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#because it goes down to WHO THEY ARE
veerbles · 19 days
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“Were you trained as a dancer?” “An acrobat. My whole family are acrobats.” // “Some people see a magic trick and say, ‘Impossible!’ They clap their hands, turn over their money, and forget about it ten minutes later. [..] And then there are the ones who stay awake, running through the trick again and again, looking for that skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind.”
Or: a kinder universe.
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egophiliac · 7 months
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C'MON TO THE THEATER!
I love these guys so much. forget NRC, I want to attend their terrible disaster school for disaster children that might actually be plastered on top of the smoking remains of an actively sinking ship. I may or may not actually learn anything, but I will have the time of my life.
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psqqa · 8 months
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yes, yes i know edgeworth’s big wet eyes and loser boy personality have captivated us all, but listen. listen.
phoenix wright
phoenix “genuinely unable to reconcile the girl on the stand with the girl he dated for eight months, a cognitive dissonance so profound it’s ultimately explained by them being literally two different people, but which he first sits with for five years and does not talk about at any point to anyone” wright
phoenix “don’t mention that name to me. i don’t want to talk about it. i don’t want to think about it. i am just going to keep myself in this state of perpetual crisis mode focus on other people’s problems until eventually i die and get to hang out with mia on the astral plane and never have to deal with any of these emotions ever again” wright
phoenix “overnight loses his career and reputation and sense of identity while gaining an adopted, probably pretty traumatized eight-year-old daughter, and rather than leaning on his friends for help, or getting therapy, or taking any time to process any of this, he *checks notes* spends seven years dedicating all his free time and energy to investigating the weird fucking circumstances around it and maintains a friendship with the guy he suspects was behind it all” wright
phoenix "runs across a burning bridge and falls through it, half a day after the game establishes that he is terrified of heights, because his friend is on the other side of that bridge" wright
phoenix “i sure felt surprised. maybe i had my poker face on” wright
phoenix “looking back on it that was actually a pretty dark period in my life” wright
phoenix “don’t ask me how i got started. i don’t remember” wright
phoenix “only you stood still, your eyes calmly watching” wright
phoenix “sometimes, life just sucks” wright
just
phoenix wright
crunchiest man in the world
and all i wanna do is chew and chew and chew on him
#ace attorney#where are all the people gnawing on phoenix's bones so white??#i need to find the phoenix bone-gnawing corner of this fandom PLEASE#this is me asking for the Phoenix Fic btw#where is the fic meditating on phoenix's whole mental state in general?#where is the fic about how it's phoenix's cageyness and poker face and flat affect under stress that is the hurdle?#the relationship ramifications of being actually really fucking hard to read when it comes down to it?#where is the fic about the week of his disbarment?#the one detailing the panicked blow by blow of it rippling through his social circle while he stands in the eye of the storm?#the one that ends messy and anxious and unresolved because it's week 1 of 7 years?#where is the birth of phoenix wright: poker legend fic?#where is the art school/theatre major phoenix fic?#no not the able to art/act phoenix fic but the kind of person who chooses to go to art school/study theatre phoenix fic#where is the supremely disinterested in pop culture phoenix fic?#where is the actually incredibly meticulous and competent phoenix fic?#capcom can tell me all they want that he's essentially an adhd disaster flying by the seat of his pants making it all up as he goes#but that's not what they're actually showing me#they're the ones who created an in-fiction legal system that functionally necessitates that#and the nature of the game is that phoenix is almost always proven right so rather than him coming off as hare-brained#his opponents rather just come off as short-sighted. either negligently or maliciously so#and the choices the writing makes in service of retaining mystery and audience suspense in fact function to make phoenix a person#who is astute and puts the pieces together but is cautious in his conclusions#i will grant them that phoenix does tend to lose sight of his overarching goal in getting drawn into proving or disproving minor points#the fact that edgeworth on the other hand never loses sight of this or where the various arguments stand in relation to it#is his sexiest trait as a character by far#but those minor points are actually functionally critical to the ultimate argument phoenix makes#so even though i do read that trait through the game mechanics i do also judge the other characters for being dicks about it#my point is phoenix wright does in fact have the character of a lawyer and is conventionally good at his job fucking fight me#my point is that you all have had 20 goddamn years to Rotate this man#my POINT is that there should be Intricate Fucked Up Meditations On Phoenix that rewire my fucking brain and i NEED to know where they are!
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bakudekublogblog · 2 months
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the funniest part about coming to mha late, was I knew bkdk was extremely controversial and had seen some of the discourse about from the outside, so when I finally decided to watch it I was shocked to discover just how much of the plot revolved around izuku having a huge crush on kacchan
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rottengurlz · 4 months
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paranormal investigator that fakes all her haunts and doesn't believe in ghosts until her boyfriend who "accidentally" died started haunting her
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wizardnuke · 1 year
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can't stop thinking about a shadowgast "i'm not looking to fuck do you have a screwdriver my bathroom is flooding" grindr au
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pogostikk · 2 months
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SHREK AUDIO
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queerofthedagger · 1 month
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i love fingon so much just. he's so good and so reckless and he loves so fiercely it makes him do the most stupid shit, and in turn no one ever quite puts him first. I'm going to eat glass
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 10 months
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Bestie Deficiency
[First] Prev <–-> Next
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#a-qing#xue yang#xiao xingchen#Xue yang is cold because cold blooded creatures can't generate their own body heat#I am skipping over drawing the stories they tell due to the fact this arc is already really dragging#but I think they are very key in understanding the yi-city characters#Even if they are stories that really bring down the slumber party vibes A-Qing was hoping for.#I mentioned some of my thoughts in the tags of no. 76 but to continue on a bit more#I think xxc and xue yangs stories inversely mirror each other on the meaning of sacrifice and what it means to 'deserve' something#to xue yang he has only ever sacrificed - therefore he is in his right to 'deserve' what he wants. And he wants everything.#xxc leaves song lan thinking its the best course of action to atone but my god. No it wasn't. Poor communication crown actually goes to xxc#but it's what xxc he feels he deserves - continued sacrifice to atone. He wants to want nothing.#both are very stuck in the past in ways that are not actually accounting for their actions#It's easy to look at xue yang and go 'dang you need to get over your childhood trauma'#but that very much ignores that fact that we - real human beings - define so much by our childhood pains.#Growth is having to come to terms with it and trying to move past it...and not everyone is ready for that.#I have a lot of thoughts on that matter but I'll let it be for now.#Anyways. Amiguito appears to be one of those words whos meaning change depending on speaker and contextual factors#So as far as I can tell it slides around on the scale on romantic and platonic. Which works for this dynamic. I think.#Native Spanish speakers I am so sorry.
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lanawinterscigarettes · 3 months
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picturing the master/missy doing domestic, every day things is so funny to me because like. how many times do you think simm!master stabbed himself in the eye before he finally perfected putting on pencil eyeliner? imagine him furiously bleaching his hair with some grocery store box dye in a truck stop restroom only to spill half of it on accident because he wasn't watching what he was doing. missy spending hours picking out her clothes and doing her hair and makeup just to kidnap/threaten people like the absolute menace of a girlboss she is. do you think dhawan!master ever had to complain to his tardis for getting the measurements of his suits wrong sometimes when he went through his never ending wardrobe, demanding it give him something actually worth wearing. stuff like that
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uncanny-tranny · 4 months
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Niche politics tip: If you start dissociating from politics so much it starts feeling like each side is akin to a football team or a game, you might need to take a step back in order to recuperate.
When you're so caught up in politics that you need to dissociate from the humanity of it in order to engage with politics, that's not a good sign. It's especially not a good sign when we are talking about human rights
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I've been reading Exodus lately and I've just gotten to the portions where God gives the first commands to the people via Moses (twice), and then goes on to give detailed instructions about the tabernacle and how it should be built, and I'm just... we think art is unimportant?? we think things only mean as much as their functionality?? we so easily fall into the trap of believing that beauty means nothing, that it's cheap and only worth whatever mindless distraction it brings, that it's barely more than a cheap sensual thrill, that buildings should just be practical and plain and cheap, that everything should be functional but ultimately disposable, that paintings and dresses and mugs and curtains and carpets are just pretty but have no real value, that beauty is fleeting and vain and therefore shouldn't be thought about too much, if even looked for at all... we fall into these traps so easily, and we forget that there are chapters upon chapters of painstakingly detailed plans to build one portable worship tent, and those plans have been handed down through thousands of years of human history, because beauty and art and skill in craft is important
#I have to go get ready for work now but I will come back to this#and don't even get me started on the parts about God calling specific craftsmen *by name*#he called them!! by name!!! he said 'this man is good at his job. he creates beautiful work. he will build my temple and make it beautiful'#and even more--God inspired him!!!! it was a calling of GOD for him to create beautiful carvings and tapestries and candlesticks!!!#look even if you're not jewish or christian or religious at all you have GOT to see what it means that all these incredibly detailed plans#for building this tent-temple are extremely important#because even if you don't believe in God and don't think that this is all significant bc he personally gave the instructions#and then helped preserve this record of them so we could still read them today#you do have to see how important they were to the people of that time who first wrote them down#and the extreme care that was taken to record all of those detail#AND the fact that it's been preserved for so long and we can still read all the care that was put into creating this incredible piece#of artwork and worship they made#gurt says stuff#I just. gahhfhhfj. I'm feeling emotional about chapters of the Bible that I can't even fully force myself to pay attention to#bc there's so MUCH and I'm bad at visualizing this stuff and I tend to zone out while listening to it#but the fact that it IS that much!!! that there SO MUCH DETAIL and it goes on for SO LONG that I even struggle to pay attention!!!#that this was THAT IMPORTANT to the people who wrote it and to God!!! as an artist and someone who has always cared about art#this means so much to me ok#christianity#bible verse#bible thoughts#exodus#art#theology
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disastergenius · 10 days
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by far the worst take i've seen so far post-ep19 of Junior Year is that having a week-by-week live play would have allowed fans to essentially influence the direction of the story in the way they want it to go and that would have resulted in the cast being more sympathetic to the Ratgrinders (ie getting them a redemption arc)
why do you feel the need to try and control this story? YOU ARE NOT THE ONE TELLING IT. if you want to tell a story please go write your own, or go write fanfiction to cope or whatever but you don't get to say that the players are telling the story wrong when it's their story they are telling
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emile-hides · 8 months
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I was watching a Youtube video of all the Cinematic from the new Overwatch Invasion update (cause heaven knows I ain't buying it) and I noticed at the end Ramattra has this like.. Burn? Mark?? On his chest that goes through his cape
So I downloaded Overwatch on my PC to get a look at the Wandering/Traveling Monk skins this scene is using and I noticed..
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Traveling and Wandering have a lot of visual differences, most notably in the burn the originally got my attention.
Wandering has been used canonically to show Ramattra's monk days previously, in his origin story and in the Developer commentary, but interestingly the artwork in those videos is lacking that very burn
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Overwatch character designers are very good at visual storytelling, especially with Omnics (I could write an essay on what they've done with Zenyatta), so I believe this burn may very well be what became the Last Straw for Ramattra, what pushed him to leave the Shambali, what caused his fall into violence and eventually Talon.
Was he attacked? Or was he attempting to protect someone else? Despite his best efforts to shield them, the shot fired right past him, scorching his metal, cutting through his cape, and taking their life...
I hope we learn more about it.
#Overwatch#Ramattra#It's Emile goes insane about Overwatch Lore but only for the Omnics time again#Also while gathering screen shots for this I did become mildly obsessed with the red?? bag?? Cloth??? Ramattra is wearing when he meets Zen#99% because Zenyatta is wearing it on their walk to the Shambali#But also because Zen seems to STILL be wearing it AT the Shambali but as an obi(?) and he was also still wearing it in OW1#But not anymore in OW2???#Where'd Zenyatta's comfort red fabric go??? What happened???#(well his ow2 design would have been cluttered with it with all the red cables is the real answer but kfdjgkdf)#I'M OBSESSED WITH ZENYATTA'S VISUAL STORYTELLING#Other Omnics have it too like Maximilien who has a lot of Human Augmentations like opening his mouth#Because he's a class traitor#Love that for him#Or how Bars has Tribalera Boots implying she's originally from Northern Mexico#I might be wrong about that one actually fkjgkf Assumption there#Anyway RAMATTRA'S BURN#I'm sooooooo unhinged about it actually#The idea of hims shielding someone begging the humans around him to put down their weapons not to shoot etc#Watching them die... Ooooh yeah#It wasn't his first time seeing his siblings die at human hands.. But he vowed it to be the last time...#It could also have been Zenyatta who got shot#We're still not 100% about that whole#'Those were the exact words I'd said to Zenyatta.. Right before I nearly got him killed'#Like when it happened or how it went down#I ASSUMED that was post First Meeting before Shambali#But it could have been while they were traveling and serving the community around them....#God I have you Activation Blizzard but I LOVE you Overwatch Creative Team#Can't wait to know more
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squidcandy · 1 year
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horrible boyfriend chronicles 14: summer bird and the empty nesters he left behind
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leupagus · 3 months
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Please note that this fic is going to take the better part of 2024 and probably 2025
(and given my track record might never be done):
Sansa
"Do you like the taste?" asked Littlefinger, watching her closely as she tried the wine. He always watched her closely.
They had stopped at the Inn at the Crossroads; she hadn't wanted to, but she would have had to explain to Littlefinger why. So she had choked down a meal and refused to think about the last time she had come through this way, where the first member of her family had been murdered in the stable while Joffrey had sniveled and lied and shown her, for the first time, who he really was.
"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she answered. "Why do men love it so much?"
Littlefinger shrugged. "It gives some men courage."
"Does it give you courage?"
He smiled, the way he did when she had stung him. He would take his revenge on her somehow, she knew. He was nothing like Joffrey, but there was a smallness to him that reminded her of the king.
The dead king, now.
A flash of armor to her right made her look up; a familiar woman, tall and broad of shoulder in a suit of armor, had approached their table. "Lord Baelish. Lady Sansa. My name is Brienne of Tarth."
Sansa opened her mouth to reply, to tell her she knew who she was, of course she knew. Tyrion had mentioned her often, usually after rebuffing yet another request by the lady of Tarth for an audience with Sansa. I hope you don't mind, and Jaime vouches for her, but Cersei has made it clear she's to go nowhere near you and frankly this giantess makes me a bit nervy. He'd been glad to recount the tale of Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime, traipsing through the Riverlands on their way to King's Landing.
Before Sansa could speak a word, Littlefinger had made some cutting remark, the sort he was so good at. She'd yet to be on the receiving end of any of them but she flinched all the same, watching Brienne's face. Littlefinger was something like Joffrey — and something like herself, too, when she'd been young and pleased at her own wit. Looking back, she knew now that she had only ever been cruel.
Lady Brienne seemed not even to hear Littlefinger; as though he were no more than a gnat to be tolerated until such moment as he could be swatted. She knelt, awkward but not clumsy, and looked earnestly up at her. "Lady Sansa. Before your mother's death, I was her sworn sword. I gave my word I would find you and protect you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel, and give my life for you if needs be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."
Would she have given the answering vow? She would never know, because once again Littlefinger was talking, sliding his glance over to Sansa to see what remarks might prompt a reaction. Sansa stayed still and watched as Lady Brienne's attention was at least drawn away, glaring at Littlefinger.
"Strange," Littlefinger was saying. "I knew Cat since the time we were children. She never mentioned you."
"It was after Renly's murder," said Lady Brienne, direct and blunt. She and Sandor would get along well, Sansa thought suddenly. Pity they had never met.
"Ah, yes," said Littlefinger. "You were accused of killing him."
Lady Brienne blushed, a splotchy red spreading across her cheeks. Shame, Sansa thought, but not guilt. "I tried to save him," she spat out. She did not glance over, to see if Sansa would believe her.
"But you were accused."
"By men who did not see what happened."
"And what did happen?"
"He was murdered by a shadow. A shadow with the face of Stannis Baratheon."
"A shadow? With a face?" Littlefinger turned to Sansa, and that was when she knew whatever he was about to say was a lie. "This woman swore to protect Renly. She failed. She swore to protect your mother. She failed." He smirked up at Lady Brienne. "Why would I want somebody with your history of failure guarding Lady Sansa?"
Lady Brienne made a face. "Why would you have any say in her affairs?"
"Because I am her uncle. I married her Aunt Lysa shortly before my beloved's untimely death. We're family now. And you are an outsider. Forgive me, Lady Brienne. But experience has made me wary of outsiders."
She gaped at him, then looked back at Sansa. "Lady Sansa," she said, and paused, as though at a loss for how to convince her. "If we can have a word alone?"
"Yes." Sansa rose, knocking into the table. The goblet of wine spilled and ran down her dress, but she was on her feet at last. The sellswords Littlefinger had brought with him moved in, one of them putting a hand on Lady Brienne's shoulder. She tensed and in just a few seconds there would be bloodshed, there would be someone dead on the floor and it would be her fault.
"Uncle Petyr," she said loudly, her heart rabbiting out of her chest, "Thank you very much for understanding. I will speak with Lady Brienne as you suggest, and then we shall resume our journey."
The sounds of eating and talking died out as faces turned toward her. A round-faced boy came bustling up, a wide, customer-friendly smile pasted on his face. "Is there anything I can help with, milord?" he chirruped.
"A room for the ladies," said Littlefinger, still watching her. She nodded very slightly and his mouth twitched.
"Have you anything on the floor above?" she added, addressing the boy with a nervous glance toward Lady Brienne.
"Er," came the reply, "Yes? Right this way, milady. Miladies."
Sansa leaned toward Littlefinger. He smelled of wine and the oils he used on his hair. "Could some of the guards watch the door?" she whispered. "And some near the stairs. Just…in case."
"Of course," he said, though his eyes were on her mouth.
The way Littlefinger had spoken of her mother, there had been a great rivalry between himself and Ned Stark; and before that a rivalry between himself and her uncle Brandon, who'd been betrothed to Catelyn before his murder. Littlefinger had always sounded like the defeated lover, the man who had nearly won his beloved's hand.
Mother had never mentioned Littlefinger. Father had, once they were in King's Landing and he'd been forced to admit an acquaintance. He'd sounded irritated more than angry; her mother had never loved him, had hardly ever thought of him. Her parents had lived and loved each other and all the while Littlefinger had stewed in his own curdled affections, imagining a love story that had never existed.
She could never decide what had moved her to kiss him on the cheek. Perhaps it had been a clever ploy to distract him, or a way to tell him she would return. She would have liked to have been that clever. But in the moment she could remember only how sorry she felt for him. "I'll just be a few moments," she promised him, lying.
Minutes later she was in a small bedchamber, with two dirty windows on each outside wall and the ominous creak of leather and metal just outside the door, signaling that Littlefinger's sellswords had taken up position. Lady Brienne, for her part, looked as uncomfortable as she had downstairs. "Thank you for speaking with me, my lady," she said.
"Can you fight them all?" Sansa asked her, keeping her voice down. They would need to be overheard soon, but they had a few seconds. Enough time, perhaps enough time. "If there's four in the corridor, and four downstairs."
"What? Yes, of course," said Lady Brienne, expression torn between confusion and offense. She fought off a bear once, Tyrion had told her with glee. Even beat my dear brother in a sword fight. When he still had both hands.
Sansa went to the first window. A long drop onto hard ground, and it faced the road as well as the hitching posts. The second was more promising: hay bales stacked haphazardly next to the wall, and the wood only twenty hards away.
"Start talking," she hissed at Lady Brienne.
She frowned. "I'm sorry?"
Sansa mimed opening the window. "Start talking. About anything. Honor or duty or what my mother was like. Whatever you'd say if you were trying to convince me."
Lady Brienne's eyes widened in understanding. "I…am not much for speeches, my lady," she said slowly, then more loudly as Sansa pulled open the window slowly, mindful of any squeaking. "But I found your mother an honorable woman, and your brother too. I brought Ser Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing at her request, so that you might be returned to your mother in exchange."
It would never have worked; she'd known that even then. The Lannisters did not understand the notion of letting go of an advantage, once they'd sunk their teeth into one. Even Tyrion had never offered to take her to her family once they'd been married. He'd had his reasons, and they had been good ones, but she'd learned another lesson that day. "So you sacrificed your oath to protect my mother for an oath to protect me?" she asked, making sure her voice carried as she swung her legs over the sill. "How can I know you'll not abandon me, too?"
It was important not to think. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it.
She held her breath, put her hands over her mouth, and fell.
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