#I need to poke him under a microscope

[void-screams-screeches]

Made this because this is exactly what I wish I could do to spider (He would bite me if I tried)

[eclipticass]

i’m on my knees /pos

[momentomori24]

I swear to God, Twitter being able to accumulate so many brain-dead, malicious, pseudo intellectual low lives all in one place at the same time is a phenomenon worthy of being studied under a microscope in a science lab. And no, that is not a compliment.

Thankfully people have already spoken out against this bullshit-- the fact that people needed to is already maddening to think about-- but as someone who got the basic gist of what happened literally yesterday I'll also put my voice out there: Don't you fucking dare try to paint Hbomb as a murderer over this situation.

Somerton may be a lying, misogynistic plagiarist and conman, but he obviously doesn't deserve to die and while I do make fun of the guy, I genuinely hope that he continues to have a life after the dust has settled on everything. Not on YouTube or any social media platform for a long time at least, but just a life nontheless. I don't wish what he's potentially going through on anyone, and I hope that he makes it through this. But regardless of if he does or doesn't-- and God forbid he doesn't-- none of this is Hbomb's fault. It's not his fault, or Kat's fault, or Jessie's fault (because apparently there's people blaming her too cuz WHY NOT), or anybody's fault. All they did was call out his actions, hold him accountable for the harm he's done. They have done nothing to deserve having to carry this on their shoulders should the worst happen. They did nothing wrong. They didn't kill James (he's not confirmed dead yet either btw). They are not murderers. And to the people saying they are: say those words out loud, listen how they sound like, and re-evaluate. Just cease.

And to people like this:

''Oh I'm not blaming him for anything I'm just blaming him for what his audience did because according to HIM you're responsible for your audience'' Yeah, you people can shut your mouths too. Of course you're responsible for your audience, and that includes Hbomb too. However, your tiny, godless little monkey brain can't see why your argument is still rubbish even with that in mind. The difference between James, Internet Historian and Hbomb is that Hbomb never promoted problematic behaviour to his audience. If you promote problematic shit like harassment or misogyny or racism, then yeah, you're absolutely responsible for how your behaviour influences your audience. But that's not what he did. He made it very clear where he stood on those things, literally stating that ''if anyone were to harass Somerton on his behalf they are worse than him and will not see the light of heaven''. He's done his part in making it clear that harassment is wrong, so if someone went out of their way to go against that and harass James anyway that doesn't reflecf on him at all. Also, what the hell do you mean ''hatemobbed'' to suicide? I don't doubt there are people who went to extremes because those bad apples always exist, but most of the things I've seen are valid critisisms, memes and call outs about that guy. If holding people accountable for their actions and poking fun at them a little counts as 'hatemobbing'' (which has Filip calling his critics a ''lynch mob'' energy tbh) what the hell do you call actual hatemobbing then? Do we just let people continue being shitty because calling them out ''damages their mental health'' or ''drives them to suicide'' then? Is that a world you want to live in?

Same thing goes for people like this:

Criticing someone for their objectively bullshit content and wanting them dead are two seperate things. What the actual hell is wrong with you. The plagiarist in question is a person. Those ''harshest critics'' are still people. And because we're people, we care. I'd rather James pump out more plagiarised slop than commit suicide. I'd still hate him for it, but I'd prefer him being alive over the alternative any day. We all do. None of us would sleep easier knowing he's dead just because he wouldn't be ''committing the cardinal sin of putting out a 'pure content mill' video'' because someone taking their own life is horrific-- especially Hbomberguy, how dare you even try to imply that?

And this gets me to the reason I'm furiously typing all this out in the first place: Hbomb is the fucking victim here, so stop treating him like he isn't. He tried making things as right as possible by compensating those that were burned by James through a video where he revealed everything there needs to be known about the guy so that less people fall victim to his actions and lies. To just ignore the harm James was causing while he had the evidence to prove it and platform too big to threaten into non existence should he speak out would've been bad. So he didn't. He did the right thing by sticking with the people James had stolen from, giving them a voice and making them known after they've been scrubbed from the picture by decidedly being uncredited for their works or bullied into silence. He shouldn't have to deal with this for doing the right thing. He shouldn't be labelled a murderer for doing the right thing. He shouldn't have to have the death of a man on his conscience for doing the right thing. People claiming otherwise are obviously wrong, but I can't imagine what all this must feel like right now. Because even tho they're wrong, guilt isn't a rational thing, and I know that if I were in his position I'd still feel like a morally bankrupt individual were the worst to happen even if I knew that it was not my fault. This isn't a funny story. So to add to this dumpsterfire by using it as a prop to bash on a creator you don't like and immediately write Somerton off as dead even when he's not even been confirmed dead yet to do that shows how little these people actually care about the thing they're talking about. They don't care a guy potentially killed himself-- what they care about is using it to paint Hbomb in a bad light because they don't like him. Here they are, posting memes and ill jokes about this very delicate situation while barely a day since the news broke out had passed. It's opportunistic, it's sickening, and literally the exact thing he criticised in his video when talking about 'content mills'. Like, I know none of these clowns bothered to actually watch it, but have some self-awareness. And some shame too, while you're at it.

This long story short: I'm writing this to contribute to the narrative not getting twisted to make Hbomb out to be the villian. Same goes for everyone else. Don't let these people paint them as the villians. If I see another person pull this shit again I will literally bite you and shred you into salad and spit you back out because I hate you so much and I mean that wholeheartedly.

To Hbomb: you will never see this but if you do, take care of yourself.

To the asshats this post is about: Delete your account. Cease all together. Stop talking about this. Just leave him the fuck alone.

[ggukkiedae]

miya

[8:23pm kst, 230417, wc:435]

(content warning: hobi’s enlistment)

“Yoonmi,” Hoseok poked his head into the kitchen to find her focused on cooking them dinner, “you know that this is all unnecessary, right? I would have been fine with just takeout or something.”

The younger girl looked up at him, face scrunched in a mix of mock anger and offence, “No, you’re getting a nice home cooked meal for dinner and for breakfast tomorrow, and you’re not gonna go to your camp alone tomorrow.”

“My manager is driving me.”

Upon her sharp look, Hoseok just raised his hands in surrender and chuckled. He made his way to the sink to wash the dishes he knew she wouldn’t need anymore. It was quick, since Yoonmi was efficient with the materials she used for cooking, so he set the table for the two of them as well.

Even then, he finished just as she started grilling the meat and plating the kimchi fried rice. She put her complete focus and care into fixing up food for him despite the fact that she was in the middle of her midterms.

“Oppa, please stop staring at me,” she came to the dining table to place the dish of grilled beef in front of him. “I feel like I’m under a microscope.”

He chuckled and got up to carry the—much heavier—big bowl of kimchi fried rice for her, “Just taking you in, makdungie. I finally get it when Jin hyung said his last day before entrance was a day he’ll vividly remember.”

He came back to find her giving him her own solid stare. He laughed at her and poked her forehead, just between her eyebrows, as soon as he set the fried rice down on the table. This made her huff, which led to more of his laughter in return.

“I have to,” he defended himself while sitting across from her, “because you know how we can’t really check up on people outside camp for the first few weeks.”

One of her hands slipped from the table, tugging at the ends of her hair while he scooped some rice onto her plate. He gave her a pointed glance, silently telling her to stop the habit.

“You’re coming to my graduation, though,” she moved to place meat on his plate instead to keep her hands busy, “right?”

Hoseok smiled at her. “I already got the appropriate timing and method to file a leave from Jin hyung. All seven if us will be there, makdungie. Don’t worry.”

She smiled at him, gesturing to start eating. “I’m holding you to that. I love you, don’t forget.”

“I love you more, makdungie.”

taglist: @sunflower-0180 @seaoffangirling @yourwonderbelle @1-800-enhypennabi @kamiiyou @strwberrydinosaur @uraveragefangirlsposts @caratinylyfe @1-800-minji @one16core @kimhyejin3108 @chansols @akshverse @toriluvsfics @billboard-singer @stopeatread @allthings-fandoms

drop an ask or a dm if you wanna be added or taken out of the taglist 🥰 requests are also open!

[glade-constellation]

I know I’m getting overly obsessed with a character when I pull out the physical paper and pencil.

So far during the rewatch of TSAMS, I’ve been typing all my notes in Discord. Tonight, though, something was urging me to physically write stuff down. Anything not related to Eclipse was still typed, but Eclipse has officially gotten a spot in our notebook for character analysis.

Like, fun fact, Killcode called Eclipse his child before he did Bloodmoon. Completely unprompted as well. He only called Bloodmoon his child as a bribe to get them on his side. Even threatened Bloodmoon if they ever decided to attack his “son”. Eclipse was obviously Killcode’s favorite before something happened to change it to Bloodmoon. Especially since Killcode didn’t see Bloodmoon as his actual child when they first teamed up. They were just a means to getting Eclipse.

There’s also a moment in a previous episode where Eclipse is acting as Sun to get Moon angry, and says something along the lines of “you’re just like Eclipse”. While it was definitely a poke at Moon, I wonder how much Eclipse actually believes that statement. Moon/Killcode says the line, “I’m a useless hunk of garbage scrapped virus that you had to pry out of your head, in order to ‘not feel so much pain’.” The statement was directed at who he thought was Sun at the time, but sounds an awful lot like how Eclipse felt about Moon. With how Eclipse has canonically been shown to have guilt over his actions, I feel Eclipse internalizes that statement. He subconsciously views himself as useless and a nuisance. Due to that, he acts like he does so he can’t be disappointed if when people don’t like him. He knows it’s wrong, which explains the guilt, but he only sees himself as a bad guy. So why try to be anything different?

Eclipse is constantly being rotated in my brain under a microscope. I need to understand him.

[snickerdoodlles]

headcanons behind the fic: Kim's view on Wik in long & short

His Wik persona is just another mask, something shiny under a spotlight so that people watch it instead of him. It gives them something to love so he can pretend his little fantasy world is real, just for a little bit, but it's not fully him. Kim does not like people noticing him, career choices aside.

this actually isn't quite true. Kim's not lying, but he is struggling to put his feelings into words.

because Kim loves Wik. Wik isn't just an escape for him, Wik is who Kim wants to be. "the side of me I like best" except that side of him is the home he's been meticulously handcrafting and building for years into everything he desperately yearns to hold.

but Kim also seems to carry a lot of guilt over Wik, because Kim feels that he needs to give up his brothers to achieve his dream of Wik (see, his introduction speech). I think Kim's dream doesn't feel achieved or even fully real to him yet either because he hasn't truly given up his brothers (see, his motivation behind digging into Porsche). Kim sees Wik as a fantasy because he wants it so desperately, but Kim doesn't think he deserves the things he wants and he struggles to reconcile having Wik while also being involved in the mafia.

and then, on top of alllll that, I see Kim always having a bit of a weird relationship with the spotlight. on one side, he's a private person and I see him as having a lot of emotional baggage from the way Korn treats people as things (Korn raised his sons to fulfill roles, not be their own people). not to mention, social media by definition is a mask and I see Kim feeling that schism more acutely than the average socmed user because he masks so much for other (unsavory) purposes irl. but on the flip side, Kim desperately wants to be seen as a person not a tool or role. for all his inclinations to tuck away his vulnerable sides where they're hidden away from all, creative expression is putting out your vulnerabilities for others to see and feel and anyone looking on these soft spots and caring blows his mind in every way he craves. I think Kim loves using music to express himself, loves the ambiguity of how he puts himself out there through his creativity, and even likes that he does have a persona where he can express some of these things a little more directly, yet also struggles to reconcile it as a real part of him and shies away from the directness & closeness socmed provides.

(Chay is like, tailor made to reach into Kim's ribcage and shake. Chay's extreme knowledge on his music videos is someone choosing to put his art under a microscope out of love, his giggly happiness for just a signature and some words of encouragement even after Kim turned down his tutoring request (!!!!) probably had Kim poking his fingers together and smiling through the rest of the night, and then Chay has to go and say earnest and kind things like "i like all sides of you" and "you inspire me" their first proper meeting too boot. Chay looked at Wik (Kim) and saw someone worth being inspired by and Wik (he) impacted Chay's life in a good way. how was Kim ever expected to survive this?)

so, wrapping this thought up: Kim has a lot of jumbled feelings about Wik as a social media presence due to the cognitive dissonance of who you are as a person vs an online persona-- which can jumble up anyone even before we add in Kim's own reservedness or the tower of elephants that's the mafia-- but he loves Wik and desperately wants to be seen as a person by (everyone) those around him.

[cherryslyce]

The Avarice Files (II) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Boundless uncertainty ensues when you’re tasked to complete a mission requiring time travel for the Ministry. The best part? Your partner, acclaimed hero of the Great Wizarding War, Regulus Black, a man who was supposed to be long dead.

— Chapter Synopsis: Your adventures at Rosier Estate bring more than you could have anticipated.

Part I / Part III / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Not canon compliant. A few words short of 4k words.

Time travel was a dizzying prospect to articulate, and an even more disorienting concept to actually experience. Your eyes are squeezed shut, stinging as the rapid rewinding of time causes your surroundings to rapidly blur and warp in a plethora of colors. 

You surrendered any attempt to count the seconds that passed, and it isn’t until you feel a gloved hand on your shoulder that you reluctantly peel your eyes open. 

Looking to your side, you clear your throat as Regulus continues to peer at you. “Oh, uh, thanks.” 

Regulus merely grunts before deftly removing the thin chain from around his neck, head swiveling around to survey the environment as you recollect yourself. The absence of dark tiles startles you into following Regulus’ movements, vision thrumming with faint stars as you do so. 

Instead of the long tunnel-esque hallway you were familiar with, you were both greeted by clinically white walls and smooth concrete flooring. “I wasn’t aware this sector was a fairly new extension.” You hum, tucking the time turner under your robe collar. 

The bare hallway practically glows as it splinters toward an equally bare doorway, a thick black tarp draping across the wide aperture. 

“Can we apparate?” Regulus’ gruff voice draws your eyes toward him, blinking slowly as you unconsciously compare the shade of his mask to the snowy white of the walls. 

Nodding, you hum and quickly divert your gaze, “Since this was just recently constructed, I’m sure we can. Present day—no, but that’s due to its close proximity to the artifacts room.” 

Regulus draws his wand from his concealed wrist holster, microscopically swiveling it by his side as he turns to you, “You’re right.” Ward detection spell. You almost want to facepalm as you realize that you could have done the same. Clearly, the shock of Regulus’ existence above the grave was still wearing on your concentration. 

Shifting your weight to one foot, you hum absentmindedly, “The time turner has a cool down. Plus we’ll need to head back after we retrieve the file. No use in carrying such a valuable item with us the whole time.” 

“Cool down?” Regulus intones. 

“Should be about half a day after every round trip.” You confirm, keeping your eyes locked to the end of the hallway. 

Regulus nods in consideration before falling into silence again. 

“Ah, have you been to Rosier Estate by any chance?” You ask, dropping the folders in your hands into the woven bag slung over your shoulder. 

The masked man before you nods and juts his elbow out imperceptibly, eyes glazing over with an indecipherable sheen. You swiftly clasp his elbow, filing away your curiosity as your mind kicks into gear. 

The tug and spiraling of apparition tangles with your stomach as you’re graced with a familiar pit of anticipation. Once you land, you first hear the rustling of leaves, the bristling chimes fluttering through the air around you. 

Detaching yourself from Regulus, you take a step to the side as you admire the forest around you, the aroma of pine and soil lulling you into tranquility. 

“How nice.” You hum, throwing your head back as you gaze through the verdant curtains of dancing leaves and toward the stormy sky. 

“The manor is nearby. We’ll have to get a little closer to the wards.” Regulus says, poking your shoulder with the edge of the folder to get your full attention. 

Softly tugging the item into your hands, you splay the folder open for the both of you to look at. 

File 0100: Clyde Rosier. 06/18/1958. 

Brief: Retrieve the lost file of Archadiem inside Rosier Estate’s study during the patrimony ball. Leave no witnesses. 

Location: Rosier Estate. Bournemouth, England

“Shit.” You hiss out, a groan bubbling in your throat as you reread the curt note. “There’s going to be a fuck ton of people there. How inconvenient.” 

“It’ll be fine.” Regulus grunts, thumbing at the edge of the paper as he grips his wand tightly. 

You click your tongue before gently retracting the folder and tucking it away into your bag. “Right.  Nothing a few Obliviate’s and Imperio’s can’t fix.”

Regulus draws back a little and gazes at you with slightly widened eyes, as if he was really seeing you for the first time. You raise your eyebrows and grin lightly, “Should I be offended that you’re so shocked? We’re in the same line of work. Kind of.” 

“It’s just difficult.” He mumbles, eyes now sinking back to their usual blank look. 

“Hm?” You muse, spinning your wand around your fingers. 

Regulus looks away into the distance before he speaks again. “How does time travel work?” 

“Ah, it’s quite a convoluted concept.” You start, scratching your nails gently against your bicep as you attempt to articulate your next words, “We can go back to the past, obviously, but we aren’t able to jump forward to a time where we have yet to experience. In terms of avoiding a complete implosion of our timeline, we have to avoid people that either know us, or will come to know us in their future… er, our present?” You shoot a playful look at him at your next words, “And definitely no killing either.” 

“Shame.” Regulus breathes out lowly. 

You huff out in amusement and raise an eyebrow at him. “Alright, we should head on over now. I can disarm the security wards just long enough for us to cross.” 

“Someone might notice.” Regulus supplies, yet his tone indicated no stress over the matter. 

“It’s the house elves you should be worrying about. I’m sure they’ll notice us snooping around.” Your words are tinted with an edge of concentration as Regulus begins to pace through the forest floor with you on his tail. 

Regulus’ hood shifts side-to-side ever so slightly as he watches your surroundings. “The elves will be in the kitchen preparing the food.” 

“Oh?” Your echo is laden with curiosity as you silently prod him to explain. 

“Lord Rosier is not keen on having them wander while he has guests over.” Regulus mutters with firm certainty. 

Your inquisitive gaze only sharpens at his words, but you concede at the explanation, not wanting to push the man further and risk shattering any semblance of ease he held toward you. “Sounds good. Do you know where the office is then?” 

Regulus hums in confirmation before slowing in his tracks, slightly ducking behind one of the trees and reaching an arm back to gesture for you to do the same. Following the man’s lead, you step further into the shade and peer into the bright clearing. Somehow, your riveting conversation with Regulus lasted long enough for him to trace a path to the side of the lavish estate. 

There are a few people milling at the entrance of the manor, all layered with tailored formal wear that reeked of obscene wealth. You and Regulus are a few yards away from the edge of the luscious garden, the sway of tulip beds mottling the expanse of the view in front of you. 

Unfortunately, your initial plan of sneaking in seems to flush away as an increasing amount of people pour onto the property. The sudden twitch of Regulus’ fingers tells you that he agreed with your assessment. 

“Damn, I think I left my spare polyjuice potion vials back at home. I got too eager.” You curse yourself quietly, mentally kicking yourself for being so careless. Regulus glances over his shoulder at you before digging into the pocket of his cloak, the faint clacking of glass spurring a hum of disbelief to escape your mouth. “No way, Black.” 

“Stay here. Lift the wards on my cue.” Without another word, the man softly thrusts the two vials toward you and slinks away to Merlin knows where. 

“Wait, Regulus! What cue—” You fiddle with the glass cylinders as the man disappears from your sight. Shaking your head, you can only huff out an exasperated sigh. “Unbelievable.” 

Craning your head around, you try to pinpoint Regulus’ swift figure, only catching glimpses of his robe through the treeline. He rounds toward the back of the manor much to your confusion, but as you squint for a few moments, you see two figures slowly trekking toward Regulus’ direction. 

Regulus’ mask peeks from the side of a thick tree and darts in your direction, and you’re thrusted into high alert as you see him lift and shake his wand between two fingers. Suppressing an eyeroll, you deftly swing your wand out from your side and aim at the air above the garden, murmuring a complex interception charm at the intangible barrier. 

Your magic darts out in a sharp strike, permeating across the bubble of interwoven ward charms, gnawing away at the webs of magic and causing it to flicker before seemingly melting away. Luckily, the temporary dismantling of the wards lasts long enough for Regulus to enact his plan. 

Leaning your body weight against the tree beside you, you watch in wonder as a shadow shoots out from the treeline and stupefies both individuals back-to-back. Tapping your foot against a bulb of root beneath your shoe, you patiently wait as you see Regulus haul both of the figures over his shoulders like sacks of potatoes before exiting the scene just as quickly as he arrived. 

You feel your charm wane before dissipating, and it's enough for you to shoot a cautious look toward the arriving guests, none of whom seem to notice any changes. Just as you turn back around, you nearly feel your heart stop as Regulus’ masked face fills your vision. 

“Merlin almighty, Regulus!” You wheeze out. “A word of warning next time, please.” 

The man ignores your near fatal scare and drops both of the figures down onto the ground, crouching to pluck a strand of hair from them both. Approaching the crumpled figures, you uncork the vials before handing them to Regulus, already dreading having to change into their stuffy outfits. 

“Who the bloody hell are these two anyway?” You wonder aloud, watching as Regulus hands one of the vials back to you. 

Regulus blinks before glancing down at them. “They were speaking in Italian.” 

“Possible business partners of Rosier’s, then?” You offer, accepting the vial being extended to you. As you finish throwing back the concoction, a bright glimmer catches your eyes. “And a couple.” 

Regulus freezes at this and picks up the limp hand with the lustrous diamond ring in an almost disbelieving motion. You bite back a chuckle and shake your head, feeling your body curling and morphing to match the one by your feet. “I guess it could be worse.” Regulus peers up at this, and you smile down at him, “We could have been stuck with the Malfoy’s.” 

“I suppose you’re right.” A breathy sound tangles into the air, and at first you’re immediately put on guard as your eyes fly around to track the source of the sound, but as a few more moments pass, you’re struck with the realization that Regulus just laughed. 

You feel your lips part in shock. Except, they’re not your lips. They feel taut and unbearably foreign on your face. A sigh leaves your mouth as you realize that the transformation was complete, leaving you rooted to the ground in a haze of disorientation as you become acquainted with your new limbs.

Shaking your head to snap from your stupor, you raise an eyebrow at Regulus, “You just laughed.” 

“Hm.” Regulus’ gloved hand reaches up to cup the chin of his mask, his other hand bringing up the potion to his face. 

You spin around before Regulus can lift the mask off, opting to admire the colorful garden to occupy yourself. “You should laugh more, I’ve always liked your laugh.” 

Regulus does not dignify your comment with a response, not that you expected him to, but you feel him tap your knee to get you to turn back around. 

The man busies himself with stripping your victims of their clothing, pointedly not glancing at you when you drop to your knees to do the same. You both work quietly, only giving the occasional grunt or sigh when a button or zipper gets stuck. 

After you peel off the necessary articles of clothing from your… person, leaving them in their underdressings, you mutely trek behind a few trees to swap clothing, raising your eyes upward so as to not peek at your new body. 

By the time you make your way back to Regulus, clothes bundled haphazardously in your hands, he is already finished changing, deciding to throw his robe over one of the limp bodies. 

Regulus raises his gaze to you as you draw closer, moving to pick up the remainder of his clothes and his mask. You both shove the clothing into the woven bag, maintaining a comfortable silence all the while. After you both finish, you shove the bag into a dark hollow in one of the weighty trees. 

“I’ll move them farther out.” Regulus drones, voice still painfully stoic even in his new flesh disguise. You nod and clear your throat, tapping into your years of incognito experience to try and dredge up some semblance of a respectable Italian accent. 

Regulus hauls both of the bodies over his shoulders again, briskly pacing away as you smooth out your outfit, admiring the heavy satin fabric and intricate threading. 

“You ready?” Regulus’ voice rings into the small clearing, and you shoot him an assured smile. 

“Gotta work on the accent, Black. The voice doesn’t match the face very much.” Your accent slips off your tongue smoothly, causing Regulus to raise his eyebrow at you. 

The teasing spurs an oh-so-elegant eyeroll from him as he trudges toward you. “Like this?” The faint Italian lilt of his voice is admittedly, quite believable, and you’re left to mimic his eyeroll as you beckon him forward. 

“Let’s just hope that Rosier is too busy to approach us.” You mutter, lifting your wand to disable the wards again. 

Regulus remains behind you as you execute the task, humming when he senses the barrier flickering ever so slightly. “Let me do the talking if he does.” 

“Sure, boss.” You huff sarcastically, quickly passing into the garden before your charm disappears. “He’s going to be on his toes about the wards. Wavering twice in such a short period of time is no accident.” 

“Don’t worry. He’s not the observant type.” Regulus says, crouching down behind a dense patch of shrubs. 

You follow suit and turn to him, “Are you seriously implying that he’s an ignoramus?” 

“Yes.” He deadpans, a sliver of disdain melting into his tone. “Now, we’ll slip in and split up.” 

Nodding, you catch onto his plan. “Right, and we’ll both be too busy to stop for chats because we’ll be looking for each other.” 

“Good. Exactly.” He praises with a hum, stretching up from his position to survey the area. “Rosier will be making his toast soon. We need to be there so it won’t seem suspicious.” 

“How do you know?” You question quietly, walking by Regulus’ side as you both hurry toward the entrance. 

“I grew up going to these kinds of events.” He huffs, offering his arm as you both near the towering wooden doors. 

Hooking your arm in his, you plaster on a flat expression and square your shoulders, immediately reverting into work-mode. You both climb up the stone stairs, not even flinching when the doors swing open as you both reach the last step. 

The aroma of baked bread and pear wafts towards you as you both breach the threshold, the light chattering buzzing through the air gradually increasing in volume as you both drift into the clusters of milling wizards in the ballroom. 

“Look who made it.” An unctuous voice cuts over from your left, and you and Regulus swivel over to see an older couple approaching you both. “We were starting to worry.” The older woman muses, a thin smile stretching across her face. 

“We decided to get some air.” Regulus greets, an amicable lip turn twisting at his face. 

You nod along and tighten your hold on Regulus’ arm. “The tulips are wonderful this time of year, after all.” 

The woman hums in agreement, eyes glinting sharply under the light. Her husband chuckles softly and draws his flute of champagne closer to his chest as he finally speaks up, “You’re not wrong. Well, we’re glad you’re both here now. Such a shame that Pierre is no longer with us, but Clyde will do well.” 

Regulus hums and feigns dolefulness at his words, “Yes, what a shame. Pardon us, Lord Greengrass, Lady Greengrass, we were hoping to grab some refreshments ourselves before Lord Rosier’s appearance.” 

The older man—Lord Greengrass, gives a small ah of understanding before inclining his head. “Of course, Signor Pacelli. We must get together one of these days for dinner.” 

“It would be our pleasure.” Regulus agrees, offering a pleasant smile to the two before gently tugging you away. You shoot the couple a small smile before spinning on your heel to follow him, letting out a small sigh. 

“How’d you know?” You murmur, eyes slowing in their rapid survey. 

Regulus hums and his voice drops as he replies, “The perks of pureblood playdates. The Greengrass’ are familiar faces.” 

Luckily, neither of you are stopped again and you’re able to amble towards the champagne table without pause. Just as you pick up one of the glasses, a light ringing fills the air and draws your attention to the center of the room. 

The crowd disperses into a vague ring shape to surround the source of the noise: a copper-haired man tapping a spoon against his champagne flute. 

“Clyde.” Regulus mutters just loud enough for you to hear. You hum in understanding and turn fully to the man as he begins to speak. 

“Everyone, thank you for gathering here at my estate on this lovely day. I am grateful to not only be able to honor my late father alongside his most trusted acquaintances, but to also be given the privilege to inherit the title of Lord Rosier.” The lithe man runs his gaze over every occupant in the room as he pauses. “Trust that I will be diligent in my duty to protect our traditions and culture, we must never surrender our fight for the greater purpose.” 

His last statement seems to birth a quiet excitement amongst the crowd as people positively beam at his words, sharing small glances that oozed of complete assent and zealoustry. The topic of blood purity seemed to be the cream of the crop to everyone surrounding you. 

A stern looking man steps forward from his spot in the circle and raises his glass, eyes gleaming with approval as a wicked smile settles on his face. “To Lord Rosier.” His voice rumbles across the room followed by intonations of similar endorsement. 

You feel Regulus tense up beside you as he sees the man, arm snapping stiff for a few moments before you feel him forcefully relax his muscles. Biting your tongue, you suppress the urge to look at Regulus as you both mimic the crowd’s movements, a nauseating wave wracking through your body as you see the avaricious look on Rosier’s face. 

Bloody psycho. 

“I am truly honored. Now, please enjoy your time here!” Rosier inclines his head before motioning for the gettogether to resume, immediately moving to speak with who you recognized to be the Malfoy’s. Abraxas and… dear Merlin, a baby-faced Lucius. 

Biting back a snicker, you pat Regulus’ forearm as you bring your drink back to your side. “Lucius is quite adorable.” 

Regulus discreetly glances over and you see his eyes light up in mirth, quietly muttering into his drink as he tries to loosen up. “Merlin, who would have thought.” 

“Are you alright though?” You whisper before taking a sip from your own glass, refraining from looking toward the stern man as you frown. 

He nods quickly, before ducking down to your ear. “Later.” He carefully surveys your surroundings before continuing, “I’m going to go to the office. Second floor, west wing.” 

You nod smally and slowly slip your arm from his, “Be careful.” 

“Come up in five.” He mutters, grabbing another glass of champagne before slinking away into the crowd of people. 

You slowly down your glass before also grabbing another one, trying your best to hide your discomfort with the overwhelming environment. A few more seconds pass before you begin to weave through the crowd, intentionally wading around groups in rapt conversation in hopes of fading into the background. 

After pointedly ignoring straying eyes, you begin to adopt the composure of someone on a mission to find something, which you suppose works out since it was the literal dilemma you were facing. Your eyes feign search as they glide over people’s heads, a minute frown plastering itself on your lips as you pretend to seek Regulus out. 

The charade remains intact for a few minutes until you’re up the staircase and rounding the corner, your huff of contained relief finding residence in the desolate hallway. Muffling your footsteps, you arduously navigate through the maze of hallways and windows. 

Just as you go to reach for your wand, deciding to use a tracking spell, a pair of heavy footsteps echo from ahead of you. Slipping your hand away from your concealed holster, you compose yourself just in time to see a sinewy man turn the corner in front of you. 

Swallowing roughly, you relax your expression into one of light surprise as he makes eye contact with you. His cobalt eyes widen imperceptibly before a saccharine smile curls at his lips. 

Closing the distance between you, he hums as you smile back at him. “There you are, dove. I noticed you were gone earlier. I suppose now is an opportune time. My missus is with Clyde right now, but let’s be quick.” 

He goes to hug your body closer to his, and you instinctively tense up at the approach, mind whirling on overdrive as you stiffly reciprocate his movements. The embrace has your skin prickling while a suffocating air befalls on the hallway. Pulling back from the unknown man’s hold, you clear your throat as his face leans towards yours. “Not in the hallway. Anyone can walk by.” 

Your voice is even and poised, the complete antithesis to the panic stinging at your nerves. 

The man chuckles and runs a hand through his hair as he nods. “Sure. Let’s head to Clyde’s drinking parlor then. He won’t mind.” His eyes scan your face and the look is enough to spur the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. 

A—completely fake, coy smile dances on your lips as you nod back. “Well, lead the way then.” 

Fuck. An affair with some mystery man. You were beginning to wish that you had downed seven glasses of alcohol instead.

You both pass by a couple more doors before the man is deftly pushing one open, gesturing for you to go in first. The room was nothing if not exceedingly opulent. Suspended above the two plush lounge chairs is a glittering chandelier embellished with blinding crystals and ivory candles. The far wall stretched out into a makeshift bar with shelves stacked ceiling-high with decanters and waxed-dipped wine bottles. A sturdy glass table is sprouted in between the two lounge chairs, housing a single transparent ashtray. 

Before you can drown in your reverie of the room, you hear the mystery man clear his throat from behind you. 

Turning on your heel, your small grin washes away as your heart stutters to a stop as you see his wand pointed at your head. 

He gives you a flinty smile that flashes too many of his teeth, eyes wide with cold curiosity as he steps towards you. “Now that we have some privacy. Mind telling me who the hell you are?” 

TAGLIST: @tomo-tofu @night-fall-moon @darkenwolfie @eliz-eia @justkiyomi @idkwimdahyd @googie-jeon @littleshadow17 @doux-ange @moni-cah @valsarchives @that-bitch-bri @tiana76 @jsjcue @younmey @novella12nite @littlefrogiefairy @rainfell-m @user2772636

[the-demon-prodigy]

oba yozo and warped perception

ok heres an absolutely giant analysis (its 2k words ermm) that i wrote in an essay format! i cant rlly say im proud of its strength as an essay but i do like the concepts i brought up here so i might eventually redo but it took me literally a week so i cant not post it

yozo is my little guy i want to put him under a microscope and study him like a bug/aff

its under the cut :]

TW: su1cide, s3xual a$sault, misogyny (all mentioned, not depicted)

Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human, a Japanese literary classic, is told through the writings of the protagonist, Oba Yozo. Yozo is a deeply traumatized and alienated human being, and his perception of both himself and others is distorted by his traumatic experiences.

Yozo makes the judgement very early on in his life that he lacks what constitutes humanity. He separates himself from humans because of this, but unable to renounce their society as he is, he instead opts to display a public facade of light-heartedness and, on occasion, foolishness. Yozo feared that which he did not understand, and he therefore feared people, finding them and their society riddled with unspoken societal guidelines, utterly incomprehensible. (It’s likely that Yozo only feared the unknown so much and only came to this conclusion due to his intelligence, which he is mentioned to have, at least academically. Generally, it would be extremely unlikely that Yozo is an unintelligent character, seeing as how often he pokes and prods at the philosophical and existential.)

Yozo finds himself inhuman, due to how he fails to understand that which humans seem to be born into this world understanding. Additionally, he lacks something in his nature that he believes to be absolutely inherent to humans: a deep, animalistic anger. Yozo never describes being angry throughout the book; he only fears, and fears, and fears some more, until he fears every last thing in this world. It’s likely that this immense fear came only as a result of the life he led. Even in his teenage and adult years, he gauges himself to not be seen as a friend or even a person to some of the people he knew, thus determining that he had never made a friend. And, having been sexually assaulted at a very young age, it’s only natural that Yozo would believe human beings to be cruel and animalistic by nature, hence justifying his fear. 

The childhood trauma that Yozo suffered also caused further complications in his life, outside of the obvious feelings of needing to please in order to be ‘safe’. Yozo seems to have difficulty processing/facing outright his emotions and traumatic events, his flowery style of writing carefully dancing around describing exactly what happened to him. I doubt that Yozo has truly suppressed the memories of his childhood, but he at least doesn’t process them correctly. Yozo also does this in regards to things that remind him of his trauma or, in other words, trigger him.

It’s important to note that the presentation of No Longer Human is inherently biased. There is not a single scene told from objective reality, even in the prologue and epilogue which aren’t told in Yozo’s perspective. While the unreliable narration is pivotal to exploring the recesses of the human mind, it’s impossible to grasp exactly what actually happened at any given point. Had Yozo outright lied about certain things? Were there times when he had forgotten important memories that eventually constituted his personality? Yozo himself even admits to having a side of him that exaggerates for effect, not even to his benefit, and it leads a reader to wonder just how much was affected by that trait of his. 

In the epilogue, one of Yozo’s acquaintances says that the way that his life turned out was due to his father: “it’s his father’s fault.” However, Yozo barely talked about his father in the book, save for mentioning his fear of being reprimanded, which was par for the course for anyone that Yozo spoke to. Although his father did affect the way that Yozo lived, with the information that Yozo gave, it would be impossible to say accurately that it was his father’s fault. 

Although it’s tempting to instead say that Yozo’s unfortunate circumstances only worsened because of him, it’s important to note that Yozo demonizes himself endlessly. Yozo feared humans to the point of decreeing all on his own that he was disqualified from their race, but he still sought out love from human beings. He still wished for connection, but because of Yozo’s deep-seated self-hatred which came only as a result of seeing the most distasteful parts of humanity as a young child and feeling alienated from that, Yozo ended up separating himself. However, Yozo states over and over again that he fakes things, that he has a facade, that he only plays the clown and is not one, but it’s impossible to tell whether Yozo was truly the faker he thought that he was or if that was truly his personality and he simply didn’t know it. 

No Longer Human also has misogynistic themes, at times. While Yozo states that this is because he finds women to be boring, it’s possible that he is, once again, being unreliable, and the true reason that he has an aversion to women is because he experienced sexual assault at the hands of women from a young age and, many times throughout his life, he has experienced love with women that failed to come to proper fruition, hence causing his aversion to women and becoming attached to them.

Yozo spends the majority of the book fairly lost, not understanding humans, not understanding himself. So who is to say that Yozo was truly a liar, or that he simply thought that he was? It’s possible that Yozo only internalized the concept that he was a calculating, deceptive young man in order to make the thought that humans would never love him easier to swallow. 

Yozo being the intelligent and alienated sort of person that he is, he comes across as slightly conceited at times, seeing as he’s rather opinionated, and internally refers to one of his acquaintances as an utter fool completely lacking in artistry, for example. With this acquaintance, he plays two word games, and his opinions can tell us quite a bit about him. The first game is about tragic versus comic nouns. Yozo believes that, just as pronouns can be divided between masculine, feminine, and neutral, nouns can be divided between tragic and comic. It’s primarily a game of connotation (for example: steamship and steam engine are tragic, while bus and streetcar and comic). 

Of the highlights of this game is that Yozo’s first opinion is that death is comic, while life is tragic. This is a reflection of his unique view on death, specifically him seeing it as a sort of cathartic relief, in comparison to life. Yozo views his own life, particularly, as shameful, making it tragic.

The second game is about antonyms. Yozo’s first example is that black is the antonym of white, but the antonym of white is red, and the antonym of red is black. In order to get a different result each time, you will need to repeatedly switch your perspective. Black and white are visually in opposition. Red is only the antonym of white figuratively, however. White is surrender while red is offense, white is purity while red is tainted. Black is the antonym of red in that red is fierce and passionate, while black is empty and void.

These also reflect Yozo’s personality. He is visually the opposite to humans, seen in how an outsider views his photos in the prologue. He is tainted, or corrupted, because of the crime that was perpetrated upon him as a child. Yozo also experiences his emotions in a complex way, sometimes void, like ‘black’, but at other times too heavily, like ‘red’. 

(And you, dear reader, may ask, “Aren’t you focusing too much on Yozo’s sexual trauma?” and I’d respond, “No Longer Human is an inherently subjective work due to the lack of representation of an objective reality. Yozo may ignore his sexual trauma more often than not, but I don’t have to, as that kind of experience is part of what created the ‘Oba Yozo’ that we come to see in the novel, regardless of how often it is directly addressed.”)

It’s also important to note that this example that Yozo provides is a one-way street. Black to white, then white to red, then red to black. Red is not the antonym of white, despite the fact that white is the antonym of red, because the antonym of white is black. This disjointed yet ultimately related style of thinking is reminiscent of the way that Yozo fails to properly reconcile all the concepts that he contemplates daily and how he fails to process things that were traumatic.

A highlight of the little antonym game that Yozo and his acquaintance played was when Yozo’s acquaintance mentioned that the antonym of crime was sure to be ‘the law’. Yozo internally scoffs at the concept, and states that crime belonged to a different category. Through the following paragraphs, it becomes apparent that Yozo sees crime as being a moral concept at heart. Whether or not something is a crime is not dictated by whether it defies the law or not, but by an intrinsic judgement system that exists within the heart of all people. He also states that vice is different from crime. Vice is a societal construct in Yozo’s eyes, whilst crime is not. Crime always exists and will continue to, even if there are no people in existence to observe it. Crime may even be above morality in a sense; there exists things that are crimes even to the earth itself. To Yozo, at least. 

To Yozo, punishment is the antonym of crime. Through a reflection of Dostoevsky's work, Yozo came to the conclusion that crime would only be paired with punishment if they were meant to be of completely opposite affiliation.  The reason his brain works in this way is because of the unique life that Yozo has led. Because the most horrific of crimes that were perpetrated upon him were met with no punishment, it’s only natural that he would see the two as inherently disconnected concepts.

Yozo also loses plenty of people important to him; Tsuneko and his father, to name two. Although the grief that Yozo experiences is very rarely directly addressed by him, it’s crucial to take into account the effect of these events on Yozo. He spends the latter parts of the book impacted by grief, and it shapes the ‘Yozo’ that we see. There is no objective reality in No Longer Human, there is only the clouded lens that Yozo views it through, and this concept permeates the entire story, which means that if, perhaps, Yozo hadn’t lost the people that he did, the second half of the story would be different. The entire book would be different if told from the perspective of someone else; this is where the truly genius subtext of the novel lies, in the fact that almost everything that the viewer ends up consuming about the story is Yozo’s own thoughts, inseparable from the experience of reading the novel.

“He was a good boy, an angel,” is the final line of No Longer Human, said about Yozo by one of the people who knew him. The unlovable, monstrous, deceptive Yozo that he claimed himself to be for his entire life was perceived as an angel by those around him. Yozo accentuated the many ways he had been taken advantage of, the things he had to keep secret, and yet someone who barely knew him was fond of him in a way he would never process as true had he been present for that moment. One might even say that there were a number of people in this world who loved Yozo.

By existing in a world that he determined could only ever be lonely, Yozo’s perception of humans was warped by the multitude of ways that he had been broken by others, and his perception of himself was warped by his personal opposition to the definition of ‘human’ that he had crafted. This is the core of what makes No Longer Human tragic: the fact that Yozo was seeing an emptier world than all others, and he had given up on his life before it began. That Yozo will never see the world that he lived in for what it truly was.

[ad-hawkeye]

was a little in denial about liking ayn but then i read his lvl 5 affinity travel event and lost it over him accidentally making those kids cry and being confused why they were crying. the rest of it was cute too but that moment made me laugh so hard. i adore him and i need to poke around in his mind

SCREAMS. ANON. THAT WAS THE TRAVEL EVENT THAT MADE ME LIKE HIM TOO HAHAHA

LIKE, i originally put off doing the godheim main story for a while and focused on grinding the affinity events. so i got this event first. FUNNIEST SHIT EVER might i add

and i was so confused because like. the tsundere usually isn’t my type. and then i realized. you know what IS my type? a man who is so hilariously lame and pathetic that i feel the need to study him under a microscope. a man who is not smooth in the slightest, who i can put in the dryer and watch him tumble around.

so i was like aw shit. fuck. i like this little freak.

and THEN i played ayn’s godheim route and it was all fucking over. i might not have a specified favorite (ayn, alkaid, and lars all fight for that spot at the moment) but i accept defeat. ayn is one of my lame ass little guys. also i love how mean mc gets to be to him, it happens with both lars and ayn and i find it so funny

[princesssarcastia]

the thing about house and wilson is that they’re both always, always, always playing the game with people* around them where they push and push and push and poke and prod and stab and escalate until they find that line the other person can’t see crossed.  usually, after they’ve already crossed it. 

they’re playing that game with each other—only neither one of them has a line they would find it unforgivable if the other crossed.  and they both know this!  but instead of being comforted by that fact and toning down the crazy, they both keep pushing and poking and prodding and stabbing each other, making existing wounds wider and carving out new ones.  it’s horrifying!  it’s intriguing!  i want to study them under a microscope! 

the man who is the point around which your world turns would forgive you anything, and you love him so much that you develop a pathological need to see him do it.  and he loves you so much he does the exact same thing.

*house is doing this with everyone.  wilson is doing this with the people he cares about the most.

[cielcreations]

Avian Instincts - Shiny! [Pixlriffs]

Pixlriffs, Pix for short, wasn't sure how he got into this situation.

He was simply walking around his empire, a pen in one hand, resting against his lips, as he stared at the paper and geode in his hand, confused. He was trying to figure out what exactly this geode was. It wasn't your standard diamond, iron, gold, and copper. Hell, it wasn't even an emerald or a lapis lazuli or an amethyst! Like an small amethyst geode would be, the outer layer was covered in smooth basalt, the middle layer calcite, and finally the gem itself. The gem was a bright red, shiny, beautiful. He was looking through his list of gems, humming.

I narrowed it down to either a ruby, garnet, or a tourmaline. Ruby would make the most sense as they are the most common, but I still might need to put it under a microscope. I just want to make sure. He held the gem up to the sun, Though, if it's a ruby, shouldn't we see more of them? I d-

Pix let out a yelp as something jumped on his shoulders. He put the geode down to his side as he turned, thinking maybe it was a cat or wolf or something. He turned and looked up, seeing Solidarity staring down at him.

"Uh, hey, Sheriff?" Pix smiled awkwardly, "What's up?"

Solidarity was silent, staring down at him. He then got off of his shoulders and simply stood behind him.

"....Um, Solidarity? You okay?" Pixlriff asked, lifting his hand with the geode. He went to undo his satchel with his other hand, but gasped when the dirty blonde grabbed his wrist.

He turned back and Solidarity was staring at the geode, eyes wide, amazed. Two wings unfolded from his back, making Pix gasp. The golden yellow wings fluttered in excitement, just staring at the shiny jewel. Pix blinked and gently took the geode away, making the dirty blonde let out an unhappy whine. Pix put the paper in his satchel before offering the geode to Solidarity. The avian smiled brightly and took it, chirping and hugging it to his chest before holding it out again and staring at the shiny bits again.

Pix let him do that for a few minutes before holding his hand out again, "Okay, I need that back now."

Solidarity just continued to stare.

"...Come on, Sheriff, I really need it!"

The dirty blonde, again, just continued to stare.

"...Alright, fine. Sorry about this, Solidarity."

The bird let out a little squeak as Pix picked him up before he look back at the gem. He let out happy trills, a small smile on his face as his wide eyes stared at the red gem. Pix couldn't help but chuckle and carry the bird to his home. Solidarity hadn't once complained, just chirped and trilled, occasionally nuzzling into Pix and making the brunette blush. When they got to the brunette's home, Solidarity looked up and seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in. He blinked and looked up at Pix before blushing darkly, gently tapping his shoulder.

Pixlriff looked down and smiled, setting him down, "Sorry, I just really need that geode and you weren't giving it up anytime soon."

"I-I-I'm sorry!" Solidarity blushed, gently poking the geode, his fingers running over it, "I-I d-didn't mean-"

"It's fine, I don't mind."

"I-I didn't realize this would happen..." He blushed, looking down, "I-I mean, I do like shiny things but..." He blushed more, "God, I hate being an avian..."

"Why?" Pix said without thinking, "U-Uh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked that! That was extremely rude, you have every right to keep your secrets and-"

"It's fine." Solidarity reassured, smiling softly, "I just... don't worry about it. J-Just... Please don't tell anyone?"

Pix nodded, "I won't, I promise. ...Um, can I have that back?"

"O-OH! Right, sorry!" The dirty blonde gave him the geode before he folded his wings back, "Anyways, sorry again. I didn't realize such dumb things would make me act like that."

"Hey, before you go-" Pix gently grabbed his wrist, "-I've heard about this. If you push down your instincts, they will tend to come out at random. You need to-"

"I don't need to do anything." Solidarity yanked his arm away, glaring.

The brunette stepped back, "H-Hey! Wait, I didn't mean it like that! I-I'm not trying to force you to do anything I just-" He hesitated before he sighed, "You're my friend, Solidarity, I don't want you to hurt yourself. I don't want you to be unable to stop your instincts and then end up in danger. I just... I just don't want you to get hurt."

Solidarity's eyes widened and looked away, "...I... I know, I'm sorry..." He sighed, "I shouldn't have snapped at you. I just... there's a reason I try my best to hide these wings and my instincts... I know it's dangerous but..."

"I understand. You have your reasons and you don't want, nor do you have to, explain." Pix smiled, "But, if you ever need help, just come to me. I'd be happy to help."

Solidarity smiled and nodded, "I'll think about it. Well, I'll go now. See you later." He turned to walk away.

"Oh, wait, Solidarity!"

The dirty blonde turned.

"Your wings? They're really pretty!"

His eyes widened before he shook his head, turning back, "...They're really not. Thanks though."

Pix watched the other leave, looking down at the geode. I wonder what happened...

[domoz]

2, 21, 22 & 25 for tobirama? :]

2. Favorite canon thing about this character?

Okay easy mode is he's the trope of "cold-hearted bastard with a secret warm center." Has no problem saying rude things to people, killing people, trying to poke holes in their dreams, but he, too, wants a world where children don't have to die. He's such a downer (""realist"") and yet he throws his WHOLE pussy into building a village that he doesn't even really seem to believe will achieve his brothers goals. He's over here like "well it's not going to work if you're not willing to die for it" and then proves that he means it. Have you ever noticed that he will argue with Hashirama and then just do what he's told despite that??

He's got all this respect for Orders and Laws, except for like, the laws of physics and life/death. Like he just had to go and test them to make sure they work how everyone says they do. My guy????

21. If you're a fic writer and have written for this character, what's your favorite thing to do when you're writing for this character? What's something you don't like?

Tobirama is capable of recognizing when he feels emotions and even shows them sometimes. He's dogshit bad at recognizing when they're affecting his decision making.

But no way does he have the emotional intelligence to ever talk about them without being forced in to it. If Tobirama is crying, he needs to have a very damn good reason to do so.

22. If you're a fic reader, what's something you like in fics when it comes to this character? Something you don't like?

When other characters slowly begin to discover that he, too, is a man with goodness in him, despite everything.

In the negative: I feel like its common to... I guess the term is woobify him? Like, I, too, love to put him through angst and stress, but I refuse to believe his internal monologue would be about how much of a pathetic failure he is, nor would he be Fixed by the clan that killed his brothers being Nice to him (my god, if its one of those AUs where the whole Senju clan rejects him that would fuck him up even MORE).

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

I'm sure I saw the chunin exam arc back in the day and I saw orochimaru summon him and probably thought 'whos this guy'. I don't think I figured it out (or cared) until years later when I was like "haha wouldn't it be funny if I read some naruto fic". I genuinely can't remember what I thought of him then, but he clearly grew on me. like so much fungus. that im looking under my microscope, because we understand so much about what he did and not what he thought.

Ask Meme

[dirtbra1n]

HII good morning time for ask game. Throwing rare ssmy ones at the board. Shirabashi. Hiramiya. uhhh kuresawa tashiro No wait i cant do that to kuresawa. He loves his girlfriend. I WILL do it to ogasawara though. ogasawara x sasaki. And for fun if you have brain power. tell me about ur favorite mairuma dynamics….

HIII GOOD MORNING I’ve still got twenty minutes til noon as I write this part it counts. woke up read this and said aloud Oh sunnfish loves me…. my friends love me………

shirabashi: I get it, it doesn’t compel me*.

*I’m continuing my effort to get myself into these things. this is definitely still following the trend of I’m Not Doing Enough To Mindpalace Niibashi. sunnfish wouldn’t it be really funny if I shoved him into pathologic au. no better way to get me really invested in you than to suffer sundry agonies I’d say.

I think some of the kagibashi points sort of reflect onto the wall a little warped here which is really fun. Why are you tall. why are you so good at basketball. How Are You Single. followed by one conversation that concludes, Oh, that’s why. being someone who knows that shirahama cares so much about his appearance adds some fun color to this too. I think there’s some fun stuff to poke at there I’ll turn the heat up and let it simmer awhile

hiramiya: I get it, it doesn’t compel me**.

**You know. it’s also kind of a lie I think I just don’t follow through enough on putting petri dish miyano under a microscope. like. I think even in a world where miyano didn’t meet sasaki and consequently did not have to reckon with #BisexualityGate. having bl brain is kind of just a by-default queer thing straight up. Yeah I want to watch Hirano senpai and his handsome roommate I know next to nothing about gently and sensually embrace one another. I want Hirano senpai to be on the bottom. I’m normal. This is normal. like miyano can we talk about this. we’re taking this conversation to the hirakagi dorm and you will put the clipboard DOWN.

in other words Someone definitely would have to pitch me on more straightforward hiramiya—it won’t be hard, I didn’t say hirano was the dating sim au game’s default and preferred route for NO REASON—but going by system settings of What’s funniest. I’m 100% primed to skip down the road of Miyano most insane voyeur moments (#1). this is kind of a theme for hirano ships for me actually. Wait hold on HOLD ON JUST. ONE SEC

kagi would be there too. just chilling.

I know you took it back but I think a we got married setup with tashiro kuresawa and yuki would legitimately be very funny. just wanted to say that

SASAWARA: HA HA . YOU KNOWWWW…. probably could go trudge up one of my. I’ll be right back again

ogasawara sex comedy teaser for public consumption. don’t worry about masato here this isn’t about him

being brief It’s the old friends feeling. being verbose it’s You’ve seen me at my worst and snappiest and least tolerable and you still haven’t gone anywhere. you’re so annoying. are you home right now? need to drop off a cd. you’re gonna hate the third track but the fourth one’s gonna make you cry.

I’m always thinking about it. sasaki wanting ogasawara to leave him and miyano the hell alone on their date but the second ogasawara vanishes sasaki’s texting him Hey, where’d you go? old friends feeling. am throwing up all over the floor currently. I Get It. It Compels me.

MAIRUMA. BY THE WAY. love trio are my kids. I think the passive competition between clara and alice is the funniest cutest thing in the world

^ page saved in may-nearly-june 2021.

also Literally every single relationship with iruma involved compels me that’s my LITTLE BLUE BOY!!!! going to come back to this on the mairuma front later on the coattails of either rewatching the anime or catching up on the manga. and then They’ll all be sorry…… okay wrapping this one up now I love you sunnfish

[yell0wsalt]

🔀 Korra and Mako

I hope you feel better!

Oh Makorra! Thanks for the ask/prompt!

****

Korra was a woman of nobility and had to live her life as such. That meant following along with the fancy dinners, dresses, parties, societal rules and responsibilities that came with it. While the luxuries were nice sometimes, there was a huge part of it where she would be held to tight scrutiny as if she were held under a microscope to be poked and prodded. It was suffocating. Isolating. And she hated it with every fiber of her being.

During one of the high-class parties, it was about time for it to wind down and Korra was on the verge of needing a moment to get away from it. Quietly, she ducked out to a more secluded area for a breather. Once she did, she was greeted by a familiar face with strong features and honey eyes that brought light back into her and made her smile.

Mako.

The two found each other some time back during another one of Korra’s getaways from the palace and her security. While the two came from very different social standings, they managed to hit it off right away. Riding on his motorbike to get away from it all, they would listen to and feel the purr of the engine that carried them, appreciating the momentary freedom riding would bring.

They felt like they could do anything. Korra did not feel tied to her social standing regarding what she was and was not supposed to do. And Mako, by her side, he felt like the richest man in the world. Empty pockets be damned.

But that didn’t mean everything was perfect. There were moments when Mako believed this to be nothing more than a dream. A fleeting moment for the two of them that could not build into anything real. The few who ran around in Mako’s circle and found out of their relationship often laughed, telling him what a girl like her would be doing with a street rat like him?

While he would defend what they had, there was only so much he was able to do in the moment before the dark and stormy thoughts of insecurity got to be too loud.

And so, he rode. Away into the night he went. Let the wind drown out the negativity as he weaved through the open road, red taillight trailing along.

With little thought his bike carried him to their secret meetup spot. Mako needed more. He needed to know if what they had was real or he needed to wake up. This was it. It was all or nothing. He tucked away his bike and made his way over to her bedroom window. A few taps on the glass prompted her to come over.

“Mako?” Korra was taken by surprise. It was outside of their schedule to meet up. Plus, he’d never, they’d never, ventured in her bedroom for fear of getting caught.

So, he asked the question that had been lingering on his tongue. And with bated breath, he awaited her answer.

Gathering her words, she gave him the honesty he needed and deserved. He made her feel real. He saw the true her— more than the fancy dresses, accessories, and status. He picked her up when bogged down by her obligations. That and so much more meant the world to her.

She hoped that what he felt was the same, to which he agreed wholeheartedly.

Now having cleared the air, there was only one thing left for them.

Ride.

And so they did. Through the night, they let Mako’s bike carry them. It didn’t matter where. They let the rest of the world and what they had to say fall to their feet.

🔀 and a pairing

[sliceroftpeirweirisles]

Whumpuary 2024 Day 6

6. (Jan 11-12) Exhaustion / Blindfolded / Old Injuries

Barry Bluejeans was a strong man. Well, maybe not physically, but mentally he was strong. He could calculate the rate of necrotic damage at any skill level of a warlock. He could measure the precise amount of hair that he could grow on his chin in three days. He knew he was smart and therefore strong. 

On the other hand, emotionally? He wasn’t very strong in that area. 

For a man so strong in logic, he couldn’t understand how emotions continued to break him down. He knew, logically, that the night terrors weren’t real. He knew they just weren’t feasible any longer. There’s no Hunger, no threat to their plane of existence. No grand relics and no war. Nevertheless, he found himself waking up from night terrors long after everything started to settle down. The first two nights were fairly easy to keep under wraps. Barry had suffered from them before, but it had been months since his last one. Lup shook him awake on the third night after she found Barry crying out for her in their bed. 

After that night, he was determined to try and stop the nightmares from happening. Barry turned to his strength - his books - and started studying. He dove into logical explanations and jotted down notes about night terrors. He started coming up with a plan to build another body tank, just in case they needed it. He also read up on potions and home remedies for night terrors. Anything he felt the need to study, he'd drag out the chore into hours of reading and notes.

To further keep from falling asleep, he hung out with the twins and Kravitz who never needed to sleep. Taako and Lup were Twosun elves, which means they did sleep occasionally, they just didn't need it as often as humans. Lup used to be a lich and didn't need sleep, but since she gained her body back Barry found her catching up on that sleep a lot. Mostly with Taako at her side, the other times with himself. Kravitz was, of course, the Grimm Reaper. Not needing sleep is pretty much given to him. So Barry ended up spending nights at a time just chatting with the three of them in their shared living room.

One night of studying night terrors turned to two, turned to three. 

On the fourth night, Lup walks in on Barry barely keeping it together in the lab. 

“Babe, how long has it been since you’ve slept?” Lup asks as she moseys over to her husband at his desk. 

“Mm…” Barry mutters as he stares into a microscope at his latest project. Lup leans over his shoulder and reads some unintelligible scribble on one of the microscope slides. She can’t tell what he’s studying, but he’s definitely staring intently at something. 

“What are you looking at, Bluejeans?” Lup muses as she pokes his cheek.

He rouses and backs up to look at his wife. “M’spit” he mumbles and rubs at his eyes.

“Bear, why the fuck are you studying your spit?” 

“There’s somethin’ in it…” Barry removes his hands to reveal his eyes have deep dark circles under them. 

Lup grimaces slightly at the state of her husband and sighs. “Pack it up there, Bear. Time for bed.” 

“No, I’m studying, I promise I'm fine. I’m just not done yet.” Barry sounds like a small child insisting he can stay up late. Lup reaches out to take Barry’s glasses gently off of his face, earning a protest from the man. She knows he can't do shit without them. “Lup, please. I’m not done.” 

“And I’m not kidding, Barry. You’re exhausted, look at yourself.” 

“Lup, I’m not tired!” Barry shouts, glaring up at the elf. His angry expression falls instantaneously when he sees Lup is taken aback by his outburst. “I-I’m sorry, I just… I…” 

Lup gently folds Barry’s glasses and sets them on the desk. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just hurt my feelings… I need you to be honest with me, babe. When’s the last time you slept?” She crosses her arms and leans against the desk, staring down at Barry.

Likewise, Barry stares up at her, a nervous energy vibrating through him. Should he be honest? Could he even lie about it at this point? Lup looks pretty when she’s mad… 

“Four…” is all Barry can make out before he breaks the eye contact and rubs his face again. 

“Four what? Hours?” 

“Days…” 

There’s an uncomfortable silence in the room as Barry’s hands don’t leave his face. Lup wants to yell. Scream at Barry for doing this to himself. Yeah, they were reapers, but he was still a human in a squishy, human, sleep-deprived body that needed sleep. Lup wants to yell, but instead, she sits for a moment and then lets out the most controlled sigh before standing up straight. 

“C’mon, Bear.” Lup takes his hands and moves them from his face. 

Barry sniffles and obliges, trying his damndest to not look Lup in the eye. He stands when Lup tugs at his arms to pull him up. She doesn’t let go as she leads Barry away from the lab, away from the basement, away from the living room. When they reach the bedroom, Barry starts to weep openly and it breaks Lup’s heart. 

“Talk to me, babe. What’s going on?” Lup pulls Barry into her arms, gentle hands rubbing his back. 

“I can’t do it, Lup… I don’t wanna sleep. It hurts too much.” 

“Hurts?” Lup questions, a hand gently raking through Barry’s thick brown hair. 

“The nightmares… They keep– keep taking you from me.” His side of the hug turns to trembling as he uses all his depleted strength to hug Lup. “I don’t wanna lose you again.” 

Lup holds her husband in her arms as tears prick at the edges of her vision. She knows what she did to him hurt Barry. She knows this is her fault, that he’s going through unimaginable trauma. Lup pulls away from the hug and leads Barry to bed, sitting him down on the edge. She looks him in the eye, a serious look on her face.

“I’m not going anywhere, Barry Bluejeans… I love you, and I’m not leaving you, never again. I swear.”

Barry nods and rubs at the tears across his cheeks. “That’s just it, I-I know you’re not gonna go anywhere. My subconscious is just having… having a hard time catching up.” 

Lup smiles softly and kneels down, taking off Barry’s shoes and socks. “Then we’ll teach it. You love learning, babe. You can learn to tell your brain to shut up. You’re strong like that.” 

Barry sniffles and smiles slightly at that statement. He doesn’t feel like he can be strong like that right now, but Lup’s words are encouraging. 

“Tonight though,” Lup states as she helps Barry into the covers. “Tonight, you are allowed to be weak. I’ll be here to be strong for you.” Lup climbs into bed with Barry and tucks herself beside him. “I’ll be here, Barry… I’m right here.” 

[aviatrix-ash]

Skyfire may have a little spicy mad scientist in him on occasion, as a treat. It's scientist enrichment and he deserves to have as muchas he'd like. 🥺

I've mentioned I've been toying with a few ideas for some TFAified Sea Change minicomics right? 👉👈 so in my little Au of course just like in G1, Seaspray gets to play in the water that turns him into a fish. He routinely visits his space mermaid wife Alaana in-between attending his duties on Cybertron as an Autobot. His bff Powerglide and his Conjunx Endure Skyfire help him sneak off Cybertron to go visit the organic planet- which he'd normally be forbidden from doing as an Autobot, but Skyfire claims no faction and ..doesn't exactly care for Autobot law. Since he's a spaceship anyways- he basically does whatever he wants. And Powerglide, he's not only just there to support his loved ones, but he's there to help Skyfire out during long flights-Scalpel screwed up some of his navigation and other altmode systems as repayment for leaving the Decepticons.

S O Over the last couple days I've had a plot bunny pop in my head that wont leave so I doodled this.

Basically due to some experimental tech device Skyfire gave Seaspray that'd give him a one way transwarp beam home to Cybertron, Seaspray while in merman form is fiddling with the thing and accidentally gets beamed up back home. Kinda like poor Captain Fanzone, little fishy Seaspray is in a stroke of bad luck and causes some mayhem amongst his fellow Autobots. He's lucky he's able to reach Cybertron's version of a payphone and he comms his buddies Cosmos and Powerglide to come rescue him. They do of course and Seaspray has some explanations to do/Powerglide makes him prove he's his bff somehow. And on the way to Powerglide's place (Seaspray's in luck Skyfire has their place habitable for his Nebulan scientist friends he has over in secret on occasion) just like Astoria, much to Powerglide's dismay (he still loves him of course), Seaspray ends up causing his buddies some mild inconveniences (he's a fish, he needs water. Water's very rare on Cybertron :0) all while constantly being spotted by Autobots. When they finally get there Skyfire agrees to fly him back, but pokes fun at wanting to study him under a microscope. :'3

Of course I will do a whole comic in the future when I get around to it. >w>