midnight burger is like if doctor who was always well written. and also, usamerican
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WAIT I WANNA BRING UP ANOTHER THING ABOUT HOW BULLYING IS ADDRESSED IN NERDY PRUDES MUST DIE. one thing I really liked about how Max is shown as a bully is his talk with Pete at the Pasqualli's parking lot. When Pete tries to stand up to Max, Max pushes him down and emphasizes that Pete isn't a loser because of his own qualities - rather, Pete is a loser because Max simply said so.
Of course we can attribute this to Max's god complex but I think that this point in particular is less than often really brought up in teen-centered media featuring bullying: that bullying exists not because of nerdy behavior or whatever the fuck, but because bullies will it into being. And to have a BULLY of all people say that out loud - to have the main villain point out the root of their behavior without showing any kind of shame whatsoever - showcases just how much of a menace Max is.
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☆ love; heretical and divine
{☆} characters tsaritsa
{☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader
{☆} warnings blood
{☆} word count 0.8k
To love a God is heretical. It is an act of blasphemy– it is to drag them down from their throne of hollow gold, to topple the pedestal the worshipers uphold on their shoulders like lambs at the herders heel. It is the act of forcing them to their knees and ripping that beating heart of glorious gold and beautiful, cruel divinity from their chest, so pure it burns.
To love a God is to make them sin. To make them painfully, horribly human.
To love a God is to sin.
The love of a worshiper is no love at all, brilliant in its raw purity, untainted by sin. It is fear and obedience masked by adoration so overpowering it corrupts. It makes the lamb so unquestioning in it's faith it will never question the knife that cuts, the teeth that rip, the claws that tear. If the Creator deemed them unworthy of the very life crafted by their hands, then they must have committed a sin so grave there lay no salvation for their horrid soul.
But she is no worshiper– her lips speak of heresy as easily as she breathes, her words nothing but lies, cold and cruel like the ice that crawls along her skin like webs.
She loves a God like a lover should.
A damned sinner reaching longingly for the heavens.
She loves a God in the subtle brush of their lips, their muffled voices behind closed doors as they indulge in curiosity untamed. She is a sinner through and through, but she feels herself fall further with every brush of her hand across their cheeks, every touch she bestows upon them like a lover. She memorizes the imperfections of their body like memorizing a map– every scar, every mark, every line drawn on their body like a canvas, her touch the brush that stains the pristine white.
No devoted lamb shall ever see the painting they create in these stolen moments– it is for the eyes of a heretic so vile it makes them shudder, their body dirtied by the love of a woman so vile even their divinity is obscured by the ice.
The lambs may be satisfied with fleeting glimpses of gold and empty words from lips that guide them to the jaws of the wolves, but she is not. Her hands crave them like a starving hound, aching to touch that imperfect skin hidden by the veil of gold that obscures the painfully human body beneath. She longs to free them from the golden cage that binds them– to see their wings blot out the sky, their divinity tainted by sin and making them all the more beautiful for it.
It is a longing that leaves a festering wound that cannot heal, will not heal. Even if it could, she would not let it.
For as much as she tries, deny it as she may, she is no better then the blind lambs following the herder who holds a blade in their hand, glittering like gold in the sun, stained by dull red.
She is a fool, and what a fool they make of her with the touch of their hands against her skin– so cold it leaves frost on their fingertips. Yet they do not fear the cold, mapping out every inch of her imperfections, carved into her body by her own hands.
She has always been a heretic, cursing the divine until she could speak no more, but if divinity can be found in them – in this love that consumes, that burns her hands and her lips – then she is a Saint, praying at the altar until her throat bled.
But in the end, she has and will always be a cold woman with hands stained with blood. Until it is all she can taste, until it is all she can smell, until it is all she can feel. These hands of hers, heretical and divine, will bleed the God from their veins– she will become the wolf to their lamb until the rivers of Teyvat run gold with their ichor, until the gold bleeds into red, the taste of their divinity on her tongue.
Until she drags a God from their lofty throne and makes of them a monster.
There is no greater triumph to the heretic then to love a God into sin. To make a God sin to love.
To love is to be human, and they are no God.
Even if she must tear the gold from their very being until all that's left is something human. Even if Teyvat crumbles and decays, even if it begins over and over again..
She will do it again and again, until the gold can bleed no longer. Until her sins grow too great for Teyvat to contain.
To love a God is to devour, and be devoured. An endless cycle of sin that dulls the glow of gold into something new– something horrifying and divine, in it's own right. Something just as horrid as her, just as divinely corrupted by the sins she carries on her shoulders like a trophy, as gold as the sun and as cold as ice.
Divinity, carved into something human by love all consuming, until it all bleeds away and they begin their dance anew, for as many cycles as it takes.
An eternity, if she must, of dooming this world of theirs to fire and decay for a glimpse of the being snared by their golden shackles.
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vent post
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stultifera navis rerun AKA thinking about Iberia hours again because a lot of the Iberians have such fascinating relationships with the concept of home but specifically Thorns and Lumen are eating at my brain. like where do you call home when the place that is your home Just Fucking Hates You? Elysium's rewinding breeze specifically makes a point to hammers home how differently Iberia treats its Liberi and its Aegir
(which is especially interesting since this comes right after a conversation where Purestream commented on how despite Leizi being a high ranking government official, there are still some experiences that are universal for all Yanese people - because the experience of what Iberia itself is like isnt universal for all Iberians)
But all that being said, Thorns also straight up states that Aegir is not his home, and yeah, how could it be? How could a place you've never been to, never truly known, ever be your home? How could it ever feel like a home?
so where do you go when the place that you are from hates your people and the place your people are from is completely unfamiliar and alien to you? Thorns' answer at the end of the conversation with Aya is: my home is where i chose it to be. my home is where there are people I care about and people who care about me
in the complete opposite direction, Lumen's oprec asks: why do you still stay in a place that wants you gone? because the people of Gran Faro like Jordi well enough but when push comes to shove, they will want the only Aegir in town gone
and yet, when Rald the messenger offers him a chance to leave Jordi turns him down and when he's forced to escape Gran Faro after the people there literally try to send him to his death (or worse) at the hands of the Inquisitors he keeps trying to go back because like everyone in stultifera navis, Jordi is clinging to his own dreams of a golden age
but the shape of that dream is unique to every character and for Jordi, his dreams are deeply, inseparably bound to the Eye of Iberia, the legacy his parents left behind
and it's this dream of becoming someone great, of bringing about that golden age that his parents devoted their lives to help create that ties Jordi to this nothing town because despite everything, despite the mistrust of the townsfolk and the hostility of the Inquisition and the danger from the ocean, he simply cannot leave it behind
(or, because i personally dislike the official translation,)
"I just see this place as my home"
so yeah. not sure what overall point i was trying to make here i'm just. deeply in love with these stories about chosing what is and isn't your home, of saying you will not call a place your home because it has given you no reason to or saying you consider a place your home even though it has given you every reason not to. deeply unwell about them <3
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you get riz gukgak so well 👍👍
thank u!! he really kinda is all of my favourite character things rolled into one package (negotiation of principles/investigator-truth seeker-negotiator with reality and the narrative/obnoxious character whose narrative reward for participating in the story is getting to be even more authentically obnoxious/deeply and hauntingly aroace
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One thing I’ve noticed is the Battle Subway is unique among battle facilities in being accessible early in the game - the second you reach Nimbasa you can challenge it. Other facilities are all post game - so in-universe, I feel like there’s a higher standard for challenging them. So, here’s an idea:
Ingo and Emmet have one long-standing serious argument that has never been resolved, and it’s the one of the very few times Ingo has pulled the elder brother card to ‘win’ : the debate over minimum requirements for challenging the Battle Subway. Ingo believes (and used his older twin status to implement) that there should be no restrictions on who challenges the Subway: all trainers are welcome, no matter their skill level, to come test their mettle! Pursue ever greater heights no matter where you start!
Emmet would like there to be a minimum badge requirement. He doesn’t want to bore the Subway’s pokemon and depot agents with unfulfilling battles from trainers who aren’t serious - it means the front end agents get overwhelmed while the later teams don’t see as much work. Also, it can be pretty crushing for young trainers to be absolutely curbstomped by competitive teams. They may not wish to come back if they can’t even get past the first agent! So for that, Emmet would like trainers to have at least some experience with the gym circuit before taking on their Subway - that way he knows there’s at least some level of seriousness to their intentions.
It’s the whole Ideals vs Truth thing the twins have going on: Ideally, every trainer has the potential to reach great heights! But the truth is, not everyone is that strong - or wants to get that strong.
(This isn’t Emmet looking down on weak trainers, btw. He’s just as supportive as Ingo to people who are *serious* about getting stronger and reaching greater heights! He’s just not really interested in trainers who are only challenging them for the novelty or as a fun thing or so on. He’s way more enthusiastic about the kid with the Watchog ace who keeps coming back with new item combinations and team attempts than he is about the person who has beaten all eight gyms in Unova with their Hydreigon and has straight up shrugged off losing to the Bosses because ‘I got all the BP I needed for x item’.)
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Silly lil headcanon
In my head, Wukong is the best when it comes to dealing with children. He like, engages with them more than he does with adults.
Whereas Macaque who i think would be really awkward around children, but he is great when it comes to dealing with like,, adolescents and young adults. People who are mature is easier for him to deal with.
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Yesterday I saw the movie "I saw the TV Glow" in theaters with my uncle, and I really wish I could've watched it without seeing tiktoks about it.
Like I wasn't spoiled or anything but hearing people say that the movie made them cry put me in full analytical mode and I was picking apart the movie trying to see what made them cry, and it was weird because I really loved this movie, and I strongly related to the characters and it's themes but it's one of those films where I have to review the scenes in my mind after to see what actual emotional responses that the movie was giving me
Maybe it's cause I'm autistic idk
And it makes me feel like something is wrong with me cause the emotions I got from the movie didn't start hitting me till like a full day passed me by, but that oddly makes me feel an even closer relation to the characters even more ????
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☆ thrice the bell tolls
{☆} characters neuvillette
{☆} notes cult au, imposter au, villain au, drabble, gender neutral reader
{☆} warnings minor angst
{☆} word count 0.9k
"Get in the water."
There is no trepidation in the voice of the Sovereign as he speaks, only pure contempt that bleeds into the very air until it chills their lungs – there will be no penance here. No redemption. He stands before them with apathetic indifference, and with his hands he shall draw judgement upon sinners without a shred of mercy, so heavy his gaze they cannot move. This land shall become the grave of gods – no, not gods, Archons. Transcendent..and fallible.
Horribly, humanly fallible.
What a cruel thing to be – neither god nor mortal, in the end. Their Authority a stolen, coveted thing, so easily taken in a blaze of fury that singes them to the bone, in winds so harsh it tears the breath from their lungs from the sheer pressure, in the way their hairs stand on end as if lightning shall smite them for their arrogance. Judgement has come for them, in the end, and no plea nor bargain can save them from it's justice – they shall be judged and they shall be sentenced.
"..I was willing to put aside your past transgressions – forgive your thievery of the Authority that is not your own – to see Their vision of harmony come to reality." He speaks with nothing but clarity and calmness that unsettles – as gentle as the serene pond illuminated by gentle sunlight, ducks drifting across its pristine surface and creating faint, brief ripples. Calm as the tide as it recedes from the shoreline. His eyes speak of the tempest – the raging winds and the harsh waves that will crash and break and ravage. There is a fury so turbulent it makes the wind go still, the earth erode and the water recede. "You do not deserve repentance when Their body bears the marks of your transgressions," There will be no mercy. They try to plead, to beg and bargain but they cannot speak – their cries go unheard just as Theirs were ignored. A horrifying irony.
"Self proclaimed Acolytes, all, yet you bathe in Their most divine blood and call yourselves Saints," He breathes in, taps his cane against the hardened earth, and holds his head high as he meets their eyes unflinching. Mercy, they think, for we are innocent – we did not know. "Sinners, to the very last. You tear at the flesh of the most Divine like wild dogs to sate your own hunger, for you know nothing else."
His voice is the toll – it echoes like the ringing of a bell, calling them to the water like a siren. It beckons, it demands, and it will not wait. The water recedes and he stands like a beacon among the shores – a bastion of light where it has been snuffed out.
His eyes witness their sins – heavy a burden he bears as he witnesses that which they must atone for. The cruel hand of an Archon as it spills the Divine blood of the very earth beneath their feet. He sees Their agony, feels it to the last. Every bolt of wind, every jagged rock, every bolt of lightning. Every single one he feels until he weeps – for Them, he weeps.
His left hand renders judgement – guilty. Their transgressions are grave, and no redemption can be found for such horrors they have inflicted upon the mortal vessel of the Divine. They have felt their sorrow, have felt Their pain, and he has found them guilty.
And with his right hand..he enacts justice.
"Let your sins be your anchor – let your sins weigh heavy upon your shoulders so that you may feel a brief flicker of the agony you have inflicted upon Them," He lifts his cane with a solemn resolve, tears staining the scales upon his cheeks. "I shall weep for you, too, for no other shall do so in my stead. Return, wretched beasts, to the earth and let it nourish Them where you did not."
And at his call, the waves devour.
Entire cities, entire nations – those who bear the sin shall drown in it's wake, dragged to the lowest depths where even the sun cannot breach. It takes and takes, claws and tears and rips at the bodies of the damned – it devours the world, impartial and unrelenting in it's judgement.
And Neuvillette alone weeps.
◇
"Neuvillette? Are you..crying?" Their voices makes him startle back to awareness, the briefest flicker of shame welling up in the empty space of his chest as he wipes away the tears that roll down his cheeks like drops of rain.
"It..appears so. Forgive me, most Divine, it seems I had a brief lapse in focus." He clears his throat, straightens his back, tries to ignore the pit in his stomach as he watches Their lips pull into a smile all too happy. He..he should be happy too, shouldn't he? He should. If They are happy, so should he be. His lips curl into a smile that doesn't feel like it fits on his face, but he delights in the way They smile wider when he does.
They approve, and that's all that matters, isn't it?
"It won't happen again, I assure you."
Their approval is all that matters.
So why does his chest ache so badly? He did as They commanded, he removed the stain upon Teyvat and ensured Their safety.
So why does he feel such sorrow?
The thought gnaws at him like the tides erode at stone, yet he cannot bear to burden his Creator with such..nonsense.
He will bear this weight alone until the day the waves come to claim him, too.
"Shall we visit the gardens today, Divine One?"
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Mahito thinks if you like him like that you've got a level of freak in you that he's absolutely going to bully you over. And not nicely, regardless if it's reciprocated or not.
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TW: body image talk
Was about to write a note to bring up to my therapist tomorrow about how I'm actually happy with my body when I'm not around others who can perceive me
Like bitch stfu you've been disassociating for the past 48 hours listening to new music and subconsciously avoiding looking at the house mirrors for too long when you passed them. That is NOT the conclusion to draw from this 😅 you ain't even perceiving yourself!
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Finding out youre agorophobic is wack bc its like, if you dont know then for me at least you just go out anyway and dissociate the whole time feel like absolute garbage and take days to recover from a small trip to groceries and finding every excuse possible to drop plans with people until they eventually stopped asking and stopped talking altogether. And now its like, oh. Is this why going outside feels like dying. Huh. And i wanna go out and do things but the thought makes me vomit for a week leading up to it and i was told oh its just being dramatic so yeah cool whatever.
Now im like, okay i actually have to get to used to going out and being around people adn put things in place for the paranoia and anxiety and plan things in advance and i gotta tell myself about it and walk myself through it everyday leading up. And im an adult so fuck everyone i will in fact be taking my headphones and a fidget and wearing my rat jacket as a security blanket in 90 degree weather thank you. I am in fact, allowed to accommodate myself and set boundaries fuck you actually.
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i would never wave around 'he's just misunderstood </3' but like within canon he really.... literally is misunderstood. all the time. he just doesn't care about the fact.
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I freaking love your au and your latest comic because MAN
I FELT THOSE LAST WORDS AND I WAS LIKE "OH FUCK"
First panel was already a bit unsettling itself - like you get it's just intimate manners as you do as a couple but he felt so possessive already and
Sunny's inner thoughts
I'm sure 100% his abandonment anxiety will increase drastically the more he stays with nick and honestly slay
I mean it's kinda obvious
But like I felt that
Yeah
Nick is unhinged
Nick is crazy
Y'all are gay for him
Good 😵💥
Sunny has soooo many issues. So many of them. He's so vulnerable and he makes himself vulnerable to Nick while still being intimidated by him, it's... Dude's got some problems.
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