#<- tags for tracking purposes

[thebogiscoming]

i NEED to keep working on my object show so that I can make a wheelship blog with them. I think tht would be so rad.

[consultingfujoshi]

I'm starting to think that maybe outie irving sees his innie in a similar way that helena does, ie. a tool he can use to further his own ends. he's clearly got a plan, and he chose to become severed to advance that plan somehow. is he going to be shocked or even angry to find out his innie has spent the last 3 years worshipping the company he's been trying to infiltrate from the outside? he literally created his innie for the purpose of bringing down lumon, and you're telling him he's actually the MDR hall monitor and lumon's biggest cheerleader?? will he freak out if he finds out he's been down there falling in love and getting his heart broken and wanting to LEAVE because of it instead of trying to find the testing floor hallway? innie irv's reaction to breaking out is like the total opposite of what his outie would have wanted if you ask me based on how he immediately goes to tell whoever he's working with that his innie got the "message" (saw the paintings) and that probably means to expect forward movement in whatever their plans are, and instead of pursuing it innie irv wants to leave the severed floor forever. what would outie irv's reaction be if dylan had let him walk out into that stairwell. would he have walked right back in like helena did on her first day?

[kiatnirans]

NGERN ANUPART LUANGSODSAI AS ARTHIT IN FOUREVER YOU เพราะรักนำทาง (2024)

[divorcedfiddleford]

and you may say to yourself: "my god! what have i done?" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful wife!" and you may tell yourself: "this is not my beautiful house!" and you may ask yourself: "well, how did i get here?"

time isn't holding up, time isn't after us, time is a pony ride! (images described in alt text)

[thisonelikesaliens]

this was too romantic to let AI screw up. literally "let me help make all your wishes come true" and maybe more poetically "your wish is my command"

(jfc she is so hot my heart can't take it)

sudden cannibalism lmao (correction: "people of all ages love me")

AI is just dropping things left and right. "it would be great if time could freeze at this moment"

(there are other instances like this too but I'm really only paying attention when Gu Jin Yu is on the screen)

and now AI is trying to skip steps? "I know you've been sincere"

"I can wait until you're ready to tell me (it won't be too late)"

(nooooooo not the foreshadowing)

uh...??? what? how? "how will you react (when you find out my agenda and my identity)?"

"even if I can't be chief I'll protect you"

"I'll make you go bankrupt every. single. time you show your face"

"I'll smash you into pieces and you'll die without a grave (aka no peace in death)" (very classic curse)

(yeah both our mains are badasssssssss)

"you've failed/you're useless as a daughter"

guessing this is a Black Tiger Clan specialty. I'm used to seeing the first bow to heaven and earth, second bow to ancestors, third bow to parents

"she's even willing to give up her title for me"

"I want to be with you every single day, share every meal, weather all four seasons, and travel around the world"

(this is a variation and expansion of the popular romantic line "one house two people three meals four seasons" which also appeared in ep12 of My Tooth Your Love and she added the idiom "five lakes four seas" which basically means all around the world. PEAK ROMANCE)

I LOVED THIS SHOW. I didn't set out to do language notes so these are random AF and I didn't catch everything and also skipped some that I didn't think mattered. But my ask box is always open if you have a specific question.

[foreverephemeral]

Illegible Neon Signs, also known as The Ecologist; a gift created for a young, lonely nature-enthusiast, given the purpose of a vessel through which to observe, identify, and catalogue local fauna. Designed to visually resemble the common ancestor of many future genera, it is ultimately its own distinct species.

Millennia after it and its creators were long gone, an Iterator discovered its genetic blueprint within the depths of their archived pearls and chose to remake the strange specimen, a relic of its time. With a few modifications to better suit modern evolutionary trends and a new outfit to honour their shared parents, it was re-released into the wild to live life anew.

[mikelogan]

this is purely out of curiosity! bonus points if you share in the tags what sort of tags you track or why you don't track any!

i track 39 tags, most of which are edit tags, plus my user tag (#usertj) and the tracked tags for my side/source blogs.

[minjoongism]

(c) @duribidara wake up we might be getting the raiden remix of autobahn @ waterbomb sg since mingi believes raiden would probably include it if he asked… and he’s gonna ask…

[discjude]

If you ever catch me calling Aric "well written" I want you to know I am NOT talking about anything pre-TCY I am exclusively talking about the Real Thing. Rhian's death chapter being called Rhian And The Real Thing - which is where he's confronted with the fact that his brother will always choose Aric over him - suggests that the Real Thing refers to Aric and Japeth's love, or could just refer to "Aric" as the Real Thing. The chapter title and quote "flesh and blood" also links to that idea of something 'real', or tangible, Japeth only believes it's real if he can physically touch it, instead of being the illusion of Aric he creates briefly earlier in that chapter. But then you have the fact that that last quote isn't actually from Aric at all, it's from Tedros pretending to be Aric, which implies that everything that "Aric" says in F+B isn't real at all; he's "more real than the real thing", more of what Japeth convinced himself was there between the two of them than of Aric's actual feelings towards him.

There's two interpretations you can get from that, one being that there isn't a Real Thing, that what Japeth thinks was real is a delusion - the fake version of Aric being symbolic of that - and the fact that he only realises it's not actually him is because this Aric is willing to kiss him, and the real thing would never do that. So then the other interpretation is that Aric never loved Japeth - Tedros-As-Aric is "more real", more close to Japeth's idea of Aric than the actual guy, and so everything he says is likely exaggerated. It's possible that Tedros just played into Japeth's idea of Aric, rather than recreating what he knew he was like, since that would've definitely been more effective (and I mean. it worked for a while). The only thing we ever see from the real Aric about Japeth in the entirely of TCY is the letter in book 5, which pleads with Japeth to come and find him, but it never mentions love. The entire Real Thing analogy is genuinely one of my favourite parts of TCY (if anyone knows anywhere else where it comes up other than RATRT and F+B, PLEASE tell me) and is the sole reason why Aric is one of the most interesting characters to look at in TCY. Happy year of the snake everyone

[thegeminisage]

ok let's revive some 1960s discourse

(clearer text in image IDs & below cut reblog for sample size etc etc etc)

VULCAN GAMBIT by Shirley Meech

Most authorities agree that the main traits of a winning chess player are power of visualization, memory, alertness, calmness, psychological shrewdness, and will to win. Let us consider the series of games between Captain Kirk and Mr, Spock, of the U.S.S. Enterprise, Several times, we have observed them using that beautiful, unique, and -unhappily- unavailable version of the 3-D chessboard, and we are reliably informed that Captain Kirk generally wins. (1) Comparison of the two men in respect to these six attributes is therefore quite interesting.

Power of visualization: Mr, Spock is clearly superior in this category; he does complicated mathematical computations in his head, and carries on casual conversation at the same time. (2)

Memory: Mr, Spock again has the edge. He has many times demonstrated a memory capacity superior to any other on the Enterprise, with the possible exception of the ship's computer. (3)

Alertness: Spock again probably has the edge here.

Calmness: Spock, easily.

Psychological shrewdness: Again, Spock has the edge. He has been known to trick Kirk into doing things he did not intend to do, (4) and even to talk his way out of following Kirk's orders, (5)

Will to win: The edge here belongs to the Captain. (6)

Of course, it is understood that neither Spock nor Kirk is at all deficient in any of these qualities. However, with Kirk leading in only one of the six categories, how can he possibly win so frequently?

The answer is simple, Spock's psychological shrewdness takes into account Kirk's relentless will to win. (7) His memory and power of visualization paint a vivid picture of Kirk when his will is frustrated, (8) a condition which bodes ill for anyone in range. With alertness and calmness in this crisis, Spock maneuvers the games so that Kirk wins. With a final touch of the psychological shrewdness, he allows Kirk to believe that his "illogical" style of play has triumphed over Spock's logic. This puts the Captain into a frame of mind which is beneficial to his self-image, his efficiency rating, and the well-being of the crew in general. (9)

The Vulcan, of course, would be the last to admit this; but it would not be the first time he has deceived his friend for what he considered a valid logical reason. (10)

How, if we could only ascertain whether he has accepted Doctor McCoy's offer to teach him the game of poker….or is that why McCoy was seen grumbling along the corridor today, without his shirt?

(1) "Charlie X," "Where Ho Man Has Gone Before," "Court Martial" (2) "Tomorrow is Yesterday" (3) "Miri," "Arena," "The Naked Time," others (4) "Shore Leave" (5) "Devil in the Dark," "Operation .'Annihilate" (6) "Errand of Mercy," "The Corbomite Maneuver," "The Squire of Gothos," others (7) "Menagerie" (8) "The Naked Time," "Charlie X," others (9) The opinions expressed herein are not necessarily those of yeds. (10) "Menagerie"

[A drawing by "DEA" of Spock smiling at a small bird-like alien in his palm. The caption reads, "Don't laugh. You are fascinating too.]

[hopecomesbacktolife]

while I expected lots of cute moments with bb-8 and pew-pew adventures in Poe Dameron: Flight Log (which, don’t get me wrong, I definitely did get and was very happy about!!) along with lots of cool ship specs and tech details—

what I wasn’t expecting (a surprise, to be sure, but a welcome one) was several instances of incredibly heartfelt, evocative, and sweet introspections from Poe on his family, upbringing, philosophy / ethics, the resistance, and love 🥺 so many sweet characterization tidbits in this book, I really enjoyed reading it ♡

if you’re interested in reading it as well, I borrowed it (for free!) on internet archive which I highly highly recommend, it was such a fun read and it’s very easy & user-friendly to borrow books from them!

[ensemblesongs]

⟟ TRIP album directory.

🐝 NA NA NA SUMMER NIGHT BeeAT | -Corner- | Noisy:Beep | Crazy Roulette | RISKY VENUS | Honeycomb Summer | Ariadne At My Fingertips | PARANOIA STREET | Helter-spider | Crazy Anthem | Be the Party Bee! | -Exit- | Thrill Addict | Eyes on me, Hold me tight | Petal's Resolution | Yummy・Tummy・LOVE!!

🐇 *Dream Opening* | Light Spectrum | うさぎの森の音楽会 | Parallel Maze | Love it Love it | FALLIN' LOVE=IT'S WONDERLAND | Sunny Day Sugar Wave | *Happy Closing* | Centre of the theatre | Hopping on the music notes! | SUPER SPACE STAR☆ | Sketch of Me

🎭 Nebula | Foggy Night | Sleeper Mystery Train | =EYE= | Stippling | Secret of Metropolis | Bye-Bye Buddy | No Name Yet | Handcraft | HELLO, NEW YEAR! | CROSS SHINE

🕊 Angelic Grace | Sunlight | Never-ending Stage!!! | Love is Primavera! | The Tempest Night | Ghostic Treat House | Dreaming Ocean | Gloaming | Dawning Angels | Feathers of Ark | Crystal Heart | Wandering Clown | Treasure Memories | Welcome back, dear moment

🌹 -Open the cover- | Library of Blessings | Eternal Weaving | Turn a page | Acanthe | Electronic Labyrinth | Le temps des fleurs | Beautiful Nightingale | -Close the book- | Amor Vincit Omnia | Dreaming Architecture

🃏 DiZZineSs | Black Out See Saw | Kiss of Life | Living on the edge | Distorted Heart | You're speculation | VERMILION | Hysteric Humanoid | Believe 4 leaves | UNDYING HOLY LOVE | Tsubasa Moratorium | SOLID SOUL | I LOVE "LOVE" ♡ | Raise the Velvet | Starlight of Faith

🎧 J△MMinG☆ | Twinkle Aerial Battle | Fighting Dreamer | Love×me⇄monsteR | Turbulent Storm | POLYPHONIC WORLD | Swee2wink Love Letter | ∞AB+DUCT+I→ON∞ | GO-AHEAD SIGNAL | A WAY OF LIGHT

🦇 Tsumi no Soko | Resurrection of Soul | Nightless World | Savage Love Affair | No one knows... | FORBIDDEN RAIN | Sustain Memories | Fiery Scream | SURF ON SMILE | ENGRAVE LIVES | BURNING BODY

🍁 (Yet to release) Fuuga | Ito | Akatsuki Iroha Uta | Natsudori no Uta -Summer Bird- | Gekkou Kitan | Konjiki Senya Yumebutai | Yozora, Saritote Kasasagi wa | ROCK ROAR | Unpredictable Reincarnation | Kurenai Henrei | Uta Seishin Keppuroku

Post will actively be updated...🖋 low quality of certain older uploads to be fixed in due time!

[myreia]

Nightbloom

Rating: Mature (for heavy themes) Pairings: Wolmeric Characters: Aymeric, Aureia (WoL) Word Count: 3,365 Summary: Ala Mhigo rises in a chorus of celebration. But high above the city in the Royal Menagerie, Aureia faces a dire understanding of herself, where her secrets have led her—and what it means for the man who loves her. Prompt: v. song | music Notes: Set at the end of Stormblood, spoilers for the base expac. Content warning: themes of war and trauma, a brief mention of a miscarriage Read on AO3

The drums beat.

The city roars.

And a nation blooms to triumphant life.

High above the labyrinthine walls, Aureia sits in a field of red, legs crossed and hands in her lap. Her staff stands tall by her side, wavering in the wind, the tip driven into the soil like some bizarre mockery of the Garlean flags that once claimed this land for itself. She should have left the Royal Menagerie bells ago when they carted the body away, but she has remained, unable to bring herself to descend into the maw of the Eorzean Alliance waiting below.

From her vantage point, she has watched Ala Mhigo swell with victory. She has seen the sun set, staining the sky bloodred as Garlean banners burned. She has seen the moon rise and the stars come out, like shining beacons guiding the way. She has heard the crescendo of a thousand cheers in the streets, the chorus of voices joined in song, the flood of music cascading through every inch of the city. Soldiers and civilians, Ala Mhigans and Domans, Eorzeans and Ishgardians all joined as one, crying out to the dawn of this new era.

With the city reclaimed and any surviving Imperials thrown in prison, the celebrations have begun in earnest. The city thrums with music and dance, food and drink, good friends and even better company. Everyone who knows anyone—regardless of their role in the siege—has converged on the capital, keen to join in on the festivities and to chance a glance at the famed Warrior of Light who just brought Zenos yae Galvus to his knees.

She could join them easily. Head down the stairs, smile and nod as if nothing was wrong, accept the adoration of a thousand grateful souls, like any good hero should…

But she is ill-suited for a party—especially one where the Ala Mhigans have put on their finest. If she leaves now, her makeup will be the ash smudged on her brow and the dried blood splattered on her chin. Her dress, her ripped and stained combat leathers. Her jewellery, the scuffed ringbands fraying at the edges.

So, she stays in this field of flowers with her eyes on the horizon, ignoring the rhythms of the city as she turns to the north-east.

To Garlemald.

To home.

Farewell, my first friend. My enemy.  

“Bastard,” she spits. “You greedy fucking bastard—” 

Footsteps trudge against stone behind her, their rhythm recognizable in a heartbeat. She closes her eyes, ignoring the sting of tears prickling in the corners. Blame it on the wind and the dust. There’s little reason why she would cry when her heart has turned to ice.

“Aureia.”

Aymeric’s voice washes over her, warm and firm. For the first time since mounting the steps, she feels at peace—as if his mere presence has washed all her fears away, and shielded her from any others yet to come. For a moment, she can feel herself rising in a rush, tripping through the sea of red flowers as she flies into his arms—

She blinks and finds herself on solid ground. She never left.

“You came to find me,” she says finally, staring ahead. The mountains loom in the distance, black against a brilliant night sky.

“Aye.”

“Waste of time and a waste of going up and down those stairs.” A lump forms in her throat. Of course he came, it is in his nature to. This has been the way they’ve been for a while now, ever since she traded Ishgard for the front. Garlemald grinds her down and shatters her, and he’s left to pick up the pieces. How many times have they done this song and dance now? How many more times will he be willing to play his part? “I’m better off alone.”

His sigh whispers on the wind, faint and fragile, as if it weren’t for her ears. “Come with me, Aureia,” he calls. “You cannot remain here forever.”

“I can. I haven’t finished.”

“There is nothing left to finish—”

“I said I haven’t finished!” Her neck cricks horribly as she wrenches herself around to look at him, ruby eyes dark with simmering with rage. “I said I would take Zenos’ head and I haven’t fucking done that, now have I?”

“Aureia. You cannot.”

“I can—I still can! If not him, then the next one up on the chain of command, and the next and the next until I get to the Emperor himself. By the gods, Aymeric, this isn’t finished until every last Galvus and all of their underlings are cold and in the fucking ground.” 

He watches her impassively, an immovable mountain to her roaring wind. Once, she would have taken his silence as confirmation that he was listening. Now, she isn’t so sure. The subject of Zenos has consumed her for weeks, setting a blazing fire within her that burns without abandon. The mere mention of the prince’s name has been enough to derail her completely, stoking her rage into an uncontrollable beast.  

Zenos would love to know that he has had that affect on her, wouldn’t he? Bastard. That fucking bastard who got the last laugh, who looked her in the eye as he took her vengeance from her.

One cut was all it took.

One cut and she watched him bleed out, the promise of her future going with it.

The drums beat, their rhythms rolling distantly above the city walls like thunder. Music to dance to, or music to march to? Perhaps it’s one and the same. It doesn’t take much for her to imagine the sound of a thousand soldiers marching across polished metal floors to a beat very much the same as that one. Tonight may be Ala Mhigo’s first night of freedom, but the Empire was here for twenty years.  

Aureia shivers. A feverish chill runs down her spine and she wraps her arms around her knees, pulling them into her chest. Somehow she’s both too hot and too cold. Black mage’s paradox. “I’m sorry,” she mutters. “That’s not the answer you wanted, was it?”

“Would it matter if I said no?” Aymeric replies shortly. “You seem to have appointed yourself the expert on how I feel about certain matters, all without the need to consult me.”

She chews her lower lip. Shit. They’ve barely traded words and already she’s pissed him off—well, as pissed off as someone like Aymeric can get. She misses Thancred’s directness. At least he has the decency of cussing her out and telling her off instead of giving her this polite veneer of passive-aggressive disapproval. They still fight these days, but it burns out quickly and they return to normal. But with Aymeric… gods, she doesn’t even know how to have an argument with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you? You keep saying those words, but the more times you say them, the less you mean them.”

“I’m sorry, I—” She cuts off, flushing red. Blowing out a sharp breath, she shoves her fist into the ground, fingers tugging at a patch of bright red flowers. The stalks pull up easily and she shreds them one by one, like a child set loose on their parents’ garden. “I need to be alone. It’s better if I’m alone.”

“Aureia…” His voice is impossibly calm. Where once she would find it soothing, now she finds it patronizing. “You have kept your solitude for too long now. I’m concerned for you—”

“Thanks. Take your concern someplace else and go.”

“No.”

“Why not? There’s a whole party taking over the city. Go get drunk like the rest of our friends and celebrate. You deserve it.”

Aureia yanks up another handful of flowers and tears their petals one by one, crushing them in her fist like some sad version of the game the Corvosi girls used to play in the barracks at night when their sergeants weren’t looking, giggling and falling into each other as they eyed the boys across the room.

He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not…

Intimate relations in the infantry wasn’t encouraged, but they had ways of making it happen anyway. Even in the Imperial military youths will act like youths. She didn’t. She had no interest and showed no interest, to the point it became some sick joke among the bullies of their squad—regardless of gender—to see who could get into her trousers first. Thankfully none of them ever tried in earnest. She became adept at ignoring the squeaking cots and the muffled moans, rolling up in her bedroll and using ambient aether to block out the noise, pretending she wasn’t seething with jealousy at the connection her squadmates all seemed to have found.

And then she turned seventeen and she was whisked away to the capital. A specialized unit, her mother said, with her brother and herself at the head. To be sanctioned by the crown prince himself… if she could prove their worth.

She twists a petal between her fingers and pops it off the step. He would have been around fifteen at the time. Bold and strong, already well on his way to be the most terrifying and bloodthirsty general the Garlean Empire has ever seen. A child honed to be a killer.

And now he is dead.

Funny what seventeen years of hell will do to you. Where are those old squadmates now? Dead too, most likely. Maybe she killed them herself and never knew it, at Castrum Meridianum or the Praetorium, Baelsar’s Wall or Doma Castle, Castrum Abania or even here today at Ala Mhigo.

Or they’re prisoners of war, if they’re lucky. Maybe they’re like Fordola, shoved into a prison cell with an enchanted collar slapped around their necks.

The flowers ripple behind her. Her ears prick up and she straightens, muscles tensing as she senses Aymeric’s approach. Quietly, he kneels beside her and presses a hand to her cheek, turning her head to face him. He meets her gaze with silent fortitude, every inch of his expression etched with the yearning to understand but the inability to make sense of it. She can’t blame him for that. How could he understand? She’s never given him the information that would allow him to. He’s missing half the story and is still left to clean up the mess.

Her heart pounds, a painful ache squeezing tight. Gods, she loves him for that. His patience, his compassion, the way he keeps trying long after someone else would have given up on her. But this is one truth he can chase but never catch.

He’ll be chasing it forever.

She closes her eyes.

“Aureia,” he murmurs. “Look at me.”

“I… I can’t—”

“Look at me. Please.”

“I…” She sucks in a breath, teeth scraping her bottom lip, and with a cry, collapses into his arms. He holds her as she sobs, gently brushing her hair back from her face. She shakes, heaving breath after heaving breath straining her lungs, a wave of nausea coursing through her. The more she cries, the sicker she feels, and all the while the air sings with the beat of those damn drums. “I can’t do this anymore, Aymeric. I can’t. I—”

Aymeric pulls her closer and kisses her forehead. “There’s nothing else to fear, my love,” he murmurs. “Your enemy is dead. Ala Mhigo is free. Is this not the outcome you were hoping for?”

It’s not. He fucking killed himself. “It… I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

She curls into him, hiding her face, and presses a hand to her mouth as she forces down the nausea. A lie. Another bloody lie. She thought this would be the day she would let all of this go, bury her past and be done with it forever. She anticipated it so strongly it dominated every thought and every action, driving her to bloodlust and vengeance’s sweet call.

While the Alliance planned for Ala Mhigo’s freedom, she planned for her own.

Zenos was the last person alive to know her roots. The only one to make the connection between the infamous Imperial signifier who betrayed her country and killed her own, and the famed Warrior of Light. She still shakes with horror recalling the raid on the resistance camp, his hulking form emerging from the flames like a demon from the abyss. He knew who she was from the moment their weapons clashed—the same soldier he fought in that arena at the Imperial palace nearly two decades ago, the same soldier who electrified his spirit and charged it with the thrill of the fight.

He did more than just remember her. He devoured her—her essence, her very being. No one came as close to fulfilling him as she did that day in their youth, and no one else had ever since. Fighting him at Rhalgr’s Reach gifted him a taste of the thing he craved most.

It was then that she decided she had to kill him personally. Her hand, no one else’s. The logic was simple: kill Zenos, and she kills her past.

And she failed.

By refusing to give her the satisfaction of killing him herself, he has cursed her to live in terror. Terror that she is a Garlean through and through, terror that she can never be free of it. The threat he posed may be gone, but there is another one simmering beneath the surface. Instead of burying her secrets, she has dug them up and thrown them out into the open, like a graverobber exhuming a corpse and scattering the bones.

It is only a matter of time before the Alliance starts asking questions.

Aymeric strokes his fingers through her hair. “I cannot pretend to understand the trials you have undergone these past few moons,” he says quietly. “Fury knows that I have been absent for many of them, and by Her grace I wish I had not been. If I could turn back time, I would have unshackled myself from Ishgard and ventured at your side. Faced him with you at Rhalgr’s Reach.”

Aureia chokes, the sweet, sick rise of nausea burning in her chest at the mention of the raid. Their relationship has never quite been the same since. It wasn’t the bruises or the scrapes or the broken arm, but everything that came after. Sitting in a pool of her own blood, listening to the chirurgeon tell her something she never thought possible… In the blink of an eye, she was pregnant and then she was not. The shock and grief and overwhelming confusion that pulled her into the depths like a riptide, mourning something she never wanted in the first place.

If Thancred hadn’t been there, she would have lost herself entirely.  

Lucia told her Aymeric was mad with worry when he heard of her injuries, but what would he have done had he known what the chirurgeon told her? This bold, kind wonderful man, who loves her more than anything and longs for all that is supposed to entail—marriage and family, when the time is right. But the time is never right, nor is it what she wants. So, perhaps it was wrong to keep the truth from him, but she would rather he never know.  

There are many things he is better not knowing about her.

Too many.  

“I’m glad you weren’t there,” she mumbles, her face buried in his chest. “He would have targeted you to get to me.”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.” He pauses, his hand gripping her shoulder. “There is no way to know the what ifs and the what could have beens, nor should we. It is over. It is done. He may not have fallen by your hand, but perhaps that was a blessing. Vengeance is a hungry beast that cannot be sated by one death alone. It demands and it demands until there is nothing left of you.”

Her head jerks up. “Aymeric, I’m not Estinien.”

“I did not say that.”

“Nor am I Nidhogg.”

“I did not say that either.” He looks down sharply, his fingers falling from her hair. “But you must let this go. I know how this siege has weighed on you, but you cannot keep walking down this path—”

“Why?”

“Because I am terrified of what it will do to you.” His expression hardens. She has never seen him afraid—not when he handed himself over to his father and the Heavens’ Ward, not when they faced down Hraesvelgr together, not even when he turned a bow on Estinien’s possessed body when Nidhogg attacked Falcon’s Nest. But this? This is his true fear, isn’t it? Fear that he is losing her. “Please, Aureia. I love you more than words can say. But you cannot hold onto this anger and rage forever—”

“I can.”

“You cannot—” 

“Don’t patronize me, Aymeric!”

She shoves away from him and rises to her feet, stalking across the flowerbeds to the edge of the menagerie. Beyond the walls, an orange glow rises from the city below. Lights from the celebrations flood the streets, flickering in the moving shadows of dancers and other revellers. The fires of revolution, of a kind. From up here, it almost looks as thought the whole city is burning.

The music swells, the beat driving on and on, pressing painfully against her ears. If this were any other night or if she were some other person, perhaps he would ask her to dance and she would accept—a dance alone for the two of them, atop a city witnessing its rebirth.

But it is not any other night.

And she cannot stop being who she is.

The wind picks up, tugging at her unbound hair. Blinking back tears, Aureia opens her fist, tossing the crushed petals into the breeze. They spiral away, out over the battlements, and vanish into the dark of night.

“Aureia.” Aymeric’s voice calls from behind her. He’s close—close enough for her to sense his presence, yet far enough away that the distance between them is tangible. Cold. She misses his warmth, the days when she felt his embrace could shield her from the world. “Come with me.”

She stares ahead, the music raging on. “Is that an order, Lord Commander?”

“No. It is a request.”

“Then my answer is no.”

He is silent for a long time. Then—

“Do as you will.” His tone is short and sharp, as if speaking to an unruly temple knight who has spoken out of turn. “If you insist on refusing my help, then do as you will. I cannot stand by and watch you destroy yourself. I will wait at the bottom of menagerie for you. If you do not meet me there in half a bell’s time, then I will know your answer.”

Anger flares within her, burning bright. “If it’s an answer you want, I can give you one now—”

“Half a bell, Aureia. Either come or do not. The choice is yours.”

Aureia stares out across the city, her fist pressed to her heart as Aymeric walks away. In her mind’s eye, she can envision herself turning around and chasing after him, throwing herself into his arms with tears in her eyes and an apology on her lips, clinging to him as he carries her out of the menagerie and down the sweeping steps to the city beyond. Her heart aches for it, urging for it to come true. It would be so simply, to go to him, to run to him and hide, to turn her back on the truth that haunts her from the very horizon.

But she cannot bring herself to move.

In the wake of his ultimatum, he has left her with a single question: what does she give up? Her relationship? Or herself?

Nausea and bile rise in her throat.

She turns, running from the battlements, and collapses in the flowerbeds. She vomits, again and again until her throat is searing and her lips are cracked and her body has nothing left to give.

Below, the music beats on and on and on.

[noirandchocolate]

Curious about this, ‘cause I’ve been doing headcanon stuff about my faves a lot lately.

No “combo of these” choice because I’m asking about the primary way, not for the only way or every way. Whichever you use/that happens most often, that’s your answer to the poll.

But feel free to tell me your combo in reblog text, tags, or replies!

Reblogging to send this to a farther audience would be very nice of you btw!

(Also, all the ways I put in the poll and any other methods people use are valid and cool. It’s headcanons—hopefully the main goal is to have fun and maybe share what you make with others! Just making sure you all know I think that. <3)

[thisonelikesaliens]

i love gaga, i really do, i'll be a subscriber for life, but their english subs have a lot of room for improvement

original line is 冰凍三尺非一日之寒 which is a super common proverb that means it takes more than a day for a river to freeze 3 feet deep (note the proverb here doesn't specify a body of water but the OG line it evolved from did say "river")

iqiyi is closer

but viki takes the crown

(if this was a modern drama the most direct translation would be "Rome wasn't built in a day" but that wouldn't fit the period here so i like the viki version best)

[luxaofhesperides]

Listen. I love the dcxdp crossover. It’s a lot of fun! There’s so much that can be done for this crossover, with all the characters and settings and the many plots that can spring up from them. But as much as I love writing for it and sharing my fics with the community, there’s been a significant uptick in things that are rubbing me the wrong way. Some of these things have to do with canon vs fanon, but others are more about the shifting culture of the community.

(keep in mind that I only see things on Tumblr and am not in any discords, so my experience will be different from others bc I have a more limited experience with the wider community)

(putting it all under a read more bc its long)

Let’s start off with a look at what we’re doing as a group:

Building off of completed fics on tumblr: I always thought the etiquette is to not build off of a completed work without permission. Someone had an idea and executed it, then shared it with us. It should end there. If you want to add to it, contact the author first and see if it’s something they’re fine with; some will say no, some will say yes, some will say yes but be sure to credit them for the original fic. A lot of what I’m seeing is a completed fic gets added on to in a way that completely takes it away from the original idea. Having experienced this myself (on a requested prompt from someone else, no less), I found it kind of rude. Maybe it’s just me, but a completed fic is not a prompt request or something open for building up another story around. It’s already completed. Leave the story as is and let the author know you liked it.

Expecting others to write for you: the prompts are what build this crossover fandom, in my eyes. Prompts are posted and people create something around them, either as a group by adding onto what other people are saying, or as individual fics that one person wrote. Now I’m seeing people throw out prompts that are basically fic outlines, then begging others to write something for it. Like, those prompts are already written! They have very specific details! Why not write it yourself? You’re already halfway there, you can just write the thing you want to see and post it. It’s not about being ‘good’ or ‘bad’ at writing, it’s about crafting an idea to share to the world. Why ask others to write it for you when you’ve already practically done it?

But also, you are not owed fic. This might just be general fandom burn out talking, but being a fic author who has been treated like a machine? It sucks. I love writing, but I share what I write because what I wrote made me happy and I wanted to share that with others. I’m not a content creating machine who has to pump out fic after fic for other people’s entertainment. I just want to share what I love and having people pop up in my notifs only going “write more/tag me/sequel?/etc” is tiring. I get that it’s coming from a place of love bc you liked the fic enough to want to see more, but please actually talk about what I’ve already written instead of going “update? More? MORE????”

Hostility to DC canon: I get that DC canon is a mess, but it still is a canon and has a lot of cool stuff! I’m seeing a lot of posts recently about how dpxdc people refuse to engage with the comics, and I need to let yall know that this is not a new thing. DC fans also refuse to engage with the comics (it’s mostly batfam) and it’s very easy to tell who has and who hasnt ready batfam related stuff bc the fanon is incredibly wrong about characterisation and what happened in comics. But that’s for a different post.

I’m seeing both sides of the argument (this is for fun, reading comics isn’t required, don’t like don’t read vs it’s tiring seeing people butcher my favorite characters into ocs with their name/face, I want to share my love for comics but there’s so much pushback, it shouldn’t be weird to expect people engaging with a media to have actually engaged with that media). And I think you should engage with comics! DP is a unique case in which fanon is for the most part better and more interesting than the original show (also death to the author/butch hartman), but DC comics shouldn’t be engaged with in that way. If you like the characters you see in dpxdc, you should read about them in comics! The whole point of a fandom is that you’re a fan of the original media. That’s why you’re engaging with it in this way, writing within the world and characters and canon.

I don’t know how people write for fandoms when they’re not familiar with the source material. I wanted to write dcxdp so I started rewatching DP. I’m reading comics. I want to know the characters and their stories so I can have a foundation to write from, and also to better understand the media so I can share my love for it. The refusal to engage with source material while engaging with its fandom is so strange to me.

Also dc fans who love the comics are great! In my experience, they’re very kind and willing to help you jump into comics! Don’t know where to start? Pick a character or team and follow them! Want a reading guide? We’ve got TONS. want thoughts on a specific character or comic run? Just ask!

Now to more specific points about what I’m seeing in dcxdp works:

Mischaracterized batfam: this is a group of people who are disasters and have complicated relationships with each other. They’re kind, wonderful people who bring out the best and worst in each other. Why is Batman always adopting people. Why is this a running joke with the batfam. I get it being a joke the first few times, but I’ve seen it so often and done like it’s accurate characterization that I just. I can’t. I leave that fic immediately. I can’t do it anymore. Batman is paranoid and tried very hard to keep kids away from him/away from being a vigilante. Unfortunately all the kids he got are stubborn and smart so he was doomed from the beginning.

Superman and Kon: you guys are pretty much only pulling from Young Justice Animated which I think is a terrible adaptation, but that’s my own taste. But seriously. Clark is kind. That’s an important part of his character! He’s the strongest man in the world and he’s kind. He was also dead when Kon first appeared as a experiment from CADMUS in Hawaii. They’re not father-son, but they are family and they do care for each other, once they get to know each other. Also Kon is not an angry broody boy, he’s funny! And annoying! pls read kon comics guys, i promise youll like his actual character

Chronos??? Guys. Chronos is not a god in DC canon. He is in Greek mythology, but in DC he’s a Captain Atom villain and he’s literally just a guy who got obsessed with having perfect timing. He’s themed around clocks. He has nothing to do with time travel or time gods. The Speedforce is Time, basically, and it is not human. It is an eldritch being beyond our comprehension that can eat people. If it chooses to have a human form, it’s going to choose to look like Bart. Please read Flash stuff, it’s interesting!

Lazarus Pit Madness lasts like 5 minutes in canon. Jason having it, and being affected by it for years, is a purely fanon thing from the dc side. Not going to say anything more on this because it goes into Jason Todd discourse.

Repetition: I’m sorry but I’m tired of seeing the same things over and over. I barely see anything out of the dcxdp tags thats new and fun to engage with. Everything is the same variation of “Danny helps Pit Mad Jason”, “Bruce insta-adopts Danny”, “Superman is mean to clones”, etc etc. Think of any popular dcxdp trope and that’s all you’ll see. I get why these are fun and popular, but the way it’s being engaged with now? It literally makes me exit Tumblr and put my phone down.

Not every prompt has to go down the same routes as the other prompts. Please explore more options, branch out, twist those tropes around to do something new with them. And also stop going onto other people’s fics and saying “what about [dcxdp trope]? Cant wait to see [dcxdp trope]! You should have [dcxdp] trope.” If I didn’t include it, it’s not included for a reason. There are hundreds of other fics that write specifically about those exact tropes. Read those, or write your own. (im being super bitter here but please just let me write what i want to write without trying to pull the story into another direction for a trope you like. Im writing for me, but sharing it for you. Not every fic needs those tropes in them.)

Tumblr specific things: this is less about the content and more about general posting etiquette. Please put long posts under a read more. If it’s more then three paragraphs, consider adding a read more if there is significantly MORE than three paragraphs. Tag appropriately. Content warnings and trigger warnings should be at the very top of the post and in the tags so they can be properly blocked. If you’re posting fic/prompt, please double check your spelling and fix any typos you find because posts that are filled with excessive typos are difficult to read.

There’s probably a lot more to talk about, but just getting this much out is tiring and, frankly, I don’t want to think on it any more today. If you reply/add comments, I won’t get to them in a while bc I will be writing ghostlights and yhk fic to lift my mood :)