
·
View notes
Text
For @diomedesweek day 3: War
Basically this is Dio after the event of the Thebian war, i just want an excuse to draw him in ponytail.
The helmet is his, but I want him to hold it as someone’s severed head, in a way as a metaphor for idk, something?

62 notes
·
View notes
Text
One of two @diomedesweek prompts for todaaaay!
(note: I usually go with Adrastus' kids being Argia, Deipyle, and Aegialeus. This family tree is notoriously wonky and inconsistent, so y'know.)
Day 1 - becoming king
-----
Diomedes becomes king while his uncle's blood dries on his face.
It's not formal. He's kneeling beside his grandfather in a rain-soaked tent while the physician attempts to get King Adrastus to drink one more concoction from a clay cup. Outside, Thebes is grave-silent. There are only the quiet groans of the injured and dying, but the roar of battle is a memory that still sings in Diomedes' ears. But Thebes herself is dead—seven gates wide open like the slack jaws of corpses.
The sight of his grandfather shocks Diomedes more than seeing his uncle fall. Adrastus, normally so regal and noble, can hardly sit up in his bed. His face is waxen, eyes sunken into his head, lips cracked. He wheezes as he breathes, coughs when he waves the physician away once more. When he speaks, his voice is a shade of itself.
"Boy," he says. (Always Boy. Son was reserved for Aegialeus. My boy was for Polynices.) "Come closer."
Diomedes does. As if he could do anything but obey.
Adrastus hand raises slowly, trembling as if it weighs far more than an old man's bones and flesh. When it finally rests on the crown of Diomedes' head, his neck bends under it.
For a long moment, they are silent. Adrastus' throat crackles as he breathes. Then, he says, "Tydeus is avenged."
"Yes, my lord," Diomedes replies.
"Thebes has fallen."
"It has, lord."
Another wheezing silence. Diomedes focuses on the flaking blood on the back of his hands, the dirt under his fingernails. If he closes his eyes, he sees Aegialeus in the last fleeting moment of his life, his eyes wide in rage and shock as a blade pierces his throat.
Diomedes keeps his eyes open. He must.
"Your uncle," Adrastus starts. His breath hitches. Something concerns the physician as Diomedes can see him start forward in his periphery, but Adrastus waves him away once more. "No, no. No more potions. No more salves," he groans. "Let the king speak."
The physician, cowed, retreats away again. He could be leagues from the bedside, as Diomedes suddenly feels as though he is utterly alone with his grandfather—the only two miserable people in the world.
Adrastus tries again, each word trembling at the edge of his shuddering jaw. "Aegialeus... Bury him as you return to Argos. Somewhere good. Where he can be honored."
Diomedes cannot nod. It feels as though his grandfather's hand is fixing his head in place. You will not run from this.
He says nothing. He doesn't need to. Adrastus knows he will obey.
"I did not..." Adrastus trails off. Coughs. Catches his breath as though he's fought a whole battle in the space of a sigh. He tries again. "I did not raise you to be a king. But a king you must be."
Diomedes wants to protest. He's wanted to since the moment his uncle's shade passed to the Underworld and he could feel that awful weight of Argos shift to his own shoulders. He knows it was never meant to be him. The whispers have followed him since childhood—son of Tydeus, son of the man-eater, will he drink his enemy's blood as well or will he drink ours. The people of Argos will not want to see him on the throne.
But his voice stays buried inside of him, a prisoner forced under by the heavy hand of his jailer.
"I have told my generals. My councilmen. They know my wishes," Adrastus says. "You will be wed to Aegiale to secure the throne on all sides. Let no man lay claim to it but you, boy." His grip on Diomedes' head grows more firm. A last rally of life. "It must not be claimed by anyone else."
Blood itches on his cheeks, irritated by tears.
"Let it be known," says the dying king. "That you will be called Diomedes Tydides, King of Argos."
As quiet as the shush of the tide on the beach, under the silent beams of the noonday sun, Diomedes says, "Yes, my lord."
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm bored, so here's a post of me being proud of my writing.
I think the story I posted recently contains one of the best bits of description I've ever done, and of course, it's for a character that doesn't really need it. It's a description for a woman who's the head of a criminal mob, Mrs Elinor Tramridge:
Mrs Tramridge was a tiny old woman, chopping apples and making pastry for a pie. It was clear she had once been a bright young thing, with rosy-brown hair, bright, pink cheeks, and gleaming green eyes. The years had been kind to her though, as all that was really different were a few wrinkles and her newly silver hair. She was a petite little thing, her torso barely as high as the counter, and thin as a stick. She did not, however, look fragile. There was a manner to her. An air around her. It was in the way she rolled pastry, rolling the pin only once to flatten it like paper. She chopped apples with lethal precision, as if one flick of her hand could carve it into a sculpture. She also held a permanent smile. An indecisive, grimacing smile. The sort of smile a woman would wear if her husband had just come home late for dinner and told her he’d ruined her best dress, because he’d had to bring the waist in a few inches for his mistress. There was murder in those eyes, and not the kind you’d see coming. There’d be no screaming, no raging. You’d just find a searing hot apple pie forced in your mouth and a knife between your ribs, and then she’d have the kitchen clean before dinner.
Seriously, I don't know what wavelength I was on back when I wrote this, but I need to work out how to tap into it again.
For the full story this is from, here: Conflict of Interest
9 notes
·
View notes
Note
your epic of gilgamesh art is so beautiful dawg I hope you end up loving mesopotamian mythology more and drawing more of the sillies [shy]

Thank youuu! >:D Well I do love Enkidu and Shamhat already sooooo.... here is a little doodle~~
354 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gilgamesh and Enkidu is finished! NEXT IS ACHILLES AND PATROCLUS!
757 notes
·
View notes
Text
I think someone went fishing and accidentally drowned by himself, idk
2K notes
·
View notes
Note
I like to imagine still mostly selective mute Dick suddenly turning into a motor mouth the moment he puts on the Robin costume for the first time

Yes.
6K notes
·
View notes
Text

Ruthlessness is *sniff* mercy upon ourselves
Edit:
(Poseidon design by @neal-illustrator !! I don’t know if she’d want to be tagged or not but I’m putting it just in case)
8K notes
·
View notes