#and depth and PAIN

[lucygraysboy]

“my koala bear. my clingy monkey,” billy muses affectionately, a breathless chuckle escaping him when lucy gray wraps herself around his frame, like a vine coiling around a fence. it comes so naturally to them, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces. his strong arms instinctively slip underneath her backside, supporting the weight of her body with ease. his heart’s hammering in his chest, both anticipating and fearing her response to his offer. after all, less than an hour ago she was telling him to take things slow, and here he is, asking her to be his. “lucy gray, you’re so…” gorgeous? beautiful? stunning? divine? there’s no word in his dictionary that could do her justice, all of them seem scant and could never adequately describe what she is to him. how much he adores her. 

the world could end this very second and he wouldn’t even notice, pale blue eyes gazing lovingly into her chocolate hues, losing himself in them. like in that fairytale that they read a long time ago, she’s the fairest of them all. he leans in, the tip of his nose bumping against hers as he fights off the urge to kiss her again out of sheer happiness. the weight of the world lifting off his chest when he hears her response, he twirls them around a few times before coming to a stop again. “in heaven even, hm? sure you wanna put up with my yappin’ in the afterlife, too? well, guess i’ll change my weddin’ vows to not even death can do us part then.” a surge of sheer euphoria rushes over him as they linger in this warm embrace, surrounding him in a golden glow. 

“funny you mention that ‘cause… every time we played house, i thought about how i’d love nothing more than to have it all with you one day. remember that journal my ma bought me back in like second grade? i covered ten pages with hearts and lucy gray bonney’s.” her confession touches his very soul and elicits one out of him in return, sending a flurry of butterflies into a frenzy within his stomach, warmth radiating through his chest as he continues to marvel at her in near disbelief. she loves him? has been his girl since they were six? he’s only ever heard her say these very words in his dreams and wants to pinch himself to make sure this isn’t one of them. “written in the stars, you say? i think you’re right. there’s no other explanation for why i feel the way i feel ‘bout you. when we’re apart, it’s like half of my own heart is missin’. i couldn’t live without you, lucy gray. i know it now.” if it’s not her for him in the end, he’ll never love again. a smile spreading across his lips, he muses, “i’m yours and you’re mine, in this life and in all the next ones.” and leans in to kiss her again.

slipping out of the cart, lucy gray immediately wraps her arms around his neck and glues to his hips, wrapping her legs around his waist ensuring she’s hanging on. she squeezes him with all of her limbs and a radiant, joyous smile graces her features at hearing his voice carry the words of loving her too. those words making the little girl inside her who has been loving him more than just a friend all these years, come so brightly to life, melting and feeling like she’s suffocating on how overwhelming in the best possible way the exchange of love with your most favorite person in the world is. but the relief as well, to finally just say it like this. a smile of amusement works across her face from the same feeling…it’s left her speechless too. even if she’s glad she could win in playful revenge, that’s for kissing her last time and leaving her without things to say. watching the cold snowflakes stick to his roseate skin and quickly melt, her cold cheeks hurt from smiling at his blush. “i’ll love you too here and in heaven and for eternity.” that’s a fact, something bonded them together the first day she came wandering up on his yard and they were immediately intrigued by each other so young. that doesn’t happen everyday. a young boy and a girl doesn’t start out like that often, not unless they were just born to be that compatible. then his proposal to be his girl comes fast, and out of instinct— that annoying fear plaguing her in the back of her mind comes bothering her. this time, she was stronger than it though. “i’m yours.” what was she so scared of? since… “i already am, have been.” a confident smile pushed away the worry attempting to etch across her features. “when we were six and we held hands, i used to pretend you were my husband.” she admitted to the silly imaginative little lucy gray and her big imagination, a shy laugh sounding from her then she grew sincere again and lovingly spoke, “i’m yours and you’re mine, it’s written in the stars.”

[fluffylord]

TWELFTH DOCTOR I THE ZYGON INVERSION

[feathercreates]

the Viktor talking to Sky storyboards have irrevocably changed my brain chemistry so you know I had to make it real guys based on the below Viktor smile that we were all denied in the final episode cut

no I will not be taking further comments this smile is canon now

[zhongli-lover-69]

[s0fter-sin]

something happening on a mission, something personal that has soap spiralling; panic and rage making him reckless, thoughtless, and ghost has to draw the line

“you’re compromised johnny; you know what that means?”

“you’re not pulling me out,” soap immediately snarls. he turns on him and ghost barely recognises him; venomous fear turning his eyes to unyielding ice. "you're not sidelining me; i need to be in this-!"

but ghost has never been afraid of venom; spat or dripped straight from bared fangs.

he snakes out a hand grip the back of his neck, jerking him in a rough shake. "if you can't think, you can't be a soldier," he growls and he flinches like he's been struck.

his lips quiver as they twist in a sneer and he wrenches, trying to free himself of his hold.

ghost doesn't let him.

"it means you give your body to me because your head ain't fucking attached to it anymore."

soap stills, body trembling beneath his hand as he sucks in shaking breaths.

he tightens his grip, pulling him closer and digs his forehead hard into his. “it means you give yourself to me so i can have the weapon that you are and use you the way you're meant to be used."

the ice in soap's eyes fractures.

ghost’s voice drops to a whisper, spoken only to johnny, not this facade of vengeance and pain, and wills it to reach him through the glaciers.

“so i can keep you safe ‘til it’s done and i can bring you back.”

[thinwhitedoc]

SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Happy out of touch Thursday, i finally got the batteries for my keyboard and y’all get to face the consequences

Consider: Sonic is notoriously bad at comforting people. (<- says the person who’s barely interacted with sonic media HEAR ME OUT.) If you need a distraction, if you need someone to get your mind off things or get you moving again, he’s your hedgehog. If you need someone to smile down at you and tell you to get up when you feel like you can’t with such confidence that you remember who you are and can rise to the occasion, he’s got you. But if you need a shoulder to cry on, if you need advice , if you’re looking for a kind comforting word you’re playing Russian roulette with this dude as to whether you’ll get any comfort at all. An awkward pat, standing there staring at you, same smile as ever or maybe looking like he has no idea what to do with you and that same distraction techniques he normally employs land about as well as ill-timed right hook to the jaw. Imagine you feel inadequate and just want a good cry and maybe a hug and this dude grins at you like you’re funny and suggests a run. He’d die for his friends but he has no idea how to do that hug comfort thing because he’s Sonic the Hedgehog. When has he ever paused to process a hurt? When has he ever paused to process pain in his body or in his heart? He is the epitome of “If i stop running then my thoughts would catch up with me.” The only way he’s survived everything he has without crumbling to pieces mentally and physically is because he doesn’t dwell on it, he doesn’t process it, he keeps moving and he’ll never stop. “Wdym you don’t wanna bottle up your feelings? Lol that’s what I do and it’s works for me—“ His friends might want to address things his friend might see something truly horrifying happen and beg him to talk about it and he’ll laugh and wave away their concern because he’s Sonic the Hedgehog nothing can stop him. An object in motion stays in motion. There’s nothing wrong, nothings ever hurt him, he’s still in one piece, the sky is still beautiful, the world is still fresh and his friends are still alive and happy so what’s there to address? Sonic doesn’t talk about things, he drops by to spar. Sonic doesn’t ask about your feelings or his he just drops a blanket over your shoulders when you fall asleep at your work table and maybe brings you to bed if he has the mind to. Sonic the Hedgehog doesn’t slow down, even when he’s brought to one knee, he won’t slow down until he stops breathing. And it works. It’s what’s kept him alive this long. And inevitably it will be the thing that destroys him.

[orengejoshi]

some simple bunny Flug pinups

[olenvasynyt]

To the Lucien haters who say we are “babying” Lucien: I’ll show you babying. Buy me a fucking stroller and I will baby this amazing man even after he is out of college, settling down with his wife and mate Elain. And if SJM fucks up his story or hurts him even more than she already has, I will obtain custody.

Fuck the Lucien haters

[madaqueue]

giving him hickeys and then pressing on the bruises a few days later just to hear him moan again

[lesbianwyllravengard]

I know I'm so late to Bell's Hells but God Ashton's arc in episodes 77 and 78 is so damn important to me. The chronic pain they have felt all their life being something they've had to get used to and even embrace in order to fight but as soon as they take a second to think about it they get so angry and hopeless and feel broken and unwhole. God I know that so well. "I wanted someone/something to blame" I don't think anyone who doesn't have unexplainable or undiagnosed chronic pain could understand that shit it fucking sucks. Why am I like this. What did I do wrong. Why do I have to be in so much pain all of the time just to exist. Why do other people not have to deal with this pain. I wouldn't wish it on anyone else but who wished it on me. Why me. Fuck I'm tearing up writing this but yeah God I'm so glad Taliesin made the choice for his character that he did and tbh I'm disappointed in how the rest of the crew reacted bc they have no fucking idea what it's like. Like fuck, if I thought this super dangerous magical shard could help fix something in me, could in any way relieve my pain even if it's only to give me a reason/explanation for why I'm feeling the pain at all I'd fucking take it. Like yeah it was selfish and it was stupid but they have no fucking clue. Ashton's hopelessness and tunnel vision and desperation was so poignant and real

[vaguely-humanoid-form]

maybe I haven't been looking at the sky

post-sonic 3 fic about stone. stobotnik too. oh yeah baby it's time for some pain.

word count is a bit under 3.6k

featuring: grief like so much grief, lots of hurt, a smidgen of comfort, second-person narration, so many goddamn timestamps, did I mention hurt, acknowledgement of shadow the hedgehog being like an actual teenager, shadow the hedgehog being kind of like a weird cat, the smallest hint of sonadow, and, of course, hurt.

have fun! >:3

p.s.: the title is from Maud Gone by Car Seat Headrest because I like that song and it fits too well

June 24, 2024, 3:26 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

It's still dark, and you can only just barely make out the hotel room ceiling above you.

You can hear the soft pitter-patter of the London rain against the window.

You spare a glance at the clock on the bedside table.

You know you won't be able to fall asleep.

Four hours of rest is enough, anyway.

You get up.

You take a shower.

Your reflection in the mirror seems to bore holes through your skull.

You brush your teeth, and you get dressed.

You work, because you have nothing else to do.

You go to get shitty hotel coffee and breakfast.

On instinct, you grab two cups.

You decide you don't want coffee anymore.

June 24, 2024, 12:58 PM

Your lunch is tasteless, and not just because it's British.

You think you would've laughed at that only 24 hours ago.

You don't think about if he would've.

You don't have much to work on.

Your hands itch. Everything feels so still. So static.

You try not to think about it. You try to think about anything else.

You think about how cold it is for a summer day.

You think about the smell of rain on the sidewalk.

You don't look at the sky.

You count your steps to fill your mind with something, anything.

It takes you precisely 673 steps to get back to your hotel from the lunch spot.

You don't think about how odd it feels to walk so slowly.

You don't think about how lonely you are.

You don't think about the Crab sunk in the Thames.

You don't think about him.

June 24, 2024, 7:31 PM

It's been 24 hours since it happened.

You feel empty.

You feel empty and sweaty and gross despite the wind chill and you shower again.

Your reflection stares at you again. It accuses you, blames you. It says it's your fault.

In its eyes, you can almost see something like him.

You cover the mirror.

You get yourself ready for bed, and you lay there under the hotel duvet, air conditioner blasting, and you shiver, but you don't get up to change it.

The Doctor prefers it cold, so–

You stare at the ceiling. It looks blurrier than usual.

You don't fall asleep for another few hours.

June 30, 2024, 1:08 PM

Montana is certainly better than London. At least, you'd say so.

It was a good idea to keep paying the lease on the Mean Bean. It's something you know.

You can't decide whether the familiarity makes you feel better or worse.

At least G.U.N. doesn't want anything to do with you, which you are more than welcome to.

Your “house,” if it can even be called that, what with its studio apartment style, in the back of the Mean Bean feels foreign to you, but the warmth feels nice.

The café stays cold.

You say it's to save money on the heating bill.

You were always good at pretending.

July 23, 2024, 4:23 PM

It's been exactly one month.

The hedgehog visits you today.

You know you should be plotting against him. You should be planning your revenge. You should be scheming to get rid of him once and for all–

But you're just so tired.

And in the end, he didn't want what happened, either.

He smiles at you as he orders a hot chocolate, but you can see the tightness in his face.

You bring up the other hedgehog, Shadow, and he falters for a moment.

You don't smile, not really, but your face softens as you come to an understanding.

You can't talk about him, but listening to Sonic talk about Shadow helps to dull the pain for a moment.

Before he leaves, Sonic gives you a sad smile, and tells you he's sorry about the Doctor.

Your throat closes up.

You stand still as the door opens and closes.

Your hands are shaking as you close.

August 16, 2024, 1:15 PM

Ever since he visited you the first time, Sonic has come back every other day for a hot chocolate and a chat.

The kid seems to always have something to say. You suppose he's hyperactive in many ways.

He's nice to you, and a part of you hates it, but you can't get yourself to get rid of the kid. Even if he says he stops by to check on how you're doing, you know it's helpful for him, too.

Deep down, you feel guilty for commiserating with the enemy. The guilt is something you opt to push down, though, because it makes you think of him.

You're interrupted when Sonic walks through the door with his human quasi-father in tow. Tom, you think his name is.

If you're honest, he looks like shit. His arm is in a cast and he's walking with a slight limp. The bags under his eyes are nothing to scoff at, either, but he gives you a soft smile.

He only orders a water, and drinks it slowly as Sonic chatters at his side about the shop.

You know he's been worried about Tom, and you're glad to see he's alright, but a twinge of resentment bites at you.

Why couldn't have you gotten a happy ending, too?

August 27, 2024, 1:00 PM

He's back again, and he brought his friends: the fox and the echidna.

You freeze for a moment when you see the fox. The conversation you had with him plays in the back of your mind and you relentlessly shoo it away.

The echidna is still annoying, but it's funny to see him order a shot of espresso and then immediately choke when he takes one sip.

When you're not trying to fight each other, they're good kids. You appreciate the effort they're making, at the very least.

It's nice to have noise to fill up the air. Helps quiet the thoughts a little bit, especially when the shop doesn't get much traffic these days.

Chatting with the alien children gives you something to do, too, since you can't do latte art anymore.

Your hands start shaking the moment you try.

So, you listen to them talk: teasing each other, making bad jokes, ranting about this or that.

When they leave, they all say goodbye, and while the silence is still suffocating, you're finding it slightly easier to breathe.

September 10, 2024, 8:01 AM

It's his birthday today, and you can't get yourself out of bed.

You can't even properly cry. Quiet tears roll down your face and stain your pillow.

You can't get back to sleep, either. You don't know if you would even want to. You don't know if you could bear to see his face in your dreams.

You stare at the brick wall, bare of photos or posters or plans, and you can't get yourself to look away.

September 10, 2024, 1:30 PM

The door to your “house” opens and you jump from your bed.

Team Sonic broke into your house.

You would be angry. You should be angry. But you can't muster up the energy.

Sonic says something that you don't register, and Knuckles proudly holds out a messily-made cupcake in front of him.

When you get a closer look…

Oh.

It's for the Doctor.

When you look up, Sonic is giving you that same sad smile he did the first time he came to the cafe. He says he knows how you've been going through a hard time, and that since today is the Doctor’s birthday, he wanted to do something special.

It takes everything in your being to not burst out sobbing in front of the kids.

You all sit around the cupcake and sing to it.

You falter on the name. They don't seem to mind.

You can't bear to eat any of the cupcake, so you stick it in the fridge.

The second those kids are out the door, you cry so hard you can barely stand.

September 12, 2024, 1:12 PM

Tails bursts through the shop door, startling you and the single customer sitting at a table in the corner.

He starts talking, so fast you can only make out a few words.

Before you can tell him to slow down, Sonic runs in after him, smiling brighter than the sun and presenting to you…

…Shadow?

You nearly short-circuit.

How is he alive?

You ask as much, and they all shrug their shoulders, minus Shadow who stands there staring at you without expression.

Apparently, Shadow has some sort of minor amnesia. He can't remember much immediately before…

Well.

But, still, he's alive.

And that sparks something deep in your chest.

You wouldn't dare to believe anything. You know he's… gone.

But a tiny, near molecular voice in the back of your head says what if?

And you can't give into it, but the voice, small as it is, nestles itself in between your cerebrum and cerebellum.

Back to reality, the alien children have decided that Shadow will stay with you.

Their home doesn't have the room for yet another anthropomorphic hedgehog in it, apparently.

You don't seem to have a say in the matter.

You can't say you mind too much.

September 12, 2024, 4:25 PM

You take him in and set up a futon in a clear area of your house.

You give him a tour, which really isn't much considering there are only two actual rooms.

He follows you around, nodding or shaking his head slightly whenever you ask him a question. He's quiet. Shy, even.

You make a simple dinner in silence, and he mumbles a thank you when you hand him his plate.

He falls asleep while you're working, and when you get a closer look at him…

…Did he always look that young?

Minus the 50 years he spent in stasis, he couldn't have been more than 15. Maybe 16, if you're being generous.

His brows furrow in his slumber, painfully familiar, and you're suddenly reminded of the fact that he is, in a way, a Robotnik.

You draw in a sharp breath and blink away the stinging in your eyes.

Maybe you'll sleep early.

September 23, 2024, 1:08 PM

Three months.

It's been three months since it happened, and the pain has only barely dulled.

You're starting to wonder if the coping mechanism of bottling everything up as much as you possibly can isn't working as well as you thought it would.

Shadow has opened up more, at least. He's still quiet and sometimes stares at you, wide-eyed and expressionless, but you've had a good few conversations with him.

You've shown him how to operate some of the coffee machines, even if he isn't quite tall enough to reach them very well on his own.

Every day you spend with him, the more it sets in just how young he is.

For the first week or two after… what happened, you resented him for being a part of it all. But now?

You just see a scared kid.

Team Sonic has been back to the Mean Bean a few times since Shadow arrived. He's incredibly socially awkward and is not one for idle chit-chat, but you've seen a hint of a smile on his face a couple times, and that's enough for you.

His memories have been returning slowly. Despite the voice screaming at you at every waking moment, you don't want to hold out hope. You don't want to be crushed again when the inevitable reality hits you that he is really gone.

You remember when it happened, when three months ago, you watched the Doctor dedicate his last words to you.

You remember going through every stage of grief and then some all at once.

You remember thinking you were done with that process, then, after it hit you like a freight train in all of 20 seconds.

You checked into a hotel, perfectly calm. You went up the elevator, fine. You unlocked the door to your room, ok.

Then you shut the door behind you and realized you'd accidentally gotten a room with two beds.

You remember the taste of bile at the back of your throat.

You blink and you're back where you were, alien children conversing at the counter in your coffee shop. You realize you've been holding the same empty mug and towel for a while.

When you set them down, your palm is indented from the fabric.

October 12, 2024, 2:00 PM

Shadow has warmed up to everything a lot more since he arrived last month.

You've seen him shoot back straight espresso like it was water, which drove Knuckles insane, and, for whatever reason, made you glow with pride.

He's slowly started asking for things directly: meals, things to do, what have you. You finally got to make that revenge guac for you both. It was great.

You had to try to not choke on it.

He's insanely excited for Halloween. It's refreshing to see him like this. He's usually a pretty doom-and-gloom type of guy, and there's a pain within him that you resonate with. But right now, he looks so happy, asking if you can decorate the cafe for the holiday. Of course, you do.

His memory is almost fully restored, too. You're happy about it, but it also instills an intense anxiety in you.

You aren't sure which situation it is that's making you feel like this.

Maybe both.

It'll be 4 months in a little under a week.

You don't think it's stopped hurting.

When you get a moment to be alone, it all comes rushing back at you, and suddenly you feel like you did when it first happened.

But the hurting isn't that bad all the time. Not anymore.

It settles in your chest when you're distracted by something, knocking on your ribs when you're reminded of it.

It's constant, like a bruise that just won't go away.

But it's manageable.

What is less manageable, however, is the voice.

Every day that passes, the voice gets louder, crawling further into your brain and making itself known.

Hell, it's even shown up in your dreams.

As annoying as it is, though, it makes you think about your grief beyond what you had been.

Whenever you have one of the dreams, you wake up and shower, and sit in the water and think.

Mostly, your brain has focused on his absence. The fact that he's… gone.

But, then you start to wonder.

Would this have happened if you'd told him? Would he be gone if he knew how you felt?

Would that have even changed anything?

You have to stop before you spiral too far. Asking questions is dangerous.

You convince yourself that it's just the shower water running down your cheeks, even if your eyes burn.

October 23, 2024, 1:02 AM

You wake up.

You don't immediately open your eyes, though, because if you stay in the darkness, you can pretend that everything is alright. You can pretend that nothing's changed.

You can pretend he's still here.

You open your eyes.

The room is not silent. Faraway thunder rumbles in the sky and Shadow lightly snores from where he sleeps.

It's four months now, and you've suddenly forgotten how to feel numb.

Your hypothesis about emotional suppression seems to be correct.

You sit up.

You stare at your hands.

You can't breathe.

At first, you think someone is trying to kill you. That's the obvious answer.

But then you feel the tear drop down to the tip of your nose.

And then you break.

You lose all sense of time as your vision is flooded. You hiccup between sobs and you know you've always been an ugly crier.

What makes it worse is when you feel a hesitant hand on your shoulder, and look over to see Shadow looking at you with so much concern and understanding.

You don't want to cry in front of him. You're meant to be strong for him, for this kid that you've grown closer to, for this kid that you want to take care of.

But when he reaches up to hug you, all you can do is fall apart on his shoulder. And you feel so bad, because no kid should ever have to be the one to comfort an adult, but the tears keep coming and you can't make them stop.

You don't know how long you sat there, weeping on him, when it seems the well has run dry.

You try to mutter an apology to him, but he gets up and walks away. You stare at nothing in front of you and curse yourself for making this child have to support you, but he comes back with a glass of water, averting his eyes nervously.

You think back to the first week he was here.

He'd had a nightmare and woke up screaming and crying. When you'd gone to comfort him, you brought him a glass of water.

You had awkwardly stuttered about how crying can be dehydrating in a sad attempt to make him feel better, social skills be damned, and it had worked.

That was the first time he'd really smiled at you.

And now he's doing the same for you.

He says something similar about water and dehydration and you can't entirely understand what he's saying, but you smile as best you can through the tears in your eyes and take the glass with a choked thank you.

He lights up at the affirmation, and you feel a warmth bloom in your chest as you realize that you are to Shadow as Tom is to Sonic.

You gently ruffle the top of Shadow's head, the corner of your mouth quirking up. He flusters at the action and tilts his head, almost like a cat, you think, sporting a ghost of a smirk.

You tell him you're alright now and to go back to bed, and you yourself fall asleep with the knowledge that you are this weird alien hedgehog’s weird quasi-father, and you don't mind it one bit.

October 31, 2024, 5:30 PM

Turns out Tom and Maddie made a costume for Shadow. Sonic had apparently told them about something Shadow said about it after one of his trips to the Mean Bean, and they'd decided to surprise him. Needless to say, he was ecstatic. Others may not have registered the level of happiness he was at, but you know Shadow.

You know your boy.

Sonic, Knuckles, and Tails somehow convinced Shadow to go trick-or-treating with them. You encouraged him, too. He seemed a bit nervous, and even sort of embarrassed, but he ultimately agreed, smiling as he waved goodbye to you.

This was the first time in a while that you've been really alone. The pain starts to catch up to you and for a moment, you feel incredibly empty. Your throat begins to tighten.

You take a deep breath as the grief curls up once more, resting for the moment. It makes you cold.

You make yourself a simple latte and draw a little jack-o'-lantern on the top. Your hands still shake, but it's not too much to deal with.

You doubt anyone else will come into the shop. You already planned to close early for Halloween, and the sign at the front tells as much to any prospective customers.

You turn to begin dealing with the back counter, cleaning the machines and putting things back to where they belong. You've grown fond of the routine.

Then you hear the door open, and turn around to see Shadow running into the shop. His eyes are bright, brighter than you've ever seen them.

He tells you that he remembers everything now. He says, excited—God, it makes you happy to see him excited—that his memory is back and he can tell you what happened to–

The door opens again.

You look up.

He's there.

He's alive.

You stand there for a moment, completely still, completely silent.

You almost scream.

You leap over the counter, running and tackling him in the tightest hug you've ever given anyone.

He smells horrible. Like smoke and sulfur and dirt and grime and he's alive and he's holding onto you just as strong as you are and the voice is cheering and exploding into fireworks in your brain and the pain squeezes your heart in its hands and he's alive.

You don't even notice when the tears begin to fall. You only notice his pulse, alive, his breath, alive, his arms around you, alive, alive, alive.

When you finally pull back after what feels like both an eternity and a millisecond, you get a look at his face, and you put it in your hands and holy shit he is alive.

He looks absolutely disheveled and it's possibly the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, and then he smiles, wide, genuine, warm, so rare, so real, and then he leans forward and kisses you and you can't think anymore.

He tastes awful and you've never loved him more than you do now.

[old-skyguy]

Look.

Ace Attorney fandom.

I know why people don't like Turnabout Bigtop. I am among the people who dislike Turnabout Bigtop.

But I GET why people like the case. I'm not going to be one of those annoying people who just blindly dump on it because I hate those mfs too.

Thing about Bigtop isn't that it sucks. Thing isn't the weird grooming stuff (though that is a huge part of it). It's not that it could've been good.

It's that - in my personal OPINION - it could have been *great*.

I think it had the potential to be one of the best third cases in the trilogy. It had everything; a fun and goofy setting fit for a pretty dang goofy lawyer game - where the environment itself had jokes and quips and one-liners and mishaps and tomfoolery written all over it, it had the previous case introducing a very interesting and important plotline that gave background for one of the more well-loved characters while also introducing an equally fucked up and lovable new one who was a child forced into a shit childhood of naivete in a CIRCUS with another character who was very naive and childish - whose interactions could have been funny and cute and reflective of said shit from the previous case (seriously she becomes such an important character in the 4th case, WHY would they not include her in this one for some character development? How did they fuck up letting a CHILD explore a CIRCUS?? That would have made the interactions flow MUCH better).

They had a pretty good, sympathetic killer imo, a morally dubious victim, an asshole of a client (who was pretty flat admittedly in-game, but I like his weird, topsy-turvy reasoning for it in the anime. Also, I think Max being kinda a dick would have bode well for the themes of Farewell since most of his clients up to this point have been like...nice? Not nice, but sympathetic, but him having to defend someone who's innocent but a prick would have shown him that just because someone is an asshole, doesn't mean they deserve to suffer for it and that they have the potential to grow as people, which is almost a complete foil to what Matt was. Ultimately, I would have loved the contrast of them as clients and I think it would have also served as character development for Phoenix, especially with his low-empathy tendencies).

They just didn't think that far ahead. They just didn't execute it well enough. They just decided to make three of the adult characters fight for the hand in marriage of a teenage girl. (Bat's part of the story was actually kinda good if he was just YOUNGER, I think him doing that for Regina would have been a stupid thing someone in the circus would do to impress their crush. Damn you Ace Attorney and your weird treatment of underage girls!!)

It just flopped and that's ok.

Even though it kinda sucked, it can still mean something to me.

Also I'm a Moe Curls apologist. I liked him, shut up.

[player016]

So a major part of the way I write Gihun’s character is tied to his masochism, his relationship with pain.

If y’all have been paying close attention, you’ll see my Gihun uses pain to focus himself: to improve his performance in his games against Inho in TCTC and stop himself from dissociating while being intimate with Junho in ITW, for example.

This stems from a very specific scene in S1E9, One Lucky Day.

When Gihun finally gets the upper hand in the fight and Sangwoo gives up, Gihun pulls the knife out of his hand.

Immediately after, he plunges it into the earth beside Sangwoo instead of killing him.

He did something true to himself, true to the way he sees the world and the person he wants to be, after a moment of intense pain.

He cut through the rage, the grief, the exhaustion, and made the merciful choice, after a moment of intense pain.

Outside of my own projections as a person with OCD, it seems to be fanon that Gihun is a pretty superstitious person, so it just makes sense to me that he would reach for pain as a decision-making aid in moments of high intensity.

[spyruce]

“i probably spent as much time hating you as you did”

This line drives me balls to the wall insane. Curt’s mind is either racing or unable to comprehend a single thought the whole reason he decided to do this was for nothing he spent all of those years in nothing but grief and guilt and despair for fucking NOTHING. And Owen knows this he knows Curt has repented and suffered and grieved but he doesn’t CARE because it was all his fault. He feels that every second of that suffering and more was deserved. That deep utter loathing and loss.

And it makes me wonder if Owen knew of Curt’s state of mind for the past four years because he was watching him, or if he just knew Curt that well. That Owen just knew Curt so deeply that he was aware he would blame himself and throw himself into isolation and misery and relished in the thought.

It’s lines like this that make me wish that these characters were from a book trilogy or just anything where we could spend more time sitting in these intricacies then a comedy musical (as much as I do love the show) allows for

[mono-doc]

Another needle felted thing, this time as a birthday gift! My friend loves Boo a whole lot, so it was inevitable that I made this for him. I wanted the face to look different from all the other Boo figures I know he has, so I settled on this.