#and the way it fucking shapes everything?

[tanoraqui]

Dungeon Meshi Liveblog: Of Ghosts & Griffins

What do they worship? The Winged Lion, whom they mistake for a god?

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It's so interesting how Izutsumi's cat is dominant in this place. I don't understand enough about soul magic or the spell that maintains this to know why. It FEELS right - this is a place for monsters, and that's the part of her that's a monster? But I bet there's worldbuilding that explains it...

WAIT, OR: that couple pages I reblogged with hte werewolf clearly implied that Izursumi isn't a human with a cat spirit put in her, she's a cat with a human spirit put in her. So maybe whatever enchantments shield and maintain the Golden Country bring the cat spirit to the fore as part of their preservative properties, doing their best to remove this curse upon the poor cat? Izutsumi doesn't change shape, just mind, because the souls are so mixed and/or the human soul is so much stronger than hte cat.

Who the fuck took a human soul and put it in a cat. Why would you do that I wonder if we'll ever know.

(The question of the comic is thus, of course: did Falin's soul get put inside a dragon's, in which case she'll be stuck with a dragonoid body at best, or did the dragon's get put inside Falin's, in which she should be able to shift back and forth at will once the Mage isn't forcibly holding the dragon's soul dominant?)

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This is the most hobbitly we've seen Chilchuck. I keep expecting him to start talking about how his old gaffer used to drink down at the pub.

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shadkjsh Chilchuck get your mind out of the gutter!

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These would unironically do numbers at the right Met Gala. I unironically really like the middle, floral one. And specificially the crossed-antlers brassiere on the third.

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They're dead! They're under a spell (a curse) of immortality so they can't change and they can't leave and nobody knows they exist and they can't make an impression on the world and nobody even really knows they did exist, not as individuals beyond a vague collective legend; and most of all they don't hunger, they don't want for anything in their bucolic life (except freedom or death) and they don't hunger for food, they don't eat and even if they do eat it they can't enjoy it, because they're immortal but in every single way that matters they are d e a d !

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Alright my current theory is: this kingdom always venerated a winged lion deity, for whatever reason. Myths happen. Then one day, a demon slipped in from wherever demons slip in and disguised itself as the winged lion in order to be easily trusted by the populace. It started offering the fulfillment of desires in exchange for the consumption of other desires.

It tricked the Mage somehow, so that by their powers combined they turned the populace of this city into a feeding pen for the demon - safe and happy forever! being slowly drained of all their desires.

But as the people's desires started to run truly dry, until they were functionally dead, the demon grew hungry - and maybe greedy. So it sent the villagers this "prophetic dream" about one who would save them, motivating Delgal to get to the surface - probably with the demon's help, covert so the Mage wouldn't know; still pretending to be a god if Delgal himself knew. It let the dungeon be opened, drawing all sort of greedy and desperate people down into its feasting range.

...whatever trick/bargain it made with hte Mage, it's probably going to try to do much the same with Marcille, with her terror of loss.

:D

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P.S. I love how Yaad keeps calling him "Sir Laios" like he's a knight, instead of just some guy with good intentions who thinks monsters are neat. Also, Chilchuck literally just shaking his head at Laios.

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Needless to say, the contrast between Laios's blind panic at being told he's a prophecied hero and king and Kabru's "If I had the ability to take over this dungeon and kingdom, I'd fix absolutely everything and no one would have any problems ever again" is hilarious and wonderful.

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Laios basically just told that orc chieftain that he'd think about what he'd do as king, right? ...Well, I guess it's time for him to think about it.

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THEIR HANDS ARE COLD BECAUSE THEY ARE D E A D.

Btw in a just world, Yaad would be a woman. Princess in a Tower vibes off the charts. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

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I'M FINALLY PAST WHERE I GOT IN THE SHOW!!

I see this translation is calling the Mad Mage "Sissel." Just as its decision to call her the "lunatic magician", I deem this to be a stupid-ass decision and have elected to ignore it in favor of "Thistle", which is a much better name for a weird elf orphan turned mad mage.

Ah, damn, they corrected to he/him pronouns. So much for women's wrongs... I STAND BY it making perfect sense in-universe for our protagonists to get it wrong from their first, confusing meeting, though!

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Takin' a moment to appreciate Thistle's fucked up pupils, which I'm given to understand indicate the demon's influence. I'm having so much fun! Are you having fun? I'm having fun.

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...does the famous dwarvish sense of direction derive in part from secret dwarvish trail markers that they put in all dungeons and mines and never tell other species about? That's great. That's so good. They clearly do ALSO have sensitive inner ears, and secret cultural practices.

Btw I adore every time someone calls Chilchuck "Chil." NICKNAMES ARE A SIGN OF LOVE.

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SEEING SENSHI IN DISTRESS MAKES ME IN DISTRESS, AND THEN YOU DROP HIM LIKE THE FOOTBALL ON A CHAPTER CLIFFHANGER?! JAIL! JAIL FOR AUTHOR! JAIL FOR 1000 YEARS!!!

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This map is 10/10 desired detail. I want to know the difference between dwarf-style, gnome-style, compound and I bet elf-style dungeons so bad.

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Marcille just cut off one of her braids for Senshi! She didn't hesitate at all! Her hair!!!

And they're risking basically all their food on this! (Man I love how all life, including revivification and creating familiars, literally requires heavy caloric input. I love love love how this comic starts with the simple premise "food is essential to life" and says it over and over in infinite ways.)

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This is just very cool art to represent what's happening. I don't like looking at it, it makes my eye hurt.

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This visual is just so good.

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Brotp: In-Laws on a Mission

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unironically this panel fucks so hard. I need to name something after this. I also need to watch this episode just for the intense energy of this whole sequence.

(I Love how they're just squeezing and re-shaping these things like playdoh. Good familiars best friends just to tolerate this shit.)

Btw I also really like that, while Marcille has started teaching Laios some simple healing spells, that's kept clearly distinct from this sort of advanced magic. Multiclassing takes levels just like the rest!

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TWO-SHOT KO ON A GRIFFIN! Have I mentioned how fun it is that these guys are fucking good at their jobs? We love a little competence porn on the side.

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CHILCHUCK WAS THE FIRST TO START TALKING ABOUT HIS PAST! Yes, of course, he had to be. He's the one who's most aggressively closed-off about it, as opposed to passively closed off like the rest. Mulitple good panels here fo Chilchuck being the emotionally intelligent one, too.

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oh my god Senshi's story.

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I'm so glad she keeps putting them in full-body animal suits.

(And I feel Hiromu Arakawa's cowsona in the Chili's tonight...)

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P.S. OH, LAST MINUTE EDITION as I open the next chapter: They all changed species before they stepped in hte circle of change-your-species mushrooms!! Oh man I can't wait to see a) shenanigans and b) how this gets woven into the ongoing subplot of interspecies conflict, and any other greater themes. Fuck me uuupp Ryoko Kui! (...tomorrow, bc I have to go to bed now :( )

[saintmuses]

❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

Pairing:

Soft!dark!Thomas Shelby x Ada’s BSF!Reader

Summary:

What started out as a fantastic night out at Eden club in London ended tragically for her.

Warning(s): Angst. Slightly dub-con (unwanted kiss). Death. Violence. Minors, dni! Note: last part of the mini series.

Word Count: 661

She could remember it in some ways where the memories began to solidify in flashes, a montage of the massacre of one man that happened at Eden Club.

She remembered being happy while drinking gin in a fancy glass, laughing at what her husband had jest.

She was happy, with a thin gold band wrapped around her ring finger, shiny under the golden hues of the lights at the club.

They had eloped so quickly in the morning, quickly that they couldn’t stand still and take it all in that they were getting married on a piece of paper. Perhaps they should’ve stayed and taken it all in slowly if she had known this was going to be their last night together.

The music ending sounded like the death march when a mass of storm came barreling, destroying everything they had touched.

“Tommy, no!” She screamed, voices erupted around them in a frenzy, but refused to intervene.

He was cruel. Just like everything about him. His eyes, pale blue, were encrusted in ice. Crystallizing the already frozen water, but his aura felt like death. It reeked of grim reaper, desperate to ensnare a living breathing soul.

It was crystal clear when blood was being spilled across the fancy tiles on the floor, splattered all over her and all over the man whose face was covered in hues of furiousness.

If she had thought or been asked what he would’ve done to declare her husband’s death, she would’ve thought or said he would’ve used a bullet in the gun he favored in his holster.

Not his bare hands, never his bare hands.

Perhaps he felt a bullet going through the brain or the heart was too simple, too kind, an act of mercy that she knew Thomas rarely gave out unless he had a bleeding heart in that moment which was very few and very far between.

It ended with his hand gripping the cap in a death-like vice, swinging across her husband’s face and neck, severely splitting his flesh and everything underneath into a snarly mess.

Her heart stopped at the sight of death in his eyes when he finally turned his head to face her. 

Nothing gold can stay under the golden hues of light of the club she had thought was her temporary Garden of Eden, but the serpent had entered and destroyed it with death with venom of blades that could be found sewn on his cap and poison from his fists.

“That must have been a new record, a bride and a widow in one day.” He muttered bitterly, coldly. It may have been said at a normal low tone, but to her he might as well have shouted them at her because those words hurt.

“Fuck you, Thomas!” She cried out, tears dripping down her flushed cheeks. She felt sick.

She could not stand the sight of him anymore, and she turned away from him, intending to run away again.

She was jerked back by him by a vice-like grip on her arm, and she was spun around to face him.

Her lips curled into a grimace when she felt slick fingers gripping her jaw, she could feel her husband’s blood smearing into her skin.

“I warned you,” he murmured, then she flinched at the next words. “I fuckin’ warned you, didn’t I? Eh?” He shouted in her face, eyes blazing with fury. His fingers digging into her bicep, for sure there were going to be finger shaped bruises in the morning.

“You will learn, Y/N. No one fucking touches you, or speak to you, or even marry you and live.” He hissed, nearly frothing at his mouth before closing in.

Unlike before where it was a purposeful act of brushing while she was unwilling, he forced his lips onto her still unwilling ones.

She swore she could taste blood, Edward’s blood on his lips, and her heart stopped for the second time that hour.

act i | ❝𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙡𝙚 𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙩𝙝 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣❞

act ii | ❝𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙨 𝙮𝙚𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙮 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙚𝙣❞

act iii | ❝𝙙𝙞𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙙 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙙❞

[unstableforensicscientist]

Okay these are the head cannons I have so far, and yes I will always add more 🙏🏻🙏🏻

Herbert West headcanonnons:

a gay or unlabeled trans man

also aroace

AuDHD

Hates loud noises or bright lights specifically

Clenches his jaw or grates his teeth when he sleeps

Rarely ever remembers to shower but also needs everything around him to be clean

Despises coffee but if he had to drink it, he would either drink it purely black and probably like the bottle of the coffee pot or so much sugar it’s insane

He secretly has a sweet tooth (PLS HEAR ME OUT ON THIS)

Literally only wears suits and will sometimes sleep in them

Doesn’t remember to take care of himself like ever

he loves compression socks (once again just hear me out)

He wears sock garters

smells like either mold/corpses or hand sanitizer, no in between.

he has two different handwriting, one that is like a mix of cursive and his normal in pen, and really shitty writing in pencil.

Rarely would ever care for music but he would occasionally go with classical

LOVES the rain/thunderstorms

Wanted to study archeology when he was younger (I’m projecting)

will go through math equations when he gets bored or stressed

Definitely stims, but specifically hand taps, leg taps, facial movements, and scrunching his hands or opening and closing his hands into a fist shape, or swaying/pacing.

He also Stims by breaking the fuck out of No.2 pencils and sometimes even pens if he’s stressed out/agitated enough

Either can’t sit still for hours or will be so silent/still you won’t notice he’s there.

Has a collection of encyclopedias that are really fucking old.

Will read fiction on very, and I mean VERY rare occasions. They will most likely be science fiction too.

Gruber was 100% a father figure for him.

Genuinely could give less of a fuck about your opinion on him unless you say something about his work.

did his own top surgery with perfect performance and had guidance from Gruber

Doesn’t drink much besides water or just well nothing, but will have some tea on occasion.

I also like the idea of him liking 7 up from the cut scene because it’s silly

used to wear socks with fun yet sophisticated designs on them in high school.

He definitely dressed like your average high school nerd when he was younger, suspenders and all.

Used to have glasses that would make his eyes look 10x bigger

His vision is absolute shit without his glasses, basically a male Velma.

also I think it’s silly to say he did ballet when he was younger (reference to the bride commentary)

used to have his hair a bit more shoulder length in high school

literally sleeps with one single pillow and a sheet. Also his bed feels like a rock when you lay on it. (He never fucking sleeps)

actually really enjoys nature and not just in the experimental environment way, but you would have to water board that info out of him.

Genuinely wants some kind of reptile as a pet.

he has so many random facts on the most niche things you could possibly not want know/hear about.

Genuinely likes the color green, but more of a forest green and not bright ass neon.

has gone camping ONCE.

has a specific routine for everything and will breakdown if it doesn’t go accordingly

never ever shows his meltdowns to anyone but himself

Has gone to the psych ward during his time in Switzerland after Grubers death

Doesn’t trust psychiatrists

this one I think is just funny to me but he has tried to read fiction with magic and shit and HATES IT. Read love craft and he had called that man out for his writing and bigotry so many times to Gruber and probably Dan.

Has the most manic laugh/giggle you’ve ever heard

smiles with his teeth if he’s being an asshole, almost like the Cheshire Cat, smiles with his mouth closed in a tight line when he’s sarcastic or annoyed, only has smiled genuinely like twice.

Hates showing emotions, even negative ones. He prefers to seem entirely neutral unless provoked

never looks himself in the mirror

hates going to the barber shop and prefers to cut his own hair

Literally cannot legally drive

Speed walks, he cannot walk at a normal pace ever.

Enjoys puns and jokes but only if he’s the one making them.

Death glares that could kill a man if it were possible.

thinks he’s very clever but sometimes he really is just stupid 🙁

thinks logically but not rationally

His morals are so fucking grey, like he has his lines he won’t ever cross but besides that, he does not give a fuck at all

He sits with his legs crossed or he sits like a bird perched on a branch, no in between

He either really loves or really hates small spaces

loves curling his body into himself or have his chested puffed out really proudly once again, no in between

He has SERIOUS back problems, and has kinda bad posture

He paces so much that it freaks Dan out sometimes

Talks to himself a LOT

If he lets himself relax, he often does crossword puzzles or just reads medical textbooks and highlights the misinformation in them

does actually care for Dan, just has a really hard and shitty way of showing it

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Hello, Mr. Monster 8

Summary: Eros and Psyche inspired Soulmate!AU, Morpheus x female OC/reader

Master list

Chapter Warnings: SMUT A/N: So... I did a sneaky in this chapter. First one to guess correctly gets a 500 word Sandman drabble (you can give me a prompt or let me go wild - your choice). This is the biggest tender!fuck I've ever seen. Like damn. It's an important beat between chapter arcs, and there are some themes/hints ya'll should really take note of. For reasons. All I want for my birthday are comments, my dears! <3 Thank you for your ongoing support.

8. Seal

What happened?

Creeping out of the fog, she swept together the distant pieces of her waking mind, looking for a thought, or a plan, or…

What happened?

She’d had a wonderful dream. Safe. Warm. Happy. If she could fall back asleep and drop back into that place – those arms – she would, but a sleeping mind never followed the same course. She was waking, and it was over.

But she didn’t remember going to bed.

That was all right. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten drunk or collapsed after days without sleep. Not a problem.

But –

She hadn’t set her wards.

Her eyes snapped open, and her hand sprang out, reaching for the bag of black salt she always kept near her bed in the van. Anything could come, anything could already be there. As she jerked to consciousness, full of half-remembered terror – the mirror, the unseelie, her skin, the dress – long fingers caught her flailing hand. They wove seamlessly between her own, pulling her attention down to starry eyes. Soft lips pressed to her knuckles, calling her back from the brink of delirium.

“All is well.” Morpheus’ thumb rubbed along her throbbing pulse, distracting her from her panic with tactile affection. He read the beat as her memory settled, as she recalled where she was and what they’d shared. He must have felt the spiking rhythm, too, judging by his smirk.

He was beautiful. And definitely naked under the grey silk sheets that gathered over his waist.

She licked her lips, at a loss for words as the butterflies she thought she’d banished sprang back to life in her stomach.

“Hello.”

Yes. Excellent. Definitely the most romantic greeting after waking up for the first time in a lover’s bed. In her fucking eldritch soulmate’s apparent love nest, actually. So far as she could tell, they weren’t even in a room. She could see him easily, but beyond the place where they were lying, she could only see vague, bushy shapes that could’ve been clouds or trees. Lights flickered in them. Maybe stars. Possibly fireflies.

No visible exits. Not even a floor, in fact.

Though it wasn’t like she was in a rush to leave.

“Hello.”

Following his gentle tug, she sank back to rest on her side, facing him.

He was so beautiful. She’d already thought it, but damn if it wasn’t worth thinking twice. With his disheveled raven hair and self-satisfied expression, he looked at least half as debauched as she felt.

Which reminded her.

Oh shit.

She was naked, too.

Her free hand moved towards the sheets that had fallen all the way to her thighs when she sat up, but his disapproving pout made her second guess herself.

Covering bare skin was instinctual. Especially after everything she’d suffered in –

No, no. Not thinking of that. She physically shook her head to banish the flashes of pain and fear trying to manifest.

She was safe. She was happy. Her Dream was real, and she could be vulnerable with him in this world apart. Nothing would hunt her here. Nothing would dare. He would avenge and protect her.

Carefully, consciously, she let her hand drift from the sheets, and Morpheus smiled in the wake of her decision.

“My love,” he purred, looping an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against him, “I want you.”

He nuzzled into her neck, kissing under her ear and finding new places her blood pounded under her skin. She found herself trying to remember language, how to speak in anything but sighs. Prince of Stories. Right. Whatever. Prince of Carnal Brainmelt more like. He made it impossible to think, working little bites over her flesh as he continued his eager assault, leaving her squirming, and desperate, and tongue-tied.

Even though she couldn’t see his eyes, she felt them burning far below her skin. Below flesh and bone. Stars were only cold because of their distance, and she was much too close to see them as anything but suns. She knew it was reckless to look, to stare back and let the heat blind her, but…

She couldn’t pull away now, even if she wanted to. He didn’t need prison bars and pansies to trap her.

Panting, she finally strung together an answer. “I want you, too.”

Her words brought him back to her lips, and he wasted no time licking into her mouth, sharing his heated groans. One hand slipped around to cradle her head. The one he’d used to reel her in crept down, brushing along her waist, squeezing her hip, and settling on her thigh. Strong fingers pulled her leg over his hip, and she groaned back into their kiss as his clear desire brushed her clit.

He didn’t press, only dragging himself through her folds as he explored her mouth. When she stopped for breath, he kissed under her chin, palm flexing just over her knee. She writhed with his slow strokes, enjoying the moment but far from satisfied.

“I need you.” Kissing his brow, his cheek, his lips, she sang her yearning. “I need you, Morpheus.”

Her words found him and burned the way his eyes flamed in her soul. She saw them kindling in his gaze as he pulled away to watch her face, swallowing every flicker of expression as he teased her entrance. And pushed inside.

The world hummed.

It was all beginnings and endings and discoveries. Dream was himself, and she was with him.

He moved so slowly, and she clung tight, shaking as the pleasure built with the inexorable pace of sunrise. Clutching his shoulder, his back, she fought to keep breathing, to keep her head above water as he pushed and pulled inside. Gods. He’d drown her, and she’d gladly find death here in his arms.

“You asked what I want.” He wasn’t as helpless to his physical manifestation as she was to her human body, but his rough voice proved how she affected him, and a sunburst of pride glowed in her breast. “Perhaps I was dishonest with myself. I want the measure of your dreams and your waking hours, too.”

He hunted for her fear, waiting for the golden moment to snap under the weight of his confession. His searching eyes flicked over hers, desperate but guarded. She didn’t know what to say. If she could say anything. But she wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t threatening her – this was an invitation. And she could only invite him back, let him feel the truths she couldn’t name yet.

Her hands settled on his face, trying to soothe the needles of anxiety, his anticipated despair. She offered more kisses, pulling at his lips, welcoming and reciprocating each touch in an effort to reach deeper. Too feel even more.

His grip on her thigh tightened, and he rolled half over her, leaving his sedate, almost drowsy lovemaking behind. Still tender, but openly needy, he picked up speed, using the new angle to his advantage.

She thought she’d been breathless before – fuck.

“I want… a life. A story. You.” He was begging. Commanding. On the cusp of claiming his own dream.

He didn’t take. He shared. They gave and met in true union, tasting elements beyond bodies to melt through time embrace destiny. A snare of their wyrds. A welcome loss wrapped in discovery.

Her heart would burst. There wasn’t enough of her to hold the love for something so vast as her monster, her Morpheus, and as he hiked her leg even higher on his waist, she grabbed him by the hair. She needed him. She needed his kiss, his breath, or she’d fall apart. He obliged, but she knew she’d go to pieces regardless.

As his thrusts grew more erratic, she broke.

The most exquisite destruction.

He pushed as deep as he could reach as she pulled out his own end, but he didn’t give her space to breathe. Rolling again so she was half draped – entirely boneless – over his chest, he kept his defiantly hard length inside. She’d have rest, but no peace.

Stroking her hair, he murmured into the crown of her head, “Stay, my love. I’m not ready to let you go.”

[amourtoken]

1 and 3 with Noah?

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re going to forget that guys name”

"What would they think if they saw you right now?"

I wrote something similar to this ages ago and deleted it so here's my chance at redemption 💀

You and your partner had gotten into a huge fight over the dumbest little thing and your first move was to leave the house. At the very least you'd be gone long enough to cool down but at this point you weren't quite sure you ever wanted to go back with how they treated you. This outing led you down a few streets but thankfully you lived in a pretty big city so there was no shortage of people or things to see.

That being said, you happened to pass by a hotel and an unfortunately attractive group of strangers. You didn't expect a second glance but right as you were about to pass them one called you over with a concerned look. Hopefully he's not an unbearable catcaller and genuinely has something worth a shit to say.

"Hey sweetheart, everything alright? You look upset."

Oh he's pretty, and his voice sounds so nice...

You cave and turn around to face him, having to look up to make actual eye contact. His eyes were so pretty too...

"You alright? Like I said you look upset. You're too pretty to be walking around with that expression. Whats wrong, baby?"

You explained the entire situation, trying not to be too emotional but you were still so hurt and angry you couldn't help it. Noah threw an arm over your shoulder and was comfortingly tracing shapes on your arm. You knew this was probably a stupid idea and normally would've just walked right past the group but he just feels inviting and you can't help but notice how pretty he is either so...really what's the worst that could happen.

"They sound like an asshole. I could treat you so much fucking better...you should let me show you."

Noah's hand slid from your shoulder to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. How could you turn him down, really? Maybe he wasn't even serious, but you're already this far why not find out.

You did in fact find out. He was dead serious. Normally you'd say this was stupid and insane but the way he feels fucking into you like he's trying to split you in half you really can't be upset that you've essentially just gone to bed with a complete stranger. He's got a big tattooed hand around your throat and your whole body bounces when he slams his hips against yours, and he laughs at you when you yelp after particularly harsh thrusts.

"wonder what they'd say if they saw you like this, all fucked out under me. Bet they'd be fuckin jealous I'm making you feel better than they ever could, huh?"

[iliveinarainbow]

ok i am in no way shape or form trying to downplay the b&c we saw in the show, bc at the end of the day what they did was HORRIFIC.

but it was nowhere near as bad as i kinda hoped it would be, as bad as that sounds.

in my opinion it is one of, if not the most horrible thing to take place during the war (that involved the targs themselves), and in a way i feel like the show itself kinda downplayed it.

and i saw that ryan condal said something about how difficult it would’ve been to handle child actors in scenes like that, and i get that.

but even with that in mind, to have a 5 minutes long scene where they just show up, watch as a drunk aegon goes on a tangent about what his “stage name” would be, they fuck up bc they realize they don’t know how to get upstairs (?) and end up going for the wrong targaryen, and for helaena (who was just alone with her kids, no guards for their QUEEN and HEIR) to try and buy them off with a necklace and then immediately pointing to jaehaerys once asked?

i am of the belief that helaena completely disassociated in that moment, which would explain why she then just took off as her child’s head was literally being sawed off his body.

but i’m sorry to then have her stumble into criston and alicent fucking just kinda felt a bit comedic, but in a disrespectful way.

and then “they killed the boy”… ok?

obviously when thinking of b&c you also have to consider its fall out, everyone’s reactions and their different ways of coping with it, so i guess we’ll see how that goes.

but idk, the more i think about it the more “underwhelmed” i am by the way the show chose to portray it.

and i just want to make it clear that i DID NOT want to see everything blood and cheese did to helaena, her kids and alicent in the book bc that would’ve been horrific.

but idk, i still feel that they could’ve done more.

[fortunatelyenchantingtaco]

Tbh the way fandom has the view of Gojo as either “hes not that powerful actually” or “he sees everything can do everything including travelling between dimensions” is kinda Gege’s fault? Its funny how jjk provides a lot of details into the nature of the cursed energy but the power level still feels a bit icky. The way Gojo’s powers are explained they are essentially applied mathematics and physics that are, usually, purely theoretical. I fucking hate quantum mechanics but unfortunately for everyone invovlved i am actively studying them so

So like technically he should be able to travel dimensions or into space or into the marianna trench and come out unscathed. The way teleportation works can be compared to the way we now know that black holes dont destroy information, but compress it. Considering the fact that blue and red work on the sheer fact that he creates an empty space and the universe rushes to fill it(which is genuinely a straight up impossible thing to do btw) and vice versa, he does technically have the strenght of a god. We dont even have a full knowledge of how the Six Eyes work, like okay they work thanks to seeing cursed energy. How the fuck then is he reading shit or typing on the phone with the blindfold on? That implies he sees perfectly well everything even if it doesnt have curse energy. Like when you go from his abilities he does seem like he can travel dimensions and whatever else. As fun as the Achilles and tortoise thing is, the fact that he can make it a reality effectively means that there is a shit ton of other things he should be able to do thanks to physics but i guess he needs a weakness (aside from being gay)

Which is FAIR overpowered characters aren’t good for a shonen narrative esp when they are on the side of the protagonist, it just feels sometimes like Gege gave him power over literal physics while forgetting that physics is like the thing that governs all. Genuenly. If you have the power to literally create an imaginary mass you are officially above all of the possible limits of the universe

[earl-of-221b]

I can’t explain what blue eye samurai makes me feel…….its a typical revenge story, a man sets out on his hero’s journey to kill the four men who have wronged him. A lone ronin, wide brimmed hat and sword in hand, roaming Edo Japan on his vendetta. But he’s not a man. He’s a woman. And how has he been wronged? What’s she getting revenge on?

On the fact that she exists. She wants revenge on the four white men that could possibly have conceived her. Who got her Japanese mother pregnant with a blue-eyed child. And not just any blue-eyed child, but a girl child. How is she possibly supposed to live in the world like that? For the wrong of being conceived, for the wrong of being born, for the wrong of being birthed into a world that will never love or accept her, she will kill her father.

I don’t know what level of convoluted self hate that is. Is she a child of rape? Or a child of a whore? Halfway through I realise what she told herself at the start couldn’t possibly be true - it’s not really for her mother. Her mother wasn’t the root of her vendetta, she wasn’t really doing it for her. When she leaves that farm and leaves the chance to live a simple, legitimate life as a woman, she goes right back to hunting down the men. Those men personally wronged her.

And then there’s so much to be discussed surrounding the way she grew up, because as a boy child and a man she can afford so much more than life has dealt her. Her swordfather who took her in out of the love and care in his heart had no shame in teaching a mixed man his art. The face of a ‘demon’ is fine. But not the identity of a woman. Shh. Don’t say it. Don’t confess. He knows and doesn’t want to hear it.

And because she’s lived that way her entire life for safety and security, she’s so completely alienated from being a woman, perhaps she really is he. But not really by choice. Or is it? The thing she does best is the art of killing, the art of men. Gender is a prison and gender is a performance and she has to choose which to perform. The times cannot reconcile hatred and violence with a woman. So she lives as a man.

So she can get revenge on her father, for revenge on herself.

[saintaviator]

moar hl scraps…. does a pose

[front-facing-pokemon]

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

For $5 USD stop making everything about that goddamn show for five minutes.

[blujayonthewing]

[waters-and-the-wilde]

'I'm not gonna tolerate a world where the only way I get to live is if you die'

[kiaxet]

Once again, the latest update from @somerandomdudelmao has left me fully in my feelings, and so I come to you with ~900 words of emotion.

(This one is a rough one: content warnings for death, sibling death, self-sacrifice, and just general despair. Y'all have read the update. You know what we're doing here.)

~~~~~~~

It's supposed to be over.

Master Michelangelo-

(No, no, he's never thought of himself that way. No matter how many times he's been called Master Michelangelo, in his own head he's still just Mikey.)

-Mikey has given everything. He'd opened the portal, watched his own mystic energy - grown larger and stronger with each battle even as it consumed his youth and his very life as its fuel - tear through his arms, cracks traveling up his body until the force of it shattered his form, consuming everything that kept him bound to the physical plane in order to form one last-ditch attempt at setting things right.

He'd managed a wink and a smile, and then he'd died.

And yet he's still here. Why-

The promise. The caveat to the plan. Leo.

Leo had refused to leave him alone at the end, and Mikey will be damned before he refuses to return the favor.

Not that there'll be anything left to damn. The family's Ninpo is what connected them to the Hamato afterlife, and Mikey's is shattered, expended to give Casey a better chance at life. At this point, he's held together with the metaphysical equivalent of duct tape and spite - Donnie's favorite building materials when supplies ran short.

(Donnie's gone. Mikey failed him - failed to catch the infection, failed to cure it, failed to find his spirit amongst the Hamato ancestors. The Krang had obliterated him, and Mikey had failed to help until it was too late.)

(He can't find Raph among the ancestors, either. One more big brother failed.)

(He knows there won't be much left of Leo - not after Leo spent so long being Mikey's living shield, letting the Krang tear into his Ninpo time and time again in order to keep Mikey's intact - but he won't fail Leo. He can't. He can't.)

He's still here, for now, and that has to be good enough. He levitates, surveying a battlefield gone cold in the wake of an overwhelming Krang victory, and goes in search of his last remaining brother.

Leo's corpse isn't far - Mikey spots it near where the portal had been, face down in rock that had been blasted smooth and clean. Krang laser. There's no surviving those.

His gaze flickers upwards across the horizon, and he sees something glow near the corpse, a white outline coming into being before the color follows after, taking a familiar shape. It's-

It's Casey-

It's Casey, but he looks different. Better. His clothes are intact and clean - brand new, from the looks of it. His hair is washed and fluffy. His face and arms have filled out and his shoulders broadened, like he'd been getting good food and enough of it. He doesn't look like the Casey Mikey had made a portal for minutes ago; he looks like how they'd all wanted Casey to look, like he's finally getting what they would have killed to have been able to provide for him. He looks like a dream.

And that's how Mikey knows it's a lie.

It's the Krang. The Krang have done something, made one final twist of the knife that's been stuck in Leo's heart since the night they lost the Key - for all Mikey knows, they're going to use it to desecrate his brother's body, and he is not letting that happen. He zooms closer to Leo's corpse-

"We did it, Mikey, we got him out-"

-and feels the world tilt.

That's not Leo's corpse, because Leo's not dead. He's clinging to life, muttering nonstop in a voice barely above a whisper - he's not long for this world, but he's still here-

The lie cries out in Casey's voice and makes for his brother-

And Mikey lashes out, magic coming to his hands as easily as it ever did. It's not enough to incinerate the lie - the thing is too smart, too quick, and pulls back with only an injury to its arm. That's enough of an opening for Mikey to land in front of Leo, snarling at the lie wearing his nephew's face. "Don't. Touch. Him!" That's his brother. That's his brother. That's the only brother he has left, and he won't have him for long, but that doesn't mean the Krang can take him! "Whatever Krang trick you are-"

Spite, while fun, is no substitute for engineering. Donnie had told him that once.

The spite - and whatever else is holding him together at this point - gives out, the collapse manifesting as pain, and Mikey folds in on himself with a groan. He can fight - he will fight - but if the lie forces combat, then fighting will be the last thing he'll ever do, and Leo will die alone.

He can't. He just…he can't.

He drops to his knees, laying a spectral hand on Leo's head. Leo doesn't react - his Ninpo is shattered to begin with, and Mikey wouldn't be surprised if death's door has robbed Leo of his senses as it is - and just keeps talking.

"We got Casey through the portal, he'll be okay, he'll get to grow up without all of this, we did it, we- we- we did it, Mikey-"

Mikey kneels there, one hand on his inert brother's head as Leo's life slowly sputters out. Eventually he'll die, and what fragments are left of his spirit will disintegrate, too shattered by years of warfare to persist after death, and Mikey will let himself fade along with them. Together until the rapidly approaching end, like they'd promised.

He kneels, and waits for oblivion to come.

[ef-1]

girlhood

[4dr3n4lin3]

another old sinclair twins polaroid doodle