#anyway final tag notes:

[mokutone]

page 1 | page 2 | page 3 | page 4 | page 5 | page 6 | page 7 | page 8 | page 9 | page 10 | page 11 | page 12 (you are here)

image desc under readmore:

ID:

Panel one shows Tenzō having turned away from Kakashi. There's tears running down his face again, but his posture hasn't gotten tight and defensive again. "Hah. That's a pretty big drawback," he says, half joking,

Panel two, Kakashi's arms enter the frame and grasp the edges of Tenzō's happuri. Tenzō, seemingly caught off guard, lets him do this, too surprised to even mind that Kakashi can see his tears. "On the bright side, you have a home," Kakashi counters, "people you trust,"

"and a shiftless, good-for-nothing Captain, who's too lazy to fill out the paperwork for hospital-dodging." Kakashi says in panel three. The image shows Kakashi smiling more convincingly, if a little apologetic, gripping Tenzō's happuri in his hand.

Panel four shows him holding Tenzō's happuri out with one hand, and Tenzō grabbing the metal sides of it with both of his own hands. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure you're not a liability or a threat to Konoha," Kakashi says.

In the final panel of the comic, Tenzō ducks his head, looking up with one tearful eye as Kakashi reaches out. Tenzō is still gripping his happuri in his hands, close to his chest. Kakashi's back is drenched in the yellow light of the hall.

"My couch is yours, if you want to stay the night," Kakashi is saying as he ruffles Tenzō's long, now-unbound hair.

/end ID

[antariies]

[clouvu]

Genshin catgirl yuri on the brain

[deathberi]

FINAL FANTASY VII REBIRTH (2024) ↳ Zack chooses to help Cloud because...?

[riality-check]

“What was it like? When you and Steve were together?” Eddie asks.

Nancy’s face takes on a grave seriousness that, honestly, scares the shit out of him. She’s Nancy Wheeler, and she’s always serious, but this is the kind of serious she gets when Eddie’s seen her talk about how awful the Hawkins Post is or the best way to aim for the kill.

This is Nancy Wheeler at her most serious. If Eddie were a lesser man, he’d be shaking in his boots. Instead, he’s only slightly aware of the way his feet are going numb in his high tops.

“Loving Steve is the easiest thing you’ll ever do,” she says. “And he’s going to find it so easy to love you back, because that’s what he does.”

Eddie wants to nod or say something to acknowledge that, but he doesn’t. He keeps sitting on the couch next to Nancy and waits for her to continue after she takes a sip of her Coke.

“Being loved by Steve is the hard part. He’s going to see you in a way that doesn’t line up with how you see yourself.”

She takes a deep breath. Unlike Eddie’s, hers doesn’t rattle in her lungs.

Straightedge.

“Because he is only ever going to see the best parts of you, and he is going to love them with everything he has.”

She looks at him for the first time. “Do you understand?”

Eddie nods, and he wants to leave it at that. Instead, he opens his mouth and asks, “Do you think you’d still be together? If it weren’t for the monsters?”

Nancy downs the rest of her Coke like a shot. Maybe she wishes that’s what it was.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what could have been, but I do know we’re different people now.”

“Okay.”

“I think,” Nancy says, because she’s not done and she’s a hell of a lot better with her words than Eddie is, “that people want what they didn’t have growing up. I want to make it big and get noticed and get the hell out. And Steve wants things that are big for him but little for me.”

She levels Eddie another look. Her big eyes are imploring.

Do you understand? they ask. Do you blame me?

Yes, Eddie thinks. No.

“So, as long as you can handle him loving you, and if you want the same things, I think you’ll be fine.”

“Just fine?” Eddie asks, trying to bring some levity back.

Nancy smiles for the first time. “More than fine. You’ll be better to him than I was.”

And with that, she gets off the couch and leaves Eddie alone.

[yenvengerberg]

it just makes me so sad that gifmakers will pour hours upon hours into crafting a gifset, overanalyzing every colouring and blending and typography decision to create pure art, which is so unique and creative, and the most the majority of users on this site can be bothered to do in response is hit the like button

[oceandiagonale]

beauty guru true crime youtubers but make it pokemon and make it significantly less exploitative this is silly send post

[romansmartini]

Seth meyers interviewing j smith-cameron: rpf is fine

no it's true he actually said that

[anominous-user]

triple threat end card but with the honkai inpact trio. and also bald TT.

[jupio]

grogu is going to be bouncing off the walls with the amount of sweets cobb’s gonna buy for him

a bit late, but happy holidays! especially to @exx-bee , who this piece is for >:)

[raccoonnutella13]

why are ppl always so mean about taz :(

[slavhew]

Hello!

If you're not too busy, would you mind listing some of the things you think count as death flags for Mr. Spender?

There's the obvious fact that he's the "old" mentor to group of young protagonists, but what else do you think would count?

OHH BOY ok so I'd think I'm a crackpot for this but since we're talking about Zack "Foreshadowing" Morrison. I have some thoughts

No harm in leading with the (chronologically) first thing that jumped out at me:

This one IMMEDIATELY made me antsy whenever I came back to it after my initial read, and considering Zack has referred to it on twitter in the past as one of their favorite jokes it's definitely not been forgotten about.

Second, the sheer amounts of near-misses, jokey or not, of Spender narrowly avoiding specifically lightning

Again, not much, but it's weird that it happened thrice, latter two of which had real gravitas rather than an one-off joke.

And third, Spender himself. He's repeatedly shown himself to be kind of a self sacrificing idiot, as well as prideful to a fault. Granted, it's both him and Mina trying to take on all the responsibility of saving Mayview and its inhabitants from their fate.. But Spender is exactly that right measure of doesn't-value-himself-enough (chest footprint aftercare or lack thereof), having an obscene amount of power (enables his loner act + pride) and poor judgement that has the capacity to put him at great risk. And it has!

Spender has not only shown low enough self-esteem to view himself as the de-facto scapegoat for the safety of the town, but also prideful enough to make very bad calls that end up in people, often himself, hurt (COUGH FORGE INCIDENT COUGH)

This is all conjecture, but it's definitely enough to make me worried about him :') Even if all this doesn't mean he'll necessarily die he's definitely getting (even more) seriously injured at some point. I love the guy but he's so far doing a horrible job of convincing me he wants to live bad enough to circumvent at least that

[xskyll]

It was a critical hit. (Why yes, I do play Kingdom Hearts.)

Prev / Next

First

[moment-live]

Today XIV shitposts, tomorrow who knows?

[marcmorrigan]

they keep me warm on cold nights / we must be quite a sight all tangled, wow

yayyy finished this just in time! this server exchange was so fun and i had such a good time making this for @oloreandil omg im so excited to have gotten you as my giftee!!! ILYSM i hope i did your prompt justice!

[even-disco-baby]

SOLA — Her Innocence, Sola— the anti-innocence— turns to face you. In the distance, you hear the tattoo of propellers, turning, sucking all the air. A strong wind whips her long, dark hair around her face. Her simple black gown billows behind her. The same gown she wore the day she resigned.

She has your eyes.

“Hi, Kim,” she says simply. “You don’t look well.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — Her voice is so familiar, and yet the moment she stops speaking, you cannot recall its sound, no matter how hard you try. And you have tried. Innumerable times.

AUTHORITY — What makes her think she would even *know* the difference between you looking well or unwell? She’s being presumptuous. She doesn’t even know you.

INLAND EMPIRE — She never will.

“I’m doing great, actually. Never been better.”

“Hey, I’m trying my best.”

“I’m *not* well. I’m so fucking unwell. I can’t take it anymore. Please, help me…”

“I’ll live.”

SOLA — “Hm…” She smiles apologetically. “Well, that’s all we can really ask for anymore, isn’t it?”

EMPATHY — She wishes more than anything that this was not the case. That you could ask for the world and have it.

RHETORIC — She tried to give it to you, and this is how you repay her? You’re gonna be in *deep* shit trying to explain that insignia you stitched onto her jacket.

“Um, about the jacket. It’s not what it… well, no, it *is* what it looks like. But I don’t— it’s— there’s nuance.”

“Is that really all you have to say to me?”

“I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Where are you going?”

SOLA — Her Innocence looks away from you, toward the wind. “Away,” she says, her voice distant and strange. “Yes… I’m stepping down, you see. The world doesn’t need me. It never needed me, really. It’s best for humanity to think for itself. No… it already *does* think for itself.”

She turns back to you with a small smile. The thought brings her peace.

PAIN THRESHOLD — But what does it bring *you?* She’s leaving you forever. Abandoning you for lofty ideals.

AUTHORITY — Let her go. Let her see how little you care. Don’t give her any satisfaction.

HALF LIGHT — Stop her. You won’t be able to live without her.

VOLITION — You have already lived almost all your life without her. You don’t need her. You have *never* needed her.

“What if the world *does* need you? Who are you to make that decision for the entire world?”

“Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”

“So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”

“Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”

SOLA — “What else is an Innocence appointed to do?” Her smile turns wry. “You see? This is why I’m stepping down.”

Distant propellers turn and turn in endless circles. She glances toward them.

YOU — “Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”

SOLA — “I suppose not.” Her voice and her face betray nothing. No sign of remorse.

YOU — “So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”

SOLA — “That was never my intention,” she says softly. “Surely you know that.”

INLAND EMPIRE — You will never truly know. No one will.

SOLA — She stares out at the horizon through the tendrils of hair that almost seem to threaten to swallow her. Her expression is strange and ambiguous, shifting every time you try and look directly at it.

YOU — “Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”

SOLA — She looks at you, and her eyes are full of what might be genuine sadness. But they could also be full of anything else.

“Oh, Kim… You must make do with what you have. I don’t know what else you want me to say…”

RHETORIC — What?! There are a million other things she could say! Forty-one years worth of possibilities! She could say *anything!* Anything at all… Even if she’d only left you a single word, it would be better than this…

VOLITION — It’s pointless to wish. Please, no more of this. It’s too sad.

“You could say that you’re sorry.”

“Say that I turned out all right.”

“Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”

SOLA — “Then I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes. “It was terrible of us to leave you alone.”

Her voice is utterly calm and emotionless.

PAIN THRESHOLD — No… Wrong, all wrong…

YOU — “Say that I turned out all right.”

SOLA — “You’re a good man despite it all. That is all I ever hoped for you.”

Again, there is no warmth to her words. No conviction.

VOLITION — Lieutenant… Please, don’t do this to yourself.

YOU — “Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”

SOLA — “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You wear that jacket well.”

Her eyes have nothing behind them. A pair of two millimeter holes in the world.

“I love you.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs seem to constrict at her words. Your chest hurts more than it’s ever hurt. This wind is hard to breathe in.

YOU — “No! Don’t you fucking get it?! You don’t love me!”

SOLA — “Then I don’t love you.”

YOU — “You should be *ashamed* of me!”

SOLA — “Then I am ashamed.”

YOU — “I betrayed you! I betrayed everything you stood for! I’m a fucking cop!”

SOLA — “Then I am betrayed.”

She proclaims it as dispassionately as she proclaimed her love.

YOU — “For god’s sake, *say something real!*”

SOLA — She just looks at you. The propellers keep on turning.

DRAMA — She can’t speak for herself, sire…

LOGIC — Of course she can’t. Of course…

PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs feel like they could collapse. Empty, crumpled, dark. Hot tears prick your eyes for the first time in what feels like a long time.

SOLA — “Do you understand now?” she asks gently.

LOGIC — She cannot speak for herself because you do not know what she would say.

There are many memories that you have been slowly recovering, little by little. Your mother will never be one of them. Her, the revolution, the aerostatic brigade— they all died before you could even comprehend loss.

AUTHORITY — You did not become a detective so that you could find your lost mother. You became a police officer because you did not want to end up like her.

VOLITION — She can neither forgive you, nor condemn you. She is dead, Lieutenant. She can only be what you make her.

RHETORIC — You’re asking your own echo for answers…

SOLA — “Humanity must think for itself,” she says again, turning again toward the wind. “What point is there in asking me where to go from here? I’m a failure. We all failed…”

RHETORIC — The revolutionaries failed their children, and the children are failing their parents, and all of them are dying, dying, dead… What’s the point in any of this anymore? I cannot argue in favor of any of it.

VOLITION — There is a point. There is a way forward. But you won’t find it here, Lieutenant.

“I hate you. You made me everything I am and then you just *left.*”

“I miss you… How is it even possible to miss someone you never met? It’s like someone ripped a part of me out and all I can do is bleed.”

“I don’t know what I am. I need you to tell me what I am.”

SOLA — One last time, she turns back to you. She slowly bridges the gap between you and reaches out a hand to cup your cheek. Her fingers feel like your own.

“You are whatever kind of animal you choose to be,” she says, so quietly that you don’t know how you can hear it over the distant roar of engines. “I cannot make that choice for you.”

EMPATHY — She died hoping that you would grow up with the freedom to choose to be whatever you wanted. Instead, the world that raised you hardly let you dare to want anything.

VOLITION — But you can still make a choice. Humanity can still think for itself.