#let me be your maria

[nova-rpv]

never drawn maria before damn

[heraldofcrow]

I love the little details on Maria’s outfit so much! Her lumenflower brooch and those little flower chains around her neck!

I also love how long her hair actually is! Imagine how pretty it would have been when she wore it down? With those curls? (It reaches just below her shoulder blades!)

And the ribbon!

Also the pretty embroidery on her coat!

It looks the same as the designs on Rakuyo, honestly.

And I love how it looks like Rakuyo is held together by a curving branch. Suits the name, which means “fallen leaf.”

Maria was just so damn elegant and you can see how much her garb looks like the male/female Cainhurst knight. I love the duality, and how she wears such a blend of traditionally masculine and feminine clothing elements. It furthers my theory that Maria’s entire character is a schism. She’s a balance between character traits like no one else. I love it.

[atla-suki]

i’m hiding from the pessimists who r like “wahhh this live action is gonna be shit bc ____ and ____ and _____” and am instead staring at that pic of maria zhang’s suki for hours on end 🥰

[sugarschnaps]

When your world is rose tinted, you don't see the blood on their hands.

I'm pretty sure I'm the first artist to draw Maria on here! Mostly because we literally have a missing person poster for reference and that's it, but this is pretty much how I imagine her.

Rest in peace, queen. She deserved better frl

[babygirltangerine]

bullet train ask game!

a song that reminds you of your favorite character?

are you working on any fics? if so, share a line or two from your wip!

random headcanon?

if you could change one thing about the movie, what would it be and why?

have you read the book? if yes, who’s your favorite character, and why?

if you’ve read the book, what are your favorite and least favorite changes in the movie?

if you’ve read the book, do you prefer it over the movie? why or why not?

how many times have you seen the movie?

did you see it in the theatre?

favorite scene?

favorite line?

favorite plot twist?

favorite major character? favorite minor character?

favorite character design?

favorite ship? favorite rarepair?

favorite death?

which thomas character do you identify with most?

if you could meet any character in real life, who would it be and why? what would you say to them? or do with them?

which character would you hate to meet in real life? why?

if you’ve created a backstory for any of the characters, tell us about it!

canon or fanon? why?

if you read bullet train fanfic, link your favorite!

if you write bullet train fanfic, which fic are you most proud of and why? link it!

if you draw bullet train fanart, which piece are you most proud of and why? link it!

answerer gets to choose a question on this list that they want to answer!

[astxrwar]

i see the “army vet bucky” modern au alternatives for the winter soldier trauma and raise you “life-altering motorcycle accident survivor turned (recovered) painkiller addict bucky”. i think this might be too niche but there’s so many parallels psychologically wrt: the lack of choice inherent in the neurobiology of drug addiction particularly in ppl who started off just taking what was prescribed to them for their pain in like the 90s/early 2000s (when pharma execs Lied about the neurological impacts). the way you kind of lose all that time despite still living it and having the memories, how sometimes the memories feel like they belong to a different person once you get sober. how it separates you from everyone else in your life who Didn’t suffer like that. it’s Compelling. imo.

[i-like-books-and-women]

In the far future I'd like to imagine Zach and Ruben getting an apartment somewhere and living a nice lil domestic life together. Like Zach just walks around with his headphones in and starts letting the punk tone come back to his singing a lil bit. Like hell just sing doing any mundaine task. And like rubens entire tiktok page is just him simping for Zach while he's singing and doing the dishes. And the captions are like "holy shit his voice I love him" like just pure simp behavior.

[mistninja]

Do i even need to say it

[mirananananan]

i just imagine that tommy is the actual chillest adult in jackson who is constantly busting the teens for smoking weed, but it's just so he can let them know that it reeks and they're about to give the entire town a contact high. they always offer him a joint, and he's like, "uh yeah no i don't want your shitty weed, thanks though."

[somedaytakethetime]

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To quote a commentator: "god røv og god weekend ❤" 😌

[meatriarch]

im still on my fuckshit but when i think of cc maria ( by extension also nosy maria but specifically noting the isolation aspect of cc );

can you imagine one day skimming the paper. its been a few weeks since all the commotion knowing your friends' had attempted to come find you but then were chased off. never actually heard or saw any of them, but you know they were around.

but you've been moved from the cells to a mattress upstairs. you're given more freedom, more wiggle room, you're allowed to do things - little hobby-type activities - you're given better foods, you're looked after by the older woman at the other house. the man who took you, who terrifies you still to some degree, slowly doesn't feel like such a stranger anymore, you're right to still be cautious around him but as the days, the weeks, pass by, there's simply a different air about him, and in the shack. lighter, in a sense.

you find yourself growing used to the new daily - the new routine. of waking to the sound of him getting ready for the day, of being left alone in there for hours sometimes, others trailing after him like a duckling, around the older womans' property, helping with an array of tasks. and you worry about upsetting her at first, unsure if doing so will earn a knife to the throat. you listen, you do as you're told, you find some kind of way to co-exist - all the while still, in the back of your mind, there's still a ray of hope,

that maybe, maybe, since the rest of them got away - that they're merely licking their wounds, that they'll get word out and even with all the silence since they had been on the property, there's that shred of hope that maybe? someone will waltz in, guns blazing so to speak, and you'll get out of this hell finally.

that is, until that day - that you're skimming through the paper, and you recognize yourself in a little column - and you realize you're staring at your own fucking obituary.

and in that moment everything seems solidified.

you're never getting away.

there's no point in it.

there's no one out there who are still trying to find you, get you back, bring you home, back to your mothers' arms, back to being an older sister, back to the circle of friends you loved so dearly.

you're dead.

not just to the world, but to those you loved - those who claimed to have loved you, too.

what else do you have at that point? where else do you go, even if you still tried to leave? who wouldn't look at you sideways for the blood that's already stained your hands? for the flesh caught between teeth?

who else is there, except the one murmuring encouragement and praise in your ear?

the only constant you've had in all these weeks? whose words rang true - clearly - that no one cared? that they abandoned you? left you there, didn't even care to make sure you were alive or not? only thought of themselves and got the fuck outta there without confirming if you were even still alive.

[aletheialed]

why am i making so many headcanons for barok despite having seen so little of his actual dialogue.................. i have a PROBLEM gamers ;~;

[meatriarchived]

i did not sleep yay for me im still on my fuckshit but when i think of cc maria ( by extension also nosy maria but specifically noting the isolation aspect of cc );

can you imagine one day skimming the paper. its been a few weeks since all the commotion knowing your friends' had attempted to come find you but then were chased off. never actually heard or saw any of them, but you know they were around.

but you've been moved from the cells to a mattress upstairs. you're given more freedom, more wiggle room, you're allowed to do things - little hobby-type activities - you're given better foods, you're looked after by the older woman at the other house. the man who took you, who terrifies you still to some degree, slowly doesn't feel like such a stranger anymore, you're right to still be cautious around him but as the days, the weeks, pass by, there's simply a different air about him, and in the shack. lighter, in a sense.

you find yourself growing used to the new daily - the new routine. of waking to the sound of him getting ready for the day, of being left alone in there for hours sometimes, others trailing after him like a duckling, around the older womans' property, helping with an array of tasks. and you worry about upsetting her at first, unsure if doing so will earn a knife to the throat. you listen, you do as you're told, you find some kind of way to co-exist - all the while still, in the back of your mind, there's still a ray of hope,

that maybe, maybe, since the rest of them got away - that they're merely licking their wounds, that they'll get word out and even with all the silence since they had been on the property, there's that shred of hope that maybe? someone will waltz in, guns blazing so to speak, and you'll get out of this hell finally.

that is, until that day - that you're skimming through the paper, and you recognize yourself in a little column - and you realize you're staring at your own fucking obituary.

and in that moment everything seems solidified.

you're never getting away.

there's no point in it.

there's no one out there who are still trying to find you, get you back, bring you home, back to your mothers' arms, back to being an older sister, back to the circle of friends you loved so dearly.

you're dead.

not just to the world, but to those you loved - those who claimed to have loved you, too.

what else do you have at that point? where else do you go, even if you still tried to leave? who wouldn't look at you sideways for the blood that's already stained your hands? for the flesh caught between teeth?

who else is there, except the one murmuring encouragement and praise in your ear?

the only constant you've had in all these weeks? whose words rang true - clearly - that no one cared? that they abandoned you? left you there, didn't even care to make sure you were alive or not? only thought of themselves and got the fuck outta there without confirming if you were even still alive.

[daydreamerdrew]

Iron Man (1968) #104

[goldensunset]

this ‘taking care of your fragile mortal body’ thing is really getting on my nerves

[besthimbomachine]

Day two and what not writing has been doing is letting the werewolf idea simmer in the back of my head cause I don't have anything else to write about so good I guess?

Also I've taken a liking to pestering my boyfriend during work calls cause I'm a nuisance (and he doesn't use a camera so I can be a nuisance safely). He finds the meetings boring and useless anyways so I'm actually doing him a favor.