#not that i particularly like it

[hzdtrees]

Misty dark

[bluebellhairpin]

i think reading this book is fixing me.

[pimsri]

I make art about grief again

[oopdeathnote]

Imagine if you locked Light and Patrick Bateman in a room together. They would be having the most generic conversation but you wouldn’t be able to hear it over the sound of their overlapping internal monologues. There would be a few seconds where their monologues both play in sync to say something misogynistic.

[beatcroc]

i watched one episode of death note and this show is soooo funny for opening on skull demon guys and youre like oh shit its the evil freaks and then theyre just like chilling playing cards. and then you meet your mild mannered middle schooler boy protag and hes like i want to kill everyone forever

[stil-lindigo]

an ex-zionist jewish man recently went a bit viral on tiktok for sharing exactly how he sees zionism tie israel to the jewish identity and his personal experience with breaking away from it - I think it’s a really great watch.

He also made a follow up talking specifically about how he learned to humanise Palestinians, and a really integral part of it was his school, which would often bring in Palestinian speakers who’d share their perspective (here’s a link to it).

[randalltier]

You can choose only ONE no in-between answers. Be brave and bold and decisive and elaborate in the tags if you wish

[kathaynesart]

REPLICA PLAYLIST

MUSIC UNDER CUT

I have been receiving requests for any songs that inspired Replica, so here, have my personal playlist. Sorry it’s not Spotify/Soundcloud but they don’t have some of these songs available so uh… guess you’re stuck with YouTube vids. For fun I'll include my personal titles for them (which might give a few hints of what to expect in the future/end).

Replica Main Theme - “Die for You” by Grabbitz Like Father Like Son Like Brother (Omega and Shelldon) - "As Above So Below" by Alistair Lindsay Mikey's Theme / The 1st Vision - "Suzume no Tojimari" by Nanoka Hara Military (Mad) Dogs / Central Park Colony - "Imperium" by Madeon Shanghai - "Icarus" by Madeon Boom Goes the Donnie-mite (Mikey/Donnie vs the Sweeper) - "The Red Zone" by Mitsuoto Suzuki The Day the Sky Bled Red - "7 Seconds Till the End" by Nobuo Uematsu Going Out Like a Boss (Raph and Leo) - "Agape" by Nicholas Britell Remembering the Right Way (Mikey and Leo) - "The Souls of Many" - by Alistair Lindsay Mystic Hands / The 2nd Vision - "Am I Dreaming" by Metro Boomin x A$AP Book 2 Trailer - "Sea Dragon" by Covet 7 Years Later - "Iron" by Woodkid Leo's Theme / Attack on the Labor Camp - "Ego Death" by Polyphia Omega's Theme - "Touch" by Daft Punk Flat Lines (Omega Alone) - "Die Toteninsel Emptiness" by 1000 Eyes Spear - "Monsters" by Tommee Profitt Final Protocol - "The Kraken" by Katie Dey Rise / Epilogue - "Close in the Distance" by Masayoshi Soken & Tom Mills

I will admit, it's a little embarrassing since you can easily see the patterns of what I've been listening to for the past year or two. I swear I listen to more than just videogame OSTs, these songs just jive well with the story and I often find lyrics distracting when brainstorming scenes. Regardless, the music I listen to is such an important part of my creative process and some of these songs really defined the scenes I now have locked in my head. So I figured it was only fair to give them the credit they're due.

I will continue to add to this playlist, and will note in comic updates when one of these songs is applicable!

[shiverandqueeef]

hey do you guys remember when green day released the explicitly anti-war anthem 'american idiot' back in 2004 as a direct response to all the post-9/11 jingoistic AMERICA HOORAH songs flooding the radio at the time and how it contained the lyrics:

Well, maybe I'm the faggot, America I'm not a part of a redneck agenda

and the point was to use a slur that got right to the core of the conservative propaganda that framed being anti-war as effeminate, weak, un-american? and to take that slur and be like fuck yeah i am and this faggot is going to stand up for what they believe in fuck you

and gay rights activists were mad about it? like how dare this straight man use a gay slur green day is homophobic actually and we should make that the dominant narrative in the discourse and never ever talk about the war stuff

and meanwhile all three members of green day weren't even straight? the lead singer was openly bisexual. billie joe armstrong is very much a faggot. fuck you.

[toxxtt]

playing around with some historical french fashions on furina (+ neuvi).. I think she should always get big silly hats

18th+19th century mens fashion is one of my fav fav fav things is ever so this was fun 🫡 love being fashion history neurodivergent

[hinamie]

realizing how much i like drawing him a million years too late :<

[xxplastic-cubexx]

brain please wake up and draw

bonus :

[killakalx]

17+ content, ageless blogs dni

here’s more head. overstim, spit, mild manhandling if you wanna look at it like that, poorly proofread

jason todd could spend hours lapping at your cunt. it starts as him prepping you for his cock, scissoring you open and dipping deep inside you until he’s sure he could bury himself to the hilt. but after your third orgasm, he’s given up on that excuse.

“jay- jason,” you cry, foot desperately shoving his shoulder as he sucks on your clit with a hum. you’re overstimulation is easily disregarded, as if you’re not the one he’s torturing right now, and it’s almost embarrassing how deterred he is. instead of pushing him away, you try pulling yourself up, letting go of jason’s hair to tug at sheets.

“the hell are you going?” he scolds with an offended face, drawn out of his spell and following without a second thought. you can’t even answer through heavy breaths, but you curse when you realize you’ve only trapped yourself between this mad man and the headboard.

“no more, jay,” you plead, “‘s too much…”

“I don’t think you’ve had enough,” jason retorts in the most factual tone he has, calloused hands snaking up the back of your thighs and holding both legs against your chest. “I gotta get you ready, remember?” you whine at him weakly and his eyes almost roll at the sound. helplessly, you rest your head against pillows, arm hanging over your face.

a thick glob of saliva leaks from the bundle of nerves to your hole and he groans, and he still feels the need to drool over your cunt as his hooked nose nudges at sensitive skin. “‘s too fuckin’ good,” jason insists, using one arm to keep your thighs folded so fingers can prod at your pussy with his tongue. you’re inclined to agree with him. still, he promises to pull out one more state of bliss before he properly fucks toy. “y’know i don’t lie to you,” he warns, “one more.”

he gives you no choice but to comply, legs twitching and breath hitching before a high keen once he gets that last one out of you. “that’s it, doll,” he praises between thirsty licks and slurps, “there you fuckin’ go.” much to your dismay, he wastes little to no time cleaning you up. deep groans vibrate up your spine as he swallows every bit of your slick and cum before he lets your legs go.

“fuck, jason,” you whimper into your elbow and he forgets to hold in his snicker, open mouthed kisses are scattered up your body as he positions his hips against yours.

“hey, pretty,” he huffs after swatting your arm away to look at your face, admiring the glow he’s given you just from his mouth. jason grabs your face before your gaze loses him, rosy cheeks squished and making you that much louder when he buries himself inside with one agonizingly deep thrust. incoherent cries fill the room and it has jason craving more that he’s sure you can give him.

“y’can’t blame me, can you?” he husks, and the hand holding your jaw jerks to make your mouth fall open. a thick glob of spit lands on your tongue as it lols out, debauched and shameful once you’re fully dazed. “that’s yours,” he reminds you as if you’d forgotten, “that’s you all over my fuckin’ tongue.”

his cock twitching at the whorish moan you give, setting a brutal pace to make up for the time he’s missed between your quivering thighs and tight cunt. tears form under your lashes and fall each time his heavy balls smack against your ass, legs wobbling around his torso as he traps you under his weight. weak babbles of his name only drive him impossibly deeper inside you, and the rude bruise that’s sucked into your neck says he’s far from done breaking you. ❧

[sunderwight]

What if the plant body hadn't worked out, and the Holy Mausoleum solution had actually taken a long time to sort of "fix" Shen Qingqiu's body and fully call his soul back to it, so that hundreds of years passed and civilization in PIDW/SV world progressed to the point of something like the "modern era"?

Imagine Luo Binghe trying to delicately introduce his shizun to such strange concepts as smart phones and credit cards, while Shen Qingqiu is just desperately trying to figure out how dumb he should play this. Would it be believable for him to get everything on the first try? There have to be some differences between what he knows and this world's versions, right, because of the demons and cultivators and things? Right?? But it's not like any of this actually IS difficult for him to grasp!

Luo Binghe: Shizun already discerned how to type using a keyboard...?

Shen Qingqiu, sweating bullets: what, like it's hard?

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

Introducing the Rajaijah plant, along with everyone's complicated feelings surrounding it. From my story The House of Glass. Follows on directly from this part here!

I always wondered what the source of Rajaijah juice, or madness poison, was. @aboardthescheherazade and @lady-of-lyon both helped out a lot with research on a discord server!

For such a key plot device in two books there wasn't much background to it; all we are told is the effects of the poison are permanent (terrifying) and it came from India (very mundane, a lot of plants come from India.). The original French name suggests it's a plant extract.

I decided to base the design of the plant off of datura. I've read some pretty horrifying recollections of datura trips, and these trips can last for days. I absolutely do not recommend trying datura, the dosage is difficult to get consistent and it's very likely to kill or cause permanent injury - but it's a perfect candidate to base the Rajaijah plant off of!

I decided to make it smaller for that whimsical fairy like appearance. Datura flowers are beautiful, but I simplified the flowers to make it easier to draw in a comic or for animation!