#I cannot believe that's an actual tag

[sbd-laytall]

Because I'm re-watching the first two seasons of the Dub and then switching to the Sub in the latter two, I get some absolute goldmines for jokes, but I do have to say the whole "Chazz it up" mantra genuinely had me wondering what I was watching because I did not remember this part at all.

[thevalleyoftriumph]

love this guy. the corndog ☝

absolutely HILARIOUS to me how they just dont gaf. not a single care in the world.

[also i got curious over the name of their actual color, since ive seen the name maroon thrown around, but that didnt seem too accurate to me... turns out, their color is sienna! so thats what ill be calling them, personally :3]

[arunneronthird]

i told a friend that knows nothing about dc that robins bf thinks batman is a demogorgon and he laughed for 5 minutes straight so i decided i am a bernard truther now

why cant he dress though

[yume-fanfare]

day 3 of torikasa week is promises! so, promessa? hsdlkjfhsldfjks

[lovesickeros]

☆ you sow; & thus you shall reap what you are owed

{☆} characters tsaritsa {☆} notes cult au, imposter au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings blood, violence {☆} word count 0.8k

You are dying.

Gold melts into the dirt, bleeds into the very earth that you'd molded by your own hands – a familiarity you do not understand the source of – you know it to be true, yet you do not remember it as Teyvat does. It weeps, in turn, for the way you bleed upon it, the way your lungs strain for breath.

It is fury and sorrow and fear and hatred so raw that your mind buckles.

You will die.

"A dying godling and its judge, it's jury – it's executioners," The voice is hollow and cold, sweeps across your broken body like the first chill of winter, "Archons who saw themselves Gods, now brought to heel by their own hubris."

A cold hand upon your cheek, the brush of a thumb across your lip, the gentle caress of cold across your skin. You know her – you don't remember, you shouldn't recognize her but you do – and she knows you. The cold beckons and you follow, let her kindness settle in the hollow space of your chest. You want to speak, to cry and scream and rage, let the world burn around you in a fit of flames so hot even she cannot contain it – but she silences you, quiets the anger seeping into your blood, quiets Teyvat itself.

"Do not speak, little godling. Guide my hand," She is cold; her hands are not gentle, yet it is bliss compared to the callous, cruel hands that have shattered you. She is cruel and cold and brutal but she is love in the way she kisses the crown of your head. She is love in the way she is the bulwark between you and the world that has scorned you – she is fury in the way she brings them to their knees. "And I shall enact judgement most divine."

They will pray for forgiveness, and they shall find themselves wanting.

"It wasn't our fault!" They cry, but you cannot recognize the voice – it breaks and cracks like glass. "They were too human. How were we meant to know? We– we thought they were.."

Silence.

You watch your judge – the executioner, the blade that shall carve their sins into the very marrow of Teyvat, stand above you like death. As cold as winter and just as brutal. Your temple has been painted in the gold of your divine blood, and she shall complete the masterpiece with their own. The Archons shall become the grandest art in the world – this temple the canvas, their blood the paint and their bodies the palette. The cold that cuts sinew cradles you – it sings to you, whispers sweetly in your ear and carves bone from body in the same breath. The cold presses it's lips to your wrist and it cradles a heart within it's palm – judges them and finds them guilty.

It is her spear that rests between their ribs, her sword that dissects and her dagger that carves – the cold devours.

In the breadth of this divine sanctuary, the Archons dwindle. They become the pieces of a divine work of art, they bleed and bend and break upon her hands. She shakes the heavens and carves mortality into the bones of the divine – your word is Law, and you weave their deaths into the roots of Teyvat itself.

They shall know of their grand folly in every moment henceforth and longer still and they shall weep.

And as the curtain falls, as the world crumbles beneath fist and blade, she cradles your face between hands too cold – as gentle as a shard of ice between your ribs, as brutal as the kiss of gentle snowfall. The world buckles at the loss of six, but she alone does not allow it to break – you will have to mend the wounds of the world when you are well, but today you weep and Teyvat weeps with you.

And alone, the cold remains.

Stone has eroded, the wind has ceased, the flames have been extinguished, the storm has been silenced, the forests have gone quiet and the seas go still.

But the cold remains, bathed in gold.

It wraps you in thick furs, cradles you against the winter storm that brews beneath a veneer of composure. It brings you home – lets the world settle into a stillness and silence that inspires only dread and still she presses a kiss to your brow.

It is cold, but there has never been something so warm.

Where hands have broken you, she drapes you in furs, wipes away the thick gold that clings to your skin. She pieces you back together where you have been shattered, reshapes you where you have been bent – makes of you something new. Not a god and not a mortal but something wedged between them.

But you are yourself.

And you are where you belong.

They shall put you back together and you shall know only the worship worthy of the divine. They shall carve this world into your image, tear out and burn away the rot that festers.

All you need to do is say the word and they shall be your tools to make this world your own.

One word and those who wronged you shall burn, too.

Just one word. That's all it takes, and they shall take away your pain.

[rbtlvr]

'Is this like an Alice in Wonderland thing?' Leo called out, paddling towards Sensei and trying not to swallow water as he moved. 'Did you cry all these tears?' 'The mindscape does love a good metaphor.' Sensei called back, and he sounded fucking wrecked.

old dead bones that don't get theirs (death wish sidefic by @remedyturtles) was written to kill me, specifically, personally, actually. i still think about it Constantly

[the-way-astray]

i’m going to lose so many people’s trust and faith in me over this. but. keefe is hot and his hair is good. hollingsworth just can’t draw for shit. the new fitz portrait proves that even more.

laura’s keefe is ugly and sucks. absolutely. BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT HE ACTUALLY LOOKS LIKE PLEASE JASON CHAN IS RIGHT THERE

[crowliphale]

May your ideas be many and your art blocks few

[overly-verbose]

(Here's a crack/ship fic I wrote! Have fun reading XD ps. Please ignore the first one I saw a typo and wanted to add moreee)

Sukuna ate a burger and blamed it on Sukuna who another Sukuna believed was telling the truth, so he felt unsure around the other Sukuna’s presence.

So another time when the same thing happened again that Sukuna took no time at all to put it on the same Sukuna.

That Sukuna is sad, upset that the other Sukuna wouldn't believe him.

When there came a time where the Yuujis met, Sukuna wanted another Yuuji for himself, but Sukuna won't let him. Threatens to paint his guts to the walls and the ground red.

The Sukuna relented and pulled back, afraid. Then he left to sit on his own. Another Sukuna watches from the sideline, shaking his head from the scene.

Sukuna, realizes this then goes to talk to the Sukuna and starts to talk about how he doesn't hate him and even appreciates his company. He's different from other Sukunas, more innocent than others. He may be clumsy, but he's also trying his best and that's such a beautiful and heartwarming l thing.

Sukuna, surprised and even a bit touched, starts to blurt out what he thought the other Sukuna was great at and that he wanted to be like him. To be strong, to be able to protect his Yuuji as he does with his and when he's with him, he felt a blanket of safety around him even with his demonic aura.

The two said their pieces and sat there in a comfortable silence and after a moment the other Sukuna reached out his hand, a start to friendship.

The expression on the other Sukuna looks a bit torn and stricken with some kind of grief, but he continues to smile before grasping the waiting hand. Then there's a tug and he was pulled into a tight embrace. His eyes widened, unsure of what to do before he slowly started to wrap his hands around the other's back.

Then the other older Sukuna spoke.

“I hope we can be friends.”

Yea 👍

[tsukasalover]

I can think of a lot of reasons why I like and have gotten attached to tsukasa more than any other fictional character and i think if i had to keep it simple (or else id be rambling for hours) id say

1. He’s so interesting. I usually pick up the extremely mischaracterized blonde characters anyways but he gets my brain working real hard. its almost 2am and i cant think straight but theres something about his duality that keeps me glued to him and the amount of Layers he has and how removing even one layer or completely ignoring how both his huge ego and kindness + selflessness coexist can really mess up your perception of him. There was something quite short i wrote about how both sides make him. Well. Him. back when his colofes dropped since i was so annoyed at the people Not getting it (while most never even read the STORIES 😁) anf ive been screaming this for a year now Please. Also the way his dream and being a good big brother go hand in hand have captured me. I really like fictional siblings and they fill something personal i miss and Looove looking at the roots of characters. Discovering where this and that and connecting events to what started their behaviors or helped their personality bloom. So seeing saki and toya play such an important role in his life keeps me HOOOKEDDD. I took the bait like tiny fish. Dont regret it. Never will. I like my fictional characters like layered cake. Thats basically how i see them. I had a yummy chocolate cake with so mant layers the other day 🤤 but anyways. I also really like when characters have to learn and grow as people after making really bad mistakes or being straight up assholes so it really took a while even after mainstory but once i got to see more of him with saki and read dazzling i was like. This is the guyyy. Youre mine now lets go. I dont like perfect characters but.. you see.. when characters who have (sometimes way too much) confidence and are dramatic yet are shown to truly be good people who enjoy making others happy… alright.. now im listening… Sign me up…

But really he has almost everything I’ve ever looked for in a character. Starting with the fact that he’s a theatre kid. And blonde. Of course emu nene and rui + more fictional characters have made their way into my heart and ive gotten attached to them on very Very personal levels but when it comes to this Idiot who wants to be a star and reminds me of a dog its something that i dont even know how to explain sometimes. Why is he here? What are you doing inside of my head. Ill never have one solid answer because he takes up too much space in my mind and i become incoherent too often when talking about him.

2. Ignoring my first answer, He is ugly. My favorite punching bag. Cartoon character. Begins floating when he smells pie. I dont know anymore

3. he just like me fr (Which is terrible i dont like that)

[hypermascbishounen]

There's a deep irony in Berserk being so admired by people who really really hate what Berserk is about on an emotional level, but especially when writers want to take influence from it. Because Berserk is very strong thematically, and someone who can't acknowledge subtext is going to whiff on emulating anything good.

[thee-radio-host-is-a-kookaburra]

just fyi, if you say some dumb shit like "gnc ppl/crossdressors/drag performers/transvestites are appropriating the trans experience!!!" i'm hard blocking your ass immediately

[greta--gill]

“oh, i believe that you cannot tear down what’s built up strong now, thankfully.” zach bryan, '68 fastback

[insp: @bagelbongos]

[catckity]

ctommy and mob with matching shirts that read “i was isolated manipulated and straight up tortured by a grown man for months because he wanted to mold me into his ideals. and all i got was this stupid t-shirt”

Anon thank you for the art inspiration

[uncanny-tranny]

Even if you don't agree with incarcerated people having access to education, monetary compensation for work, or whatever, I really hope you acknowledge that so long as you provide the state incentive to imprison people (free labour or whatever it may be), the state will continuously imprison people - especially for non-violent crime.

[clonerightsagenda]

While discussing the Thomas Aquinas relic I started thinking ok, if saints are dead humans who occasionally show up to chat with people and stuff, are they ghosts?? Does that count? My formerly Catholic father had no answer to this so I brought out the big guns (googled Catholic Q&A websites) and I'm having a great time

What is the difference between talking to a saint and talking to a ghost? In both cases the saint and ghost have passed on; therefore, they both are a spirit. So what difference does it make if one spirit is in heaven and the other is in my house?

What is the difference? According to Catholic Answers.com occult contact with the dead (seances, ouija boards) are bad but chatting with saints is fine. Our God-fearing, beautiful faith vs. their wicked lawless necromancy, etc etc.

Then I got to the diocese of Lincoln Nebraska, which was incredibly confident about the whole thing

It is commonly accepted that these souls are souls in Purgatory who God, in His infinite Wisdom and Mercy, allows to appear to the living to prompt the living to pray for them.

Is it commonly accepted??? God really shooed the dead out the cat flap to tell them to remind everyone to say their prayers

A common assertion amongst experts is that, because seeking knowledge from a ghost or spirit is a violation of the First Commandment, souls in Purgatory that manifest will not talk or, if they do, they will only say yes when asked if they need prayers. If they appear visibly they will appear as fully human and unobscured, which is different from demonic spirits who may appear human, but only with some aspect obscured, or incompletely.

According to Catholic experts in this area, the way to distinguish between a soul that desires prayers and a demonic spirit is that souls do not do things that are scary or destructive

whipping out my ghosts vs. demons field guide

This is why, if we ever are confronted with something we believe to be a ghost, we should only ever offer to pray for them and leave it at that. Do not engage with them any more than that and certainly, do not do anything that they may ask you to do.

Thank you Catholic diocese of Lincoln Nebraska with your PSA of 'if you see a ghost, Just Say No'