#and i'm just a mess

[kiera-raelyn]

I have been awake since... wait a minute. Was it really...? *checks calendar* Holy hell. 4pm-ish the 21st.

I woke up. Played 5 1/2 hours of WoW. Went to work until like 7:15am. Spent an absurd amount of time pricing various car parts and trying to figure out what work we'll be doing ourselves vs. what we want Professionals to do. Time with family. It was noon and I was going to go to sleep but then it was 5pm and I was definitely laying down for bed.

But then my partner puts starts playing the world's most unironically hilarious lewd game and I can't stop watching/playing (cause i kind of took creative control over his game. Oops). It's so bad. Like, My Immortal (the fic, not the fantastic Evanescence album) bad. We are fairly certain the person who made the game has never actually had sex before. Meat stick is not a phrase I want to see associated with a penis again. I'm also certain the creator is male (due to wildly incorrect notions about female anatomy, as well as female motivations, and just generally misogynistic things sprinkled throughout). Also fairly positive they're white or otherwise in a position of power within their country. Not only are the majority of female characters white, but the WoC who do show up tend to be caricatures. Or how a goth chic and Indian woman find common ground due to their differences from other people - like directly compared being brown to a fashion choice.

I just - the choices made in the development of this game. And like, I know it's not meant to be high art or something. It's the equivalent of my E-rated girly porn fics. But, seriously, my 12-yr old could write better smut. The mind baffles.

[fineapple20]

Portraits

Retouched this set from last year, because it was haunting me laying there 80% finished

[sinkfood]

did you know there aren't any god-like powers of indigestion

[egophiliac]

since Eng is getting 7.5 soon(?), I felt motivated to go back to my Meleanor rig and make her a couple of lesson animations! ...except for alchemy, because the cauldron bubbles proved too hard to photoshop around, whoops.

maybe she just got lost on her way to the classroom...?

(credit: backgrounds are from the game, I just put her on top of 'em)

(aside from the backgrounds, this is not an edit, I drew her from scratch! please do not tag or treat as an edit!)

[tacoprophecies]

I have never drawn either of these people before but I enjoyed the court case a lot.

[starmonsterrr]

[ * Never felt more free in my life ]

[wardingshout]

ALTTP december warm ups and doodling (and one from today, happy new year)

[h20milk]

tfw you fall in love with the magicless prefect that keeps running around campus 🤦‍♀️

[quantumshade]

there's an interesting thing rtd said from the commentary about the "real mom" line:

i get not liking the line but like. it's an intentional mistake and an intentional character choice, and something we'll return to in the future, and that seems like important context to have when talking about the episode.

[nadiajustbe]

One of my favorite parts about the writing of Howl's Moving Castle is how easy it is to write off all the things from our world at first as him just being a weird wizard™ (also thanks to bestie @jutenium for spotting this I wouldn't put it like that without you!!/pos). Sure, Sophie uses weird descriptions, but readers have every reason to believe them because of the way Howl is presented as a character. When Sophie says he wrote with a quill that doesn't need an ink, you wouldn't think it was actually a ballpoint pen, you would think Howl had just enchanted his quill so that it wouldn't need ink! When she adds that she can't make out a single word, you think he has matchingly terrible handwriting, but in fact Sophie has simply never seen a pen writing. When she sees the mysterious labels on his books, you think he's keeping a lot of obscure magical literature, but it's really just an encyclopedia and a guide like "Top 10 Rugby Tips." When Sophie notices the bottles in Howl's bathtub, you think they're some kind of magical jars where he keeps girl's hearts, but I'm almost certain that they're just 'Dove' and 'Head and Shoulders' that he's enhanced with his spells and put silly labels on. When you read Calicifer singing a song in a language Sophie doesn't understand, you think it's some kind of ancient cipher or code, but it's actually just a rugby song in Welsh that Howl sings when he's drunk. And finally, when you see the terrifying black door, which is completely shrouded in darkness, you imagine a passage to an eerie, mythical place, similar to what Miyazaki showed us - but it's just fucking Wales.

[kezhke88]

How much do we love Crowley standing behind Aziraphale when he's chatting to people like he's some sort of unofficial bodyguard

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Tim Encounters a Fae at a Gala

Which may be a problem, yes, but the much more alarming part? The Fae looks like Damian.

"This is pretty boring, don't you think?"

The voice comes from behind, and Tim recognizes it instantly, but at the same time, he doesn't. He's never heard Damian talk like this, easy and a little amused, with no usual stiffness to his speech. Yet this couldn't be anyone else - being a vigilante means you can never drop your guard even in your civilian identity, and who other than Damian could have sneaked up on him?

He turns around.

It is Damian, and at the same time, it's not. The boy looks just like the demon child, the same face, same height and skin tone, the same way he puts his hair. But something is wrong. The way he holds himself, his relaxed and almost lazy posture, the absence of a usual scowl on his face, the way he feels comfortable here, in a crowd of people.

And his eyes, when he looks at Tim. Icy blue, almost translucent, like the color of icebergs and glaciers.

The not-Damian tilts his head a little and smiles just slightly. Tim blinks, realizing that there was a question, and he just stares at the boy instead of answering.

"Yeah, sure," he clears his throat and breaks the eye contact, looking away from not-Damian's eyes, his thoughts a frantic mess. Is this another clone? Or some kind of a shapeshifter? In any case, they approached Tim first, he can't lose his chance at gaining some information. So Tim smiles back, "Is it your first time? At the gala, I mean."

Now, when he looks at the boy again, the stricking resemblance doesn't hit him so hard. Instead, Tim notices something else - the boy is... eerily beautiful. He's never noticed Damian looking this nice - because that would be kind of creepy if he did, - but this not-Damian is... He can't really put it into words.

He's just beautiful.

Almost unnaturally so.

"You could say that," not-Damian answers, looking over the crowd around them, "I'm not used to so many people around, but I've seen my fair share of social gatherings."

Tim blinks. That statement compiled with his absolute lack of any kind of nervousness makes little sense.

Alright, he needs to get at least some information from the mystery twin. He is a detective, for god's sake.

"Are you here with someone?" That can be a useful question. Tim sure as hell knows that Bruce could not invite some Damian lookalike without prior warning, which means the boy had to come as someone's plus one. Or he sneaked in with no invitation, that's also a possibility.

"My godfather should be here somewhere," not-Damian nods, scanning the crowd before nodding his chin in the direction of a small cluster of people. Tim follows his gaze and finds a white-haired man in a matching white and silver suit in the middle of telling some kind of story.

"Vladimir Masters?" He questions with a noticeable amount of disbelief. The man never said a word about having a godson. Ever. And Tim did a thorough background check on the owner of DalvCo.

"Got it in one," not-Damian grins. Is it just Tim, or do his teeth really look sharper than they are supposed to?

Come to think of it, his ears are also not as round as they should be.

Unnatural beauty, sharp teeth and pointy ears, questions answered in a vague and unclear way. And Tim hadn't noticed him blink even once.

He has a guess. He doesn't like it, it's a very, very bad guess, but Tim is a Bat, a Robin, and a Detective. He knows when he needs to trust his gut even if his gut is telling him absolute nonsense.

He just needs to make sure.

Tim swallows the anxious feeling in the back of his throat and turns back to not-Damian, smiling:

"I think I didn't catch your name?" He does his best at sounding confused and not alarmed. The boy's grin widens just a bit, but Tim feels a cold shiver run down his back, and his mind is all but screaming for him to run away for this is not human, and whatever it is, it is dangerous.

"Would you give me yours in exchange?" The boy's voice is soft and easy, not a hint of mischief. Just a casual question. Maybe a little teasing.

Tim's blood runs cold as he tries to remember everything he has ever read and heard about the fair folk. Never give them your name, but there has to be a way to answer this question, right?

"You may call me Damian," he finally answers. Maybe this is a risk, calling himself his brother's name, but Tim feels like this is somehow a right thing to do since the boy - the creature - looks like him.

Not-Damian's eyebrows shoot up, and there's a hint of surprise in his eyes when he starts quietly laughing. The heavy pressure of the air around him disappears at the sound of the crystalline laughter, like it was never there. Tim feels like he had just disarmed a bomb or passed a test with his own life at stake. Maybe he actually did.

"Clever," the boy grins again and nods politely, bowing his head down like they are at a medieval ball and not a gala, "My name is Danny. It is nice to meet my brother's brother."

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[siro-cyll]

Don't mind him, Ford is just drifting between portals on your dash

[omaano]

something something the clones were already decanted with blood on their hands

also, boba, you're the absolute worst influence

time to shelve this project for another two months because i have no idea how to go about render it any further orz

sketch, credit to the original hades 2 warsong update wallpaper and ramblings about this piece here, and the rest of the Hades AU project here

[kettlefire]

Prepare for the unexpected. (DPxDC)

Everyone knew about the reign of Pariah Dark. Even those who did not dabble in those realms have heard the tale of the tyrant. A power-hungry man who ruled over the dead with an iron fist.

Following the rise of Pariah Dark, his realm had been effectively cut off from communication. Many mystics and magic users knew better than to open the door of nightmares that could arise if Pariah Dark's reach went further than his own realm.

Except, the universe had plans to bring the realm of the dead back into the cards.

A new opponent, one that had all of Earth's heroes scrambling for options. A being with powers of a god over weather, destruction was on the horizon. A world ending threat.

It's the only reason the Justice League was doing this. In a deep bunker, far from close civilization as a precaution, the heroes looked on with grim expressions.

The world was already being threatened. It would be destroyed regardless of what the league did. So it only made sense to make the last ditch effort. To summon someone strong enough to defeat the threat.

No one wanted to do it. No one wanted to be the one to pull the realm of the dead back to the living. The consequences were untold if this succeeded. If Pariah Dark was freed and defeated the threat, whose to say he won't want control?

That was a problem for later. For the aftermath. For now, the league could only watch on with bated breath as Constantine completely the summon ritual.

They watched on as the shadows in the room seemed to darken and grow. As the sigil sputtered to life with a glow that was growing increasingly brighter. A sudden gust of wind rushed through the room, the temperature began to drop with eaching ticking second.

And then it was all gone.

The room stood perfectly still. Just as it had been moments before. Nothing changed. No giant king standing before them, no sign that the ritual worked.

The room stood deadly still for another beat before the murmurs started. The team trying to make sense of the situation, figure out what went wrong.

Constantine swore up and down that this was the correct ritual, taking offense that they would even think the problem was on his end. It only made it better when it finally happened.

A loud sound ripped through the room, pulling everyone's attention back to the summoning circle. Just in time to see a tear appear in the space above the circle.

A thin tear that ran the length of eight feet. The fabric of the dimension seems to curl at the edges, pulling back to reveal a deep glowing swirl of greens. A dark gloved hand reached through, fingers curling around the edge of the tear, stretching it even further.

A portal. The ritual had worked, but there had been a delay. A delay that had every hero nerves on edge. Each team member tensed, weapons at the ready as they watched the being stretch the portal to the right size.

Then, a foot stepped out with a heavy thud. A dark boot that looked otherworldly despite its similarity to mortal clothing. A deep black that seemed never-ending. A second foot quickly followed before a full body emerged from the portal.

Not many people in the room have ever seen Pariah Dark, let alone know what to expect. Based on what Constantine and Zatara had said, this wasn't Pariah Dark.

A man had stepped out of the portal, standing at almost seven feet tall, and built like a brick house. One glance at the glowing white hair, deadly red eyes, and shard teeth was enough to know this being was not to be messed with.

But there was no giant show of armor or royal garbs. There is no large crown at the top of his head or jewelry from the infinite realms laced around his neck.

Instead, the man stood before them in combat boots, worn-in ripped jeans, a graphic t-shirt, and a spiked leather jacket. Despite his almost normal clothing choice, the man's jacket seemed to be a never-ending depth of the dark night sky. If one was to look closely enough, the cosmos could almost be made out in the sea of darkness.

None of that would have prepared them for when the man spoke. His tone sounded more bored than anything as he took a step forward.

"Oh, so now you need the help of the dead." The man had spoken, running a hand through his hair. When Batman took a step forward to speak, the man raised a hand. Immediately commanding silence in the single gesture. "I'm on babysitting duty and have yet to have a cup of coffee. I'll be right back."

Just like that, both the man and portal vanished into thin air. Leaving behind a group of stunned heroes. Not only was the man not Pariah Dark, but he was also supposedly babysitting.

"Did that just-"

The Flash had been the first voice to speak up, his eyes trained on where the man had once stood. Except he had barely made it through the first few words before the man was suddenly back.

The man that now had a child hanging off his shoulders and another teen being held up by his scruff. Unlike the man, these kids looked human.

Too human for Bruce's liking. The dark black hair and bright blue eyes had every heroes eyes flickering to Batman for just the briefest moment.

"This isn't fair! I'm not even the king. Why do I have to be here!" The teenager had been complaining the moment the man had reappeared. Arms crossed tight over his chest and seemingly used to being held dangling. "Besides, who brings kids to a show down! Wait til I tell mom about this."

"Aw, come on, Danny. This is gonna be fun!!" The younger girl seemed in much better spirits than the teen, Danny. She had climbed up the large man, sitting on his shoulders and resting her arms on the mess of glowing hair. "It's like take your kids to work day! Ooo, Dan! Can we fight too!?"

Unlike the two kids, the man looked purely exhausted and annoyed. The man, Dan, dropped Danny like a sack of potatoes as he took a long drink from the travel cup in his hand.

It didn't take a genius to recognize the look of an exhausted parent in Dan's expression. A look many of the league members were well acquainted to. A look that even had Batman grimacing with sympathy.

"Can it, little shits. You two were grounded, remember." Dan had growled at the kids before shifting his focus back on the team of heroes before them. His glowing eyes set in a deadly glare. "Pariah Dark isn't coming, and he never will. He's been dethroned and banished. We're the best you've got."

A summoning that started with a group of on edge and scared heroes looking for the ghost king, ended in a way no one expected.

No one was even sure if it made any sense. They weren't sure if they should feel hopeful or in despair.

Because truly, what was a ghostly man with two seemingly human children against a godlike foe with the control over the weather?

The unspoken question of power and ability seemed to vanish following Dan downing the metal travel cup of coffee, and crushing it in his fist.

He tossed it to the side, straighting up his posture as he looked over the heroes. Dan might not be a hero, but he's been playing family for too long.

An almost feral, bloodhungry grin spread across the man's face, sharp fangs on full display. The look made the man suddenly look even less human. He looked closer to a demon from the pits of hell rather than the exhausted parent he looked just a few seconds ago.

"Point me in the direction of this bastard. It's been too long since I let loose and had some fun."

[aethersea]

I do think Blazing Saddles handled its one depiction of native americans very poorly, and the full extent of its representation of chinese workers on the railroad is they were literally just there. not even one single speaking line. unclear if this is worse or better than the redface.

it's fucking phenomenal at lampooning antiblack racism though. extremely blatant, extremely funny satire, which is constantly and loudly saying "racism is the philosophy of the terminally stupid at best and morally depraved at worst, and we should all be pointing and laughing at them 24/7"

plus the main character is a heroic black man who has to navigate a whole lot of bullshit but is constantly smirking at the extraordinarily stupid racists and inviting the audience into the joke. the one heroic white character is a guy who was suicidally depressed until he met the protagonist and they just instantly became buds, and he's firmly in a supporting role the whole time and happy to be there. the protagonist saves the day with the help of his black friends from the railroad, and uses the position of power he was given to uplift not only those friends, but all the railroad workers of other minorities too, in an explicit show of solidarity.

anyone saying "Blazing Saddles is racist" had better be talking about its treatment of non-black minorities. it had better not be such superficial takes as "oh but they say the n-word all the time" or "they have nazis and the kkk in there!" because goddamn if that's the full extent of your critique I very seriously suggest you read up on media analysis. there is too much going over your head, you need to learn to recognize satire.