#but make it philosophical

[galaxymagitech]

Bruce: I will turn my pain into strength. You will regret what you did when I bring the full force of justice upon those who hurt me and others.

Dick: I was hurt, and I am a hero. These can’t be completely separate, but they aren’t the same. Pain inspired me to become Robin, but is no longer the reason I fight.

Jason: If I can hurt bad people like how I was hurt, I’ll be strong enough not to be hurt anymore and no good people will be hurt ever again.

Tim: I’m not hurt. I’m fine. What are you talking about? No, of course I’m not in denial. Please, I need to believe this.

Steph: Anyone who hurts me’s gonna regret it. The past sucked, but it made me strong. I’m too awesome not to keep fighting.

Cass: No more hurting. I will protect.

Damian: I was incompetent enough to allow myself to be hurt. I will not make that mistake again. If you get in my way and are hurt it is—what does Drake say?—a skill issue.

Barbara: Doing good things sometimes causes pain, but I will do them anyway. I will stop threats to prevent my allies and friends from getting hurt.

Duke: No one else will be hurt like I was. We need to work together to protect ourselves and our communities from being hurt.

[occudo]

Safehouse sketches

I wanted to make this post more clean, and I thought, didn't I make a similar spread already? Lo and behold, I did. In May. And now, without looking, I drew almost the same stuff. What is it like to have long-term memory? Anyway, I hope you like more cake

[vaguely-concerned]

sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go

[thefloatingstone]

Appleseed PDA montage to save you from reading endless pages of unimportant politics that don't amount to anything

also because I have nothing better to do, I'm bored, I'm moody, my gaming laptop is still broken so no BG3, and it's too late at night to start drawing after doing animation clean-up all day.

[meloartist]

"i simply do not see it. i am looking away"

[icaruspendragon]

Hey I just wanted to say thanks, because idk why this didn't just occur to me, but I've been missing "family" meals, the kind of meals I get to make for people and sit down with people I love since I came out and had to leave my house, and idk why but you posting about having family dinners with your friends where you host them made me realize that like, that's something I can still do. If I don't have the people who will invite me over to eat a meal anymore I can always be the person who invites others over myself and idk, I just wanted to say thanks

this warmed my heart in ways i don’t know how to describe.

family dinner started because i’d get some friends over on tuesdays to watch supernatural prequel the winchesters and i’d make them dinner for their troubles. i was feeding like five people max. but then the show ended and one of my friends got a new job and had to move an hour away so we moved it to the weekend so she could still come.

and then i realized that cooking is actually a form of self care for me (let’s not examine too closely how my self care is still taking care of others, it’s been discussed enough in therapy). so we started inviting other folks. and family dinner went from five people regularly to seven. and then i’d have friends from out of town come and it’d be 15-17. and now it’s not unusual for a dozen people to show up at my house on a saturday night to drink and eat and make merry.

there’s a particular kind of warmth that comes from leaning against the entry to my dining room, glass of wine curled against my chest, seeing so many of the people i love sitting around my table as they laugh and bicker and eat a meal that i used so much love to make. food that i spent hours creating because they gave me the confidence and the desire to learn how to make new things. because the effort it takes for me to make pasta or gnocchi or sauces or broths from scratch is worth it. the hours i will spend standing over a hot stove as i make gumbo or chicken and dumplings or fried everything is worth it. the easy smiles and whiskey-reddened cheeks and raucous laughter and full bellies and warm togetherness is worth the trouble.

it makes me understand the last supper (you know, minus the foreboding of betrayal). there’s a divinity in making a meal to share with those you love.

i’ve yet to find a better way express my devotion than to say, “take this, all of you, and eat of it. for it is my love given up for you.”

because even though the darkness can be chasm-wide and canyon-deep, my love is wider and deeper. it’s the bridge over the consumption of it all.

when people sit at my table and break bread that my hands have tenderly prepared i see the point of it all. loving and be loved in return.

and sometimes that love is stored in poetic words and grand gestures. and sometimes, that love is stored in a stockpot full of soup. but they both accomplish the same thing at the end of the day. warmth and safety and care and devotion.

it’s love. plain and simple and small.

[radiance1]

A castle mysteriously appears in Gotham one night.

Nobody who noticed it knows where it came from, nor how it got there as it seemingly appeared overnight. It wasn't anything big, as far as castle's were concerned, it seemed to be on the smaller side of things.

However, no one could truly estimate it's actual size. For there seemed to be an ever-present fog that never seemed to stray past the castle's gates.

Just like the fog, you always seemed to hear the cawing of crows and the flapping of bats whenever you step close enough. Yet their visibility was kept hidden in the fog.

Appearances aside, there did seem to be something... off, about the castle and not just because it appeared from thin air, no. It seemed to have a distinct aura of something... other.

No one knew how to explain it, but they could tell there was nothing natural about it. There was something fundamentally wrong with the castle, it wasn't the way it appeared out of nowhere, nor it's appearance.

===

When Sam finally became an adult, she didn't have to think twice about moving out. It was a bit difficult, with her parents not wanting to let her go just yet, but her grandmother managed to persuade them, thankfully.

When she was younger, Sam had always dreamed of owning a castle. Though its appearance did change in her mind when she grew older, from pretty and pink to one of darker colors and crows, which is why she never got one when she was younger, she realized.

But now that she was an adult, what was stopping her?

Nothing, that's what.

So, Sam buys one that matches her tastes and moves in. There was a lot of space, far more than she really ever thought about and now had to find a use for.

Magic.

Was something that enthralled Sam ever since she was young, that and the occult as a whole. So, for a few months after moving did she try and get her hands on things like magical tomes, items, scripts and learn it.

Surprisingly, she was strongly successful in her attempts of learning magic. It was surprising to be sure, but now that she compares it to the portal to the afterlife, having a half dead friend and having hunted down ghosts, she realizes that magic wouldn't be that much farfetched in the equation.

A fair bit of her time now was spent covering her castle in wards, sigils, and runes, ones that would strengthen themselves over time, various protection wards and multiple others that she found useful. Most of them were ones that she found through text, though others were ones she personally made.

After she finished the entirety of the castle, she studied thoroughly to gain more knowledge and power for herself, she even made a few spells of her own along with various potions. Unfortunately, she was interrupted in her studies by various other witches, because apparently having such a powerful fledgling witch on her lonesome was too tempting of an offer to pass up for the nearby covens.

So she had to... move, before they tried to force her to join them. As for how, well, she moved her entire castle! What better way to refuse, really?

Unfortunately, it was her first time using such large-scale teleportation magic and she messed it up. Not that her calculations on where the castle was supposed to be were wrong, but while in the midst of moving through space she was... thrown off kilter.

She didn't even know how or what caused her to mess up. But her castle both was and wasn't where she wanted it to be. Her original destination was coordinates near Amity Park, and while they were on said coordinates.

This wasn't Amity Park.

To say she worried was an understatement. She scrambled to find something about where she ended up, and realized not only was she thrown off kilter, but she was also thrown off so badly that she ended up in an entirely different dimension. Luckily, she managed to make the philosopher's stone.

To say making it was easy would be wrong, for even she didn't know how she created it. It was by accident and for a while she didn't even know she had made it, when she had and tried to do something with it the stone had, uh, well.

It fused into her skin.

It had placed itself right over her face, on her chest, and it granted her immortality it seemed. Though that wasn't the effect she was currently thankful for no, the effect of making gold would be valuable to her, she wouldn't have the Manson wealth, but she could at the very least sustain herself.

For now, though, she did have her studies to get back to.

[andrromedas]

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes / Then There Was You by Calum Scott

[chuluoyi]

GUYS GUYS THEY SAID GOJO’S BODY IS TAKEN BACK TO SHOKO —which is why he disappeared then

[ozymoron]

need to do something wicked disturbing to that old mans pussy

[aromantic-diaries]

Lately I've been taking a philosophical approach to aromanticism and I've come to the conclusion that it is the prime example of the fact that anything that humanity believes in can be contradicted in some way. Romantic love is believed to be the most universal thing ever, the ultimate goal, the most beautiful thing to exist, and yet aromantic people still exist. We don't feel that way. We are the contradiction

[ruegarding]

we do not have five entire books full of percy's philosophical thoughts for rick to pull this shit. if annabeth was in character, she would be looking at this architecture and consider what she'd do different (and since she's redesigning olympus, she'd maybe also consider if she'd use any designs there). her fatal flaw is hubris and it should be a staple characteristic of hers.

[firestar5318]

What makes something meat or not meat?

[rebuke-me]

thinking about the squip as an artificial intelligence and creativity.

painters and digital artists who take squips to be better at technical creation, but they never get it quite right. anatomy is just slightly off, eyes a little too big, blurred edges and awkward perspective.

actors who take squips for stage fright knowing all their lines and hitting all their spots but there's something mechanical about it. the way they move is a little too purposeful, they hit their marks a little too hard.

singers who take squips for pitch control, but all of their notes sound slightly off, even if they're using a completely normal voice. they always hit the right note, always project, but there's no soul, no emotion behind it.

photographers who take squips to always have the perfect photo, but their images always come out looking slightly photoshopped, too staged. candids are a thing of the past. everyone's too perfect, caught at the exact right moment, too stock photo.

writers who take squips to make wonderful stories, but their words are a little too close to someone else's, their narrative voice falling to pieces. there's no typos, no rough edges, no heart.

dancers who take squips to always be on beat, but never allow themselves to mark, who always have to full out perform, every time. who do a little too much. who can never make mistakes, sure, but can also never let themselves pull back when they need to.

fabric artists who take squips to create, but find themselves losing the ability to crochet, because the machine never learned how to do it, their stitches falling apart in their laps. they're left with yarn and crochet hooks and a feeling of disappointment.

comedians who take squips to be more successful, funnier, who tell jokes that are funny, that have the right amount of pause for laughter, who statistically should sell, but they lack the personal edge to make it properly.

artists who take squips for other things: for fame, for confidence, for love, for acceptance- finding that their creativity is fading away, entrusted to a machine that can't replicate their humanity and its flaws.

[deliciousmicroplastics]

izutsumi has the right attitude when faced with saving her entire party herself

[gearbroth]

who put all these owls in my house smh