#i'm going to be annoying for a second

[impossiblefeat]

I love how the first part of the gameplay trailer for the Ninja Espio alt in Sonic Forces: Speed Battle shows him running along side Charmy and Vector...

[neverbelessthan]

JET LAG THE GAME | Benjamin 'cardinal directions and vibes' Doyle (1 / ?)

[camellcat]

"cordelia could you please drive me home?" "of course" OF COURSE she replies to buffy, softly, without hesitation. even if she goes right back to harping on about the world ending, of course she'll help buffy. head in my fucking hands

[maxbegone]

hey, hey, hey, it's okay. it's okay. they're gone. they're gone. you did good. you know what we're gonna do? i'm gonna wait right here until your guy comes. okay. thank you. i've never done anything like that. huh. coulda fooled me. yeah?

[cassandra-silver]

I love. LOVE. Get In the Water

It's one of the objectively best songs in the musical; I will die on this hill.

Poseidon was always, despite being pretty much the main antagonist of EPIC, a really underdeveloped character in my opinion. He just needed a little more nuance, and the fact that one (+ kind of one more) song managed to add so much to his characterization pretty much exclusively through subtext and implications is incredibly impressive writing. Because it did!

At the start, he's yet again playing games with Odysseus, the way he did in Ruthlessness. In both songs, he could kill him easily at any point, yet he chooses not to for the sake of playing games. In Ruthlessness, this becomes his own hubris as it leads to Odysseus escaping.

If you listen closely, at the start of GITW he already sounds slightly different. He's still trying to keep up this "God of Ruthlessness" front that he's so proud of, but he's no longer more or less carefree the way he was in Ruthlessness. He's been obsessing over this feud for ten years, and even if he would never admit it, it's actually clear just from his voice that he really is tired of it too. Not in the sense of it emotionally draining him the way it probably does Odysseus, but in the sense that it's a bother, a loose end in his life, a book that he finally wants to slam shut.

But he still has a reputation to uphold, and he still cannot close this book until Odysseus is dead, so he keeps up the game. Instead of just killing him, he's taunting him to kill himself. He might associate the idea of just striking him down with a sort of loss, like then he'd have to get his hands dirty. Then he's rambling about killing his people, his family. He's provoking Odysseus on purpose, likely trying to get him to snap back, to hate and fear him the way that Poseidon would think any mortal who has consumed this much of his time should. In his eyes, Odysseus deserves nothing less than to curse him with his last breath as his "darkest moment," the god who became the bane of his life.

And Odysseus replies, of all things, with ... sympathy.

Honestly, I don't blame Poseidon for being speechless for three full seconds. He literally just threatened to gauge Telemachus' eyes out the way Odysseus did with Polyphemus, and this absolute madlad of a man replies with an acknowledgment that he (might have) caused Poseidon pain too.

Now, I don't really think Poseidon was particularly hurt over Polyphemus' loss, or hurting in any way in that moment (if he were, I highly doubt he'd still be playing games, and he would've mentioned his son as opposed to speaking about his reputation.) But just the fact that Odysseus acknowledges that he might be hurting too is probably something Poseidon hasn't heard in ... who knows how long? His family is the Olympians. I don't think I have to say more.

It's actually more of a genuine apology than Odysseus' explanation in Ruthlessness ... (even though that was also a perfectly fine apology by Greek standards, as far as I'm aware.) Now he doesn't say "sorry" because he's still not sorry for hurting Polyphemus, since he still needed to do that in order to escape. But he expresses regret over the pain he caused in a more genuine way than ever.

I am convinced that Poseidon is utterly unfamiliar with sympathy or mercy. He's lived by his "Ruthlessness is mercy" motto for centuries, and he doesn't know anything else. No one would try to teach him something different. The other gods all live by this logic, even if he's the most vocal about it considering he seems to have made it his whole personality. Mortals wouldn't dare to question Poseidon in the first place. And barely anyone would be willing to treat someone with kindness who is in turn treating everyone around them with ruthlessness.

It's very likely that Poseidon hasn't encountered anyone like this until Odysseus. Ruthlessness is simply how he treats people and also how he expects to be treated back. The fact that Odysseus doesn't, the fact that instead of hating, fearing, or cursing him, he acknowledges that they have both hurt each other and that it doesn't lead anywhere to still pursue vengeance, must have triggered Poseidon in an unprecedented way.

To him, this was probably the most outrageous thing Odysseus could have said in that moment. And it throws him off so much that he is genuinely speechless, and then simply replies, "I can't." ... his most genuine-sounding line in the whole musical.

I cannot stress enough how much it threw me off to hear this line; in the best way imaginable, it doesn't sound like Poseidon. It sounds almost vulnerable. Almost human. Because he is genuinely at a loss so much that he forgets to put up his "wrathful god" facade for just one second. Standing ovation to Steven Rodriguez for his whole performance, but especially this part.

And then Odysseus goes all out to say something even more outrageous: "Maybe you could learn to forgive?"

... Which is when Poseidon snaps.

Kind of understandable, honestly. There's this mortal whom he has likely fantasized about seeing pleading, hate-filled, and terrified, cowering before him for ten years now ... telling him that he ought to learn something. Even hijacking his own motif and his instrument in order to turn it on its head, "defile" it if you will.

This f*cking mortal pr*ck took his own "Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" catchphrase and turned it into forgiveness ... Of course, Poseidon is no longer hesitating; of course, he is no longer concerned with getting his hands dirty or not. He yells "DIE!" and unleashes his ultimate move (which is really overkill for simply killing a mortal if you think about it) ... But he does it anyway because this time he genuinely means it.

... That, and I am also convinced he jumps to that in order to simply shut Odysseus up, fearing what he might do or think if he lets him go on. Because you cannot tell me that Odysseus didn't actually reach him for just one moment. He was far too thrown off guard, far too vulnerable in that one second. That moment of kindness did something to him, and he hated it. He also probably didn't trust himself to be able to keep listening to Odysseus speak like that. So, he abandons his (still very technically feasible!) blackmail/intimidation and just straight-up kills him.

This simple exchange (my favorite moment in the whole musical, actually) tells us so much about both of these characters that it makes me want to skitter and squeal in excitement.

Here is Odysseus—the very same one whom Poseidon specifically tried to teach ruthlessness—becoming the first person in a long time to offer him sympathy despite how Poseidon himself showed him nothing but ruthlessness. And then one song later, here is Odysseus showing him the consequences of not accepting said sympathy.

Six Hundred Strike and what Odysseus does to Poseidon would've not hit the same, in my opinion, if he hadn't made this offer, if he hadn't given Poseidon this way out, even if no one watching genuinely expected it to work (probably not even Odysseus himself.)

Six Hundred Strike is not Odysseus exacting vengeance If GITW proved anything about Odysseus, it's that he does not want vengeance. He wants all of the hatred and pain to be over, to the point where he is willing to let go of, and I am inclined to say forgive Poseidon for what he's done to him. Six Hundred Strike is simply Odysseus teaching him this lesson that Poseidon couldn't have learned in any other way, because he has proven in GITW that he genuinely does not speak any language besides that of ruthlessness (more on that in this essay!)

It's just the perfect representation of how Odysseus has now finally learned the balance between mercy and ruthlessness, which seems to be the core theme of the musical: Both have their time and place; one simply has to be willing to act in both ways and know when to use either. No one extreme is the solution. I am genuinely exhilarated that Odysseus finally seemed to have figured out that it's been both all along.

[phantombegruvia]

SFTH MURDER MYSTERY - PART 4 [Ethel POV]

part 3 << part 4 >> part 5 MASTERPOST

*CW for description of blood and gore.. and Ethel.

[WAYNE MANOR DRAWING ROOM - 17:09]

Brriiingg

The old woman who is probably fine with being called old steps forward - but Ethel takes swift, long strides across the large room, and picks up the phone in one quick swoop.

She was about to answer, but the person on the other end of the phone was somehow faster than she was.

“Hellllllooooo, Brucie!” The man's voice was enthusiastic, with some sort of accent.

She knew the voice. She had met him before, several times. She knew him. Knew him. Knew him. Knew him. Ethel was hungry. She was craving-

“Beetroots!” She shouted into the phone.

“Ah! A fan,” the man on the other phone said, “but not Brucie, can you put him on?”

“You owe me £10.”

The man fell silent for a moment, “who is this?”

“Who is this?” She repeated the man's words.

“Nu uh, I asked you first.”

“Did you?” She asked, because did he?

“Ooh,” the man began, “I don't like you.”

“You owe me £10,” Ethel could do with the money, she could do.. something with it. She turned around and found eleven other ‘people’ (they may not be, not everybody is a person). Where did they come from? They weren't always there, were they?

The old-ish man in glasses mouthed something about margaritas to her. She didn't think this was neither the time nor place because people are dying - or just sleeping. Probably just sleeping. Snoring away like-

“Can you get Bruce Wayne, please?” The man sounded annoyed and desperate, which is certainly not a good tone for him. He can't host with that sort of attitude can he?

“What do you need him for?”

The man coughed, “personal.. matters.”

“Ethel, What's going on?” the old woman called from the other side of the room.

“André Beetroot wants to have sex with Bruce Wayne,” Ethel said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was.

“Wait,” the small man who was dressed for cold weather tilted his head ever so slightly, “André Beetroot?”

“Who's that?” Ethel asked.

The small cold man looked taken aback, for reasons she didn't understand, “but you just said-”

“He owes me £20.”

The man on the phone scoffed, “what? But you said £10! Why do I even owe you money? I don't even know who you are!”

“You said I couldn't sink the Titanic, we bet on it.”

“We- you did what?”

“Ate a squirrel.”

“No, no, not-” there was a sigh, “Wait I go on the Titanic? Did you just spoil that for me? I swear if you spoiled that for me-”

“You were, I was there, I saw you, I was there. You were there to host an ice carving competition.”

“An.. ice carving competition on the.. Titanic?”

“You owe me £30.”

“Okay, shut up. Put Bruce on the phone.”

“Can't.”

“Can't?”

“He's resting his eyes,” Ethel shrugged, the other eleven (when did they get there?) looked at her with pride. Definitely pride.

“Can you wake-”

“Nope.”

“Right, why not?”

“You owe me £40.”

The man made a grunt of annoyance, “listen, lady, I'm on a time crunch here and it would be really appreciated if-”

The lights went out, and the man stopped talking.

“Hello?” She called into the phone, “helllloooooo? I'm still listening, helloooooooo.”

“What's happening?” Another voice said, a woman's voice, “is everybody okay?”

“The man's stopped responding, he owed me £20,” Ethel pouted in the dark.

And, not a moment later, the lights came back on without warning. It didn't take Ethel long to notice that one of the old-timey women had laid herself down on one of the velvet sofas, the one without a back. Her white blanket-thing she wore as a dress had been stained red, the red coming from her chest where a broken wine glass had embedded itself - how clumsy.

Ethel tutted as she realised she had probably choked on the grapes in her mouth, what a waste. She walked over to the old-timey woman and plucked a grape from the stem and popped it in her mouth.

[bambiraptorx]

[I.D. Two drawings of Baxter Stockman from TMNT 2003. He wears a yellow v neck sweater and has orange glasses frames in both. In the first drawing he frowns with concentration, sticking out his tongue as he stares at a purple seed in his palm (the kind that Draxum uses to create vines) and gestures with his other hand. A small purple vine stems from the seed. In the second drawing, he moves his arm outward and the vine shoots up, curling over his head. He looks at it excitedly and says "Yes, yes!!" End I.D.]

I've decided, building on this post, after Stockman is told that manipulating vines is really hard and takes a super long time to learn that he decides to teach himself how to do it out of spite. Man is about 3 seconds away from losing control and sending that vine through his ceiling <3

[inthecarpets]

Thinking once again about how beautifully and nuanced Ryoko Kui crafted Toshiro and Laios' relationship. And how in a way the many interpretations and types of reactions say a lot about the viewers' lives and perspectives.

How sometimes two people might want to be polite, might want to be kind, but due to their differences, misscommunication and their own personal flaws they will only end up hurting each other. And the longer their misscommunication lasts, the more it hurts. How sometimes if people spoke sooner it wouldn't get to be so bad.

And how reactions say how quite much everyone been in some kind of situation like that. We assume the best and the worst intentions in each other.

We have to deal with a person who can't stop bothering us. Deal with a person who seems a little shy but they are nice but actually no, they secretly hate us. Situation where someone pretends to be a friend or for some forsaken reason forces themselves to hang out with us. When it's hard to confront someone. When we are too much. When we are in the wrong without realising it. When it's hard to be confronted. Being in a situation you wish you were confronted at the start. How sometimes confrontation is near impossible. Taking a risk of confrontation in general. Not being able to find the right words. Not being able to utter them.

Sometimes we'd all rather to point fingers and call each other names instead of realise the flaws of the world that we live in. How sometimes there Sure are bad people and bad intentions but sometimes it's also just all a bad accident with good intentions on both sides, and lack of education.

Ryoko Kui crafted such a very nuanced and beautiful story. A story with details such show the readers and viewers' feelings and perspectives and shortcomings when interacting with other people. And yeah, i think that's beautiful. Bless.

[recalcitrantlycaffeinated]

I just watched The Menu (because I am culturally behind, always).

I came in already knowing people were going to die - being culturally behind comes with spoilers, after all. So for me, the most intriguing and telling part of the movie came about four minutes in: we are presented with a rich asshole, who, given a fancy oyster dish, tells our protagonist that the plain oyster wouldn't be as good without the "mouthfeel of the mignonette".

And I need to know if the writers did this on purpose. Here we have the only character on this boat who is a willing customer in a meal where he knows everyone will die. He knows that the moment he stepped on this boat his death and those around him is inevitable once the food runs out.

And the food the writers choose to highlight which, for him, takes this meal beyond a pedestrian experience? It's a sauce that just so happens to share the name of a ship. A ship that FAMOUSLY was wrecked, leading to a case of murder in order to commit cannibalism amongst survivors.

He knows he's going to die, he knows that he is participating in a gory, immoral meal of death, he is deliberately bringing someone to their death, and he fucking namedrops the HMS Mignonette when he says how special and unique this experience is and I just cannot believe this was an accident. If it wasn't deliberate foreshadowing then what the heck, but if it was this genius writing move then why can't I find anybody else talking about it??? I'm losing it.

[brainrotcharacters]

I'm about to face my unhealed trauma (I'm rewatching X-Men 1)

[elegy-for-the-present]

calm before the storm 📷Zak Mauger (November 2024, Qatar)

[non-un-topo]

[onlykiwi]

"i wrote a song about getting hit by a fireball lol"

[thedevillionaire]

Chosen

Much shorter than it has any right to be, given how long it's taken me to actually finish. Plot? Uh, no, not really. But anyhow... She's been away. He's been unwell.

---

He looks at her like she’s the most welcome hallucination he’s ever had.

Kia closes the door slowly behind her as she takes in this chaos of a makeshift apothecary, the loungeroom in an utter state of disarray and her beloved not faring much better, red-nosed and unshaven and dressed in a black silken pyjama and robe ensemble which, while inarguably stylish, was very definitely not his usual late afternoon wear.

And not at all what she had been expecting to come home to.

A miscellany of potions and concoctions and gods-know-what-elses lie scattered across the coffee table. A teacup, mostly empty. Two tissue boxes, one apparently even emptier than the teacup. Some sort of book...no, manual. Looks instructional. A wilderness of failed curatives.

Oh my god.

She walks further into the room. The air smells of menthol and embers.

“Babe, what are… Are you… What have you even been doing h…?”

You absolute beautiful total disaster.

“Trying not to… hh-HH …let thi…this-damn-cold…” Cerberus turns from her as his sentence dissolves, the syllables collapsing against one another in a desperate rush to give way to greater need and deep breath of purpose, and he raises a finger in urgent, undeniable pause. "Huh-TSSCH-uu!" Hurriedly claiming a series of tissues in a brief, expectant hiatus, he surrenders completely and sneezes again. "Hh-AATSCHH-uu! *snff-FF!*" A quiet groan in the aftermath. He excuses himself, adds another tissue to the set, blows his nose and immolates the lot. "Pardon me." He sighs. "Trying not to let this godsdamned cold win,” he manages, with an accompanying sharp sniffle. Neither heavy congestion nor the way his voice cracks slightly lessens any of the seething distaste in his tone.

“Oh, honey.” Kia brushes some errant hair back from his face. :Bless you.: She touches a tender kiss to his temple. “You’re getting your ass kicked.”

She offers him a soft smile to hopefully lessen a little bit of truth's sting. "C'mon, shift over," she says gently as she joins her beloved on the couch, nestling up beside him, resolutely ignoring every caution he tries to give her advising against doing so. Notably half-hearted as those cautions are.

Because while it’s true that he very much doesn’t want her to catch this, he’s also well aware it’s more than likely already too late for such concerns. The entire house is probably some sort of incubation epicentre. And, sincerity of expressed warnings aside, the entire sorry vista surely constitutes warning enough. He's fairly certain he couldn't look more biohazardous if he tried.

Cerberus sighs again, sniffling again immediately afterwards, and gives his bonded a look of resignation.

Further elaboration hardly seems necessary.

But also he doesn’t press the issue because in truth the last thing he wants is to send her away. He’s not even sure he has the energy to insist on it, anyway; he’d be infuriated about this entire ridiculous circumstance if he wasn’t so damn exhausted. So, small obligatory protests done, with another damp sniffle Cerberus shifts some disarrayed blanketry out of the way and wraps an arm around Kia’s waist, drawing her close.

Her soft perfume of violet, strawberry and vanilla is lost on him anywhere outside of memory right now, but her presence is more than enough and he closes his eyes for a moment, just appreciating the simple fact of her being here beside him at last; he's missed her immensely, constantly.

“You know, you could’ve just asked me to come back, if you wanted me here,” Kia muses as she nestles further into his heat, adding, “It wouldn't have been a big deal,” without accusation. She leans her head against his shoulder and looks up at him with gentle azure gaze, her unspoken thoughts of I’d always choose you. How do you still not know that? readable despite her not voicing them.

And he does, of course, know that – in fact, it’s the very reason he wouldn’t ask. Cerberus sniffles thickly, wiping his nose. “Ah, love. I'd hardly ask you to put yourself anywhere near this—" He gestures around the room in a general presentation of contempt for the whole situation. "—vortex of infectious absurdity,” he concludes, thick congestion lacing his words. He clears his throat but it doesn’t make any notable impact against the wreckery his voice has become. "And it's about your... *SNFF!* ...your autodoby."

Kia peers at him. “My…what?”

“Your au…” Cerberus, all too aware that several critical consonants are unequivocally not working for him, rolls his eyes at himself. Honestly. Taking another fresh succession of tissues from a very rapidly depleting supply, he blows his nose forcefully but completely ineffectively.

He excuses himself once more and tries again; it goes equally badly.

Kia, baffled, raises her hands in a friendly but very clear nope sorry babe no idea expression, accompanied by a gentle little laugh that she just can’t help.

A long-suffering and immensely frustrated look comes her way, followed by a resigned, defeated sigh as her beloved entirely gives up. “Free will.”

For a moment, this makes even less sense to Kia. “Why would…” she begins, but cuts herself off in triumphant realisation. “Oh, autonomy!” She laughs. "Oh, sweetheart."

“That’s what I s… hh-hh! I...” And even this is hijacked, and the Demon king capitulates entirely, doubling over desperate into crooked elbow, “Huh-TSCHH-uu! Ah-HEHTSCHuu!” 

He takes some moments of bleary recovery, Kia's heartrate spiking alongside the :Gods, forgive me: Cerberus Mindsends her.

"Oh, bless you, babe." Kia doesn't try to fight the thrill that flashes through her and she wraps herself around her bonded to kiss him again; a kiss deeper, more needful, than is probably wise. But wisdom isn't what she's craving right now.

“You know what? You’re going to stop talking and let me make my own choices.” She brushes a stray lock of hair from his eyes, touches the softest of lingering kisses to his forehead and meets his gaze. :Talking really isn't working out for you anyway.: "And besides—" Another kiss, deeper again, and she presses her arousal against his, salacious, wanton.

:—you know we both want the same thing.:

---

[pharawee]

"I'm not saying I'm leaving. I mean I'll drink other blood instead."

—Bonus:

[zehl0w]

I'm having delusions of grandeur yall