#i can't remember the post exactly but!!!

[umberandmochaagate]

Thinking about that KHR post about Haru being way better in being a solidified Vongola member

Give me back the Haru who would've known about the Mafia and kept up with Bianchi in learning to fight

But at the same time, imma need Kyoko to either step up or step up halfway and watch the kids when they can't fight. But what I really need is for both her to step up so she's not just hiding back all day and for both Lambo and I-Pin to be integrated (cuz even if Lambo is the chosen guardian, I-Pin is way stronger and formidable much earlier, and she deserves to be treated as a respectable member like Lambo would be—especially cuz they're the same age)

Before I go, now that I said that, Lambo really is a whole 20 year investment 🤨 I know that TYL!Lambo is a pretty strong teenager if he sets up for it, but that "true strength" didn't come through until 20YL!Lambo popped up. That was probably also the original plan for Tsuna to become initiated as the next boss in 10 years anyway so he'd be a full adult by then. There really was no reason to leave I-Pin out so often except cuz of sexism ESPECIALLY when she's trained under FON FFS

Okay those are my 6¢ 💀

#i can't remember the post exactly but!!! #op was so right #khr #katekyo hitman reborn #khr haru #haru miura

[hitokiri-izou]

What if you were a reference to a poem wherein a wealthy former slave asks the sibyl of cumae, a priestess, what she wants and she replies that she wishes to die. What if you were a reference to both Trimalchio and the sibyl, implying this is a question you ask yourself. What if despite your riches, your body is no longer whole and not entirely yours, and you wish the jar was gone and you were sand.

#hsr leaks #honkai star rail #hsr 2.1 #honkai star rail leaks #aventurine #leak talk in tags -> #CRYING IN THE CLUB #also this reference is actually a leak from the achievements in 2.1 #i can't remember exactly what they were for but it was related to aventurine #anyway. i had to look up more abt it because i saw fanart referencing it. s/o to the post before this one #nanjya.txt

[madebycoffee]

hmng ever since i sat down to eat breakfast i've had a very familiar soreness in the back of my throat creeping in ;__;

#madebycoffee speaks #i haven't been sick in like..... 3 years???? #i feel like i got a common cold sometime post 2020 but i can't remember exactly #if not then the last time i was sick was dec. 2019 with the flu #my allergies have been a bitch and a half to me tho this last week or two so lets pretend it's that ;__;

[marcusagrippa]

hey hi hello!! stupid old men in a desert fic was promised and i shall deliver. there is no concrete plan there's just two and a half chapters of sad Vibes so far. cw for suicide refs and suchlike because - well, i mean, who on tatooine doesn't want to kill themselves? no cannibalism (yet) sorry :[

spiracle: chapter 1/? (3924 words)

↓↓↓

He is here.

Maul knows from experience that the Force can be a fickle mistress, but there’s no question in it this time, no room for error. He would know that signature anywhere - the steady, pulsing stream of consciousness spreading lazily through the desert night like a drop of ink in water. Broken and ragged and distant though it may be, the Jedi’s presence is unmistakable. So it hasn’t all been for nothing. 

He lets out a low growl as he presses forward through the shifting sands, the particles already starting to clog the joints of his prosthetics. The path ahead of him is lit only by the faint light of Tatooine’s moons - Maul is almost upset to have missed the suns-set. Force knows it’s likely the only beautiful thing about this damned dustball. The end of his cane digs into the ground as he feels the air beginning to cool around him, and this is one of the few times in his life he wishes he’d had the foresight to wear something that covered his chest. 

Too much fabric inhibits his movement in combat. There’s nothing more to it than that, of course. And Maul is certainly planning on fighting tonight. 

The Zabrak starts to struggle a little as he clambers doggedly up a shifting dune, servos whining in protest as the mechanisms of his legs start to seize up. Damned Death Watch craftsmanship - you’d think that Mandalorians would be at least half-decent working with metal, but no, these legs have to struggle at the slightest inconvenience. Maybe they were good, once upon a time, but… he’s getting old, and so are his cybernetics.

A decidedly unflattering scowl creases Maul’s features cresting the dune, but all that melts away into a small, evil smile the second he senses it. 

It. It. Not a ‘him’, not ‘Kenobi’, it, the pulsing Force-presence growing steadily stronger as Maul squints out over the wastes, lightsaber cane clutched in one hand. His fingers tighten around the hilt. A fire, closer than he’d dared dream it could be. 

It. 

Tired limbs infused with a new rage-born strength, Maul practically races down the dune, already fumbling to extract his lightsaber from the cane disguise. That smile grows wider even as his breathing grows heavier - look, and there’s a silhouette there, too, he’s right there, he can see him, not just in his mind’s eye but in the flesh - 

The sand clouds around his heels settle in his wake, the desert returning to tranquillity once more as Maul’s chaos passes it by. 

Closer now, almost there - he slows his approach from an almost mad sprint into a crouch, as stealthy as he can manage with his prosthetics squeaking. The noise rings loudly in his ears, amplified a million times by the otherwise silence, but right now Maul doesn’t care for the specifics. What he cares about is the fact that Kenobi is there, right there, barely a hundred metres away from him, out in the wastes, alone and his for the taking. A sitting duck. 

His finger itches on the ignition switch of his saber as he stalks closer. It may have been a few years since Mandalore, but Maul’s about ninety percent certain he still knows how to make an entrance. As soon as he’s in earshot of the fire and the blobby vaguely-Kenobi-like shape slumped in front of it - the Force presence is still weak, why is it still weak? He must have gone soft in his old age - Maul clears his throat dramatically.

“Keno-”

His voice dissolves into a hacking cough and he doubles over, nearly toppling forwards before catching himself with his cane. This, it goes without saying, was not his ideal entrance. Force-dammit. He can’t be showing weakness, not in their first meeting after all these years! His eyes stream as he hacks his guts up, blood spattering the sands below him. Perhaps all those years on Lotho Minor had lasting effects even the witches’ magicks couldn’t counteract.

He straightens up after he’s somewhat recovered, looking towards the fire expectantly. He’s expecting the figure to have stood, drawn his lightsaber, shied away, even moved… but nothing. One of Maul’s eyebrows raises without his permission, and he takes a few steps closer, into the light of the fire. 

“Kenobi…?” he says hesitantly, peering at the - ah. Right.

What he had assumed was the Jedi sitting slumped forwards on a log is not, in fact, that. Instead, Maul comes face-to-face with a pack strapped to the back of a slumbering eopie. The eopie has a harness attached to it, but the end isn’t tethered to anything. 

It farts in its sleep. How quaint. 

“Oh, Obi-Wan. You’ve aged terribly,” Maul mutters, scowling, as he jabs the eopie with his cane. The beast snorts, but doesn’t wake. 

Mistaking the great Jedi General for this… creature? Perhaps he’s losing his vision as well as his mind. The thought brings Maul little comfort. 

But no - the faint trickle of Force energy is still there, humming in the background. It’s the strongest Maul’s felt since landing on this hellhole, but it’s still exactly that: faint. Broken. He could attribute it to distance when he was further away, but now, at what he presumes must be the Jedi’s own camp, it still feels broken. Shattered.

What has happened to the old man? What has he done?

The campfire is still burning, casting an orange glow over the sands and reflecting off of the few still-shiny parts of Maul’s prosthetics. If the fire is still going strong, he cannot be far - perhaps he’s just taking a piss. Maul sniffs, taking another look at the unconscious beast, and sits down in the sand to wait as he takes in the sorry state of affairs that is Kenobi’s camp. He’s waited decades for his revenge; he can serve to wait a little longer.

It’s pathetic, really, what the Jedi’s life seems to have come to. The camp is in disarray: old Republic ration tins strewn haphazardly all over the place, a bundle of rags shaped into something that vaguely resembles a bed, a dented kettle half-buried in the sand near the fire. The Jedi’s stench is drenching the place like a particularly unpalatable perfume - that disgusting, lingering feeling of kindness and weakness that Maul simply cannot abide. 

That confirms it, then. He was here. He should return. And when he does, Maul will strike him down like he deserves. Besides, he’s always liked a dramatic reveal - just the thought of emerging like a wraith from the shadows to surprise the old man, catch him entirely off-guard rather than storm up to him like a man possessed, makes Maul’s face crack into a twisted, thin-lipped smile. 

So he waits. 

And waits. 

And waits.

The sands shift. The moons rise. And Kenobi does not return.

Maul is mildly offended by this. Surely the old Jedi has sensed him by now? Does he not think him worthy of a duel? He had been expecting his quarry to be ready to attack him the moment he set foot on the planet. But… judging by the state of his camp, by the weak pulse of Force where he had assumed there would be the same steady-flowing, roaring waterfall that was present during the Clone Wars…

Something is wrong. 

Maul scowls as he gets back to his feet, cracking his back and wincing as the fire burns lower and lower. He’s going to be pissed if something has broken Kenobi before he has even had the chance to. Ah, well - he’s alive, at least, the presence confirms that - so if worst comes to worst, Maul can at least watch him suffer. The taste of second-hand revenge is not so sweet, but it is miles less bitter than no revenge at all. 

His eyes close for a brief moment and he reaches out with his senses, probing the frayed edges of the Jedi’s psyche. He’s not far, of course - not far at all, barely more than a hundred feet or so away from the embers of the fire - but that’s all he can make out from this distance. The Jedi’s spirit is weak. It will bring me great pleasure to see it decay into nothing more than the ghost of rot. 

With a huff and a muttered curse, Maul snatches his cane from the sand and stalks off into the Tatooine night. Again. The eopie snorts as he passes by, and he has to resist the urge to decapitate it. 

All in good time.

---

The moonslight is faint, and the wind is starting to pick up, but as Maul crests yet another dune neither dimness nor background noise can disguise the distinctive silhouette and choked-back wails of a man sobbing.

The sight fills Maul with more glee than it really has any right to. Oh, this is going to be easy. It may not be as fun as torturing those tears out of him would be otherwise, but the sound of the Jedi crying is the sweetest melody in the galaxy to Maul’s ears. He stands atop the dune and looks down, wreathed in darkness, tattoos faded with age and wear made brilliant yet again by the weak splashes of moonslight that grace his skin, before grinning to himself and half-walking, half-skidding down the slope to reach him. 

Maul is behind him. The Jedi doesn’t turn. 

He’s definitely weeping, Maul can tell that for certain. Hooded figure slumped forwards onto his knees, shoulders shaking, muffled little whimpers coming from his mouth. How pathetic. The Force ebbs and flows around him weakly, the once-great waterfall of his presence reduced to a trickle. 

Maul takes a few steps forward. The Jedi doesn’t turn.

Peering over his shoulder, Maul can just about see that he’s… clutching something in his hands. His shaking hands. The thing he’s clutching is a dull box, dented and dust-covered, not unusual in any way - except Kenobi is holding it like it’s a child, his touch light and almost reverential in its gentleness even through the sobs that wrack his body. 

Maul takes a final step forward - close enough to touch the Jedi’s shoulder, to stab him, to end this all. The Jedi doesn’t turn, but his sobs cease abruptly.

“...hello, Maul,” a voice says from the figure’s hood. Maul blinks. 

The voice is hoarse and scratchy, thick with tears, with the resigned tones of a man on his deathbed. The strident, cocksure voice he knew during the war has all but disappeared. The voice is Coruscanti, but other than that… 

This may as well be a stranger. Another old, forgotten soul in a galaxy full of them.

“Kenobi,” Maul spits with all the venom he can muster - which, to his surprise (and annoyance), isn’t much venom at all. He must be getting soft in his old age. He shifts his stance almost imperceptibly, hand tightening on his cane. “Cease your wailing. It’s unbecoming of you.”

“It is, is it?” the voice says forlornly as the owner drops the box back to the ground with a thud. He does not turn to face Maul, nor does he stand. He simply waits. “My apologies. I don’t have much dignity left these days. I wasn’t aware my… ‘wailing’ would offend you so.”

Maul ignores the comment and lets out a low growl. His thumb brushes against the ignition switch of his saber. “Don’t tell me someone’s finally knocked the fight out of you, old man.”

Not before I’ve had the chance, at least.

“I’m afraid that happened a long time ago.” The figure sighs, and pulls his hood back. Faint shards of moonslight illuminate an unkempt mane of greying locks, lank and unwashed. “You’re here to kill me, then, are you?”

“No, I’m here for a nice cup of h’kak bean tea and a gossip. Of course I’m here to kill you, you old fool.”

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped calling me old. We’re the same age, as I recall.”

“Yes, well, I’m not the one who’s gone greyer than a Kaminoan stormcloud, withering away out here all these years.” Maul scowls and jabs his cane into the figure’s back, eliciting a very satisfying yelp. “Stand up and face me, Kenobi, you coward. Don’t hide behind those pathetic tears.”

The figure sighs again, and somehow the sound is even more pitiful than the first time. “If you’re hoping for a duel, you won’t get one.”

“I don’t need a duel. I need you to face me like a man.”

“Why? You don’t strike me as someone who’s averse to a bit of backstabbing.”

“Just face me, you insolent wretch.”

“As my Lord commands,” the figure says drily. He shifts in his position, carefully moving the old box to the side, and begins to get to his feet. Begins being the key word there.

The process probably takes about thirty seconds in total, the silence punctuated by the occasional sniffle or pained groan from the figure. Maul’s anger is slowly starting to turn into confusion, and then disbelief. This is what’s become of him? A haunted, doddering old man with grey hair and back pain? The cane almost slips out of his grasp as he gapes at the man formerly known as Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the galaxy’s most feared and respected warriors, struggling to stand on his own two feet.

He manages to steady himself and finally - finally! - faces Maul, and the former Sith Lord visibly winces as he catches sight of the Jedi’s visage. Weathered almost beyond recognition, wrinkles gouged deep into his skin, tears still clinging to his cheeks, all eyebags and gaunt features and hollow, blank gaze. 

“Have I got something on my face?” the husk wearing the skin of Kenobi asks, rubbing his beard. “You’re staring.”

“You look terrible,” Maul says bluntly. A smile graces the Jedi’s cracked lips, a smile devoid of humour, dignity, or hope.

“Thank you. I try. Now, are you going to kill me or am I going to have to do it myself? You did show up at the worst possible time, you know. You’re actually prolonging my lifespan by being here.”

Maul’s eyebrows raise. “...pardon?”

“Well, I was planning on killing myself before you showed up,” Kenobi says mildly. “You’re disrupting my schedule. I would appreciate it if you hurried things along a little.”

"..."

Suicide? Maul makes a choked gagging sound in the back of his throat. The cane finally slips from his fingers, landing with a soft thump in the sand as he stares dumbly at Obi-Wan, who just smiles placidly back at him. No, not Obi-Wan - not the General, the Jedi, the war hero. Whatever this thing is, it's not the warrior that Maul knew. He manages to mask his surprise with another snarl, though, before this - this husk can comment on it.

I should be happy about this. The fool has lost himself entirely. I should take pleasure in it, watching him so hopeless, so destitute. But all Maul feels is a gnawing, biting, crawling sense of dread clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach. He cannot fight this ghost. He cannot give him what he wants.

Obi-Wan sighs wearily and gets down on his knees in front of Maul. How is he so - so calm like this? When he's facing his doom - looking his death in the eye? What happened to him to break him so entirely?

"Well?" he prompts. "Strike me down. I haven't got all day."

Pathetic.

"Look what has become of you," Maul murmurs, stooping to pick up his cane and using the tip to tilt Kenobi's chin up. The fool doesn't resist - Maul's stomach twists with a pang of something unfamiliar. Could that be… pity? No. Impossible. "How did they break you, Obi-Wan? What… happened to you?"

The Jedi raises his eyes to meet Maul's, half-lidded with exhaustion, piercing blue dulled to a weak grey. "Nothing that wasn't my fault," he says quietly. His weak - weak, broken, weak - Force presence spikes with something Maul has never felt coming from the Jedi before. Grief. Fear. Darkness. 

This is not what Maul wanted. This is not what Maul wanted at all.

With a growl, he pushes Kenobi roughly away from himself, leaving him lying prone in the dust. The foolish, broken thing does not even make an effort to get back to his feet. He simply… deflates, eyes blank and devoid of the familiar cunning intelligence Maul has grown to expect, tracking his movements almost lazily as the former Sith stalks towards the discarded box. He can feel echoes as he approaches it, ripples in the Force that concentrate into two separate infinitesimal points, ripe with memories that linger like fat storm clouds around them. 

“This,” Maul hisses, snatching up the box and shaking it. It gives a satisfying rattle. “What is it? Why is it so important to you?”

Obi-Wan does not deign to grace the former Sith with a response. His eyes have suddenly turned from exhausted and uncaring to hollow and haunted and staring, gaze locked onto the box with the precision of a sniper. His fingers dig into the soft sand as he mumbles something incoherent under his breath, makes a sound like a dying bantha, and still does not get up.

Maul scowls. "Weak," he snarls, and tears the box open. The hinges aren't quite rusted shut - not enough moisture on this force-damned planet for that, he supposes - but there's a definite age to it, sand clogging the mechanism, and he struggles for a few seconds before it clicks open - 

And Maul is suddenly hit with a wave of the Dark Side so strong it makes him damn near drop the thing. 

The two lightsabers nestled inside the box, wrapped neatly in clean cloth in stark contrast to the perpetually dusty landscape around him, both stink of festering hatred and unimaginable, inconsolable grief. Maul’s hands start to tremble as he looks down on them, blood-and-bile eyes widening. Even second-hand, the pain that lives within these weapons is just… more. More than the former Sith has ever seen before, even among those artefacts his old Master used to keep scattered around the LiMerge building whilst he was being trained. Maul baulks at the memory - failure, you are a failure, he cast you aside like you were nothing because you are nothing - and reaches out a hand to touch one of the sabers.

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan’s hoarse, broken voice calls from behind him, tone gone from resigned depression to almost desperation - Maul jolts at the sudden tone change. He whirls around to face him, face stony. It doesn’t matter if he’s suicidal or… whatever. The Jedi cannot tell him what to do. Still, he feels a twinge of what might be compassion in his chest, which he immediately forces down and tries to disguise with aggression instead.

“Don’t what?! Why in the galaxy are you keeping Sith artefacts with you?! Don’t you know what they can do to you, what they can do to any Jedi in such close contact with the Dark Side? Oh, Force above, it’s a wonder you haven’t -”

He stops short, then, because the Jedi appears to have started crying again. Kenobi lets out a series of gulping sobs as he reaches one shaking hand towards the box, aged body still lying crumpled in the sand. “Please,” he rasps out between ragged breaths. “Don’t - don’t touch them. Don’t touch them, they’re not Sith artefacts - they’re mine -”

The old man dissolves into incoherent mumbles and muffled crying again, curling into a pitiful little ball of greying hair and frayed edges as his presence in the Force pulses with pain. Maul stares at him in disbelief - he seems to have been doing a lot of that when it comes to Obi-Wan, lately - and slowly withdraws his hand from the box. He sets it down gently on the sand in front of him and shuts the lid.

There is something seriously, seriously wrong with this Jedi. 

For years, the only thing that has sustained Maul has been Obi-Wan Kenobi. He has breathed for him, bled for him, spent decades of sleepless nights half-mad as he imagined ripping the Jedi limb from limb, bathing in the scarlet of his spilled lifeblood. He has wanted nothing more than to get his revenge on the man that destroyed any semblance of a chance that Maul might have had in the first place - make him hurt as he has hurt, make him feel every last drop of pain that Maul has ever felt. 

But staring at the shaking, sobbing bundle of robes and skin and bones, Maul finds that his rage has deserted him for the first time since he can remember. He cannot break what is already broken. He cannot hurt what has already been ruined beyond repair. There is no retribution for him to deliver to such a hopeless, lost soul. 

He finds the mirror of his own madness in the shake of the Jedi’s shoulders, the hushed mumblings that come from behind his hood, the way his fingers dig like scrabbling claws into the sand. The Jedi has disappeared - this is all that is left. Maul’s mission, his only mission, his reason to be… has been left unfulfilled. Washed away by the husk’s choked sobs. 

Maul leans heavily on his cane, just watching Kenobi silently for a few more seconds. Behind the fog of his confusion, however, something begins to formulate. 

The Jedi has disappeared. I am incomplete. There will be no justice until I am the one to break Kenobi’s stride, until I am the one to finally douse that fire in him. I shall just have to… rekindle it. 

I will be his saviour, nurse him back to life, liberate him from his chains - and then I will grind him into dust beneath the heel of my boot. As is my right. 

Maul bends down, picks up the box. The mere sight of the thing makes his stomach lurch, but he dares not risk touching the contents again. He slides it into his pack, then strides over to where Obi-Wan lies drowning in his own sorrow, clearly in the middle of some kind of… episode? Disgusting. 

“Come, Jedi. Enough of that.”

He grips Kenobi’s forearms with his gloved hands and hoists him to his feet. After a few seconds of awkward, weak swaying and ragdoll-like limbs, it becomes abundantly clear that the Jedi is not going to be able to walk on his own. With a weary, resigned sigh - oh, I’m already regretting this - he picks Kenobi up as easily as if he were a child, putting him over his shoulder a little haphazardly. This brings forth a pained grunt that Maul takes far too much satisfaction in, and Kenobi starts pummeling his chest weakly with clenched fists. 

“Cease your whining. You need to eat. You’re skin and bones as it is,” Maul chastises, voice dripping with false cheerfulness as he starts to haul the Jedi up the dunes. His skin is cold against Maul’s back - far too cold to be healthy. Maul hopes to all hope that the meagre fire at the camp has not gone completely out yet. 

“And sleep. You look like you haven’t slept in the past three years.”

Kenobi manages to get out a weak ‘I haven’t’, before his body goes limp, leaving Maul with the long and arduous task of heaving an unconscious, unwashed, slightly smelly nemesis back towards his salvation - and, eventually, his doom. 

#jase writes #obimaul #what if i pinned you. huh. what then. #*incredibly traumatised war veteran* i can fuck him up more :3 #sw #maul #twin suns #obi-wan kenobi #ao3. scares me sometimes so its going on here instead #also btw i've been thinking about that post about kyber crystals A Lot and i can't remember what it said exactly but #thinking about how they can absorb the emotions and memories of the wielder and sobbing quietly to myself #dragging myself kicking and screaming out of my year long writer's block

[ninemelodies]

such a sucker for characters with memory loss but who end up still being influenced by the memories they've lost

like

donna holding baby rose for the first time and thinking "it's good to be a mother again." and she has to stop and figure out where that came from because she's never been a mother before. all the baby stuff, changing diapers, feeding, how to comfort them, hold them, etc being so easy for donna in a way that isn't typical of first time mothers

rose coming out to her mother as trans and wanting to change her name and donna suggesting "rose" without a second thought and when rose asks why that name, donna can't say. "guess i used to know someone with that name?" is all she can come up with and she thinks she did know a girl named rose, but she can't remember and it's really not all that important because rose is trying out her new name in the mirror and deciding that it's perfect

#doctor who #donna noble #rose temple noble #this was inspired by that post of donna and wilf looking at the stars #where the caption was like 'donna knows the names of all the far off stars but she can't remember where she learned them' #kinda goes hand in hand with my idea that donna 'glitches' sometimes and gets stuck in brain loops like what happened in the tardis #i know y'all all knew exactly who this was about before i even said her name #I Am Nothing If Not Predictable

[chaotic-toby]

What if Asa has completely forgot what his father did and that is why he listens to the radio at the end of The Collection because they were talking about what his father did.

And like, by forgetting, I mean that he has blocked it out (a common trauma response). He doesn't remember it happening, and by listening to reports about the incident, he hopes that it will unblock the memories.

#this was just a random thought I had while bathing #shower thoughts-- more like bath thoughts #I honestly love the idea of Asa not exactly blocking out his childhood but having difficulty remembering stuff #he remembers his childhood and small unimportant details but he had a hard time remembering major events #or feeling like the major events didn’t actually happen and that he dreamt or daydreamed them #he daydreams so much that he can't tell if his memories are actual memories or just vivd daydreams #okay this is going off the rails #im gonna shut up and finish my bath #asa emory #arkin o'brien #the collector (2009) #the collection (2012) #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher community #horror #also since it is christmas time I am wanting to post more billy lenz stuff but I cannot think of any thing

[greatprotector-if]

i paced around my house for 10 minutes after seeing this and then fell dramatically against the door like a poor maiden agonizing over when her love will return from the war

MHY HANDS ARE QUITE LITERALLY SHAKING RIGHT NOW ANON I DON’T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THE GRAVITY OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE. OOGGHGH THE SOFT COLOURING!!!! THE NOSE BUMP!!!!!!!! not to be dramatic but i’m going to be dramatic you’ve changed my life or soemthing i genuinely don’t know what to do with myself THIS IS SUCH A TREAT THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH. I DON’T KNOW HOW TO CONVEY MY GRATITUDE WITH WORDS I CAN ONLY HOPE THAT I CAN COMMUNICATE IT TELEPATHICALLY SOMEHOW

#fanart #MORE FANART!?!?!?!??!?!!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? #galen #I'M SGOGIGNG #I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT THIS #i haven't looked at the portraits i posted pretty much since i posted them #so i don't remember what was goin on there #BUT THIS IS SO PERFECT #THE EYES!!!!!!!!! #MESMERIZING #that pop of colour is exactly what i was going for when designing galen #I AM ADMIRING EVERY SINGLE INCH AND PIXEL. #he looks so bashful!!! #ADORABLE #THANK YOIUUUUUUUUUUUU #I AM SO HONOURED THAT YOU WOULD DRAW MY SILLY LITTLE CHARACTERS #I KEEP SCROLLING UP JUST TO STARE AT HIM #GALEN!!!!!! #IN AN ART STYLE THAT IS NOT MINE!!!!!! #MEANS SO MUCH TO ME!!!!!!!! #tgp fanart

[birdmenmanga]

@raventhekittycat

hi okay so I've been mulling this one over for the past day or two and I think I have the answer. not to be using hamburger to explain anything to an american but you're my detco mutual so I'm going to try and explain it in detco terms

There's a post going around recently about how if you've read detco and only detco, the first time hakuba shows up you're going to be totally flummoxed, because damn this guy is clearly important, he gets to be even cooler than Shinichi, he's got a half-page shot of him (in such a panel-dense series such as Detective Conan, no less!!) and he's got a fucking hawk. he's CLEARLY important. everything about the narrative is indicating that you need to PAY ATTENTION to hakuba and that he's the coolest guy and he's important!!!! and then he dies in the case lol (not for real. but still.)!! and you're like huh??? what was that. why did aoyama do that.

But with the context of magic kaito this totally makes sense. He's a beloved character that people have been waiting decades to see again. Of course Aoyama is going to hype him up!! It's his big moment after years of being locked in the backrooms!!!

Anyways reading birdmen for me was kind of like that. The author's previous series, Kekkaishi, was pretty one-dimensional at the beginning, and even after the main plot started picking up at around volume 6, it still felt quite understandable. I knew what she was trying to get at, and the spectacular job she did with the anthropocene and climate change metaphor towards the end of that series really made me interested in the rest of her works. That and the way she writes familial relationships is absolutely DEVASTATING. (I mean this with the highest of praise)

But when I read BIRDMEN for the first time, I was probably in... middle school, maybe? And I read it, sure, but I didn't get it. I could see what was literally happening on the page but the narrative choices were absolutely baffling at times. Why skip over the entire part of the plot where they figure out who the birdman that saved them was? She blatantly doesn't care about that. What does she care about then?? I knew I didn't get it, I knew there were parts of it that were important and I couldn't figure out why and THAT'S how it dug its pretty little claws into me. Even after I finished catching up it nagged at me a little bit, not often at all, but enough that every once in a while I go, huh, right, that was a thing, let me go read it again.

For the record this type of story haunting has happened to me twice. First time was the Heart of Thomas, second time was BIRDMEN. I think the thing is that these are both stories which are not what other people say they are and I think I came into both of these stories with a misconception, trying to look too hard for things that weren't important and therefore missing the things that were.

Because sure, BIRDMEN is about mental illness. Yeah, it's about an evil scientific organization growing mutants in a lab. Yeah, it's about what it means to leave your humanity behind. That's all technically correct, on a surface level, and the fandom at large likely agrees with these takes for the most part, but in my opinion none of that really delves into what the thematic messaging of the story is about.

There are cryptic conversations about authority and human extinction and peculiar outfit and ability choices. You can tell these choices weren't made to serve the purpose of "writing exciting shonen manga" because that was what she did for the most part in Kekkaishi and you can tell she wasn't putting her whole pussy into doing that here. So what was she doing? What's like. All of this. Waves my hands at this.

The short answer is that it's really about the interplay between capitalism (represented by humanity) and communism (represented by birdmen), and explores the role institutional white supremacy (EDEN) plays in enforcing capitalism. It is ALSO about queer liberation and the importance of community, but hey, that double-stacks conveniently with the communism metaphor.

But also take this opinion of mine with a grain of salt. As far as I know I'm the only one who really truly deeply believes that it is not only AN interpretation of the work, but one that was fully intended by the author.

So basically, I like it, because I think it says something true and beautiful that I also believe in, even if I didn't have the words for it the first time I read it. But I don't really think that's what people really look for in a media recommendation.

Do I like it? Yes, I love it. Will I recommend it to others? Yeah, sure. But do I think it's deeply flawed? Yeah, absolutely. It's flawed in the same ways as The Witch from Mercury— a rushed ending, too many threads that were opened and never tied together. The pacing and characterization is perfect in the beginning, and too rushed at the end. There are prerequisites you basically HAVE to read in order to understand the story (tempest for G-Witch and the communist manifesto for birdmen). I think a truly good story wouldn't have any of these things so if people don't like it I never blame them.

It's my personal experiences that make birdmen so profound to me. If you are not queer I just don't think Eishi coming out as a birdman to his mom will hit the same, just as an example. Sorry that I wasn't the kid you wanted me to be. I know you love me and you just want the best for me and that's why you're so controlling, because you think I can be saved by conforming to societal expectations. But I can't live like that. I can't be like that. And that's why I must go. etc.

Aesthetically I do love birdmen a lot. If I had to describe it in a few words it would probably be "chilling", "beautiful", and "powerful", which nicely coincides with the type of things I personally like to draw. It's also silly to a small degree but it's so serious and I know Tanabe can be way way way funnier (read kekkaishi for this. kekkaishi and hanazakari no kimitachi he were foundational to my sense of sequential art humor) so that's not really the standout trait of this series.

I can't let it go because I'm chewing this series like a bone. And it's taking me years but I am getting that sweet sweet marrow. By god. We are on year 3 of this shit and I am GOING to understand this series. and I'm going to make 3 video essays about it

#just thinking thoughts... #stray bird thoughts #so it's like... I don't like it because birdmen is good #I think I like it because I am a certain type of person and the author was trying to say something specifically to the type of person I am #OH #I'M THE TARGETED AUDIENCE THATS WHY I LIKE IT. #YEAH THATS REALLY IT!!! #A long time ago I said that birdmen wasn't written for the people who read it at the time it serialized. #it was written for the people they would become. #and I stand by that 100% #if it really stays with you there is going to be a reason even if you can't articulate it yet #and it may APPEAR sloppy to someone who doesn't see the queer or communist metaphor #like 'what is she doing what is she saying here she's not saying anything meaningful and emphasizing the wrong things' #but that sort of presumes she is gunning to make 'the best shonen manga ever' #which she clearly isn't. #I remember when I was reading fma with a bunch of my classmates and I'd lend them a volume or two every day #and a piece of feedback I received that has stuck with me was 'volume 15 was so boring' #(that was the volume recounting the ishval civil war. it was boring because we were middle schoolers and didn't REALLY get it.) #and like. I think to people who are looking for something like kks. the whole thing is going to feel like fma volume 15 #like WHAT is she going on about? ? ? #like witch hat and dunmesh I think are similar types of stories but I think these two are just executed way better than bm #but because of that it is just not as compelling to me you know. #like yeah yeah it's well constructed. we all see it's well constructed. #the metaphor is so well constructed that I don't feel the need to point it out. everyone is saying it already you know #but bm is cryptic enough and just slightly missed that execution enough that I feel like I'm pulling the analysis out of a smoking wreckage #recently I've been watching mentourpilot videos about airplane accidents and like. that's exactly it. #there's nothing to say about a perfectly executed flight. #it's the ones that failed. and in particular the ones that just barely failed by a little bit. that compels people the most. #cue my de communism is failure post. bc that bm sure did fail.

[solradguy]

Whenever I see someone being transphobic on twt in a bridget thread i reply with three pictures of my mains: ky kiske from ac+r, ky kiske from rev 2, and ky kiske from strive.

it self selects for people who actually play the game. it’s canon that he’ll fight off transphobes with the blade. and if they actually played guilty gear they’d get the underlining messages

While it can be really funny to bully these guys back, please keep in mind that nothing you can say or do to these people will hurt them or waste as much of their time as what they say will stick with you or waste your time. It might be funny to send them a bunch of Ky pictures, but what they're doing is laughing that the only response the people they hate can give them is sending a bunch of pictures of anime boys.

The only thing that works is blocking them. They've turned being an asshole into a recreational sport and getting any sort of response in return is a victory for them.

#asks #Unfortunately I was an asshole on the internet once (not a vicious transphobe just a basic internet asshole) #I know exactly how these people function because I was there once... #When you don't take the person you're arguing with seriously it's very easy to laugh at every single thing they do #Which is what these guys are doing. It doesn't matter how well thought out the counter argument is. They don't care and they won't care #All you can hope for is that they're young and they grow out of it (I did) #I feel bad for them because I think about what led to me being like that decades ago. Are they going through the same thing? #I was like that because I was in a hopeless situation and hated myself and hated everyone else #People arguing back just proved my point that everything sucked and my hate was justified #It's an awful feedback loop. People being kind to me felt disingenuous. Why should they be kind? I hated them. They had no reason to be nic #I had to get to a point where I was willing to help myself crawl out of that pit before I let anyone else even get near me emotionally #I still remember the day when I realized I was being a fucked up little shit to everyone lol #Early June 2011. It was sunny with no clouds and there was a cool breeze. I was listening to In This Moment and I realized #'What the hell am I doing? Do I want to be like this forever? Get your shit together man' #It was a slow process from there but I did get out of it. Slowly. Very slowly. #There's a lot I did that I regret and can't ever apologize for because it was so long ago and the names and faces are gone now #Apologizing at this point would be selfish and only for my benefit anyway. I can only hope that what I did didn't hurt people permanently #Anyway. I've never talked about this on here before because it's the kinda shit that gets put on callout posts out of context #So. I am laying my naked soul bare and raw for the sake of underlining my original point: Internet trolls don't care

[comic-sans-chan]

I know the current consensus is, "Oh, poor, dear, stupid Aziraphale, there's no going back to the way things were, there's only moving forward from this point onward," but I would like to remind everyone that Crowley's Default Plan for Being Happy and Safe With Aziraphale is always, consistently, without fail: run away to space. You know. The place they first met. At the beginning before the beginning.

So, actually, I'm sorry, but they're both still the same flavor of dumbass. They're being poured out of different containers, but it's the same damn tea.

#my posts #good omens #go #ineffable husbands #dumb bitch juice 5ever good omens 2 said #i can't even be mad because this is exactly the mindset i had for ages #just absorbed in the past like ''hey i know things are Nightmarish now but remember when they weren't? :') we should go back there'' #what a human thing to think #a human thing to fixate on #when things were okay #and we were still innocent and filled with wonder and possibility #but there is no going back there #there is no uneating the apple #in your attic mr. gaiman

[gottagobuycheese]

“Heewon-ah, what’s the matter—” she barely has the time to say before falling silent. Jung Heewon looks like a mess. Her eyes are bloodshot, her hair windswept, and she is trembling. She is wearing no jacket despite the rain outside.

Instead, she is wearing clothes fit for combat. On her hip hangs a familiar sword. Han Sooyoung would recognize it anywhere. Her pupils tremble as she raises her eyes to meet Jung Heewon’s gaze. It’s pale blue, the color of the sky in summer.

“Sooyoung,” Jung Heewon whispers, and Han Sooyoung can’t help but stare. Are those tears welling in her eyes. “My Sooyoung.”

“I,” she tries to say, because she knows that voice, she knows that tone, and the next thing she knows is Jung Heewon lifting her up in her arms, wrapping her in an embrace so tight it makes her ribs wail. If she was a regular mortal without her constellation status she probably would have broken a bone or few.

“I found you,” Jung Heewon, her Jung Heewon sobs, “I finally found you.”

(excerpt from saying goodbye is death with a thousand cuts by Karelyon)

(I’m fine I’m fine I’m totally fine I’m absolutely completely sane about them okay)

anyways this is all to say HAPPY HUGTOBER 2022!! you’ll be seeing a little bit more of me this month before I disappear into the ether again for unspecified bursts of time

and that is all to say that if thinking about how 1863!hsy left that regression without saying goodbye to her crew, only to march toward her certain demise for the sake of one person not dissimilar to someone else we know makes you go insane and also like a femslash twist to things can I heartily recommend the above fic

(just the lineart below the cut, because I like it a lot and also the rest will probably be colorless)

[ID: a lineart-only piece of fanart depicting Han Sooyoung and Jung Heewon from the webnovel Omniscient Reader by Sing-Shong. Jung Heewon lifts Han Sooyoung in a tight embrace, leaning back slightly as she wraps her arms around Han Sooyoung’s back, who is hugging her back with her arms around Jung Heewon’s neck and her legs crossed behind her hips. Both of them smile tearfully, closing their eyes as they cling to each other.]

#han sooyoung #jung heewon #omniscient reader's viewpoint #orv #soohee #omniscient reader #hugtober 2022 #hugtober day 1 #my attempts at art #‘cling’ is such a good word #it sounds exactly like it feels #anyways I have many many Thoughts about them at all times #and if I can ever get them to paper I might be able to know a moment of peace #but for now I will have to settle for frothing at the mouth like any other person every time I remember them #ANYWAYS HERE'S TO DAY ONE #I've got 8 more lined drawings set to go #I don't think any of the rest will be in color #the only reason this one is is because a) it's the first one b) I strongly felt that jhw was wearing blue in this scene don't ask me why #and c) it is the only non-canon hug in this line up so it gets to be special #can't wait to find a million and one mistakes in this as soon as I hit post #but at least jhw is wearing short sleeves here like she's meant to

[lesbianlotties]

my life may be absolutely crumbling down but you guys will not believe how good the ice cream i had yesterday was. ice cream is always enough to fix all of life's problems

#the shop insists on calling it gelato though do you think the gelato gets sad that i call it ice cream? #anyway best cookies and cream one i remember having #but now back to my life being a mess #have you ever been in a situation where you have only one (1) friend that friend unfortunately happens to be a really shitty friend but #but if you didn't have you wouldn't have anybody? #yeah #also i'm not saying that i feel like i can't breathe bc too much work and the ghost of my thesis haunting me 24/7 #but that's exactly what i'm saying #i keep waking up earlier and going to seep later and it's never enough??? #i do want to write my thesis i want to be fucking done with it but i Genuinely feel like i don't have time #i wrote 15k words for work this week and i need to do 10k more before thursday i'm going to lose my mind #and no top of that there's family? my stupidly adorable little cousins love me and there's one coming over for a sleepover tonight and???? #i didn't want that!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #i should delete this post without posting it but i'm doing it in honor of the ice cream and just putting it out there #ignore me <3

[torgawl]

- the oratrice has to play a role in furina's plan to save fontaine. the original sin committed by egeria is probably what furina, as the hydro archon, is being sentenced to. could there be a way for furina to "separate" herself, sentencing part of herself to death and entrusting the future of fontaine's justice to another? (i'm still stuck in the three thrones so fragmentation of the self is something i think has been hinted at) could this mean the end of the oratrice itself?

- neuvillette looked like he was hovering above the entire city while using his powers. we know he doesn't have his full sovereign powers so if he is the one stopping the flooding, what power is he using? could he be making use of the hydro gnosis?

- the oratrice has been accumulating energy and power as a means to an end, it converts fontaine's people's belief in justice into indemnitium. could this be the power that will save the nation?

- remember nicole's quote after scaramouche deleted himself from the irminsul? "unfortunately, the fate of teyvat cannot easily be changed. perhaps a god may have a slim chance, but for anyone else... who can say. [...] history does not change easily, but human hearts can. believe your own eyes. only that which you see is true. what is unseen is but an illusion." this ties with the themes of fontaine a bit to well for it not feel like some sort of foreshadowing. nicole also appears in the trailer saying" the prophecy... yes, what has been prophesized will be fullfiled." coincidence? i don't think so. arlecchino and furina constantly talk as if everything is teatrichal and the name of this quest masquerade of the guilty also implies a false show. do i know what this means exactly? no. but you can't tell me this isn't big and related to the way atonement will be reached regarding the sin tainting fontaine and it's people.

#i don't know what to make of everything but i can't stop thinking about the trailer #i'm not informed enough on genshin lore for this brainrot 😂 #continuing though. there's no way skirk in human i'm just gonna say it. what is she exactly? no idea #i just know i looked at her and thought she looks straight out of honkai #could she be from outside teyvat/this world? could she be an abyssal creature? #but she's not just a girl no way people also pointing out how her designs resembles the whale and vishaps #she aslo apparently resembles this honkai character that i don't remember the name of who's also not human #so eyes on her 👀 #anyways that's all for now i think #i really wanted to write down this before i forgot especially nicole's quote i'm so interested in the hexenzirkel #oh there's also the narzissenkreuz ordo too!!! the clock falling has to mean fontaine was saved/the prophecy was broken right? #still curious about the possible narzissenkreuz member who said something about focalors 'fooling' them #i forgot the words #furina is so marie antoinette coded i love that for her what a queen #anyways bye ignore me spamming you all today 😂 #genshin thoughts #genshin impact #my post

[xylophone888]

(this is a repost because i think i accidentally deleted the original post :/)

fun (actually quite sad and not fun whatsoever) fact: when rincewind described what he thought was a crush on conina to himself he only listed physical "symptoms" such as fast heartbeat, feeling too hot to a "molten iron" extent and sweaty palms; he never brought up or even tried to bring up psychological stuff like being drawn to the person you have a crush on or finding some of their features or interests attractive or even something like wanting to get to know them better

he only found physical symptoms that could correspond to many different things other than infatuation and i personally think he just said to himself "well she's a woman and im a man and men are attracted to women right? therefore all this i feel must mean that im attracted to her, can't imagine anything else" but actually if you look at the aforementioned symptoms a little closer....i honestly am of the opinion he was just constantly stressed and anxious and scared on such a deep level already that he couldn't understand why was he feeling all that so he went for the only explanation available; he got so used to fear and anxiety he stopped noticing it and when it expectedly produced bad physical symptoms he already stopped even thinking about the fact that he's afraid and anxious because it became the default state of being to him; he forgot that feeling the way he feels all the time isn't normal

#local man confuses an ongoing constant panic attack with love #discworld #rincewind #i just needed to post this again i can't believe i would get rid of such an impactful post #headcanons #i hope i spelled all the names right i just can't remember her name for the love of me #i love deciphering these little details because #every single instance of him seemingly being attracted to a woman is actually very easily read as something completely different #its either him being confused about his own feelings (conina) or him thinking about potato chips so eagerly people start to look like #them (lotus blossom) or even a woman actually straight up forcing a kiss onto him without him showing any signs of wanting one #rincewind looks at a woman accidentally and thinks “im probably straight yea” all while deeply in mutual love with his male bestfriend #thoughts #its also an extremely cool subversion of heteronormativity because at first you assume that it all is exactly what it seems and that he #must be straight without a second thought and then you learn hes canonically gay and you go “wait huh” and then you go “ohhhh” #he is so gay #please feel free to interact

[pinkfey]

being a hater but i'm sad about it :((

something something da2's tumblr popularity something something fandom's means of consumption something something the prioritization of concept over execution

#like how fans invent substance where there is none to heighten their enjoyment?? #which there is nothing wrong w i want 2 clarify !! i do this all the time #i was just kind of hoping that upon replay i'd get what everyone is saying a bit more #bc the things i love abt da2 are all conceptual and abstract (like most posts that praise it are) #but god the game is just not good the actual text of the game is just not good and the gameplay itself is just. exactly how i remembered. #like critics bombed this for a reason and it shows. i love da2's arc and story in my brain but i truly can't stand playing the real thing #anywayssss i've had this opinion since it came out which is why tumblr's adoration of it sort of shocked me but i was rlly hoping to go #into this w the benefit of the doubt n some fresh perspective and it makes me rlly sad idk!!!! #anyways.txt #delete later

[winedark]

one time i accidentally blocked a mutual instead of a post and i felt very bad and unblocked them and apologised and they never spoke to me/refollowed again and it wasn't even a bad post so now every time i block a post i have to focus really hard. the one upside to mobile is that i cannot make that exact mistake again

#beehive whispers #xkit is a bit too powerful at times #i can't remember exactly what the post was but i remember it being an annoying looping gif and it was a slow dash day