#[[-eyezooms-]]

[lunarcrown]

Oh, y’know, just scar and grian hiding in a small space from a ghost, waiting the haunt out by the dim light of the UV glow stick~

[hayaku14]

I just watched detco m27 and all imma say is that kaishin, I love you bby but I came out of that movie simping on hattori heiji HARD. kaito and shinichi can have each other and I'll just take heiji idc!!!!

he was giving THIS. THIS!!!! LIKE HOW COULD I RESIST????

[merrilark]

robert sheehan on fear and acting, from backstage

[ednaeflowers]

286 screenshots 😩

[heirbane]

he could elbow her in the face. that's all.

[stalwart-spirit]

I gotta do that character smash or pass thing ever if I've not been tagged in it, I'm too curious (I also like filling out those lil character bios)

[emmodii-mode]

Playing The Wayhaven Chronicles and what do you mean Verda's married and Tina's not a romance option.

[vierandancer]

@crystalmarred liked for a Starter -- Tataru

"Y'know when you said you needed me t'play mannequin for a new design, a ballgown isn' what I imagined..." In what bloody universe would she ever need a ballgown? Then again, this design wasn't for her. It was for a commission Tataru's business had earned for a lady with similar proportions, apparently. "Who even s'throwin' balls nowadays? Didn' the world just nearly end?"

Was it someone from Sharlayan? Did folks even bother with such events? Ooh, had Alphinaud and Alisaie ever had to attend big fancy parties? She'd have to ask later!

[tachiguin]

yes, Tanizaki's normal outfit is 10/10,

but have you seen him

he looks so neat in Japanese clothes! it gives him a different energy than usual. 11/10 vibes

also Tanizaki just looks so different in Japanese clothes! his usual fit is very lazy casual, so the kimono makes him look more dignified than usual

[hopewrought]

so, that trailer eh. 👀

[futurefind]

//The horrifying realization that, esp early on, Rea had every reason to procrastinate getting her injuries from Bulga healed and thus minimize scarring because that way she can, literally, try and hide her (direct) scars from TWS by burying them underneath other ones :')

Something something and how Rea tries to 'handle' her ghosts by burying them under the bodies of others'—whether it's the ghosts of others' struggles and trying to help them, or more of her own but ones she's far more comfortable with :')

(And also smth smth how Rea's extensive scarring from repeated and regular experimentation means she only accepts magical healing from others (barring like, her hands, neck, and fingers?) and handles All of the first aid 'management' or w/e firsthand and thus Literally handles all of her worst wounds by herself so help her god)

[merrilark]

...is this a The Impossible Planet/Satan Pit callback? Are we. Is the literal (probable) Devil coming back omg

Hello???

[kharonion]

ꜱᴀɴɢᴜɪɴᴀʀʏ

Note: This is an AU setting (vampire Vikt, specifically)

Some new club has been the talk of the record label staff, and Kerry’s curiosity has finally reached critical levels. He’s gotta check it out. It’s snug in the city center, taking the place of that shithole 7th Hell that played the most atrocious music and served drinks more watered down than the pier. 

Bright red neon lights flash with a new name—Sanguinary—and unlike its predecessor, there’s a line at the door. Like always, he goes dressed up enough to not earn unnecessary attention. Dark club music thunders in his ears the moment he starts descending the stairway. The energy of the place is a stark contrast compared to before; he’s tapping a foot and idly bobbing to the beat as he leans on the bar counter, waiting to be served.

“What’re you having?” a young guy pipes up.

“Surprise me—long as it’s strong.”

The bartender smirks. “Yes, sir. Know just the thing. One Crimson Moon, coming up. The boss’s special, even; he also likes his drinks to pack a punch.”

“Thanks, choom.”

Kerry sits inconspicuously on one of the black leather sofas in the corner, nursing his drink and people watching. When he sips, his expectations aren’t high… but holy fuck, it sure as shit kicks him in the ass. ‘Packing a punch’ is a bit of an understatement. He quickly downs the rest, about to make for ordering another. Peering over top his sunglasses, though, he notices the expanse of window overlooking the floor from above. Boss’s office, no doubt, and the man standing there must be the big dog himself.

Maybe it’s just the angle, but the guy looks massive, like he doesn’t even need the handful of bouncers dotting the place. His broad shoulders and bulking muscles are making his half undone button-down snug. From here, all he really sees of the man’s face is those piercing eyes, seeing everything as they’re scanning back and forth. Watching… hell, almost looks as if he’s hunting.

When that gaze locks on him, though, Kerry’s heart crashes to a stop. The bass reverberates through him so hard he shakes. 

Before he knows it, someone is at the table, beckoning him to follow. Something about “the boss wants to see you” or some shit. He leaves his empty glass, obeys without protest. Compelled after that scrutinizing he’d just been subject to… unable to say no even if he wanted to.

He might just pass out when that office door opens and closes behind him. Up here, the music is muted enough to at least hear his own thoughts. Not like he has many right now.

“Pardon my interrupting your night,” the man starts, voice husky and being dragged through gravel with each word, “but I felt I should express my gratitude.”

“Uh,” Kerry so intelligently responds. “For what?”

“Of all the nightclubs to spend your precious time at, Kerry Eurodyne decided upon mine.” He seems to sense Kerry’s bewilderment. “You’re not as covert as you think you are—to those paying attention.” 

That makes Kerry nervous beyond belief, but he plays it off casual. Simply heaves a deep breath, collects himself. “Thanks. I’ll work on it.”

The man’s head tilts, craning it in his direction as if listening intently. To… something.

“That’s not why you… piqued my interest, though. No, it’s because you’re here for a different reason than most of them.” He pauses, hums as if choosing his next words carefully. “You’re here to forget, to escape a demon that’s been chasing you for decades. Hoping that here, the shadows won’t be suffocating—or you simply will get so shitfaced, you’ll forget they exist.”

How in the fuck…

“Okay, just what in the fuck is your game?” Kerry finally growls. 

All the man does is sigh. And then, he turns around. 

Up close, he’s… well, frankly, he’s gorgeous. Sharp jawline, a small scattering of sun spots dotting his bronze face—though it looks pallid, sickly almost—freckles speckled across the right side. His hair is well-kept, an ombre with some grey shining through the dark locks that match his trimmed salt-and-pepper beard. Black shadows his alert eyes, paints his upper lip—which fangs poke out from. (Exotics… gotta be, he easily convinces himself.)

“You’re mistaken; I don’t play games.” His tone is… deathly serious. Kerry gulps. “Simply wish to give you a… safe haven, of sorts. Offer you a few drinks on the house. Talk. Give you something better to do while you’re here than wallow in the corner.”

Kerry chuckles, but takes the seat on the couch offered to him anyway. He does have to admit, this is much better than the alternatives—and really, the company is not only pleasant… but not bad to look at. The man hands him a glass of bourbon and pours himself a healthy amount of gin. 

“Just trying to win a rockerboy’s favor or what? No way you treat everyone like this.”

That earns a smirk, making those sharp teeth much more noticeable. “Only those who need it.”

“Chivalrous, for a nightclub owner.”

“Well. Not everyone accepts it, either.” He hums again, empties his liquor in one fell swig, raises an inquisitive brow. Fuck, that look he’s giving is almost… hungry, and the red of the club’s lights cause it to become searing; Kerry’s stomach lurches in his throat sudden enough to damn near make him throw up. 

“You, uh, you got a name I can properly call you?”

The man crosses his legs at the knee, his polished dress shoes gleaming in the low light, knee missing Kerry’s by centimeters. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Vikt,” he bluntly says, offering out a hand. “Pleasure is mine, Eurodyne.” Kerry takes it, and holy shit, it is ice-cold. Even so, though, the grip is strong, sure. “Don’t be a stranger. Consider my door open—and please, next time, forgo that ridiculous poor excuse for a disguise.”

Even though something feels off about the offer… Kerry vows to return sooner than later.

Maybe as soon as tomorrow.

[diiluvies]

okay but the worlds most gremlin love triangle between a feral ginger, a wet dragon and a hell hound (childe, neu, wrio) but it ends up they just date each other

[wolfvirago]

--- on trauma

Robin has C-PTSD.

Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder is formed when an individual endures long-lasting and repeated bouts of ongoing trauma, typically in childhood. Survivors often find themselves caught in an inescapable cycle of grieving that lasts months and years beyond the loss and remains fresh and raw in spite of the time and changes that have occurred since the event.

The individual is tethered to the past by an inability to move on from their loss. In psychology this is referred to as Complicated Grief and though it is most commonly discussed with death, it can present itself for grieving lost time, stolen youth and lives unlived.

This appeared in her at a very young age, considering her mother and father died within a year of one another and she was never able to leave the Lost Woods as promised.

[stormduelist]

JETT/NEON CONFIRMED?