A late night sketch just because…
I have this headcanon that Larcade was the leader of the Dragneel clan 400 years ago and Acnologia was one of his best friends (along with Anna). As a priest Larcade wanted to solve the dragon conflict as peacefully as possible but Acnologia wanted to join the fight and end it before it gets out of hand. Eventually, they took different paths and in the end Acnologia lost control, turned into a dragon, and fought Larcade. Larcade could absorb and release human souls whole Acnologia could do the same but to dragons. Larcade was killed but Zeref managed to revive him 400 years later. This is why Zeref said Larcade has the potential to defeat Acnologia because Acnologia prefers to travel in human form for now. Larcade doesn’t really remember what happened in the past and knows little about himself. Maybe when he sees Acnologia and Lucy his memories will come back gradually.
Sorry late night brainstorming is my jam >w>
It feels good to use my sketchbook again :3
Photographers and pictures like this, the ones that blatantly dehumanize the object of the photo by generalizing them to the extent that an entire country’s international persona is perceived based upon the platform that the entirety of the population, over a billion people, are all like the person in the photo is why organizations like national geographic is hypocritical at best. The photographer, a white semi middle class female, presents a young dark skinned female in traditional dress in an “exotic” location and equates her traveling the country by train to that of Gandhi?! Because Gandhi “discovered” the “soul"of India by traveling in the "low-caste” compartments of trains? Am I the only one that sees the disrespect here? There is no mention of the girls name, her family, or her struggle- only the generalization that she Is representative of all of India. But, God forbid if NatGeo posted the photo and didn’t credit the photographer, Effendi. Could you imagine if they had spelled her name wrong too? That would be “unacceptable”. You see, the photo becomes entirely obsolete due to the photographer’s blatant dehumanization and fetishization of the “poor”. People like this don’t acknowledge that the “soul” of a place, of a people, of an entire culture is not independent of the people themselves. As long as they can “relate” to the struggle and claim to be “knowledgable” and “charitable” because they’ve taken one of those small train-rides, who the hell cares about the little girl whose photo got them paid?
Sorry for the rant but I’ve seen too many photos like this in the last few days and I needed to get this out. //rant//
Hey, everyone. You know that wicked awesome fic idea going around, about tattoos manifesting at significant points in your life? Yeah? Well, if you’re in the BBC Sherlock fandom, you’re in luck. Because this perfection is perfect. Go read!
Oh my babies - this one is gorgeous. It’s been a while since I wished this hard that an ending was not the end (not only because of what the end is but because this universe deserves so much more exploring).
I’ve read (and loved) several magical realism fics involving the external evidence of emotions - literal hearts on sleeves, as it were. This takes it one step further - all significant moments are represented naturally and unavoidably as tattoo-like skin pigmentations. We’re basically talking a whole world full of tattoo-covered, read-me-like-a-book, I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours translations of inner feelings. Just imagining what that would be like leaves me breathless. Of course, translated into John-and-Sherlock portraits, and I’m done for. Pre-slash (wish it was more!).
You didn’t get one for everything that happened in your life. That would have been a bit ridiculous, if your skin reacted every time you sneezed or ate an egg or got a paper cut. Only things that had a strong emotional impact, positive or negative, ended up imprinted on your skin, a permanent reminder for you and the world of how your sojourn through this earthly existence had marked you.
Some people were covered in garish sweeps of colour, blue and gold dragons breathing fire down their backs and entire solar systems encircling their necks, red and green planets orbiting yellow suns. Others were more modest, with thin, black tracings peeking out from necklines or subtle pastels on their ankles and behind their ears.
All of those obligatory sad “Frisk grows old and the monsters, ageless, look on sadly” arts are great, but
1) Monsters canonically age, if not at a human pace, then something close to it
2) Ple a s e picture badass old lady Undyne and her loving lizard wife of 50+ years; their home is practically a museum filled with vintage memorabilia from 201X, armor and weapons that range from the modern day to at least a millennia old, and cats (so many cats). Sans and Papyrus, weird great uncles with an elaborate garden. Sans hasn’t told an original joke in twenty-five years and he intends to keep it that way. Finally-independently-had-children-and-got-to-age Toriel and Asgore (alternately: Asriel’s SOUL is restored, which lets them start aging again by the same token); they are the best grandparents on the planet, and they became close friends again as the years wore on. If you want to picture Toriel’s final form, think Uncle Iroh.
tl;dr I know you guys like your sadstuck, but consider rad monster grandparents instead.