#right concentration

[nezreblogz]

[hkunlimited]

Buddhism 202: To Suffer is to be Human

The damages you suffer are but the beauty marks on your personality. And that’s good, because we’re not talking about some immutable permanent transcendent self that sees itself as the center of the world in some horrific act of ego incarnate. That’s the evil refrain from gurus-for-hire who know that the killer sales pitch is usually that one that puts ‘you, you, you’ in the central spotlight,…

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i am thinking how much poorer, how much less colorful the world would be if art was only made by "professionals." if all the music, all the stories, all the sketches & paintings & craftwork of the world was created only by the small category of people able to make a decent living from their art. imagine if the only people allowed to create were the experts & the renowned & those aspiring to the top. what a grey world that would be. how much joy would be bleached away! i love you people who create for the sake of creating, i love you artists who do art for tiny audiences, i love you people who make things even just for one person, even just for themselves, even if no one's watching, thank you thank you thank you for decorating the world in which we all exist

[tapakah0]

Animation commission for @bread-loaf-heart, thank you again >-<

[sincerelywhistler]

Ooohhhh don’t hurt em now, Davey ‼️

It’s a certain alpha’s proposal audio 1-year anniversary soon and I was feeling sentimental

He’s wearing Gabe’s wedding band around his neck teehee

[egophiliac]

As much as I'm worried about Lilia this chapter (and I'm very worried. He's my fav! 😭) I also cant help but wonder if he's not actually dying and just caught the fae equivalent of a cold, and just, ya know, forgot that was a thing. Like his magic is gonna come back in a few days and he'll be all "Oh, guess it was just the sniffles."

I have to think they won't actually perma-kill him in-story -- I tend to be hilariously wrong about predictions, but, like, surely they wouldn't change the status quo that hard. (at least not before his nendoroid comes out.) so it probably will end up something like that! everyone watches Malleus' little shadow-puppet backstory, tears are shed, character development happens, and then Lilia is like "ha ha, speaking of wacky misunderstandings..." let me believe

(or possibly, because Lilia is a jillion years old and everything is relative, "I'm going to die soon!" = a mere 80 or so years left. which still isn't great for Mal, but is way better for Silver and Sebek and me. either way, Lilia's gonna have a lot of 'splaining to do.)

[dizzybizz]

that one cyborg cowboy from my gaym

[mewtwo24]

I finally finished reading the fourth volume of svsss in full, and thing is--the first time through I only read the bingqiu content because I was ravenous for more of their happy ending.

Turns out that was a perilous mistake.

Because I started reading the airplane extras. And I swear to god. MXTX is trying to kill me

What do you MEAN demon lord Binghe was sitting on his big fucking throne. All stoic and forbidding. Surrounded by his demon generals who don't know shit about human courtship. Asking them what he should do, fully demoralized by constant rejections from sqq, only to have airplane tell him to act more pathetic and needy. Which is already hysterically funny and insane, UNTIL LBH'S RESPONSE IS THIS, KILLING ME INSTANTLY:

LUO BINGHE. WHY DOES HE SAY IT LIKE: "I already tried that, didn't work--nothing works :/ not mean, not maidenly, not housewife, not spicy, not capable disciple. Is doubling down on clingy really all it will take? What's a born hater with only one love in his life to do????"

The dichotomy of him sitting there like 'how can I reach the unfathomable depths of shizun's heart?' A HEART HE'S ALREADY WON OVER, MIND and then in the Holy Mausoleum solving the puzzle without blinking and being like 'oh yeah you just have to hit the acupoints, no sweat.' Literally the comedy writes itself I'm so--

How am I supposed to be normal about this. MXTX understands the juicy quintessential queer joy of a person with the world's power at their fingertips wishing only for love. Willing to do anything to earn that love, when unbeknownst to them it's already been freely given. Totally not screaming and yelling and clawing at the walls

And that's not even touching airplane's uproarious account of events. The way he's like 'lol what's next, lbh and sqq are best friends now? smfh' only to see lbh TACKLE SQQ LOVINGLY. FOR SQQ TO BE BASHFUL ABOUT IT BUT SO SO FOND OF THE LITTLE SCAMP. This when we've been experiencing sqq's constant inner monologue of 'I'm so cool and so dignified about my role, truly the epitome of propriety and poser-level fortitude.' Meanwhile, in their universe:

Airplane constantly flaming???? Sqq and lbh in his observations????? His absolute bewilderment and confusion????? Legendary. No notes every single second of this shit was hilarious.

Airplane's comment that sqq + older adolescent lbh traveling together was just watching a couple in their honeymoon phase. OR the fact that lbh is exceedingly petty and refuses to share their food in the wake of airplane's interruption of their time together, until sqq relents sheepishly and insists airplane eat what's left (ONLY AFTER PLACATING LBH WITH MORE FOOD FROM HIS PLATE, SOBBING)

Watching airplane salivate over Mobei-Jun and acting like that's totally normal behavior. Finding out mbj and airplane got together first. Finding out sqq encouraged airplane. LIKE THIS. WHILE HE IS STILL IN DENIAL ABOUT HIS OWN FEELINGS:

Mobei-jun clearly thinking their arrangement is a forever thing, heartbroken his human abandoned him with all the hapless fury of a scorned wife swept away by false promises of fidelity. Airplane writing demons to be the type to beat up their crush lovingly and still unable to connect the dots about mbj's feelings. Mbj letting him go and respecting his wishes, only relenting when there's indication airplane was poorly processing his own feelings and didn't actually want to leave. Mbj caring for him and listening to him as soon as airplane voices what he needs directly and with clarity. None of these gays are functional and it's everything to me

Unrelated, but I physically can't hold this information in anymore:

I'm still reeling from younger lbh having his sexual awakening from the image of sqq wrapped in the immortal binding cables. Condemn me as you like he was so, so real for that.

And no I will not be taking any comments about how luo bingge couldn't bear to see luo binghe cherished in ways he never got to have and all the haunting implications of that. I will also not be taking any comments about luo binghe's instinct to look for sqq in that alternate universe, only to be shaken to the very core to be unable to find his shizun anywhere. The unspeakable and latent horror of his relentless mind likely piecing together what happened, but unable to say it; to suspect what is true, and live with the harrowing confusion of his double's actions. To blame himself, to assume that he had let his anger get the better of him in that world and result in unspeakable folly...

I also refuse to talk about how heartrending it is to hear Tianlang-jun weakly say "In the end, I really can't bring myself to hate humans." The implication that the foolishness of that hope and bright-eyed fondness--the very thing that put him through such unspeakable agony--couldn't be beaten out of him entirely. To discover that his faith in Su Xiyan hadn't been misplaced, to the contrary: his beloved hadn't scorned him at all, but rather fought to the miserable end to protect the fruition of their genuine feelings of love when she couldn't protect tlj or herself.

How MXTX has sqq deliberately draw parallels between their situation and that of ygy+sj and tlj+sx; desperately wishing it might not be too late for them. The concept of breaking cycles of abuse and harm pervasive throughout the newly devised story, how it evolves for the better only when love takes the place of power, pride, and domination. How the moment sqq chooses vulnerability instead of saving face, the genre shifts to the so-called "cringe" girly genre where most if not every character is more fulfilled, more true to themselves. How the "male-oriented" former genre was aimlessly sensationalized and sexualized, how it was a sustained performance of aspirational toxic masculinity. How men objectify other men without end. All of the unspoken gendered implications that come with that.

Anyways. Going to go put my head in a sandbox and try to process everything I just witnessed because even a second reading is not enough to find a modicum of closure.

[raven--bones]

lil incubus drabble! got inspired and couldn't help but write it out hehehe

gender neutral mage apprentice reader characters: killer, nightmare (/reader eventually hehe) word count: about 2120 summary: reader practices summoning demons, but things don't quite go to plan.

You have a knack for magic. Something about it just comes easy to you. But refining that talent is still an arduous undertaking. Years of study have gotten you this far, slowly rising through the rankings and you’re at the last and more important stage to become an official mage– summoning. 

Your world is intrinsically tied to the demon realm, a plane of magical beings that can be called upon to fulfill requests by those skilled enough to summon them. There are many kinds to summon and you’ve spent years perfecting the theory behind it all. It was finally time to put it into practice. 

The rules for summoning are simple; follow the instructions strictly, never make a deal with a demon, never break the salt circle, and never catch a demon’s attention.

You had everything you need. Candles, charcoal, herbs. You cleared a nice big space in your little apartment so you can make the summoning circle and protective salt barrier extra big, just in case. You wanted to make sure you get the runes perfect, and you didn’t want the minor imp you were going to summon to be cramped. 

The sun was setting through your window, casting everything in beautiful shades of pink and orange. The perfect time for a quick little summoning, when the veil was starting to thin. So you got to work. 

Your pronunciation was perfect. Your layout was exquisite. If you were being graded you know you’d have top marks for going by the book.

And yet you made a mistake. Somehow. 

The skeletal demon blinking at you from inside the salt circle is not an imp. Your best guess is he’s a minor incubus, both from the way he’s eyeing the salt at his feet and the scarcity of his robes. He’s decorated rather finely in gold which is unusual for someone of his status, but if he was any stronger than a minor demon he’d surely have gotten through the ridiculously trivial protections you put in place. 

“Um.” You double check your book just to be sure. You’re still on the page for minor imps, the circle is identical to the one you drew, and yet the proof of your mistake is before your eyes. 

The demon’s already lost the surprised look on his face and is grinning at you, boney tail whipping back and forth at his feet. He cocks his skull at you, black ichor dripping from his eyes. The gold chain attached to the cuffs on his horns clinks softly with the movement.

“whatcha got there?” 

You ignore him. You’re still flipping through your notes, desperate for an answer. How did you mess up this badly? 

“aw, summon me all the way here and don’t even wanna chat. i’m hurt.” 

You groan when you finally see it. You can’t believe you made such a simple mistake. You drop to the floor with a huff, sitting cross legged while you sort through the many papers and books strewn about. You somehow copied the wrong incantation. The circle and pronunciation were perfect, but your words were entirely wrong. You make sure to highlight a big red circle around the spell you read and note it as ‘chatty incubus’. 

But… that still shouldn’t have summoned him. If anything it should’ve failed– there should’ve been a little puff of smoke in the circle signaling your error, not an entire incubus standing there despite it. 

The summoning circles are combined with incantations to help focus your mana when summoning, the complex runes and shapes combining into an intricate language that filters your demand into very specific instructions for the realm’s magic to follow. Without the proper circle an incantation should be worthless, your mana too unfocused to express your intent clearly. 

And yet. 

The incubus drops into a crouch, studying you. “you messed up, huh?” 

You look up, finally taking him in. Short but sharp horns, black liquid dripping from empty, half-moon sockets. A red soul hovering in front of his ribs, sharp teeth drawn wide in an easy-going grin. His tail moves back and forth behind him like a mischievous cat’s, the sharp, gleaming gold tip just barely avoiding the salt circle. 

You don’t want to admit your mistake to a demon. You weren’t prepared for anything more impressive than the weakest of imps– even a minor incubus is out of your scope for another few years. They’re tricky and manipulative and fully capable of making deals that humans will regret. 

You shake your head and keep your gaze down. No distractions. You need to get rid of him before you make another mistake and things get really bad. “I’m going to send you back in a moment. I just need to find my notes.” 

The demon whines, “but i just got here. wouldn’t it be easier to just give me a task to fulfill the summons?”

You perse your lips. That is true. Your intent behind this summons was to tell the imp to do something simple so they’d be automatically sent back. Even just asking them to jump up and down three times would’ve worked. But now… you’d rather send him back the official way, with an incantation. You don’t want to misstep and–

“i can give you a better summoning circle. one you won’t find in any lame textbook.” He sounds coy. You shouldn’t trust him. But… you have to admit, your curiosity is piqued. It’s not like him just giving you the circle would be bad, anyway. You don’t have to use it if it seems dangerous.

“Fine. Your task is to give me this ‘better’ circle.” It easy enough to find a spare sheet of paper and pen and pass it to him. “What is it?”

The demon mirrors you, sitting cross-legged and setting the paper down to draw. “it’s just a simpler basic summoning circle. more efficient. totally fool proof.” He says it easily but you don’t trust him. There’s no telling what his motivations are for giving this to you, and if his claims are true it’s not like you can cross-reference it in a textbook. “the protections you silly mortals want are included so you don’t even need to use the salt.”

“There’s no way I’m believing that.”

The incubus shrugs with a wink. “you don’t have to. keep using the salt if you want, it won’t help any.” 

When he passes the paper back to you the charcoal on the ground begins to smoke. 

“ah, looks like our time’s up. it was nice meeting you, mageling. if you ever wanna chat again, you know how to find me~” The deep black portal that opens up at his feet swallows him up before you can even speak, leaving no trace of him after it closes with a snap. 

You breathe a sigh of relief and take a look at his drawing. Sure enough, he drew a crude summoning circle. The runes are all placed correctly, but they aren’t any you recognize. It does look simple, though. You’re surprised to see he included an incantation. This one is written in script you do recognize, though it is decidedly ancient. The older incantations were never your forte. 

The incantation is short, barely longer than the imp incantation you failed to read, but you don’t understand it. You can parse a word here and there, but… surely you’re not actually considering it. But it seems simple.

You could be the first human to use this circle and incantation. The reports you could write on it could become award-winning. Maybe you’ll streamline a whole new method of basic summoning and have your name in the textbooks! It’s worth a shot. If you put the right protections in place, what could go wrong?

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Just to be safe you make an extra salt circle. You don’t see any breaks in the first one but you want to be safe. That incubus could’ve shifted it just enough when he was here and you might not have noticed. 

The new summoning circle really is simple. It has just over half of the runes of the basic imp circle, though the interlocking lines and circles are a bit more complicated. The demon’s drawing is crude so it’s difficult to get the angles right, but you’re pretty sure it’s correct. 

The incantation is another matter. The handwriting is terrible and you’re not as familiar with the old script so you do your best to copy it down clearly. If it doesn’t work you can always double-check it with an old dictionary from the library. 

By now you’ve been at this for hours. Your living room is thankfully bright from the ceiling light and all the candles, but you don’t want to keep at this for too long. Things get unpredictable the later you work. The veil thins at night, and especially on the full moon. 

You can see it peeking through your window, though the reflection from your ceiling light on the glass ruins the view. You can do a bit of stargazing after this last attempt for the night.

You double check everything one more time. Two perfect circles of salt, not a single grain out of place. The charcoal circle is pristine and accurate. Your incantation is… probably correct, give or take a letter. At worst it’ll fail and you’ll have to fan the smoke out of your apartment. 

You can do this. 

You haven’t yet taken the more advanced courses where the old incantations get worked into the curriculum–you were expecting to really study the ancient language and script in a year or two–but you’re passable. 

You speak slowly and as clearly as you can, but you still stumble over the words slightly. 

Things look promising as you work your way through the phrases. The candles flicker. You can feel the mana supercharged in the air, coalescing in the center of the circles. At the last word your lights go out, the candles extinguishing, and the charcoal runes on the floor glint with dull reflections of moonlight through the window. 

It’s so dark. You reach out for the switch but your hand brushes against something cold and unpleasant. It moves under your touch, pulling back towards the center of the room and away from you. You take a step back and stumble on a stack of books, tumbling to the floor ungracefully. 

It’s far, far too dark. The shadows around you stretch further than they should, made up of an inky darkness that looks like you could fall into it. You can’t see through the circles anymore. A column of shadow’s taken up occupation in them, filling them out to the thin line of salt separating you from whatever it is that you just summoned. 

The darkness blinks at you. A sharp cyan light, far above your head even if you were standing, pins you in place. The shadows move, deliberately, and suddenly you’re able to make out the shapes in the void. Large curving horns– one broken nearly at the base. That single bright eye in a socket like endless void. A relaxed grin of sharp teeth. Broad shoulders and a broad ribcage. Long arms of thick bone ending in large hands tipped in sharp claws. Fine silk robes, brilliant silver jewelry. Digitigrade legs ending in more sharp claws. Shadows curl around him and you realize you’re seeing the silhouette of four massive tentacles coming from his back. 

You watch as the demon takes a step forward, scuffing the salt circle like he didn’t even know it was there. The only thing that could’ve kept you safe is now strewn about at your feet. 

Not that something as simple as salt could save you from an archdemon. There is nothing you can do. You’re helpless.

That sharp cyan eye looks down at the charcoal summoning circle you so painstakingly replicated, then moves back up to the notecard clutched in your hands. He continues to examine your room; the furniture, the stacks of books, eventually stopping on the rough drawing the little incubus gave you on the floor beside you. 

A tentacle picks it up and deposits it in his claws. It looks so much smaller in his hands. He glances at it for only a moment before letting it flutter back to the ground. He puts a hand to his chin and rests the other against his hip, skull tilted ever so slightly as he stares you down.

The look on his face sends a chill down your spine, an icy pit of fear opening up in your stomach. It’s one of the most dangerous expressions to see on a demon. 

“Interesting.”

Curiosity. 

“Very interesting.”

[askdacast]

EVERYBODY ALL BONKLE FANS SHUT UP STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND WATCH THIS IMMEDIATELY

THEY OPENED UP BIONICLE DAY 2023 WITH VAKAMA (YES) NARRATING AFTER 20 YEARS OF MASK OF LIGHT AND BELOVED BIONICLE S#%&POSTER ESSENGER & CRYOSHELL’S BANGER NEW SONG

[dear-ao3]

branch basics oxy boost cleaner my beloved

never met a fucking stain this thing can’t handle.

burned milk spill on my stove? gone. scorch marks on my pot? poof. weird mysterious shower rings? not here. mystery caked on stain in the bottom of a mug? not anymore.

my bestie, oxy boost my beloved

among my friends we all know that if my mom purchases a thing it is the least non toxic thing in the whole world and if i say it’s good that means it works so if non toxic cleaners that work are important to you i implore beg and beseech you to buy this. and this is tumblr so there’s no way in hell it’s sponsored.

[esprei]

Congrats, you singlehandedly got me and my friend into Trainwreckshipping lol

HHHHH REALLY OMG that is seriously so flattering to me you don't even know, that makes me so happy to hear 🥺💖😭💖🙏

here, here is another trainwreckshipping drawing to help draw you into the ship more! :D

emmet is playing pokemon black/white version while they ride the train home (do you think he's hatching joltik eggs or battling himself on the battle subway)

[teddybeartoji]

you go to take a pottery class bc why the hell not and suguru geto is the one talking you through it what do you do

[tapakah0]

[feroluce]

Lucid Dreamer (1/2)

part 2

Gepard notices that it's been. Quiet lately. Like weirdly quiet. TOO quiet. He hasn't seen Sampo Koski in almost a week, which is about the longest he's ever been absent. And he is NOT worried. He's not! So what if they've been getting along more lately! So what if Gepard sometimes looks for him in his favorite hiding places! So what if he's been dreaming about blue hair and green eyes! It's nothing!!

But they're….strange, these dreams. Gepard doesn't usually remember what he's dreamt. It's out of his mind seconds within waking up. But these stick with him, they won't leave him be, they feel different somehow.

He dreams of Sampo bringing food to the frontlines and eating breakfast in his tent with him. Sampo always sneaks him extras. He dreams of chasing Sampo through the alleyways, Sampo sometimes letting himself be caught, Gepard sometimes catching him, and trying to ignore how it feels more like a game now more than anything else. He even dreams that Sampo tags along with him on one of his few civilian days. Sampo runs errands with him, prattles about inane bullshit while Gepard picks out groceries for the week, drags Gepard into some bakery he's never been to but he thinks Serval mentioned once.

And sometimes, it feels so close to reality, that Gepard half expects to see Sampo, shamelessly swaggering into the frontlines with all the guards' breakfast like his wanted poster wasn't only recently taken off the walls of Belobog. He's disappointed when it's always someone else instead. He tells himself his disappointment is ridiculous and if Sampo wants to go prowl around the Snow Plains or wherever he is, then fine. It's not any of his business.

…But it IS his job to investigate any unusual criminal activity relating to the frontlines. And the frontlines are Sampo's usual haunting grounds, and this is unusual activity, and Sampo IS technically a criminal, so it is absolutely part of his duty to look into this - is what Gepard tells himself the entire tram ride down into the Underground.

Natasha tells him he's gone, and Gepard has to steel himself. He knew Sampo made enemies wherever he went, there are a lot of people who would love his head on a platter, but he didn't think-

Natasha corrects him that she means literally gone. As in off-planet. Sampo always leaves her a note before he goes anywhere, so she knows not to expect any supply runs from him. He should be back in exactly two weeks. Thank the Preservation.

Gepard goes back home. He waits.

The uneasiness doesn't leave him.

"Where did you go?" Sampo stops dead in the middle of some story about Seele, and how you'd think someone with as blunt a mouth as her wouldn't have so much trouble asking a woman out, even if that woman IS the Supreme Guardian, and stares at him. He nearly fumbles his cigarette.

"Ahaha, what do you mean, I'm right here?" Sampo smiles at him the same way he always does. Gepard has no idea why he asked. It just popped out. He can never tell when Sampo is lying, anyway.

"I don't know. I feel like I haven't seen you in a long time." Gepard idly mouths at his own cigarette. He almost never smokes, but he wants to ration their stocks of Blizzard Immunity, and it helps with the cold. It's seemed colder lately, for some reason.

Gepard flicks his lighter once, twice, sighs at the third time because a metal prosthetic and thick gloves make the damn things so difficult. Sampo reaches over and wordlessly kisses the end of his cigarette to Gepard's, lighting it. "Thank you."

Nothing happens for almost a full 30 seconds. Something churns behind Gepard's ribcage. Because Sampo never leaves a "thank you" hanging. This is the part where he gives his spiel about how helpful and kind he is and Gepard either brings up how long his rap sheet was before Bronya helped clear his name, or just stares deadpan because seeing Sampo squirm is weirdly satisfying.

"…I'll be back in one more week."

Gepard jolts awake in his cot, mouth dry and eyes bleary.

The hell.

The next dream he has, Sampo looks tired. Sometimes he seems normal. Sometimes he says strange things, like how he wishes he'd gone to some restaurant in Belobog. Ate his favorite food more recently. Brought something with him. Gepard asks why he can't do that now. Where would he bring something? Sampo only shrugs. His rebuttals have less energy.

Gepard doesn't know if he wants to dream more, or less.

He ticks down the days on his calendar. Natasha hasn't told him any different. She promised she would if she got any kind of message. Sampo returns tomorrow, from whatever vacation or seedy business dealings he's been off having. He is not excited about it. He is not looking forward to it. He's not!!

Gepard falls asleep late that night, unable to settle. He dreams again.

He's alone. There are tons of people everywhere, the frontlines are always crowded. But he's alone. They all pass right by him as though he were a ghost. Gepard starts to walk before he realizes his feet are even moving.

He checks the trashcans in the dead end alley. He checks the supply crates that someone always stacks too high because they don't feel like finding more space for them. He pauses to check the soldiers that march past him, watching their footprints in the snow.

He finally finds Sampo on the rooftop along the northernmost wall, the one that looks out over the plains, towards Everwinter Hill, towards where the Stellaron had once been kept. With a full moon and an entire land of white snow, Gepard can almost see clear out to the horizon.

"Found you." Sampo stiffens, and Gepard is almost prepared for him to sprint off the roof. He doesn't. But he doesn't relax either. Gepard sits down next to him and stares out at the wastelands.

"…I fucked up." It wasn't what Gepard had been expecting. Sampo never 'fucks up,' Sampo just gets into incidents that are entirely, supposedly, not his fault and that he just happens to always be within the vicinity of.

"What did you do now?" It must be really bad if Sampo is coming to the Silvermanes for protection.

Instead, Sampo ignores his question completely. "See out over there? Right on the other side of that mountain. There's a safe house that way. It's hidden under a lot of snow and dead trees, but it's there. And in that safe house is a box full of letters. I need you to deliver those letters for me."

Gepard's brow furrows. It's a weird favor to ask. Sampo would never tell anyone where his hidden safehouses were. It defeated the whole purpose of a hidden safe house.

Something is wrong, something is really really wrong.

Gepard turns back to look at him again and startles, all of his questions dying in his throat, because the entire left side of Sampo's head is suddenly matted down, dark and sticky, his skin is dyed red red red-

"In three more months, there's gonna be something big happening." Gepard grabs Sampo's hand and it feels slick and warm against his palm. "I won't be here. So I need you to do my end of things for me." Gepard tries to keep hold, but something is fading, something is slowing, the sun is coming up but the colors are all wrong, everything feels like encroaching fog, Sampo's hand slides right through his. "I was gonna come back with my mask to finish setting the stage, but…" Gepard makes a frantic grab for Sampo's wrist, the air twists, he comes back empty-handed. "They have you. And you're the Iron Wall of Belobog. So it'll be ok."

Gepard finally manages to find his grip, snatches the front of Sampo's dark wet jacket and yanks him forward to hold onto him, and this close up, he can see it better, his colors are bleaching out, leaking outside the lines as if Sampo will become part of the background, as if he's fading into the strange fog that's been closing in on them. His fingers are already starting to feel empty again.

"Wake up."

Gepard jolts awake, uncurls his hands from where they're fisted in the blanket, scrubs the dampness off his face. Breathes. Breathes. Breathes. Today is supposed to be the day.

He throws on his civilian clothes, and he goes down to the shipyard the IPC had built. He finds a spot where he can see every person that returns to Belobog, and he waits.

And he waits and he waits and he waits.

No one he recognizes appears.

[reineydraws]

Saw your Mishanks bodyswap art! Very cute and fun! (Mihawk with a genuine smile on his face so so fun)

I imagine Shanks whould have trouble fighting in Mihawk's body at first since it's been years since he's had two arms

yes absolutely, i imagine that too! conversely, i think mihawk would have a little bit of trouble adjusting his balance and reach with a body missing one arm, as well. it's interesting to think about how they both would be forced to change their fighting style, and whether or not they would exchange swords.

mihawk's been seen using yoru with just one hand so he could probably pull it off with shanks's body. also interesting to think about shanks tripping up on having two arms until he naturally slips into his old fighting style again--or would he? because there's also the question of muscle memory, right? would mihawk's body automatically do things that shanks isn't predisposed to doing, and vice versa?

the other thing i find intriguing about body swapping in one piece is the question of whether or not your haki powers would switch as well. they say haki is spiritual presence, so presumably your haki switches if your spirits switch, but if it's the kind of spirit that's tethered to the presence of the body? then consider mihawk having the strongest conqueror's haki out on the blues, or shanks being able to use observation haki at mihawk's level, practically being able to predict the future--or mihawk, able to counter with shanks's haki-kill technique. food for thought!