#whats with the palettes lately idk ..

[iknowwhereyousnoozeatnight]

can you draw L and Light doing work together I think it'd be cute and relaxing

L says the overhead lights stay off

[lesbiandardevil]

ghost of you

[lavender-temult]

why do baby otohan’s colors look like fuckign TOOTHPASTE in this version 😭😭😭

[todayisafridaynight]

any hopes for kiwami 3? like things u wanna see added or changed stuff like that

if they dont keep kiryu's goofy walk stance and the hoof-like walk sounds i dont wanna play it

[sonknuxadow]

i cant help but notice that in the version of the ending where sage doesnt "die" and gets to go home with eggman shes not flashing between color palettes shes white and blue the whole time in that scene . and in all sonic channel art of sage thats been released since the final horizon dlc came out shes been in her white and blue color palette. is that just what she looks like permanently now ..?

[weedpoop]

markers on paper + acrylics on canvas board

[your-sym-card]

DO YOU GOT

GAMES ON YO PHONE

[chiscribbs]

I’ve been binging Rise of the TMNT with my sister lately and we’re both a little bit obsessed. This show is so good and the movie is just amazing - we’ve rewatched it like 10 times already. I especially like the art style of the show, it’s so shape-y and colorful and comic-like; the character designs and color palette are just really satisfying to look at imo.

Donnie and April have one of my favorite dynamics on the show (possibly tied with Donnie and Mikey, PB&J is just so wholesome). I knew I would love them from the very first moment I saw them interact and then episodes like the Purple Jacket and Donnie vs. Witch Town just sealed the deal for me. They have such great chemistry and anytime I see them sharing the screen, I become twice as invested. So I just had to draw this awesome pair having a good time and laughing about something together idk what, specifically, you decide - suggestions welcome. It’s what they deserve. 💜💚💛

Expect plenty more Rise art to come, ‘cause I’ve got a lot of ideas for these guys that I’ve been dying to share :> (As well as more TTS, now that my love for it has had a resurgence, lol)

[hoodieseasoned]

this is me procrastinating

(every time i open my tablet ibispaint burns holes into my soul,, begging me to finish at least one art before starting another EDIT: I FORGOT TO MENTION I OPEN MY TABLET SOLELY FOR ONE OTHER PURPOSE AND THAT'S FOR DOING NONOGRAM PUZZLES LOL)

empires lizzie again 💕🥰✨

i forgot how i drew the dress initially so this is the result of damage control after one REALLY destructive purple marker (it is still wayyy too dark at the bottom but oh well what can you do,, at least the sunset-y palette is pretty nice)

no progress pictures for this one as i forgot to take any with my actual camera,, just those one-time-watch photos for whatsapp

this took like two weeks bc despite it being my "avoid-coloring-the-digital-joel-lizzie-&-jimmy" -procrastination piece,, i still managed to somehow procrastinate on this one as well !! wow !!

(i hope it translates well btw but she's supposed to be sitting on a rock with her legs under her,, idk i did the bottom of the dress at an awkward angle and realized it wayy too late lol)

[acrobattack]

bliss redesign based off one I made in my teens

thought process + various other bits and bobs under the cut

I was 15 and annoyed by everything that moved when this character first came out, so in my own head I was very much making a Point with this redesign. Hence, I made very minimal changes. I wanted to work with what was already there and basically just make the existing design more thought-through. Little breakdown ahead (keeping in mind i myself am very much An Amateur who doesn’t know shit and am just ranting about my opinions and i also haven’t seen a single second of the 2016 reboot so i don’t know much about Bliss to begin with)

1. one of my Biggest pet peeves with Bliss is that the powerpuff girls each have bangs that are simple, memorable, and iconic while also being unique from each other and being reminiscent of irl little girls hairstyles. It’s very neat and clever and I like it a lot

and then Bliss has this confusing jumble of shapes that looks like it changes in style halfway across her forehead

i have absolutely no idea what the intent is here. My only guess is maybe it’s meant to look weird on purpose like she was trying to cut it herself or something (I suspect it’s something like that since she seems to have normal looking bangs as a little kid from what I can see) but it doesn’t really come off that way if that’s the case. It just looks like baby’s first PPG OC where you Understand that it’s meant to be hair and that it is made out of shapes but have 0 understanding of hairstyle or character design in general. Heck I might have put this exact hairline on a character in the past at the age of like 8

So in my redesign she’s got 5 even notches across her bangs, not thee most exciting change but it does the job I think. It is pretty reminiscent of Blossom but they look different enough from each other that I wasn’t too worried about it

2. low-hanging fruit time, Bliss’s hair color is horrible on the eyes. I’m bewildered at the decision to do this, especially since there is just so much of it, I struggle to think of how she could exist in any scene without hogging all the viewer’s attention constantly. That said, I understand they wanted her to have an unnatural hair color to really signal that she is a Fresh new Teen character from the late 2010’s, which is. Whatever, that’s fine, so she gets purple hair now. I kept the streak for the same reason, especially since she’s got a lot of hair, so no harm in a little extra interest in there.

I also learned recently that her hair glows sometimes? which i did Not know when first drawing her but well i think the darker color helps anyway. It adds some contrast for when she’s normal vs when she’s glowing and makes the latter appear more,, idk threatening or powerful or whatever the mood generally is when she’s doing that.

I did re-add that toothpaste blue to her eyelids though. I like to think it’s also the color of her lasers. It’s a cute color, just not as like 70% of this character’s palette

3. real talk I was drawing this from memory and didn’t mean to change the way her hair flares out from her head. realistically I think the original is fine, maybe just a little boring but fine, so that part of the redesign was an accident. Only thing is, it’s in the exact same position in every screenshot I’ve seen? It doesn’t seem to whip around when she’s flying or anything which looks weird and probably looks weirder in motion, especially since it takes up so much space onscreen. Idk it’s a strange decision, esp since the original show liked to use the ppg’s hair to emphasize their movement, so I’d just bring more movement into her hair. I mean if nothing else it’d make her look cooler.

very very rough little visual of what I mean

I also ended up making it shorter in my redesign—again, not really intentional, but I think it’s better that it eats up a little less of her silhouette

4. Her headband is largely the same, I didn’t hate the idea of her having an accessory, so I just toned down the colors. I’m not personally a fan of the powder blue and that pink heart is very bright and just doesn’t go with the rest of her (once again the color of her hair is doing it no favors). I also moved the heart over. Not necessarily needed I think, but I feel like it reads quicker as a headband and not a weird crown that way+introduces some asymmetry into her design that I think is nice.

5. my biggest gripe other than her bangs are her hips. I’m not against adding anatomy to this character design to make her read visually as older than the girls, but it’s so awkwardly done and distracting. I feel like it even interferes with her line of action more often than not (which is not helped by her unmoving hair).

Part of the issue is she still has the teeny tiny torso, just… with those square-ish hips slapped on, which makes her legs look all gangly and stretched out. I tried to balance out the proportions more in my redesign, as well as change the hips to a flared skirt. I think it helps differentiate her from the girls and still implies hips underneath, it just also functions as a less clunky transition from her torso to her legs.

Lengthening her torso also allows the stripe to look more like a belt above the skirt, which I think helps to sell her as “similar, but not the same” from the ppg

6. Her leggings(? Idk Im not a fashion person) aren’t a bad idea I think. like a more mature version of the girls’ stockings, but I think the white makes them look really distracting. It would help to make them a darker color I think, but since I wanted to keep them reminiscent of the girls’ socks I kept them white and just shortened them.

7. Not really sure what Bliss is wearing on her feet. I think they’re Mary Janes, but they’re drawn a bit different from the girls’ and I honestly think it’s too babyish a shoe for her to wear. I’m not sure what she’s actually wearing in my redesign either honestly, but the goal was just to make them look like the girls’ Mary Janes while clearly being something different.

8. Uh her signature color is something I’ve contemplated changing a lot but to be real I think it’s fine. I feel it was a very bad idea from a marketing standpoint because people were hype about Bunny and would obviously be mad they didn’t get her once the character actually dropped (and in the long-run she would just end up being overshadowed by the character everyone has already assigned that color to) but I’m personally not bugged by her being purple beyond that. If I were to draw them together though I think Bunny would have a more pinky shade of purple and Bliss leans more blue.

Loosely on the same topic, because of Bliss I’ve had a running headcanon that “only child” types of powerpuffs tend to come out purple. Kind of like how trios tend to have a red, blue, and green. It’s a fun little piece of fake lore to rotate around in my brain

Anyway with all that out of the way, here’s some redesigns I decided to have some fun with. Wasn’t being too precious about recognizability or simplicity or anything like that, but I did run out of steam partway through. There’s also one based off Whoopass Bell bc idk, why not

Finally, here’s some OCs I only ever drew once before out of a desire to give Bliss her own teen girl archetypes to form a team with. This is Bee and Beetle, who I’ll probably definitely forget about again immediately after posting this

[chaifootsteps]

one interesting comment on the HB reddit is that it's not unusual for last minute delays because shows like South Park make changes right up to the last minute

but like, that strikes me like a bad comparison?

for as much as we clown on the color palette and how obnoxious Stolas looks in some shots, Helluva is still an expensive show to produce. the most corner cutting we see is the occasional animation mistake, frame rate drops or slight variation in character models (not to Steven Universe levels but I suspect Stolas' height has definitely changed episode to episode)

South Park meanwhile is a couple of cut out eggs with largely static backgrounds. there's way less overhead involved if they wanna do a quick change, especially with dialogue since the mouth animations are way less complicated

idk what it is they're tinkering with but my gut says it's way too late in the game to do major script changes without major delays or it being super noticeable in the edit

Yeah, South Park's whole deal is that they're able to whip out episodes lightning fast to make fun of current events while they're still topical. You can't do that with traditional animation unless you're willing to physically beat your animators with sticks, which I wouldn't put past Viv to do if she thought she could get away with it.

[nickfowlerrr]

my moodboard for @the-slumberparty’s test your palette visual challenge. this certainly sparked something in my mind.

short fic below the cut bc i was inspired 🕯️🥀🌚

the devil’s bride

pairing: demon!lee bodecker x witch!reader

warnings: 18+ only.

words: 2.3k

notes: idk i just had a thought and ran with it lol. let me know what you think. feedback and reblogs are always welcome and so appreciated. thanks in advance for reading 🖤

You came back to town for your sister’s funeral, heartbroken and enraged. She wasn’t a stupid girl. She never would have been out so late by herself, let alone drinking. The story you were told of what happened that night made no sense. None of it.

So you decided you’d find the truth on your own.

A simple incantation over a rigorously detailed ritual offering and not three days later the man she’d been seeing was mysteriously found dead. The church mourned over yet another life gone too soon as you scoffed at the scene. The spell worked to find her killer but you still felt a pull to do more. You were closer to the truth now, knowing Frank had killed her, but you surely weren’t the only one who knew that. The cover up story for your sister’s death, the one that made her out to be just some drunk harlot who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it came from somewhere. From someone.

You soon enough got your hands on the official case files. Each and every paper was filled out and signed off by the same man. Sheriff Lee Bodecker.

There was nothing you could truly do for your sister now, you knew that. But your rage only grew more palpable with each page you turned, with every lie you read. A fire burned within you and all you could see was red. All you could think was revenge. You wanted to know why. This was only a small piece of the puzzle that was Lee Bodecker. He was hiding something much bigger, much darker behind the “small” cover ups you were sure he hardly thought twice about.

There was something evil brewing in this town, dark, unnaturally powerful. You could feel it the moment you’d arrived. And your gut told you he was at the center of it. You were going to find out exactly what it was he was hiding, one way or another.

He wasn’t the only person willing to work with the devil himself to get their way. And when a girl looks as sweet as you, even the sharpest of men won’t see her coming.

You’d made a deal with the devil before, one more couldn’t hurt. He’d find you to collect eventually, you’d make the most of what magic and time you had left to try and do what little good you could.

You would just need to get close to him, gain his trust, and then find out the truth. Once you knew, you’d make your pact to put an end to whatever it was that was going on here, whatever shady dealings your sister had gotten entangled in that ended in her losing her life and having her name and reputation unfairly tarnished.

Two weeks of watching the Sheriff, two weeks of careful planning until you were sure you were ready to approach him. You pulled at the skirt of your dress with one hand, the other holding your homemade pie as you carefully walked up the steps to his house. You made sure you looked as nice as you could, all made up and dressed just right to ensure you would hold his eye the moment he saw you.

The sheriff was an intimidating presence, you could feel it even now. He held power and there was something in his eye that made it near impossible to look away once he had you in his sights. He was a handsome man, too, only adding to the draw you couldn’t deny. You took a breath to steel yourself before knocking on the door. It was only a moment until he answered.

“Can I help you, darlin’?” he asked after pulling open his front door, looking you up and down. You didn’t miss the way his eyes lingered on your cleavage, the top button of your dress having been purposely left undone to give him just a little view.

“Hi there, uh, Sheriff?” you asked feigning uncertainty, “I’m not sure I’m at the right address,” you laughed coyly, balancing the freshly baked pie in your hands.

“You’re at the right place,” he reassured you. “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

You internally cringed at the pet name but forced a demure smile on your lips as you fluttered your lashes up at him; his crystal blue eyes peering down at you.

“The real question is what can I do for you, Sheriff. I just wanted to come by and say thank you, for all your hard work. Abigail was my sister, she uhm,” you paused, swallowing the small lump in your throat, “well you know, all that went down. I’m just thankful you got the case solved as quickly as you did. It was, horrible. But better to know what happened than to be left wondering,” you smiled sadly.

You lifted the pie in your hands to bring it up to him, your offering. “Wasn’t sure what the best way to thank you would be, but I figured a pie wouldn’t hurt to start with.”

“That’s mighty kind of you,” he paused, prompting you to give him your name. You did and watched as he repeated it, your name falling off his tongue, nearly dripping in honey from his accent. You smiled.

“I’m sorry about your sister,” he offered, your jaw tightening as you worked to keep your smile on your lips, hoping the flash of ire that burned in your eyes wasn’t noticeable to him. That wasn’t why you were here, but you knew he didn’t care, and hearing him say he did irritated you.

“But thank you. Who am I to turn down a pie from a pretty lady,” he smirked, letting his eyes roam over your body once again when he took the pie from your hands. “Sure looks good,” he said, his eyes still on you, “bet it tastes good, too.”

“Only one way to find out,” you said, voice wavering on sultry as you held his eye before dropping your gaze to his pink lips briefly, then back up. You held your hands behind your back as you blinked up at him. You smiled again when his tongue jutted out to wet his lips. “You let me know how you like it. And if I can do anything else for you, Sheriff, just let me know.”

You made to turn and go, but his voice stopped you, just like you hoped.

“Wait a minute, darlin’, you walked over here all by yourself?”

“I did,” you answered.

“Well, I can’t have you walkin’ out there alone in the cold, can I. ‘Specially not in nothin’ but a dress. Why don’t you come inside, have a slice of pie with me and I’ll give you a ride home after.”

“Oh, I’d hate to put you out, Sheriff,” you opposed weakly for the sake of politeness as you toyed with the hem of your dress, your fingertips brushing against your thighs, goosebumps rising on your skin. “Though it is a bit colder now than when I first started walkin’ over here,” you smiled shyly.

“Come on in, sweetheart, it’s nice and warm inside. Make yourself at home,” he said as he walked back and held the door open for you.

You smiled widely at his words and made your way inside. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

“Lee,” he offered.

“Lee,” you nodded as you passed him in the doorway, brushing up against him more than you needed to. The warmth radiating from him sent a wave of heat right through you, but you didn’t let the effect he was already having on you show. You could feel his eyes on you as you walked further in, following the sway of your hips before he shut the door behind you and followed you in. He led the way to the kitchen, setting down the pie on the table before he returned to you with a pie cutter and two plates and forks. You gently took the cutter from him, your touch lingering on his hand for a second. “Please, allow me,” you said before cutting him a piece and placing it on his plate. You cut a smaller slice for yourself, no real intention of eating it as you watched him sit down in his seat, sliding the plate closer to him.

You took your own seat and crossed one leg over the other as you waited for him to try it. But seeing how easy it was to get him to let you inside, you weren’t even sure you’d need him to eat it to have the man wrapped around your finger. Everything was playing out just the way you wanted it to.

Lee’s moan brought you back to yourself as you smiled at him, watching him chew before he swallowed his bite.

“Take it you like it,” you tittered.

“Just might be the best damned pie I’ve had,” he grinned at you. “Real sweet,” his blue eyes burned into your own, an intensity there you weren’t expecting quite yet. A twinkle of something you couldn’t place shining as he looked at you.

“‘M glad you think so,” you breathed. “New recipe, made it specially for you.”

“Hope you didn’t go through too much trouble on my account,”

“Oh, not at all. I wanted to.”

He smirked at that, his eyes sharper now as he took you in. He licked his lips wolfishly before he spoke.

“So, you come all the way down here just to proposition me, honey?”

You stilled completely at his words. Tilting your head at him as you furrowed your brow incredulously, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me, darlin’. You come down here to whore yourself out to the first man who catches your eye, like that little sister ah yours?”

You took a deep breath as you willed yourself to remain calm, though the set of your jaw and the flaring of your nostrils surely gave you away.

“I’m only gonna tell you this once, Lee, don’t talk about my sister again.”

“Oh, you’re gonna tell me, is that right?” His grin was wicked as he taunted you. “You think you can tell me what I can and can’t do? You’re dancin’ with the devil, darlin’.”

“Don’t worry about me,” you shook your head, refusing to break eye contact first, “Me and the devil, we get along just fine.”

He laughed heartily at that as you maintained your composure. If he thought for one second you’d be scared of him, he was sorely mistaken. Even as he stood, getting closer to you, invading your space as he towered above you, you didn’t budge.

His hand was suddenly on your chin and when you went to swipe at him, he squeezed hard, tutting at you as you dropped your hands back down.

“I want you to tell me why you’re really here, darlin’.”

“What’s wrong, Lee? Is it so hard to believe a pretty girl would actually go out of her way to bake you a pie? To stop by and say ‘Thank you for all you do, Sheriff,’” you exaggerated your faux gratitude as his eyes darkened while he listened. “I bet what’s really hard to believe is that anyone in their right mind would ever want you to fuck them. One soft smile and a stupid innuendo from a nice girl in a short dress had you opening up your home. I really thought you’d make it just a bit harder,” you taunted, earning a growl from him as he yanked you up out of your seat. You found yourself being pressed against his chest, his strength more than you’d imagined.

“You can play all you want, but you think I couldn’t smell your sweet cunt the second you stepped up on my porch? I know you’re all hot and bothered,” he pushed you back against the table as he spoke crudely, “wet and ready for me already, like a good little whore.”

“I’m no man’s whore,” you bit back, refusing to back down. He chuckled deep in his throat.

“No you’re not, are ya. You, are the devil’s whore, ain'tcha,” he said, voice thick with lust as he leaned over you. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him, the blues of his eyes flashing the deepest black you’d ever seen before their color returned, his smirk right along with it. “Sweetheart, you’re lookin’ at the devil himself. Been waitin’ for you to show up for a while now. Finally make good on that deal you made me. I got ya outta this town just like you wanted. You had a few good years. But it’s time ya come back to me. Waited for you long enough,” he breathed. You gasped in pain as an unexpected, sharp, searing fire burned in your chest and along the ring finger of your left hand. You pushed against his hold on you, writhing uncomfortably in his grasp until suddenly the burn was gone. You clutched at your chest as you gasped for breath. He grabbed your hand and held up his left hand in yours, your eyes landed on a solid silver band on his ring finger and a diamond banded ring on your own.

“What-” you started before being cut off by his brash tone.

“Oh don’t act so surprised. You knew damn well what you agreed to when you made that pact. Five whole years, magic and freedom, and then you’re mine, sweetheart. Forever and always.” He placed his hand over the left side of your chest, a sudden tightness was felt on your heart, a tight squeezing that shouldn’t have been possible.

“Don’t look so scared, honey,” he simpered, his hands finding your waist as he began feeling you up. “We’re gonna have a whole lotta fun together, you and me. And if you’re good, I’ll even let’cha keep your magic. Don’t work on me anyway.”

[snackugaki]

... just make an iteration* for fun, I said

a universe where they've made it into their late 30s-early 40s and they chill and can be serene in the company of friends and family for once. maybe a flashback or two for the action moments

"fix" your childhood turtles so they can have a reprieve and some shenanigans, i reasoned with myself--

WELP.

my tmnt au iteration (where everyone made it past their 20s, splinter’s alive just old, venus is here, and they deserve some goddamn respite and shenanigans)

tmnt au iteration part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9

tmnt au iteration omake 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11

lny visit 1 | 2

is this actually new ramblings for the iteration or like one new lore bit and just a rerererererehashing of lore i sprinkled across the other posts.

first though, with my sorta-outsider-not-active-participant-in-fandom history I realized "au" isn't the proper term for what I've been doing, the more suitable term is "iteration".

and we're gonna sit with the fact that even someone at my old-ass age recognized my previous understanding of a term was, for all intents and purposes, not entirely correct and that I acknowledged it, rectified when I could, and that's it, it can be that easy.

...

okay back to the bullshit.

so my Mondo was introduced in the Archie run, a funky guy with a metal band called Merciless Slaughter, dressed like a punk Hulk, all around good peoples, hung out with the Mutanimals.

His design cobbling isn't too deep, I don't think. Just thought it'd be more rad if he looked more like a guy who fronts a band called Merciless Slaughter while remaining the same ol' Mondo inside, post mutation.

Kept some of his original color palette around in his hat, his pants, his NYHC logo (links) knockoff, and his little dyed leather cord bracelets.

the letters for the logo are for, Skate or Die (across), and Merciless Slaughter (down)

hmm still waffling on if I'm more tickled by him being taller than Mikey or the same height (5'4")

_________

and now for the rererererehash rambling because none of this design progression is coming out linear for me. so super quick, am an original 90s turtlemania survivor, Rise brought me back, gorged Rise then Bay then 2007 movie then rererererewatching of Next Mutation and the 90s trilogy for fun then hacking my way back through the Archie and Mirage runs then caught up with IDW and then just... slogging through 2003 and 2012 which honestly I feel like I got the gists of through gif sets alone.

one hand I can see why old fans (90s turtlemania) didn't seem to like the Rise designs, ours really were just the same li'l green dude but in different colors and hit sticks looks-wise. But here comes Rise with all the character design classics: different shapes! different sizes! exaggeration! and that's on top of all the nudges and twists made to the usual lore; Raphael is now the oldest, Leo and Donnie are now twins, they're different species of turtles, they're tools for war, brand new antagonists etc.

idk, to me when I was watching that shit, it was fun and refreshing so... ionno, built different cope maybe to the other oldheads pissing their pantaloons still ig whatevs

what tickles me most, personally, is the utter fuckton of Rise AUs, and a few Rise-driven iterations, and also some of the other non canon media iterations. so tickled that I got hit by the makeaniterationigitis itllbefunoccocal virus too. UnU (i'm kidding, i'm having so much fucking fun) just I'm addressing the flowers I wanna give to the kids who took Rise's take on tmnt and just RAN with the "different turtle species" from full out coloring their turtles the same as the species they picked to mimicking Rise's design language with different markings.

God, the markings thing just really nestled into my heart, it's such a simple thing and yet it took Rise to just try it, not even a lot, just a little for flavorrrrr. It's just enjoyable as fuck to me tbh and I'm sharpening my teeth when I revisit my coloring choices for the 8th time... fuck where was I?

right, mine are mistakes. wrongright place at the wrongright time, mutagen was there and now they can swing swords around and eat pizza.

someone(s) was high tailing it outta a TGRI lab with some mutagen barrels, driving recklessly while a bunch of eco-vigilantes had broken out of a pet shop that was the face of a black market pet trade/medicine/exotic food racket of endangered species. hence where their bit of human pre-mutagenic contact comes from (the strike team of people who freed them from their cages because all of them were endangered species & destined for a tank, a cutting board or a pill box); including a sea turtle Venus, Leatherhead, Tokka, Rahzar, Man-Ray some others etc etc. Jennika keeping her origin because it was dope as fuck. splinter was just there watching this symphony of human fuckery happen and decided to adopt some kids with no one asking (it was tang shen's onryo that is rooted in Splinter's mind that was asking, shh)

and ever since it clicked when I was gathering ref shots, ✨sea turtle Venus just makes sense✨ to me, it's taken my brain stem and rung it like a bell for new year's nonstop and i am not mad

... fuck, I am but also am not looking forward to when I start delving into ninjutsu, ninpo, Venus' whole schtick and how the supernatural fits into this world that I definitely don't need to be fleshing out this much just to draw them chilling on April's couch.

i've got like over 70 refs, holy shit

[cactusringed]

Etho and Bdubs' meeting | Political Intrigue AU

Putting it in a tumblr post because idk if I can commit to a full fic that'll be posted on ao3 yet so I'll share this way

Word Count: 3,715

Content Warnings: Depictions of a staged suicide

The blood moon illuminates the night sky, painting the surrounding clouds crimson. Looking up through the glass roof of the observatory tower, Bdubs knows that today is to be the day he dies. 

Even before his vision, he’d known, somehow, that the blood moon would signify his end. He was always attracted to it like a moth to a flame. Except moths aren’t aware — Bdubs doesn’t think — of the fate awaiting them once their delicate wings brush against the harbinger destined to extinguish their life. Bdubs is. He is, he believes, the most painfully aware one could be about their demise. The blood moon calls to him the way a jailer would a prisoner on death row, marching him through that last corridor towards his end. 

“No, wait, I think a siren would be a more accurate metaphor,” Bdubs muses out loud, rubbing at his scruffy stubble. He should’ve shaved. Perhaps he still can. No. He’s meant to look this way, he knows. Images of his destiny flash in his mind and Bdubs screws his eyes shut in hopes to chase them away. 

It doesn’t work. He takes one shaky breath, then another. His lungs ache. When he opens his eyes again, his vision blurs with tears that he quickly blinks away. 

After spending over a year aware of the grisly details of his own death, one would expect Bdubs to have come to peace with it. He certainly thought he did. Yet here he is, staring up at the moonlit sky for what he knows is the very last time. Fighting back not only tears but primal fear that screams at him to rattle the bars of the cage fate has sealed him in. His heart gallops in his chest with such force he swears he feels its echoes against his ribcage, all the way up to his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he forces his gaze downwards, to the workshop he’s built in the main observatory room. To his very last painting:

A landscape - that of the country of Oblivion. He’d hoped to finish it before his death, but he supposes the least he can do is bring it to an acceptable state. He wonders how much his work will sell for. He wonders if he can ask his murderer to burn it all before they leave. 

Bdubs picks up his brushes and palette, the oil paints still wet from his last session, and works at the landscape. He paints a tree — thin, spindly, and grey — only to cover it almost immediately. He refines the cliff-face, as he’s done dozens of times, overworking the surface into a mush of dull colors and clashing textures before he throws his equipment to the ground in frustration. 

His mind’s eye always had trouble focusing on the picture he wanted to bring to life, the shapes blurring together even after spending hours studying references of Obliviate scenery — but now, with the promise of death hanging over his head, he finds it downright impossible to not only focus but also keep his every muscle from shaking. Come on, he wants to tell himself, it’s not like you’re going up on stage to give a speech. It’s just the day of your own murder. Relax.

Bdubs worries he might puke. Or cry. That would be worse. 

Another couple of breaths in and out. Shakier than before. He’s restless, to the point he knows he won’t be able to sleep no matter how late it gets, but also won’t be able to get anything useful done. What is there to do that would be useful mere hours, or potentially minutes, before his death? He could draft a will. He doesn’t know how to write one. Maybe he should’ve learned before he had to go and die, but to be entirely fair to him… no, he did know it was going to happen tonight for some time now. Ever since he knew of the blood moon. It just didn’t feel real enough to warrant any preparation, somehow. 

Bdubs looks at the unfinished landscape. The sculk that snakes through every crack of the cliff-face. It’s too flat, despite how hard he’s worked at it. It resembles the sketches and croquis he’s studied in tomes, but not the feeling they elicit in him. That infinite darkness that threatens to suck him in. He reaches for his paints, but pauses. Gazes up, instead. Up and around himself, searching for that blackness, for that feeling.

It must be here. They must be here. Whoever Oblivion sent to end him. Bdubs isn’t stupid — he knows they’ve been following him for a while. Studying his every move, habits, his entourage. Yet he’s never been able to feel the weight of their presence. Not a shadow has ever been out of place. No matter how hard Bdubs has looked, how much he tossed his room upside down. How much he’s raised his voice.

But he’s got to keep trying.

“Assassin,” Bdubs speaks in the Obliviate tongue, struggling with the soft and flat tones it forces upon him. “Show yourself. I know you’re here. You have to be. You’re here to kill me, are you not? So, show yourself. Let me see my own murderer before I die.”

Bdubs waits. He waits for what feels like a full minute, only to be met with complete, suffocating silence. His lip twitches downwards, but he keeps his chin high, and continues to speak in a register he knows to be far more proper than he prefers to speak in his native Celesti tongue. He should’ve worked harder on his lessons. 

“I’m unarmed. I don’t deal in violence. I just… wish to see your face. Then you can kill me,” Bdubs walks slowly, carefully, to the oak desk covered in loose paper and canvas pressed against one of the walls. His fingers trace over his sketchbook. He lets out a soft laugh, peering back up at the ceiling, looking out for any movement overhead. “I bet it’s not often you get to speak with your victim. I can offer you some critique. Because I have to say, the method you have planned for me… Well, it’s a bit too quiet. It’s like….” he frowns, unable to think of the right Obliviate word. “It’s boring,” he settles on the Celesti equivalent, before he switches back to the assassin’s tongue. “It will make my retainers suspect foul.”

Still nothing but silence, no matter how long Bdubs waits. A long sigh, as he lets go of held breath. He takes his sketchbook, worn at the spine, and holds it to his chest. He turns, raises a foot, intends to take a step — only to let out a roar of terror as he’s suddenly faced with a tall figure come out of nowhere. 

Bdubs stumbles back, and as quickly as he began screaming he slaps both hands over his mouth to silence himself, letting the sketchbook fall open by his feet. His back hits the edge of his desk, and he waits as the figure stands still as a statue. One, two — his eyes dart to the door, listening for guards, servants, anyone who might have heard the commotion. Only when he’s certain no one intends to ruin his moment does he drop his hands down, letting out a high pitched giggle. 

“You scared the life outta me!” he exclaims in Celesti. “I mean,” he corrects himself in quiet Obliviate: “You sca—”

The figure holds up a hand, and Bdubs stills, before letting out another, softer chuckle.

“Right. You understand Celesti. There’s no need to translate,” He insists on continuing in Obliviate, but it does save him some time.

Another stretch of silence. The figure lets their hand drop. They remain still, and though it fills the air with an awkwardness that would normally make Bdubs want to keep yapping — he instead finds himself transfixed by their presence. 

Slowly, as to ensure they don’t take it as an offensive move, Bdubs leans down to pick up his sketchbook. He opens it towards the end, and meets with a sketch of himself laid in bed, arms stretched out at his sides, small rivulets of blood dripping down. The blood moon shining in the window. He’s transfixed by it for just a moment, his throat closing up.

He flips the page. More angles of his dead body. A few sketches of gloved hands taking hold of his wrist. The fingers are slender, long — one might call them delicate, even as they hold a blade to Bdubs’ wrist. 

A study of how the blood flows. It pearls at the edge of the cut at first. There’s a few attempts at getting it quite right. The amount of blood that begins to trickle, then pour out. The way it soaks Bdubs’ sheets. 

Then, finally, the main object of interest: The assassin. His sketches become more abundant, but less clear, as he focuses on them. Looking up at the figure standing in front of him, then down at his sketches, he’s happy to note he got their build right: Tall, slender, but not too much. Loose clothes that likely hide solid muscles. That’s another thing he realises he portrayed perfectly: Their outfit. The long, dark cloak hiding the near entirety of their figure. The large hood obscuring their head alongside a scarf wrapped around the bottom half of their face. The only part that remains uncovered is their eyes and a few strands of silver hair — easy enough to remember and portray, one would think. Yet it always remained blank both in Bdubs’ memory and sketches.

The surface of some of the pages have been rubbed raw from his eraser. Some have frustrated scribbles all over the assassin’s face. Others have just been left blank. It’s endlessly frustrating, and if he doesn’t get to do anything else before he dies, he hopes to at least fix this. 

“Can I…?” Bdubs reaches for the assassin’s scarf — only for them to suddenly jerk back before his fingers can even brush against the fabric. 

It’s the first movement he’s seen from them, a proof they’re not just a hallucination. It makes him jump, and he tenses in expectation of a blow that never comes. The assassin just adjusts their scarf securely on their face before peering down at Bdubs’ sketchbook. They point. A silent question hangs in the air.

Bdubs frowns. “Can you use your words?”

“No.”

Their voice is deep, surprisingly so. It’s also rough around the edges — the way one’s voice sounds after waking up in the morning. And a bit muffled by the scarf. 

“Very clever,” Bdubs grins, reaching to shove playfully at the assassin. They move away. “It does mean you can speak though, so— Oh, how do you say in Obliviate… you know, like… gotcha? Do you guys have a word for gotcha?”

Bdubs swears he hears a quiet, near inaudible snicker from the other. 

“You can switch to Celesti. I’d rather you did, actually,” they say in perfect Celesti. Not a trace of an accent. Not even an intonation amiss, despite how much more melodic Celesti is compared to the flatness of Obliviate. Bdubs could mistake him for a native if he didn’t know better, and if it wasn’t for the paleness of his face. 

“Right, yeah, I was tryna impress you, but turns out I’m real rusty. But hey, I was doing well enough, yeah? Since you came down from your little hidey hole?”

Silence. They’re still pointing. 

“...So, uh, what’d you want my sketchbook for?”

The silence stretches, until the assassin seemingly remembers it’s their turn to speak. “I want to see.”

Bdubs raises a brow. “Not the most eloquent sort, are ya?”

They blink.

“Just gimme a second, okay?” 

Bdubs reaches for one of his charcoal pencils, and holds the book open against his chest. He peeks up at the assassin, then down at the page, lightly finishing up one of his attempts at a portrait. He sticks out his tongue as he adds the outline of lips he can barely see through the scarf, refines the shape of their face, and draws the long, white eyelashes caressing scarred skin. The hint of sculk Bdubs can barely see, pulsing like veins burrowing deep within the assassin’s skin. He goes at it for a moment, before he finally gives up with a dissatisfied huff. 

“It’s not as pretty as you are in real life,” he holds the sketchbook out to the assassin. “But have a looksie, if you want. It’s kind of… Ah, well, you can keep it as a souvenir after you’ve killed me! I’m sure in a few decades you’ll be able to resell it for some pretty money. I mean, can you imagine?” Bdubs gestures when the assassin takes hold of the book. “‘The prophet prince’s last drawings.’ People will fight for it!”

The assassin doesn’t seem to find it quite as funny as Bdubs does. They stare at him blankly, jaw slack, before seemingly remembering to look down at the pages, ignoring Bdubs’ grin as they do. He doesn’t let it get him down. Instead he watches their piercing grey eyes dance across the pages. He doesn’t think he did them justice. He wishes he had more time. They genuinely are beautiful.

Their fingers run over the sketches. As they study the depictions of themselves knocking Bdubs unconscious and slitting his wrist, Bdubs can’t help but hyperfocus on their hands. They’re like a pianist’s. He wonders if they play instruments. Are Obliviate assassins allowed to partake in hobbies? Arts? 

“I wasn’t sent by anyone,” their voice force Bdubs out of his imaginings. They stop on a page depicting them hopping out of Bdubs’ bedroom through the window and disappearing into the darkness of the night. It was a bit of a challenging pose to figure out. Bdubs is proud of that sketch. He doesn’t think it’s what they’re admiring. “My actions were planned by myself, in opposition to my orders. You are dangerous, but no one seems to see that.”

Bdubs swallows heavily. A strange calm had settled over him, ever since the assassin revealed themselves — but their saying that turns his blood to ice. He’s suddenly aware of every inch of his body, and the way they scream at him to run, or hide, or fight — something. Instead, he stays frozen as the assassin circles him, takes in the room as if they hadn’t been spying on him for stars know how long. 

“You showing me this,” they tap their fingers on the pages. “It made me realise something I hadn’t considered before.”

Bdubs opens his mouth to speak, but the assassin continues before he gets even a sound out:

“If I choose not to kill you tonight. What happens with your vision?”

“I…” Bdubs looks down at his dead body laid on the pages. It’s hard to speak. He should stop staring. He can’t. “I don’t… know. Every single thing I’ve predicted has come true, no matter how hard I’ve worked to stop them. I don’t know what happens if… if they don’t. I think it would just push away the inevitable. If you don’t kill me today, then you’ll do it on the next blood moon. Or the one after. It’s not the first blood moon I’ve seen since the vision, after all. I could just be wrong on the exact date. Both of us could be.”

The assassin shakes their head. “Even if the date isn’t right, I won’t do it like this,” they gesture at the book. “So it still wouldn’t be true. Besides, you knew this blood moon was to be the one. I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’ve never called out to me the way you have tonight. You knew it was today.”

“I just… felt it, somehow. I tend to, with my visions. Even if nothing indicates a specific date within the vision itself, I just… feel it, when it’s about to happen,” he shrugs. “With normal prophecies — you know, the one they do all those fancy rituals for? With those, it’s kind of a fifty-fifty as to whether they’ll actually happen. But mine have always, always come true, no matter what. I’m just too good at this divination thing!” He laughs. It comes out wrong. Stilted. Tearful. 

The assassin watches Bdubs pace. 

Bdubs’ eyes find the image of the assassin’s bloodied blade, placed in his limp hand. 

“...I don’t wanna die,” he finally admits, quietly. A few tears roll their ways down his cheeks. “I just know — well, I don’t know… what’s meant to, to happen. If you stop it, I mean. I don’t know what happens if you don’t kill me. If I— If I wake up, tomorrow. I don’t know what… what would happen. I’m not meant to. It— It won’t. It won’t happen. You know?” he looks up, his lips trembling uncontrollably. 

He feels like a damn child. 

The assassin is obviously uncomfortable. Their previously relaxed posture grows suddenly tense. Their shoulders are almost all the way to where Bdubs assumes their ears would be. They reach into their coat and Bdubs gasps, sharply. His eyes squeeze shut. He expects the stab of a knife. For all of it to have been a ruse. A way to finally end their conversation and get to the very reason they came here. 

But nothing comes.

Bdubs takes one, two — up to three shaky, hiccuping breaths, before he opens his eyes again and looks up. What he sees is not a knife, but instead a handkerchief. It’s held in front of him awkwardly, the assassin staring at him unblinking. Bdubs hesitates, before he takes it and wipes the tears off his face. Except the very act of compassion coming from what should be his assassin makes his tears double, and Bdubs sobs embarrassingly against the cloth. 

“We’ll find out what happens when a vision of yours does not come to fruition, then. Because I won’t kill you. You won’t die by my hand, prince Bdubs.” 

Their voice is so gentle, now. Bdubs nearly chokes on air as he tries to calm himself. As he tries to listen. Take it in.  

“I was only sent here because we found out about your vision. Before you worry — none within your court knows. We’ve only inferred it through our surveillance. I will report back, explain what happened. They’ll send another spy to continue monitoring your safety. Oblivion never wanted you dead, so you won’t have to be afraid of them. And it means… you’ll know: There’s a way to stop your visions.”

Before Bdubs can say anything, before he can thank them, they turn away. They take a step to leave. Bdubs’ tears stop in an instant, and he reaches for them. For their cloak. He pulls them back towards him, and wraps his arms around them in a tight embrace, feels the air escape from their lungs as he squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, voice only shaking a little as he clings to the assassin’s clothes. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you. I don’t even know your name, I—”

“My— My name’s not important.” The assassin’s voice is strained, as if in pain. They pat Bdubs’ hand in what he assumes is a gentle attempt to pry him off. He doesn’t let go quite yet. “We won’t meet again. Just… try to find a way to stop your visions. If anything, for your own sake.”

Bdubs shakes his head. “I won’t let you leave,” he declares. “Not after you saved my life. Not after you did… did this. You were sent to protect me, right? So you must be pretty good! Then, I want you to stay. I can write to Oblivion, get them to keep you here. Then you can help me stop the visions from coming true again. Yeah?”

He finally pulls away so he can walk around the assassin and face them, sniffing as he watches them shake their head.

“I’m not a protector. I’m an assassin. The only reason I was sent here was to neutralise your murderer. Since I technically have, there’s no reason for me to stay. Especially now that I’ve revealed myself to you. It… goes against almost every tenets of the code,” they sigh, reaching to pinch the bridge of their nose. “It just can’t happen. I’m sorry.”

“... Will they hurt you? For… you know,” Bdubs gestures. Could the price of his life be his would-be assassin’s death? Does he want to know? “...If not your full name, can you give me… I dunno, a nickname, the first letter —  anything? I don’t wanna forget the person who broke my curse. Please? Then I’ll let you leave. And I’ll promise not to speak a word of this. To anyone.”

The other furrows their brow, and studies Bdubs’ face. They shake their head again, and brush Bdubs’ hands off themselves. “Slab,” they finally offer. Bdubs recognises it: A clan name. A… very prominent one. “And what happens to me isn’t something for you to worry about. I’m… uh… Sorry. For causing you stress.”

There’s an awkward pause, then, before they take a step back. Bdubs lets them. He watches them as they climb back up to the rafters, open a window, and leave without a trace. 

“...Slab…” Bdubs looks down at his sketchbook, hugs it to his chest. Clouds creep closer to the blood moon, obscuring its glow. The observatory is plunged in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering candles on Bdubs’ desk. 

He’s alive. His vision has come and gone. 

He sits at his desk. Opens his sketchbook, picks up a pen, and begins sketching. 

He draws until the sun rises. A feverish attempt to burn the Slab assassin’s image in his head. Draws until one of his retainers knocks on the door and scolds him for not showing up at breakfast. Until they drag him out of the observatory, force him to breathe the fresh air outside. 

He’s free of the burn in his lungs as he’s smothered into unconsciousness, of the blade splitting his arms open. 

He’s alive.

[blatantlyhidden]

hey idk if u already got this ask because tumblr exited mid me typing because it fucking hates me shsksksk <//33

but if you could be käärijä’s stylist for the upcoming euro tour and style 5 new outfits, what would you give him? (everything down to accessories and makeup btw! go crazy if u want 💖)

also if he ditches the green colour palette will you be sad and is there a new colour theme you think he should go for? 🌈

also good luck with your travels 💘 i understand how nerve racking that can be !!

omg i so sorry this is so late, but thank you so much for sending this <33

okay you have to excuse me for being a little delulu here but listen...jere in any of these and i would die (sorry it's only 4 but therefore with visuals)

the see-through pants are for scientific reasons, yes.

also i don't think i'm gonna be too sad if/when he ditches the green. i liked it bc it goes especially well with the black but i also do feel the need for something new. and if it was up to me i would LOVE to see him embrace the black and "edgy" aesthetic even more with maybe a few accent colors here and there. but i'm a sucker for all black outfits <3

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

To whom would you recommend Poor Things, since you mention it's Not for Everyone? Who are the ones it is for?

tbh idk who it's for, other than Definitely Me! but the plot centers on (sort of a spoiler but it's in the first act and i knew this going in) a woman brought into being when a dead woman's corpse was reanimated by putting in her head the brain of the baby she was pregnant with, which is a Big Premise in general and which is, to say the least, uncomfortable for many people because it's definitely the case that there's a period of like maybe a few months to a year max between when she has the brain of a literal newborn baby and when she starts having sex which the movie frames as consensual. i don't agree with people saying the movie is child abuse apologia because i think the movie is pretty clear that the character's development follows non-realistic story logic of the kind one might be expected to find in a story with this sort of gonzo premise (like... "reanimated corpses with baby brains in adult bodies brought to life through zapping exhibiting rapid development" are not a class of people that exists in the real world and i am simply not concerned about what this movie might have to say about them, because of how they are pretend and made up), but i definitely understand why someone would just viscerally be like "gross, i don't want that." the friend i saw it with also did not care for it although she said it was worth watching once, i don't think for those reasons but i think it was just a little artsy and weird for her. it has a very splashy visceral style (many shots look like you are watching the reflection on a silver ball rather than the scene itself and that's just one of the Things going on) which i really enjoyed but if you don't click with it you will probably find it annoying. the script mostly sounds very Written in a way that i liked hearing and think it pulls off but will be off-putting to those who don't like any movies with non-naturalistic dialogue. i myself have some Reservations about the earliest portion of the movie from a disability perspective - i think the movie mostly behaves itself, and i do understand why the r-word is in there although i don't know that it rose to the level of necessary i would want that particular word to meet, but there's some questions for sure about what an audience might find entertaining (or, frankly, what they might find uncomfortable) about watching emma stone play someone with limited language & gross motor skills to the degree that she has in this sequence - and the movie's charms outweighed my concerns but i understand why someone would turn it off fifteen minutes in for that reason. i think its depiction of sex work, an emotionally fraught topic for many, has the possibility to annoy or upset people from MULTIPLE angles.

so, who is it for? idk, people who don't mind any of that or at least don't mind any of it enough to have it ruin the movie for them. people who like a good old-fashioned bildungsroman and/or a strongly defined color palettes and/or a movie willing to take Big Ass Swings on every conceivable level start to finish. emma stone diehards (she is truly wonderful operating on a HIGH level of difficulty) and concerned citizens relieved to see mark ruffalo in a proper movie where he's not the fucking hulk. appreciators of national treasure willem dafoe, which, who amongst us. fans of that particular strain of late nineteenth century/early twentieth // late victorian love affair with science & technology & Knowledge & the belief in a perfectible world who also don't mind it if movies (gasp) touch on a variety of intellectual themes or pieces of social commentary without Having Anything Particularly Deep to say about them; relatedly, those who like a romp! (after knives out someone once asked rian johnson about the balance between, basically, making entertaining movies and saying something political, and he said, essentially, that it's not really a balance, it's just that it's only fun if it's smart so the real-world shit winds up in there to make it a more satisfying story, which is literally exactly how i feel like go off sagittarius king, and is why i roll my eyes at people complaining about the empty class commentary of knives out or whatever - yeah it IS in fact primarily interested in providing audiences with an entertaining time rather than starting the revolution or whatever, and thank god - and i think applies to this movie, too, which some detractors accuse of not living up to its intellectual ideals, but which to me feels like a movie that wants to be a good time and a peculiar sort of science-fiction fairy tale and seeks to achieve that by happening to be interested in the world along the way.)