#both interesting to explore.

[nightside101]

Do you guys remember in arc 1 when people used to call the wizard by their name? And then by late game no one ever uses their name anymore and they're referred to exclusively as The Wizard, even by people who consider themselves to be friends? Even by people who once used to call them by their actual name? Even though they live in a wizarding world that is, ostensibly, mostly made up of wizards?

and then by Lemuria they're introducing themselves to people as The Wizard too...

[haematoclan]

Leo's relationship with death

Leo really doesn't like to think about death.

I mean, we all saw how much impact Karai's death had on all of Mad Dogs but Leo was the only one that had to be dragged from her, yelling after her, he really, really didn't want to lose her.

And I think when he lost her it left a deep scar.

I saw posts talking how Leo wants for things to get back to normal and pretend nothing happened, which I completely agree with. I think it's in big part because of his fear of repeating losing a close one.

He REALLY doesn't want to even acknowledge death.

Here Raph seemed to be getting through to Leo-

-but the moment he mentions possibility of his family dying?

Nope, time to deflect, joke and feign ignorance.

Leo's aware that death is a big part of being a responsible hero and that's why he'd rather goof off with his brothers and not train.

Because obviously when you ignore something it just dissapears, right? So if they ignore severity of certain situations and possibility of dying it won't happen, right?

If they don't treat it seriously they'll be fine! Totally!

Then Raph shields Leo from the Krang and sends him away.

And it's as if Karai's death stared right in his eyes.

So Leo picks up the slack of leadership in order to save Raph. He behaves carelessly during this time but can you really blame him, he desperately wants to save his brother, to stop yet another family member from death that he is so scared of.

He still tries to be positive and nonchalant, that "pfff obvioulsy everything will turn out alright!" but at the end of the day, it's not that simple.

Casey's speech had hard time to really hit Leo, he's still avoiding confronting resposibility, literally and metaphorically turning away from it. But the moment Casey says Leo's whole family died?

Now that made an impact.

And every time his family is in terrible danger he looks absolutely terrified and basically every time Leo has to be dragged away to not just return and try to save them again.

And when there's nobody to drag him away?

First thing he does is sacrifice himself. Because I don't think Leo is scared of his own death, or at least he is not as scared of him dying as his family. He'd rather give away his life than live through another grief.

Obviously I'm not sayin that the rest of the fam isn't terrified of close ones dying. But while they seem less aware (Mikey) and/or more ready for the possibility (Raph)...

Leo's wholly aware but he'd rather not be and ignore his fears until he can't anymore.

[juniemunie]

[Abandoned by the Lightners, his heart became cracked with hatred.]

Hitting a lil' too close to home?

[bluegiragi]

mission start!

gain early access to all my content on patreon!

[scruncheduppaper]

mv2 is crazy when you think abt the implications of v1 and mirage basically almost being the same people like yeah idk. like im not saying theyre the same people but do you think that when v2 looks at mirage they catch a glimpse of their previous rival and the thrill of the battle and their eventual defeat and death. do you think that v2’s shoulder socket aches a bit more every time they look into mirage’s lens. do you think that v2 would be imagining v1 in mirage’s place for a split second when theyre in bed and mirage doesnt have her clothes on. guys uh

[transxfiles]

thinking a lot about the phenomenon of celebrities going through their "baby gay" phase in the spotlight. idk i know it's funny to joke about jojo siwa and "gay pop" etc etc and there's so much valid criticism there. but i also think there's something to be said about how pop culture forces queer people out of the closet which means that if celebrities try to work through their baby gay phase on their own they're considered "traitors" or "liars" or "queerbaiting" etc etc for trying to keep their sexuality private, but if they decide to come out as soon as they know "what they are" they become cringe in the eye of the public bc they're still figuring out what it means to be queer. idk. like even with chappell roan, i know she's a pop culture darling rn and i adore her. but sometimes she says stuff in interviews that feels so baby gay and i have to remind myself that she's just. a young person who is in the spotlight and figuring herself out still. and even with the jojo siwa thing like. again obv she sounds so ignorant when she talks about wanting to "invent gay pop" but it's also like. god. figuring my gender/sexuality business out was stressful enough when i was sitting alone in my bathroom at age 13. i cannot imagine growing up in the spotlight with hundreds of cameras and millions of eyes on me. and then having to be my "cringe" newly out queer self to the masses. idk lots to chew on. i've just been thinking about this a lot recently.

[gingermintpepper]

“Your hair’s gotten longer.” 

It’s conscious effort that keeps him from tucking the strands behind his ear, from taking the knife at his hip and shearing it all off. He keeps his stance focused, attentive, there’s little else he can do when he’s taken so completely after his mother when it comes to his hair. His father scratches his chin, the clouds of his beard snaking about his finger like mist parting for mountain-peaks. Ares’ chin is still child-smooth. He can feel the tickle of his over-long fringe against his soft jaw. There’s no heart in his chest, but still he feels as though a pulse is lodged in his throat. 

Father sighs, put-upon, disappointed, and Ares feels a slight tremor start in his calves from holding himself so tense. “Well done, Ares. Go clean yourself up and get some rest. Phoebus will want to look you over later.” 

He should be ecstatic to be praised by his father. Over-the-moon with joy. There should be pride emanating from every pore of his body, the blood on his skin should be sweeter than ambrosia. 

Instead, he bows, manages a soft ‘thank you, Father’ around the lump in his throat and immediately flees the room. A mild ‘make sure to trim your hair’ hits the back of his head like a spear through the skull. He almost wishes the great door had slammed on his foot so he would have reason to feel this horrid in his retreat.  

Phoebus Apollo is waiting for him in his infirmary. 

He’s gilded as ever, gold from crown to heel. Perfect like the statues they carve of him in his temples. He has a smile for Ares when he sees him, a crinkle at the edges of his pretty eyes from the weight of his joy. Ares is waiting to see the crack in the marble, to see if that’s the chip that’ll reveal his fangs.

“Brother,” he greets, and his voice is warm - like the arms that embrace him, his voice is so warm, “Welcome back. I’ve heard you’ve done well.”  

There’s a tremble in Ares’ fingers he hadn’t noticed before. Strain from carrying his sword for so many days, a throb from wounds he hadn’t noticed he’d accrued. “Heard? There’s already gossip?” 

Phoebus blinks, disarming, demure, coquettish, “But of course,” and Phoebus’ voice is honey to Ares’ gravel, the juxtaposition is grating on his skin, “It’s Olympus. The gossip began long before you set your course.” Those warm hands lead him further into the room, bodily sits him on the chaise, pulls his helmet from his head. It’s all one, unbroken motion, “It’s summer alas, so I could not watch your war myself, but I hear it was quite the decisive victory.” 

A thousand thoughts run on horseback through his mind then. 

Did Father overhear some terrible slander that pre-emptively disappointed him? Was Ares’ victory merely a rumour, a bet his father hadn’t bothered to take? Was the gossip more enticing than the stark truth? That Ares wasn’t some child toddling about in the shadow of his sister, that his sword and spear weren’t merely for show - he’d think such a thing would warrant celebration. Not -

“Oh my,” Phoebus is in front of him, pleasant warmth more sticky heat with how close he’s pressed himself into Ares’ space. From this angle, Ares can see the multi-coloured flecks of his eyes, like shards of golden glass suspended in ichor. From this angle, with his hand so gently holding his hair, were Ares to blink too hard, he’d swear Phoebus looked just like his mother. “Your hair’s grown long again.” 

He pushes Phoebus off with such force that he bangs into the wall. It’s Phoebus, it won’t make even the impression of a scratch on him, but Ares wishes it would. Wishes he’d hit his shoulder or crack his neck or hit his head just hard enough for all that perfect, gilded gold to bleed. 

“I’m only here for you to heal me,” the tremble in his hand extends to his shoulder now. He flexes and unflexes his palm. Gods what he would give to just have a sword - “Don’t waste time with the pleasant-work.” 

Phoebus huffs, adjusts the fit of his himation, “...Only because we’re meant to be celebrating your victory.” He crosses the room in two great strides, his hair a swirling tempest behind him as he gathers his poultices and wraps. “The only reason I’ll not throw you from the window is because we are meant to be celebrating your victory.”  

There’s not enough acid in his tone for this to truly be a fight. Ares’ jaw clenches, he bites out a terse, “How benevolent.” 

“Aren’t I?” He’s got nectar and his sutures in hand, that focused look falling upon his face when he switches from overbearing busybody to Paeon of the Gods. “Now strip unfaltering Ares, let us see the measure of damage done to your indomitable flesh.” 

(Somewhere between the fifth set of stitches and the gentle frown that crosses Phoebus’ face when he notices the persistent tremble in his fingers, Ares pins his eyes to the far wall and asks, “What does it mean when Father says ‘well done’?” 

Any other sibling would mock before they gave a true response. Any other sibling would laugh and dismiss it, would say that praise is praise and any lingering ill feeling is just the worst of the war still fogging his mind. Phoebus does not answer immediately. He doesn’t make a single sound. The question settles like fetid water between them, unignorable, the scent right there on the tip of the tongue yet firmly unacknowledged. Ares closes his eyes and tries again to settle his squirming so he does not interfere with Phoebus’ work.  The metallic snip of scissors cutting thread breaks the silence. Phoebus bids him to sit up and slides his warm palms up his back until his fingers tangle gently in the ends of his hair. He twists the dark red strands until he’s gathered it all into a neat handful, holding it loosely as he switches his scissors for his shearing blade. “You should know it was not praise,” Phoebus says softly. The first of Ares cut hairs fall like viscera from his head. Phoebus treats each cutting with the sacredness of a blood-sacrifice. If he focused on the moment of tension right before the blade cuts though, Ares thinks he can imagine the agony of his sister’s sacred birth. “It is acknowledgement. Father thinks you’ve done well so he says ‘well done’.”

Gently, Phoebus releases him. Ruffles his head so all the extra hairs fall like red rain to the floor. Ares runs his fingers through the ends now curling against his ear. “Has he ever told you ‘well done’?” 

A laugh, warm and gilded, “No, and it would not make you feel better if he had.” 

Ares swallows down a thousand different questions. Phoebus wouldn’t answer them, he’s infuriating like that. Instead, he clenches his teeth, the phantom of Father’s dizzying tangle of grey cloud-hairs persistent in the corner of his eyes. “Cut it shorter.”

Phoebus doesn’t protest. He never seems to say a word when it really matters.)

[uncanny-tranny]

I think such a big reason my trans manhood feels almost... bigendered is simply because in the eyes of most people (specifically cis people with whom I interact with most), I straddle this weird line wherein I am a man and often am seen as one, but I am also clearly undefinable insofar as cis theory goes, clearly queer, clearly outside of manhood if one only accepts cishet, patriarchal manhood. This definitely used to be a source of dysphoria for me, but I think now that I've transitioned, it's been interesting to explore this more. Am I wholly a man? Yes. Am I a man of multitudes? Yes. Do these multitudes contradict? Well, that depends on your definition of "contradiction"

[hecksupremechips]

Akihiko becoming a cop is something that simply doesn’t happen in the coma route cuz Shinji would see that shit and be like Aki what the actual hell is wrong with you

[sysig]

Twin skeletons need twin carriers (Patreon)

[evilkitten3]

one pet peeve of mine in founders-era fanfics is when madara's whole,,,, everything is solved by izuna just being there

like maybe this is just me, but i don't think izuna surviving or even coming around to the idea of a truce with the senju would've been enough to keep madara from the path he ended up on.

izuna wasn't the reason he left - he was definitely part of madara's issues, but he wasn't the why. even if izuna had stuck around, and even if that had been enough to keep the uchiha clan from losing their faith in madara, i think he would've still come to realize konoha wasn't what he'd hoped it would be.

best case scenario, i think izuna's survival might've caused madara to stick around a bit longer, but i don't think it would've lasted. honestly, even then, that might've just made the inevitable break-up between madara and hashirama even more agonizing (particularly for izuna)

it's a fun idea to play around with for sure, but frankly i don't think canon!madara could've ever been 'saved' from that path. certainly not if the hidden village system ended up getting set up in the same way.

[komashkathesilly]

no one asked for it but i brought some very crunched mizunene

[dirtytransmasc]

totally don't imagine little Aegon, maybe 7 or 8, playing with his toys while Sunfyre watched on, pouncing on castles carved from stone and gnaws on little wooden soldiers.

don't imagine him play-fighting with his boy. Aegon and his training sword fighting against the merciless beast that is his little golden fledgling, gently attacking playful claws and flapping wings and nipping beak, parrying when the dragon gets too close. or Sunfyre finally tackling his boy, mocking dragonfire when he screeches in his face, before nuzzling his boys cheek.

don't imagine them curling up in the sun, out in the grass or in a windowsill. Sunfyre spreading his wings over his boy to bask in the light, burying his face in the warmth of the crook of Aegon's neck.

don't imagine the hatchling perching on his bonded's shoulder. don't imagine Aegon sneaking to see him when he was sad or angry. don't imagine Sunfyre crying out in distress, restless in his den when he could feel Aegon's distress but could not get to him

don't imagine the fledgling finding his way to Aegon's window, sneaking in and curling up next to the boy as he laid drunk and miserable, coping as he wrapped around him. don't imagine him perching on the roof of Aegon's chambers, crying to him when he got too big to enter.

don't imagine his sweet little chirps and songs. don't imagine Aegon's little giggles and chuckles. don't imagine the nuzzling of white hair or the scratching. don't imagine them being happy

[sammygender]

i just feel like looking at precanon dynamics going ‘oh the main reason sam and john clash is because they’re sooooo similar’ is ignoring actual canon and implication in favour of taking a specific comment about a specific arc of sam’s that dean makes and running with it.

for one it’s missing all the context which is. this isn’t two random people who clash for unknown reasons, this is a father and the son he’s actively abusing and neglecting. sam has a right to be angry!! it’d be more concerning if he Wasnt angry (a la dean)!!

also just what we do see in canon is like. totally the opposite. john’s always hated the fact that sam’s different from him… that sam wants different things, doesn’t want to hunt, a different life…. DEAN’S the one who tries to be identical to his father. whether he succeeds is another story (i don’t think he’s innately very like john but i do think he leans into the same coping mechanisms and behavioural patterns, wholly for the worse!) but john seems to mostly believe him. even going by the journal which like. i know people don’t take as canon but i like it <3. john thinks dean’s practically a mini him (ofc he Isn’t but) and that sam reminds him of mary. 🤷‍♂️ ofc you can still see sam and john as being similar in some ways. i can certainly see it and i’m sure i’ve written it. kids r often like their parents. but 1 that’s not, like, the Secret Reason they’ve always fought so badly and 2 sam is like john sometimes but he’s also like mary who’s like dean who’s also still like john. and sam and dean are often like each other. i already went on about this in my last post so i’m repeating myself but. reject the false binary inside your head where a sibling like. picks a parent and grows up to identically be them.

[philtstone]

things monkey man does that are far more interesting than the “violent revenge good actually” take ive been seeing a lot of

constructed facsimile of godhood w the trappings of power glamour wealth etc used for evil vs real potential of godliness/divine in the average person with no power or trappings other than the true beauty found in nature and human connection

wisdom and healing found in connection with diverse peoples vs trauma and evil found in manipulated division of peoples

rage against injustice as a form of worship

leveraging a very specific genre of action movie (one man kills all bad guys in his path) to explore these ideas

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Two panels from Dungeon Meshi. The first scows Senshi clutching his face as tears start to spill out of his eyes, saying, "I've always... always wanted to have this soup one more time." He's not wearing his helmet in this panel, so his face is unusually visible, detailed and vulnerable. The second panel shows himself as a youngster, surrounded by his old mining team, all smiling at each other, one of them rubbing Senshi's head. Modern-day Senshi continues, "Thank you. All of you. Thank you." End ID.]

Holy shit. I anticipated some tragic backstory from the "I must feed the young ones" panels, but what I'd guessed was that Senshi might have become so devoted to cooking and eating literally whatever because he'd previously survived a famine and had seen children starve to death. I did not expect him to have been the child who was the sole survivor of a doomed travel party, one of whom was determined to feed Senshi first because he was the youngest, and that Senshi has lived with the fear of having inadvertently committed cannibalism by eating stew that he'd never quite known the contents of. I'm happy for him that Laios deduced and confirmed for him that it was griffin meat, that he was able to taste the meal that saved his life once more and remember the friends he lost. Seriously, I'm crying, and also earnestly relieved that while his backstory is pretty dark, it's not the type of fucked up I'd been preparing myself mentally for.