#didn't touch the one-shots

[sharkneto]

Top 5 chapters from your fics?

This is such a neat ask, thank you anon. I've been open I'm obsessed with my own writing and reread it constantly, but what are those chapters I come back to over and over again... In no particular order -

Negotiations/No More Negotiations/Try Again (Holding It Together Ch 12, 13, and 14) - I'm not cheating, these three count as one chapter. It's like if you give a mouse a cookie - if I read Negotiations, I have to read the following two with it (side note: I am very pleased with the chapter titles of Negotiations followed by No More Negotiations). I just had so much fun writing AJ and his evil corporate speak, the fight between him and Five, Number's heroics, and, of course, Five getting sushi. I wrote the Five part relatively early on in HIT's existence, and I played with the idea of Number and time travel for months before implementing it because I loved what I had going on between Five and AJ and didn't want to scrap it - and it took me those couple months to figure out that I could have the best of all worlds with added angst thanks to the time travel. Insert here my usual plug that S2 did AJ dirty he slaps so hard as a villain.

Thoughts on Umbrellas (Searching for Good Times Ch 3) - I adore this chapter, both for the fun of world building Five's perfect, fucked up world, and for the back and forth of Allison trying to convince Five of his insane life. It was a fun puzzle to figure out, how Allison could try to use logic to break the HOb's illusion and how Five could (or couldn't) rationalize it. And then, of course, it ends with some of my favorite lines of the fic: She cannot believe she’s forgotten one other very, very important fact about Five and Delores. Five is also Delores. And she’s been focusing on the wrong half of the pair. Delicious.

It Will Be Fine (Joining Together Ch 7) - I've said it before, but this is one of my very favorite things I've ever written. A couple firsts for JT - first chapter with Amanda POV and our first view of Five through the eyes of a peer and in his own space. We get a reminder that Five is a world-class superhero, even when he's drunk off his ass, and that, underneath all his problems, he does care. We get Klaus! I adored writing the sibling dynamic between him and Five. And, over it all, that thin, thin, thin veneer that Things Are Fine that is just crumbling the longer Amanda is there. If you allow me to say so, it's very good.

Numbering Mistake (Part 1) (Joining Together Ch 20) - Can you have a superhero in a story and not have a bank robbery? Yes, but ignore that. I like the slow start to this one, and that both Sarah and Five could have been right about the situation and it's just unfortunate that Five was. Sarah finally understands how the Boy fits in to the puzzle that is Five and the Boy gets to kick some ass. Calling Five "the Boy" for that part of the chapter was a last minute edit - I liked the idea of the effect, the separation for this new side Sarah was seeing, but I was worried it would be obnoxious to read. Neat how it worked! And, of course - dear old Reggie makes his cameo. There's just something about TUA villains that are really fun to write, and Reggie is no exception. He came, he emotionally crippled his son, he left. What a man, what a chapter.

Just Our Luck (Sometimes Age Comes Alone Ch 5) - The chapter I rewrote half the fic for. The original version of the fic was allll Viktor and Five - it went from their talk about the apocalypse straight to Five fixing his age problem. Nice, still hit the same themes, but boy howdy nowhere near as impactful as it got when I thought of this fight. It gives us everything - Five and Diego Time, Sparrow Fight, Time Travel, Five Almost Killing Himself For His Family, and it better sets up for things to come to light and motivation for Five to fix his age problem. Five's panic at Diego's injuries immediately flipping to Diego's panic for Five's injuries and the siblings having to piece together what happened next chapter is so delicious. And a satisfying action sequence, if I do say so myself.

This was so fun, and took me forever to answer because of course I had to reread each chapter as I selected it. I thought for a moment of doing some honorable mention chapters, but then we'd really be here all night.

[crehador]

mulled it over for a while and ultimately decided i'm really digging this arajin-matakara fight, because like

the whole series has set up arajin as a piece of shit fuckhead (and i LOVE that for him) but this whole lying to matakara about wanting to be a honki people thing... is like the one thing he did not actually do

i get real rambly under the cut but tl;dr the way matakara treats arajin is the way arajin treats mahoro and that is suuuch a juicy parallel to me

throughout the whole series arajin has been not at all subtly trying to get away from these fights

could he have been more direct about that with matakara? sure maybe! but matakara was really ignoring all the signs that arajin is not who he thinks he is

which is such a delicious parallel to how arajin willfully ignores all the signs that mahoro is not into him

like. matakara built this version of arajin up in his head, with all these unreasonable, unrealistic, and honestly unfair? expectations based off some past foolishness from when they were very small children. he's clinging to this version of arajin that only exists in his head and has basically shown zero evidence of existing in real life

(yes arajin shows crumbs of courage but i think the scales are tipped pretty heavily towards his I DO NOT WANT ANY PART OF THIS moments)

this fight between them was like if arajin were to blow up at mahoro like "you've been leading me on this whole time!" when obviously. lol. no she has not

she did initially! just like tiny arajin as a child had those honki people ambitions! his ambitions may have been genuine, while mahoro feigned interest in him with malicious intent, but they're same in the sense that after that initial story beat, they have consistently demonstrated that actually no what happened back then no longer applies (whether because they grew out of it, in arajin's case, or they were faking interest in the first place, in mahoro's case)

but arajin is blinded by what he wants (mahoro) and ignores the reality of mahoro snubbing him at every turn, and matakara does the same, ignoring the reality of arajin really just... being extremely reluctant to have anything at all to do with him

anyway that's the main thing i'm chewing on and loving here, but ALSO i think the story paints this parallel in such an interesting way because like

matakara is just a big sweet ouppy dog of a boy! it's so so so easy to feel sorry for him, to root for him, to think the best of him. which i still do btw, in fact this episode made me like him more than i already did

because matakara is so uwu angelboy perfect, and arajin is such a dickhead, it's easy to instinctively think oh matakara must be completely right to be hurt and arajin must have hurt him. even if that isn't the case! this doesn't make arajin any less of a dickhead, but he's a dickhead mainly for other reasons

the fact that they've been set up as the perfect epitome of the Pure Boy and the Pervy Boy tropes is just such clever framing for this parallel between them, because i imagine a lot of viewers, if told what mataakara is doing to arajin is what arajin is doing to mahoro, would be like omg wtf no my pure angel baby is nothing like that disgusting freak?

except in this case! he literally is!! which is brilliant!!! i think it adds nuance to both matakara's character and arajin's character at the same time, making it so it's not just one of them is Perfect and one of them is Wrong All The Time

what's even better is that this made sense for matakara, like his reaction breaks him out of the Pure Angel mold but doesn't feel out of character. his emotions are already running high with what happened to his brother, plus akutaro is malewife mansplain manipulating him behind the scenes, so of course he feels like he's driven towards this emotional high that leads to this blowup

the groundwork was already laid out, and it wasn't even subtle. it was right on the surface! but this episode really highlighted how matakara's way of treating arajin is so much like arajin's way of treating mahoro and how inevitable it was that things would reach this point

(there are moments, even in this episode, that are in hindsight so clearly setting up this parallel! like arajin trying to talk to mahoro during lunch, mahoro CLEARLY not interested, making viewers think ugh arajin get a clue. then matakara often IMMEDIATELY coming in to try to talk to arajin, when arajin is the one who clearly isn't interested, making viewers think boo arajin be nicer to him! like i think the show deliberately set the audience up to have those emotional reactions, and this is the moment where the rug is pulled out from under us, so to speak, where it becomes even more obvious that... wait... double standard much?)

anyway. personally my only gripe with this episode is i wished they'd done more with aniki than just pseudo-fridge him, and hope they do still do more with him in the coming eps? but kind of understandable if they don't, because it is just a one-cour show after all

the actual blowup between arajin and matakara was just. mawh, chef's kiss. perfect

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

A couple months ago (at least I think it was, but time is weird for me), I purchased an African Violet. This is a plant that's been in my life since early childhood. I had one until my husband killed it during one of our moves; he put it in full sun on a hot day. These plants burn. Just an hour in direct sun is enough to do serious damage. I was at our new place, directing where things go, and six hours later he arrived with a completely cooked plant. No, I was no okay, and more than ten years later I'm still very fucking upset. He's well aware of this.

Which is why he didn't argue when I said I'm getting an African Violet. They were $6 and poorly cared for at the local gardening place. On the container, it says "keep out of direct sunlight" and "water from the bottom." They had them in barely filtered light and were water from above. Yes, I fucking corrected them. The guy threw a fit and called the gardening manager over, who asked if I wanted to work there and sent the other guy to put the plants in a different area.

They had no self-water pots, nor African Violet food. Those are the kind African Violets need. So I've had mine in its original container until today. It started showing signs of dying a week ago, and was getting way too large for the container it came in. I'm using general potting soil because that always worked fine for my previous plant. I had to repot that thing four times! African Violet food will need to be acquired soon-ish.

My husband came home with a self-watering pot today. He went to four different places to find one! A couple days ago I was have a Very Bad Day, and seeing my plant rapidly failing was what set the dam of tears flowing. It was Bad. He was my hero today, didn't even tell me he was getting a pot. The plant has since been re-potted. I soaked the soil before adding the plant and dry soil, something my mom taught me (she has around half a dozen African Violets). If it does well, I'll see about acquiring more in the future. I have a spot on my PC desk set aside for an African Violet. The one I have is on my cutting table, the corner nearest the window.

I now have six pothos plants (all cuttings from the same one), one spider plant that may soon become two, and an African Violet. Next week, I may be filling some containers with soil and wildflower seeds from the front yard. There's too many weeds and general crap in the front yard for anything but more weeds and general crap to grow, so we're more or less destroying it, then adding layers of organic matter (six inches or more of fallen leaves and other similar stuff), and leaving it alone for a year or two while I add more containers. I intend to acquire tires of various sizes, a bathtub, and some other similar items, to decorate the yard and serve as containers. Because it amuses me, we own the house, and I fucking can. Even told the neighbors, and they found it hilarious. When the soil is ready, I'll add native wildflowers, some milkweed (monarch butterflies navigate through here), and other native plants that self-seed and will require minimal effort. The backyard will be treated much the same, but with raised beds for food and herbs, and walkable paths.

For now, my current plants will have to do. I'm just hoping my African Violet survives the transfer and thrives in the significantly larger and more appropriate pot. The other held maybe two cuts of wet soil. This? A gallon, possibly more.

[nostalgia-tblr]

when someone says they only ship canon pairings i'm like "oh wow, i'm so sorry :( is there anything i can do to help?"

[lususnatura]

i just have one more thing to say about him before i go to sleep, and that's this: i've been thinking about making blamore an herbalist that's partially self-taught + also had asked someone to also teach him about it and i think i'm going to do it. because i think it would really fit for his character, since blamore would likely do it as a way to try to find out ways to ease its own pain (particularly his nerve pain) at first. but... all i can imagine now is blamore stumbling across someone's muse in the event that they are friends and them being injured / in pain.

and as a result, it would want to try to help alleviate them of their suffering; so if they had burns and/or cuts, then he'd rub a herbal salve into their skin where it was affected to help treat them. and maybeee he'd give them a bath or something in yarrow if they had a fever because it has been shown to have REALLY good anti-pyretic (anti-fever) abilities. so i basically just imagined it trying to nurse them back to health at least a little bit, and i 😭 i'm putting this on my wishlist on here now because this is just too damn sweet albeit in an angsty way to not do so. but of course, if they were like on death's door or something, then it would definitely just be using some of these herbal cures in the meantime until he could get an medical doctor out there like nico to help them. but it's the thought that counts in the end

[alcairsei]

never all that happy with stories that end with one person having their memory erased and having to start over but it's so cute that yudam was still attracted to dongbaek and was happy to go to dinner with him. he loves that man in every life

[gregoftom]

this was homoerotic even for them

[ectonurites]

almost 4am can't stop thinking about the meaning of the idiom 'to have blood on [someone's] hands'—to be responsible for a person's death—combined with the fact that Zach is the one we are specifically shown with Daryl's actual blood on his hands (once for real and once in a dream)... Not Josh who had been holding the sword Daryl fell onto, but Zach who took the sword out.

[fouralignments]

Assassin's Creed au?

Erik the assassin leaving Peter in Charles care to protect him from Templars.

Erik supposed it was an easy mission. Simple really.

But it became more than it. A revelation indeed.

Beyond mere leaps of faith.

Erik graced across the sky, the full moon so big it was like the sun glazing his back with coldfire, luminous and milky light. The skies filled with glittering stars and shrouds of nebulas. For in the dark, there could be found light in which he served with questions numbering in the dozens of stars above him. The winds cutting against face as the assassin glided downwards cracking a few terracotta tiles. Hunching over keeping himself to the shadows

blending into a chimney right over the kitchen, the staff prepping for the feast the next day; soups boiling, the rough chopping of vegetables, and yeast rising in breads, cakes, and other decadent patisseries filled with curds or jams before being utterly dosed in amber caramels; just to show off how much wealth the Xavier's had. Just to get the many pounds of refined sugar to produce such indulgences. Stilling his body.

As the torch light of a regent of guard patrolled with their halberds glinting, freshly sharpen and ready to fight, the Xavier estate Their heels of armor clicking together in unison as they hit the stone cobbles of the street.

Glancing over, the guards were far enough away. Erik continued on his way the soft soles of boots catching the sound to the inner sanctuary kept behind secrets and solitude of the grounds.

A quick detour...Erik picked up speed and launched himself onto a tower, his fingertips catching onto the barely an edge of the stone and pulled himself by the strength of arms to the rung of a long banner hanging the crest of the Xavier. Now relying on his balance on what wasn't the most sturdiest of poles. Erik jumped onto the roof; the highest point. There outstretched was a gargoyle, the drain water spout of the parapet.

Synchronized himself with the surrounding area. He could see all, a view from God's eye. The complex of buildings the Xavier Estate, stables, barricades, library, courtyards, smokehouses, servants quarters and the main mansion; the many walls keeping the nobles away from those below them, a city on top of a hill snubbing its nose against the world; the mountains craving the landscape behind it, the orchards of pomegranates, fields of blackberries and wild blueberries.

This was right one. The trees rustled as the breeze blew into archway with its geometric intricacy and pattern titles surrounding it; linen drapes flowed with winds creating the illusion of waves. A chess game on the floor well played against himself; the player unwilling to sacrifice any pawns.

Erik stood in the entry and his shadow overtaking the bed as the moon lit him from behind, only his ice blue eyes could be seen under the shadow of his assassin's hood. Erik raised hands in grace of his oath he swore of them, channeling the hidden blade from his bracer with a mere flick of his wrist; its twin with the magnetic force of the earth tuned to his command. His weapons of justice, killer of tyrants.

He knew what needed to be done.

Erik would show him the face of death.

The assassin pulled back the canopy of the bed. He could only breath as Erik mounted the young man; Erik didn't want to know his name. It made the job easier. But why the Brotherhood wanted him killed, he didn't know nor would they tell him.

A mountain of pillows supporting his shoulders and neck area as his target's chest rise and fell in the deep throws of sleep, leaving his chest extended outward with a neutral loose sheer shirt with a deep V neckline that left the eyes to wonder down his chest.

Erik placed his blade at the apex of the neck in the crest of the chest. The assassin breathed out as his eyes opened, awakened to the weight of the blade against his chest, not with fear, but with something much more damning: anticipation.

Erik fell into the deep pools of caerulean. He drowned in them. Lips as red as rosewater-Pomegranate Lokum delights and just as soft and delicately sweet as it was rolled in dried rose petals.

A shock went down Erik's spine as it stilled him. So complete was his shock that his other half slide down, hands feeling the ornate polished rows of carved camel bone beads handwoven into the soft brown leather and slide an arm around Erik's arm before collapsing into its mirror, pinned it against his chest. Bucking and with a great "umpf!" from Erik as he was rolled onto to his back, his hood falling back, revealing his face to his enemy; the Assassin found himself in a position that he didn't want to be in and gave the former much more leverage over him.

His light touches crowned Erik's chest, catching all the delicate work that went into his assassin's armor; an outmost shell of his being that show the world who he was; afraid one wrong touch would ruin it in all its splendor. At the feathered metal the handles of hidden throwing blades, resting above his heart. Above, the hands pulled back.

Feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath; this was a templar ready to kill him.

An aura of serenity and calm radiated from him as if the sun had been brought to him. Charles breathed steadily until they matched one another and both breathed to together.

A thought passed over him, he'd known it, but didn't listen to it An instinct known the truth: this wasn't his enemy. This was Charles. He was certainly wasn't going to kill him.

Charles leaned down, his reddest lips that could put a rose to shame brushed against the whiskers of a shadow of a bread not yet grown; his auburn hairs standing on end as they catched the warmed breath. Every move methodically, just trying to capture every flow of jaw to the inner valley of the neck to memory. Every now and again the pad of the tongue, licking them.

Wills flowed together, "There are no need for your blades here, Assassin." Erik held his hands up in mute surrender, before the songs of his metal blades slide back at their command. Charles's nimble hands came back down into the hard weaved leather gantlets.

Trailing down the Y of the rows of camel bonds embroidered into the raw woven silks acting like the armor plating, but with all the beauty and finest that could only be done by hand. Before Charles paused at the the red suede strips overlayed with stamped leathers sash draped down bands of beads and a sheathed close combat Pesh-Kabz dagger, along with smoke bombs and poisons if the need arise.

"You do not need to say a word, my dearest. For I know what you want." Charles hands slide under Erik's waist and unbuckled the sash and tossed away along with the red suede wrapping. "Erik."

...

The first light of the day was what awoke Erik. Charles so close to him, his fingers combing his hair and twisted it around his finger while the other hand, traced down the length of his spine.

"You should stay, Erik, please." Charles begged of his lover. The thought of being away all too much for him to bare alone. Would be alone again.

"You why I can't, Charles." Erik stated. The warmth of his body leaving the bed as he got up to find his clothing and be gone before the guards found him. The Council would not be pleased...

"Come back to me, my dearest; its what you want."

"Its not about what I want, Charles...besides we do not want the same thing." Erik did look back as vanished into the daybreak.

...

Erik guided the horse and wagon turning into the innermost courtyard of the Xavier estate looking down at the cobblestone. Knowing that as they traveled, they would appear not as themselves but as simple merchants wishing to do the Xavier family; just one of Charles many tricks. The Templars and Shaw for that matter knowing none the wiser.

Peter gasped and couldn't contain his excitement and jumped down from the cart with Mr. Dibbles's glass bowl and tottered over to the large fountain pond that bubbled out the top into the larger basin filled with Lilly pads, skaters, and dragonflies skidding across the still water surface. Peter took out Mr. Dibbles from his glass home and showed the little turtle around.

Erik smiled at his sohn. It had been many years since he'd Charles, politics, practicality, missions, and the council's petty deceits kept them apart. Stepping out of the door, Charles was as beautiful as when he first laid his eyes on him. A light gray loose collar long sleeve shirt and hanging down on his neck was the carbon crystal that glowed in ethereal light like the moon. A rare find during a research mission in Egypt to find information on the first incarnation of the brotherhood hoping to find answers that the continent didn't have or misled during the crusades. The telepath wore a white wraparound scarf draped over his head and shoulder acting like a shawl the bellowed outward when the breeze came through; it quite reminded Erik of a tallit. "Oh stop your flattery, Erik. It's too much."

Erik gave a wayward laugh, "Its nowhere near enough--" Charles closed the distance between them and placed his scholarly hands on around his neck that knew no the roughness of stone or and were soft as the leathers that bond the books that he read throughout his studies: Ibn Khaldun, Aristotle, Socrates, Ibn Sina,  Ibn Rushd, Ptolemy, Alhazen, Apollonius, and Omar Khayyam. Chares pulled back on his hood to see his face, cradling it and moved toward the strand of beaded hair intertwined with mother of pearl, colorful Moroccan beads and bits of metal Erik found and turned into hollowed beads, a larger glass protective talisman blue and turquoise of the ayin ha’ra, the evil eye; played with it interweaving it between his lithe fingers.

Erik smelt like an early morning rain, the old ethereal stones of synagogues he climbed on to reach the rooftops to see the edges of the horizon; the oakmoss ambergris of distant woods and rolling in the meadow grass with his sohn; Charles wouldn’t have it any other way.

Erik would be lost to him again. He wished he’d stayed.

But in his waiting, Charles found ways to connect: letters, gifts of Persian sliver, Sidr Honey, Sandalwood, amber, silks and tea from the far east, ingots of Damascus steel that flowed downward like water or bloomed like roses; A Thousand Nights with tales of Sinbad and Scheherazade for Erik to read to Pietro and for Erik Ḥamāsah; bond book of his own handwritten poetry; or if he was playful placing flowers, Astilbe and Myosotis, all over the city for Erik to find on his daily assassin duties.

Erik would do the same: calligraphy of Ktav Ashuri script and intertwined with poetry, fine metal jewelry scrupled by his powers, letters of Pietro's development, and while in the deepest of sleep during a new moon darkness....Erik would come to his room and give the briefest of touches. Charles would awaken sharply, for a moment, a oh so brief moment he saw Erik, before in a blink his dearest was gone. But, he would always be in his shadow, watching over him Charles knew, he just knew that Erik was there feeling his presence over him.

Charles's hand flowed down Erik's face darken with fuzzy auburn bristles, "How about you stay for a day? I have a warm bath prepared and I can give you a shave and a massage."

Erik knew what Charles was trying to do. Brought Charles's hands down from his face and into his own. Charles took the time to trace the turquoise veins, Erik's duties to the assassins made them pop to the surface of his muscles. "You know that I can't---"

Tugging on his shawl, "Mr. Xavier, you look like my friend Ambrose and he's a faun."

Erik gave Charles a glare that could melt stone.

the telepath gave a nervous short laugh, "You have your tricks. I have mine, Erik." Charles added on, "Besides.. Peter was quite lonely."

"Look what I can do!" Peter did a forward roll.

Charles insisted, "Please my darling, call me Charles."

Erik smelt like an early morning rain, the old ethereal stones of synagogues he climbed on to reach the rooftops to see the edges of the horizon; the oakmoss ambergris of distant woods and rolling in the meadow grass with his sohn; Charles wouldn’t have it any other way.

Erik would be lost to him again. He wished he’d stayed.

"He's even faster than me."

"Oh, really?"

Erik commented, "Peter is having difficultly spelling and writing."

"I dreamt of teaching him. Oh, I can't wait to teach him: politics, history, poetry, rhetoric, music, astronomy, philosophy, literature.."

"As you will,"

"Have you thought about teaching outside? Letting him study the natural world. I'll get it sorted it."

"Keep my little light safe." Sighing as he looked over the courtyard to find his son again, "I don't know if he wants to fight me or fuck me." Erik said, "Or both." He didn't want to admit to Charles, jealous was a dangerous emotion to have and acting in reckless abounded would get Pietro killed, "Shaw is under the mistaken impression that..." Erik turned his gaze toward Pietro feeding Mr. Dibbles a rose petal and giving a high pitch squeal, as dramatic as he, "Is his."

"A mistake that I tend to correct."

"Don't."

"Shaw and the Templars already had contracts with my family, before I took over." Pointing out, "If anything is permitted is---are we truly safe?" And snappily added, "He sent---"

"Me." Turning away and leaving his sohn in beloved's care.

"Vati! Please don't leave me!!!" Pietro cried out.

Erik sighed and came back and knelt in front of him. Hummingbirds, pomegranates, stars of David and verses of Erik’s personal prayer of protection all intertwined in the intricate acid etched relief of the metal and enhanced contrast of lampblack into the recessed area furthered accentuated the designs of the bracers.

The metal humming its protective songs as Erik traces his work, feeling the layers of the composition of his work, before the father turned his sohn’s hand over to neatly untie the bracers network of leather lacing and pulled it off completely. Pietro's whole hand to his forearm was swathed in long thick weaved cloth bandages meant to keep compression on his sohn's broken wrist.

Erik's voiced cracked, "Pietro, the man who did this you

"Shaw...burned me and it hurt real bad.."

"My sohn," Cradling his child's head in his palm.

Shaw in all his arrogance didn't factor in a child's curiosity to explore nor persistence to get into anything that they found, it was beneath his notice, who would try to get into his room. Shaw had locks on his door that master assassins, many had tried with their skills at lockpicking and failed. However...Pietro took a more direct approach with gunpowder and a spark.

It was the POP! of the lock being blown off that first caught his attention.

His idiot offspring was doing something monumentally ill advised.

The smell of used gunpowder made Erik sprinted into his room. The sizzling of his sohn's skin bubbling blisters, Pietro screeching in a high pitch that could break glass

Shaw had a look in his eyes that he was about to yank Pietro's entire arm off he was so furious, he could light wildfire and rival mount Etna with a mere gaze. Erik attacked with all the ferocity and fury of any father finding their young endanger.

"This is why, you must stay." Erik hugged his sohn for one last time.

"Perhaps...maybe we could be together."

[piduai]

i dont genuinely dislike the gk endings bc i know they could be a thousand times worse, its just disappointing bc they were kinda mid. anti climactic for an absolute banger of a series

but i love being a hater. top three most unsatisfying character endings? for me its tsurumi (shouldve died) tsukishima (shouldve died) and hijikata (shouldve been killed by literally anyone else)

yeah exactly that. i can't complain too much because everything could have been sooooo much worse (#rakugotrauma) but the ending just lacked impact... the it element that the rest of the manga had in abundance 😪 which is like not the end of the world but was a 減点 thing kinda sorta. as i said since it set the precedent of going over the line so many times the fact that it didn't in the end was just meh whatever. noda said that he just wanted it to be one of those works that is beloved because it has a happy ending but imo [10 paragraphs of incredibly off the wall things nobody in their right mind cares about]

as for whose endings sucked the most... tsurumi takes the first spot of course, as in anything else. he should have died. there is no value in him surviving, it only cheapens the drama towards the end, there is no sense of fulfillment in this particular villain surviving... i disagree with noda's choices here and there, and this one was the most awful still. in my opiniòn. sugimoto should have died too i think. solely for reread value... like you reread the thing and he's saying "i'm immortal!" so many times, and you get sooooo sad but in a good, loving way... oh reckless hero, you weren't immortal, after all........ as it is you're just oh so he wasn't lying huh 😐... um ok.... anyway. and inkarmat becoming breeding stock idgaf. the only(!) surviving woman besides the mc is there shitting at least one kid per year for the next 15 years. awesome. like that's literal unadulterated domestic abuse - to keep your wife constantly pregnant for over a decade, there's a reason women don't do that anymore and live with a 50% elevated cervical cancer risk taking OC for years. "maybe she wanted it and was happy!" shut the fuck up you know nothing

[miabrown007]

me, at a creative writers meeting: so yeah, I write fanfic! :D

me, two hours later, staring at my ceiling: oh no, oh god, oh god, now all those people think I write smut! I'm nearly not skilled enough to write smut!!!

[invinciblerodent]

Me: "Oh man this fight is super tough and I've died to this same guy like three times now... I don't think I'm supposed to be here just yet, let me look it up real quick if it's even possible to win this at my level"

Some dude on Reddit: "ah yeah man it's super easy I did it on my first try on level 1, with no party, both arms tied behind my back, and while undergoing open heart surgery in a medically induced coma"

[rxkuyo]

wild pheasant visiting our garden today

[irisbaggins]

Me, thinking I've over-estimated my skills and have gotten rusty: it'll be fun to try again :)

Me, when I realise I've got nearly triple the score average:

[alteredbeast]

guys i have a new brain disease :-) (bought a copy of gideon the ninth)

[navree]

none of the people who wrote criminal minds ever read helter skelter by vincent bugliosi because the amount of times this episode has gone "no jury would convict this dude because he clearly didn't touch any of the victims" is insane, i'm over here just yelling "charles manson!" at my computer on repeat