Ok so this intense urge to draw Jason came over me a few days ago, and so I did, but then I ended up getting closer than I have ever gotten to drawing him like I see him in my mind and I just kind of oHMYGAAAAHHHH I DID IT!
Michael Jacobs: This season on Girl Meets World we’re going to
tackle the deeper issues that kids can really learn from. We’re going
to make it all about personal growth and how to adjust to the world as
you get older.
Disney Execs: Cool story, bro. That
sounds lit and shit, but just so you know…we’re thinking about replacing
you with a show about a boy who is best friends with his talking hand.
Michael Jacobs: …Fuck
it. We’re going to bleep the shit out of Smackle while she teaches
Health class and have Cory draw a giant dick on the board, but pass it
off as a foot.
OK SO IN COMING UP WITH MY BACKSTORY FOR ASURA I KINDA WENT EVEN FURTHER OFF MY ROCKER AND I PROPOSE:
THE CORE OF A PERSON’S SOUL IS THEIR MEMORIES, WHICH IS SURROUNDED BY THEIR FEARS, AND THEN FINALLY THEIR PERSONALITY, WHICH IS ALTERED BY THE MEMORIES AND FEARS
IN A KISHIN’S CASE, MADNESS IS LIKE A CALCIFIED GROWTH ( sometimes of fear ) AROUND THE SOUL’S MEMORIES AND FEARS. THIS AFFECTS THE SOUL’S PERSONALITY.
Alright so Death split his soul to form Asura and Kidd, right? But he gave Asura his fear. This, Asura can form memories, and his personality can be shaped by these memories and these fears, but Asura can not form his OWN fears. In Kidd’s case he was not given Death’s memories nor his fear ( Death had none to give, obviously ), but merely Death’s personality. Over years of forming his own fear and memories, Kidd’s personality would have changed. As a newborn, though, he was like a creepy little copy of death.
Ok, so here’s,,, the Issue with giving someone all of your fear: 1) Not only can you yourself no longer feel or form fear 2) Fear can overcome a soul
At this point, the fear acts like madness and, essentially, you loose all personality and become a kishin. Asura’s soul most likely looks like the one above.
In those who have mental illnesses that affect their personality/memories, mental illness appears as a little growth on the soul.
“I’m nuts, baby I’m mad! The craziest friend that you’ve ever had!You think I’m psycho, you think I’m gone! Tell the psychiatrist something is wrong! Over the bend, entirely bonkers, you like me best, when I’m off my rocker. Tell you a secret, I’m not alarmed. So what If I’m crazy, the best people are..” - Mad Hatter, Melanie Martinez
Everyone is mad in wonderland ^^ Wow, what a way to spend seven hours of my life. WORTH IT!
Also he is saying something along the lines of, “Bonjour Princesse.” Idk, but I love him!
You were Hiding in a broom closet. Why? We’ll get to that in a moment. First, let’s explore why you’re in a broom closet.
You were alone on V day. The day for people to express their love to their special one. It’s not like you were alone….. The people you had declaring their love for you were, in the nicest way possible, Off their fucking rockers!
You pressed your back into the wall as a pair of voices passed your hiding spot, scared to breathe. Oh god, they’re working to gether.
Normally, they hated each other.
This was BAD. VERY, VERY BAD,
“Hold on, cupcake bastard, we haven’t checked this one.” The door knob wiggled. Your heart thumped in your chest. You could see the smirk on the mafia leader’s face.
“Bella Raggazza,” He purred. “Come out for your marito.” He Griped the knb agian, tugging.
You clapped your hands over your mouth, shaking. Then, an idea came to you. You pressed your feet agianst the door, your back still agianst the wall. No matter what they wanted, you wouldn’t be giving it to them.
“Alright, that’s it. No more Mr. Nice guy.” You snorted. When was Luciano Vargas EVER nice?
The dor rattled as a heavy weight slammed into it. You lost your hold on the door, landing on your bottom.
“Hold on, chap.” Oliver. If you weren’t scared then, you must’ve not been human.
“Let me try. Poppet! Please come out! We won’t hurt you! We just want to make you ours!”
Your heart thumped even faster, leaving you nearly breathless. “No!”
“Oh, Poppet. My patience is wearing thin. You won’t like me when I’m angry, love.”
Under the soft lilting of his accent there was a hard and furious tone. It demanded obedience. NOW.
You shook. You couldn’t just give in to them. You’d be locked in a basement, or be made into pasta.
“She’s not coming out.” Luciano.
“Give her time.” Oliver.
“Let’s leave. She’ll come out when we’re gone.”
The sound of echoing footsteps made you let go of the breath you’d been holding. You set your feet on the ground, takng a moment to let your heart stop pounding. A moment after you were sure they’d left, you’d unlocked the door and slowly opened in.
Seeing no sign of them, you stepped out of the closet.
A gloved hand came over your mouth. Pasta scented breath blew past your ear.
“Naughty bella. Hiding from your Marito.”
You turned, your nose brushing a well sculpted cheek. “I don’t speak Mexican.”
The italian let go of you, sputtering. Then his face twisted in sinister, murderous rage. “Raggazza.” He growled.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. You’ll catch more flies with honey than with vineger, Luciano.” Oliver walked in front of you, a wide smile on is face. He took your chin in his hand, pressing a kiss onto your cheek. Your face burned bright red.
He chuckled. Flicking his eyes to Luciano, he said, “ Take our Poppet to the Room.”
Luciano’s hand came up to yous mouth, pressing a damp cloth into your face. You struggle, before taking a deep breath in and feeling yourself go limp.
Happy singles awareness day?
lol. The next one I write will have to do with star wars. So have your questions ready for star wars week, because I take requests.
there were a million ways bailey could have spent his day off, but what he woke up and got straight to doing was something he had dreamed of accomplishing ever since he was a youngster. all he needed was a stand, a big piece of cardboard, some sharpies, and his b e a u t i f u l presence. he set the booth near the beach, propping the sign he had worked on endlessly for almost an hour on top. it read: ‘ BAILEY COOPER’S FREE KISSING BOOTH! ’ the letters were big, bold, and lined with hearts all around. he figured waiting until february was no fun and it was now or never. hopefully he’d get some memorable smooches, or he’d give someone else a memorable smooch.
he stood behind the counter made of cardboard boxes, rested his palms on their surface, and grinned widely at any people who passed by. here went n o t h i n g, “ free kisses! get your f r e e kisses! i’m a celebrity, y’know! ” it had been a grand total of twenty-two seconds before he took on the persona of an obnoxious carnival game host, “ y o u, over there! yeah, you! don’t you want a kiss from lil’ ol’ me? it’s free and i swear, these lips are not rigged at all, ” he wiggled his eyebrows at the person, puckering his lips.