#fuckin love that mess of a man

[vasito-de-leche]

okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.

thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!

I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it

either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.

Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way. 

And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.

The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?

He does.

On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.

You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.

Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?

Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.

All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.

He can't tear his eyes away.

Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.

That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.

"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."

His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.

You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.

"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."

But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?

"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."

The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.

He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.

His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.

"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."

Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?

Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.

He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.

That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.

Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.

"Wait, don't do that-!"

Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.

Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.

"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"

Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.

"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."

"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."

"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."

"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.

An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?

Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.

"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"

"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.

"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."

You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.

Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.

Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.

"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.

You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.

"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.

You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.

"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."

Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.

The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.

Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.

A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.

A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.

And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.

[du-hjarta-skulblaka]

Stuck on the first few eps of Farscape after finishing up Fantasy High s2 and maybe its the whole most recently consumed bias but I'm really struck by how much it feels like a dnd game??? Bunch of weird lil renegades slapped together and put in weird situations, honestly it would make a really interesting starting point for a game

Anyway John Crichton is a bard/wizard; he does a lot of persuasion as performance and that scene of him collapsing to the floor to write slingshot equations is THE most wizard shit- perhaps Artificer would be more accurate to him but it's not a class I'm familiar with.

[raiiny-bay]

thinking about the monster boyz AU & how kel never gets to be truly happy in it...

[i-am-just-a-skeleton]

do you ever just re-read your old fics and go 'hey actually this is Great i'm really good at this, let's fuckin go'

in other news i may in fact post a new chapter of Fireflies before the end of august

[etcnnante]

love being insane about weather report and i need to spew my thoughts about him and pucci and their stories aligning greatly with those told about cain and abel. as well as emporio being awfully similar to seth- cain and abel's lesser known younger brother. a LOT of biblical talk which i know most people aren't fond of, so it's going under a read more.

the story of cain and abel is so widely known, but i don't think most people know everything - such as the upbringing, the buildup, and the inevitable downfall of the two. the story of cain and abel have been done over and over, each told a varying degree of success, so i think it's interesting to see araki's version of it. (if he even intended the similarities to be there, which could be possible. but i don't doubt it since he is quite well versed in christianity / the imagery.) honestly, when you think about it at first ... the similarities don't seem to be there besides the obvious "pucci killed his brother and betrayed him" since weather got in the way of him achieving heaven. but the longer you look, the more you can see the similarities. so please bear with me as we try to unscramble these thoughts together and best explain the betrayal story of cain and abel, and how seth comes in to save humanity. the most striking for me is the usage and importance of weather report's disk. when cain strikes abel, he is coated in the blood of his brother and because of this- the blood of abel that's staining his clothing, cain would never be able to reach heaven and inevitably leads to his downfall. the blood of abel preventing cain's entry in heaven reminds me a lot of the final showdown between pucci and emporio- the final stretch before gaining eternal greatness, where he is stopped by emoprio's utilization of weather report's disk, effectively preventing him from achieving heaven. while not quite the same, weather report's disk act's as the perfect replacement for abel's blood- a final haunting reminder of the killing of his brethren, now stopping pucci within his tracks and being used against him despite being so close to heaven even after his endless offerings. this is also where emporio's role of seth comes into play- and, in relation to cain and abel, seth services as a replacement for abel after his death- essentially becoming abel's new mouthpiece and ushers in our current humanity. which emporio does after weather's death, acting as his mouthpiece and successfully helping joylne create a new humanity- all while the disk comes back to haunt pucci and prevent him from achieving his goal. it's beautifully poetic, in a way. while obviously not shared by blood, the bond between emporio and weather cannot be underestimated. they had a great deal of trust in each other and it's clear weather even seemingly regarded emporio as a little brother to him, going to immense lengths to keep him safe. there's a lot more in relation to weather report and other biblical allegories- such as heavy weather being triggered subconsciously by weather's hatred for humanity, turning anyone affected by the rainbows into snails. the important bit is the snails, and how snails are thought of as "the symbol of the wicked passing away" within the bible- obviously signifying how weather truly feels about humanity and how vile and "slimey" it has become when regaining his memory. he can feel at ease knowing there will be no more wickedness plaguing humanity anymore. don't know how to properly conclude these thoughts. just hoping my rambles are coherent and don't seem too far stretched, especially since i do believe, in some way, this may be araki's personal retelling of cain and abel to some extent. the man is obviously into christianity and it's aesthetic's, it's not like jesus christ isn't an actual character in the damn series unironically 😭 but i hope theres some cohesion when explaining these thoughts because whew there’s a lot of them.

[j0them0971]

I don't even know anymore

I just love backstage or magazine cover photos of this man

Goddamn I love him

OK yeah it's not just Norman

AND HES A FUCKIN CANCER ♋️ CAN YOU GET BETTER THAN THAT

Yes

Yes I love him

[alchemistc]

Things I did NOT have in my bingo card:

The end of Indiana Jones & tDoD making me SOB LIKE A FUCKING BABY I'm either thisclose to my period or just really fucking broken up over Harrison Ford finally getting a happy ending with one of his Trilogy Wives.

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’m thinking about the ran-jit fight again and how u end up killing him and how it still feels. not great that you kill him, but I can kinda see it from an eyrie pov of being the one to kill him

[lovely-letters-for-ed]

Anybody else cry at the end of S2 when the scene closes and the credits roll and The Times They Are A-Changin' plays?

Just me? Cool, cool.

[constellation-skirmishes]

thinking about skysolo again. and skybridger. and skydalorian. and all of them. at once? perhaps. perhaps not. they all exist in my mind and are good.

forgot to mention skylighter. love them love them they make me sob in agony.

[kinnoth]

Ok but think about how fucking horrible Loki would have turned if Thor had managed to become king. Like, even when they were only princes together, there was basically nothing Loki couldn't get away with: bullying the patriciate, being a flagrant wizard, spending extravagant amounts of money on absolute tat. And then, he was only the third most powerful man in the empire. With Odin gone, and only Thor who could possibly curb him? Dear fucking god.

Bc when has thor ever showed an interest in curbing anything loki has ever wanted or done

[katzirra]

I have two things I've started to do as a tradition for myself every year;

I make sure I do an art in review for myself, to discuss my highs, lows, my desires for the next year - an evaluation of my happiness with art and production.

And since I renewed my love of watching movies in 2020, I make a list of all the new things I've watched! Good and bad lol

It's been fun for me every year seeing how many more I can get, or seeing trends on my list at the end of the year. Seeing days I plowed through five foreign films on the couch, or maybe what actor I was systematically going through their work that year. It's kind of a nice little look at my life and interests.

Or I can pinpoint marathons with people, and think what a disaster some of those are [like the god damn nightmare block of Christmas Carol adaptations....]

It's a fun thing I'm doing for myself, and it gets me seeing a lot of interesting things as I find directors, cinematographers and even actors I didn't know before ;w;/ truly the little things in life.

THE YEAR AIN'T OVER YET THOUGH, AND I GOT A HUGE LIST TO POWER THROUGH.

[scribesynnox]

Watched the latest episode of Rick and Morty (s6 ep4) and asdfghjkl, man, they’re really leaning in hard on the whole “Rick may be the smartest person in the universe, but he sure as hell ain’t wise.” And that whole fight between the night family vs the day family was fucking hilarious and a god damn mess.

Also also tho, are we gonna talk at all about how Night Summer was in charge and whether or not she was right when she said the night halves were a part of the day halves and if she IS right, then what the hell that means??? Because wow, the dynamics within the night family were way different than day family.

[dahldahlbills]

nano day 6

total count: 2756; 2212!!! towards main wip, 544 towards fic

finished scene 4!!! Wasn’t expecting that esp bc I was extremely reluctant to write it. It started off strong, then got away from me for a bit, but I think I wrapped it up okay ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I’m just happy I broke 2k today, it feels extremely rewarding B-)

was hoping to get more fic writing done today but alas… maybe tomorrow

[swanguk]

NOT JIMIN BEING ON THE FAST AND FURIOUS SOUNDTRACK I’M SCREAMING

[lonelyplanetfag]

when is somebody gonna care abt me the same way i care abt them🤣🤣🤣🙏🔥icant do this shit anymore