Ascended
Jules of Nature
$LAYYYTER
KIROKAZE
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year

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JVL
Three Goblin Art
tumblr dot com

祝日 / Permanent Vacation
todays bird
DEAR READER
ojovivo
art blog(derogatory)

Kiana Khansmith
Not today Justin
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
Keni

⁂
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
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@sniperct
Ascended
You're probably asking yourself, who is this person? How did she get the symbiont? Do I even want another Dax in my life? Does she always talk this much? These are all very good questions, and I wish I had good answers for you.
OC Pride Month Day 3
Caranwaen Starfall (art by @/sirmeo) from Lord of the Rings (as well as the same Original setting as Ithilrin) He/Him Bisexual | Polyamorous
imagine being the demons unlucky enough to breach the new honmoon on the polytrix wedding day. You think it'll be easy, get out, snatch a few souls while they're distracted, get back.
instead, you're staring down three incandescently angry women in wedding dresses snarling at you and your buddies. You're pretty sure steam is coming out of the tall one's ears and the small one in the glittery blue tux is looking at you like she plans on eating your bones as her reception appetizer.
None of them have summoned their weapons yet. The tall one cracks her knuckles and the small one's eyes get kind of crazy in a way that makes you want to face gwi-ma instead because you fear for your bones.
Then the middle one pops claws.
They do not make it quick.
Aliens have invaded and are taking over. Their technology, intelligence, and power is unstoppable. They just didnt plan on one thing: The old gods returning.
When they first arrived, we were overjoyed. Proof that we weren’t alone in the universe, that there were other races to share and exchange technologies with! Their arrival brought about world peace - with other life forms out there, we needed to present a united front. World hunger and poverty was solved within a decade, a demonstration to our new friends that we were worthy of the responsibility of exploring the galaxy.
They disagreed.
They accessed our histories, they saw everything, and they recoiled in horror. They could not fathom the world we had created, and the solutions we had brought about not because it was the right thing to do, but to impress them.
They were not impressed. They told us, regret tinging the translators, that we could not be trusted as keepers of this world. The damage we had done was coming close to being irreparable, and for our own good they’d need to take over.
I have to say, I agreed – humans are terrible. But the funny thing about humanity is, even if something is right, if it means giving up our control, it is wrong.
We fought back.
At first we fought back democratically. This race that had descended from the stars was peaceful, never seeming to favour violence. We didn’t think they’d start killing indiscriminately. We didn’t think they’d take inspiration from our own history books.
As with so many other things, we were wrong.
An extreme group of humans succeeded in ambushing and killing several of their high-ranking Xenos. Human lives were lost in the process, but the extremists saw that as a necessary sacrifice, a means to an end. The Xenos had been shown that we wouldn’t tolerate their kind here, that they should leave and let us get on with things how we always have.
Within days, war had been declared, and we learned why we should have tried harder. Had they decided to simply fight the moment they touched down, to systematically advance and wipe out every human life they came across, we wouldn’t have stood a chance. Their weapons, armour, tactics, the sheer firepower and the size of their armies were beyond comprehension. Out of rage and grief, they marched over us, and began the slow process of wiping us out. Bullets couldn’t pierce their armour and shields, rockets fell to the ground lifeless, and even nuclear devices were somehow disabled mid-flight.
Still we fought back. Humans never have figured out how to give up when all hope is lost.
There was no formal resistance of rebellion, we simply gathered, fought, and survived where we could. When something new happened, it took weeks, months, to reach every last survivor.
And then, something unbelievable happened.
Stories started filtering through to the pockets of us in hiding, strange stories – a freak electrical storm in Greece that appeared from a clear blue sky and wiped out a thousand of them in less than 15 minutes; Xenos impaled on braches of rare trees, some kind of grisly warning that we chalked up to particularly violent survivors in that area; whole armies frozen to death because the temperature around them had dropped too quickly for their environmental suits to keep up with. Freak weather patterns that worked in our favour, violent survivors, terrain they couldn’t navigate. That’s what we told ourselves when the stories filtered through.
But then they got weirder. There were stories of Xenos being swallowed by the ground itself. A pack of wolves, larger than anything ever before seen appeared from a crack in a mountain range to storm through an encampment and kill every last Xenos. There was a massive surge in the number of corvids around the world, and they always seemed to congregate where the Xenos were thickest… days before something killed everything. Then they’d vanish, and more corvids would appear somewhere else. Harbingers, just like the old tales.
One day a massive seafaring vessel chasing a fishing trawler was pulled under the water – no reefs or icebergs in the area, and the sea mines had long been disarmed and deactivated. I spoke to a man who had been in the sloop running from the Xenos ship, and he swore blind the Kraken had got it, the tentacles alone bigger than the tiny boat he’d been huddled on. He shuddered and drank too much, and I put it down to hallucinations caused by a bad batch of moonshine. There was no such thing as monsters.
Then we heard about warriors. We heard about chariots, of all things, chasing down whole platoons of Xenos in Egypt, chariots so bright it felt like staring into the sun; a huge hound with three heads was spotted in Greece, a man in shadows and a woman of light removing the leash as Xenos advanced on them; a woman showed up in Iceland standing head and shoulders above the tallest man there, with an army of her own. They didn’t seem to fall in battle, and pushed the Xenos back, fighting with sword and shield and spear, a fury that our alien invaders couldn’t match.
Humanoid creatures with eyes of fire supposedly began granting wishes over in Syria, as long as your wish was for them to kill your enemies. There were sightings in Ireland of pure white horses, horses that once ridden wouldn’t let you off, that dragged people into bogs and rivers. Tales came out of brazil of monstrously large snakes, sometimes with the faces of women, dragging aliens into the gloom of the rivers and rainforests.
But there’s no such thing as monsters.
I finally believed when I saw three women facing down the largest army of Xenos I’d ever come across – at least twelve thousand by my counting. I’d been running from a scouting party, and when I stumbled out of the treeline onto a road I realised they’d chased me right into the path of the oncoming horde.
The moment you face your death is a strange one. Everything felt calm except the thundering of my pulse in my ears, and the crows that seemed to come from nowhere to blot out the sun.
Then three women strolled into the road in front of me, placing themselves between me and the advancing army. A young woman, barely out of girlhood; someone who could have easily been my mother; and a woman so old she was almost bent double. It was the oldest who strode towards the mass of Xenos without any fear, leading the other two towards their deaths, and the din of the crows got louder.
The youngest one glanced my way and smiled playfully, and something from my grandmother’s tales made me flatten myself to the ground, hands clamped firmly over my ears.
The scream started low, in the back of the old woman’s throat, travelling through the ground and making every bone in my body shudder with the vibration. Realisation began to dawn on me as Maiden and Mother joined in with their Crone, and the scream climbed to a crescendo that could have shattered glass. Even with my hands tight over my ears it pierced me to my core, a screaming agony that made me want to curl in on myself and die.
I survived because it wasn’t meant for me.
The Xenos, however, felt the full force of the rage these women contained. An entire planet’s worth of grieving poured out of them in this shriek, rooting their enemies to the ground with the difference in tone and pitch between these three women telling their stories.
The mother stood tall and resolute, screaming her grief at these invaders, a mother mourning all of her children.
The crone’s low snarl was that of war. Weary of the fighting but always ready to defend what’s hers, she growled her challenge, and the Xenos couldn’t stand against it.
The maiden was hope, the only act of defiance in a world on the edge of ruin. When everything was dust, when the last stragglers of humanity were contemplating giving up, she was the hope that kept them fighting.
Part of me wondered how many shirts they’d washed, how many rivers they’d wept together, before standing up and saying “no more.”
The scream stopped abruptly, leaving me feeling like the breath had all been sucked out of me, a void in the air around me that rushed back in and filled my lungs with a long, shuddering gasp.
I opened my eyes to carnage. The Xenos had died where they’d stood, their organs haemorrhaging, what passed for blood pouring from every orifice, their eyes turning to liquid in their skulls. Bodies were everywhere, and the crows circling overhead had fallen silent, uninterested in the feast this must have surely been for them.
The Morrigan was one woman now, ageless and terrifying.
“Get up, child.” She commanded, and I had no choice but to obey, trembling legs pushing me to my feet. She reached out a hand, and gently wiped a trail of blood away from my ear. “Did you really think we’d abandoned you?” She murmured, and the crows descended, carrying her to the next battle.
Monsters are real, and some of them look like people. But the Gods are also real, and they still believe in us.
So I’m still fighting, and my battle cry is full of hope.
lounging in a gift from her girls
shirt reference
To disregard canon you must first interact with canon
challenge accepted
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: KPop Demon Hunters (2025) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mira/Rumi/Zoey (KPop Demon Hunters) Characters: Mira (KPop Demon Hunters), Rumi (KPop Demon Hunters), Zoey (KPop Demon Hunters) Additional Tags: Meet-Cute, Neighbors, Alternate Universe - No Demons (KPop Demon Hunters), Alternate Universe - No Powers, Established Mira/Rumi (KPop Demon Hunters), Photographer Rumi (KPop Demon Hunters), Plant Parent Rumi (KPop Demon Hunters) Series: Part 61 of Polytrix Timelines Summary:
Zoey had moved in several months ago and the two of them had quickly become obsessed with her. An obsession that Rumi had been trying to break them out of, starting with no longer spying on her.
Except she was doing stretches on her porch wearing little more than a pair of green, sparkly short shorts and a tank top. She turned around, and Rumi could see ‘juicy’ emblazoned upon her ass.
She started to laugh and Mira’s voice was filled with wondrous glee, “Rumi, jagiya, we can’t not fuck her.”
Alright your Discord avatar and tumblr avatar are locked in a closet for 7 minutes ala 7 Minutes In Heaven. What happens
I love bisexual fans and bisexual characters and bisexual OCs and bisexual headcanons and bisexual ships and bisexual stories and bisexual friends and bisexual art and being bisexual. 💙💜💗
Happy Pride Month to those two women dancing together in the foreground of the boat scene in Godzilla (1954).
I’m sorry your romantic foibles were overshadowed by a big ass atomic lizard thing.
@grctw
Once when I was in undergrad, someone described something as “problematic” in class and our professor was like, “That’s cool, but ‘problematic’ doesn’t really mean anything. It means that the thing you’re describing has a problem, and in and of itself that’s not bad. Art, especially, should always have problems, or else it’s not interesting and not art, either. It sounds like you’re trying to say that this is bad, but you don’t want to say ‘bad.’ Is that right?”
So from then on whenever one of us called something problematic, he would make us talk it out until we could name the “bad” thing we were hinting at. In this particular class, 7/10 it was some type of oppression, and the remainder was like, “I’m uncomfortable because this is very new/confusing/pushing boundaries that made me feel safe.”
Once we stopped calling things “problematic” and stopping at that, class got way more interesting and... we all had to say, like, “that’s racist” or “that’s misogynistic” or “ew capitalism gross” out loud, which a lot of us had never done in a classroom before. Or we had to be like, “Uhhh... I’m not sure what’s so bad?” and confront our own beliefs and that was maybe even more useful.
Anyway. Whenever I see the word problematic, I can’t help but think of this professor being like, “Good starting point, now let’s get specific.” I think when we have to commit to saying “that’s ___” it requires a lot more careful thought about the truth and impact and complexities of whatever we’re claiming. Sometimes there really is some bullshit afoot, and also sometimes it’s art, and it should be full of problems, because that’s what art is.
#'this is present in the text' is often a good first step #but those second and third ones (naming it; describing its function) are vital (via @elucubrare)
For those who don't know: Ikumi Nakamura is the woman who was senior artist on Bayonetta, and designed the titular character along with Hideki Kamiya. Their greatest moment of bonding was over their insistence that Bayonetta keep her glasses on at all times. Nakamura cannot go to horny jail. She is the warden.
Happy pride month to her and her exclusively
she made a comic about the experience on twitter
happy pride
An Update from back in October I'm surprised wasn't added to this post. lol
I love the face of a woman having the time of her life.
when i was a tiny baby queer (aka a 24-year-old), i went to my first pride festival probably three months after i kicked ex-gay therapy to the curb and came out to my parents. being the people they are, my parents came with me. they weren’t really sure about this whole gay thing, but they loved me and wanted me to be safe and happy and wanted to be involved in what was important to me, so they came along. (i also think my mother still might have thought i might get drugged or murdered or beaten by a protester of which there were plenty.)
anyway i wanted a memento of my first pride, you know, and this one vendor was selling keyrings, and i liked it, so i bought one. do you remember those italian charm bracelets that were all the rage like 10-15 years ago? it was a keychain like that, and it had a rainbow rooster, a rainbow cat, and then just a rainbow, and so I bought it.
i run into my mom a couple of vendors over and she goes oh you bought something? what’d you get? so i showed her, and i was like, “I’m not sure why it’s a rooster and a cat. Seems kind of random. But I liked the rainbows.”
and my mom, who was some form of minister’s wife for most of my childhood and teenagerhood, stares at me like she thinks i’m joking.
“What?” i say.
“…it’s a cock and a pussy, Jules,” she says flatly, and that is the story of how i died at the age of 24 while attending my first pride festival.
I love how every June this one gets dug up and passed around again, lmao.
oh no is this what we’re doing now
…relic…
*crumbles and blows away on the wind*