#<<< HE HAS A NAME AT LONG LAST

[i-cloudyink-i]

And another Famata animation that you wanna watch so bad

[pupkinpumpkin]

Rook being a very physically touchy person and Lucanis avoiding touch at all costs from built up trauma from childhood, his work as a Crow, and the Ossuary. Them always asking for Lucanis' permission to touch him, and before Tearstone Island, they hug him and he still flinches but he holds them tight

As Rook is taken into the Regret prison and they see a vision of Lucanis' body on the ground, they scream his name out of concern and fear but all Lucanis hears is them screaming for him to help, and then they're gone. They're gone. He thinks they were screaming his name, begging him to save them and now they're gone.

Weeks into Rook being taken into the Regret prison and now a man who couldn't be touched without reflexively drawing a blade is craving the warmth of his partner who he thinks he'll never see again

Lucanis pulling Rook out of the prison, knowing it's them right away because of their hands. He missed their hands, he missed their touch, he missed their warmth, he missed them.

When Rook gets back, Lucanis' touch is slow and soft, almost unbelieving. Weeks of stress and torture and pain and guilt and regret, and now they're here. Once they're finally together, he feels as though the world is in their arms and if killing a god is the only way to stay there, he will do what a Crow does best and fulfill this contract

[starry-bi-sky]

i need to get this out of my head before i continue clone^2 but danny being the first batkid. Like, standard procedure stuff: his parents and sister die, danny ends up with Vlad Masters. He drags him along to stereotypical galas and stuff; Danny is not having a good time.

He ends up going to one of the Wayne Galas being hosted ever since elusive Bruce Wayne has returned to Gotham. Vlad is crowing about having this opportunity as he's been wanting to sink his claws into the company for a long while now. Danny is too busy grieving to care what he wants.

And like most Galas, once Vlad is done showing him off to the other socialites and the like, he disappears. Off to a dark corner, or to one of the many balconies; doesn't matter. There he runs into said star of the show, Bruce who is still young, has been Batman for at least a year at this point, but still getting used to all these damn people and socializing. He's stepped off to hide for a few minutes before stepping back into the shark tank.

And he runs into a kid with circles under his eyes and a dull gleam in them. Familiar, like looking into a mirror.

Danny tries to excuse himself, he hasn't stopped crying since his parents died and it's been months. He rubs his eyes and stands up, and stumbles over a half-hearted apology to Mister Wayne. Some of Vlad's etiquette lessons kicking in.

Bruce is awkward, but he softens. "That's alright, lad," he says, pulling up some of that Brucie Wayne confidence, "I was just coming out here to get some fresh air."

There's a little pressing; Bruce asks who he's here with, Danny says, voice quiet and grief-stricken, that he's with his godfather Vlad Masters. Bruce asks him if he knows where he is, and Danny tells him he does. Bruce offers to leave, Danny tells him to do whatever he wants.

It ends with Bruce staying, standing off to the side with Danny in silence. Neither of them say a word, and Danny eventually leaves first in that same silence.

Bruce looks into Vlad Masters after everything is over, his interest piqued. He finds news about him taking in Danny Fenton: he looks into Danny Fenton. He finds news articles about his parents' deaths, their occupations, everything he can get his hands on.

At the next gala, he sees Danny again. And he looks the same as ever: quiet like a ghost, just as pale, and full of grief. Bruce sits in silence with him again for nearly ten minutes before he strikes a conversation.

"Do you like to do anything?"

Nothing. Just silence.

Bruce isn't quite sure what to do: comfort is not his forte, and Danny doesn't know him. He's smart enough to know that. So he starts talking about other things; anything he can think of that Brucie Wayne might say, that also wasn't inappropriate for a kid to hear.

Danny says nothing the entire time, and is again the first to leave.

Bruce watches from a distance as he intercts with Vlad Masters; how Vlad Masters interacts with him. He doesn't like what he sees: Vlad Masters keeps a hand on Danny's shoulder like one would hold onto the collar of a dog. He parades him around like a trophy he won.

And there are moments, when someone gets too close or when someone tries to shake Danny's hand, of deep possessiveness that flints over Vlad Masters' eyes. Like a dragon guarding a horde.

He plays the act of doting godfather well: but Bruce knows a liar when he sees one. Like recognizes like.

Danny is dull-eyed and blank faced the entire time; he looks miserable.

So Bruce tries to host more parties; if only so that he can talk to Danny alone. Vlad seems all too happy to attend, toting Danny along like a ribbon, and on the dot every hour, Danny slips away to somewhere to hide. Bruce appears twenty minutes later.

"I was looking into your godfather's company," he says one night, trying to think of more things to say. Some nights all they do is sit in silence. "Some of my shareholders were thinking of partnering up--"

"Don't."

He stops. Danny hardly says a word to him, he doesn't even look at him -- he's sitting on the ground, his head in his knees. Like he's trying to hide from the world. But he's looking, blue eyes piercing up at Bruce.

Bruce tilts his head, practiced puppy-like. "Pardon?"

"Don't." Danny says, strongly. "Don't make any deals with Vlad."

It's the most words Danny's spoken to him, and there's a look in his eyes like a candle finding its spark. Something hard. Bruce presses further, "And why is that?"

The spark flutters, and flushes out. Danny blinks like he's coming out of a trance, and slumps back into himself. "Just don't."

Bruce stares at him, thoughtful, before looking away. "Alright. I won't."

And they fall back into silence.

Danny, when he leaves, turns to look at Bruce, "I mean it." He says; soft like he's telling a secret, "Don't make any deals with him. Don't be alone with him. Don't work with him."

He's scampered away before Bruce can question him further.

(He never planned on working with Vlad Masters and his company; he's done his research. He's seen the misfortune. But nothing ever leads back to him. There's no evidence of anything. But Danny knows something.)

At their next meeting, Danny starts the conversation. It's new, and it's welcomed. He says, cutting through their five minute quiet, that he likes stars. And he doesn't like that he can't see them in Gotham.

Bruce hums in interest, and Danny continues talking. It's as if floodgates had been opened, and as Bruce takes a sip of his wine, it tastes like victory.

("Tucker told me once--") ("Tucker?") ("Oh-- uh, one of my best friends. He's a tech geek. We haven't talked in a while.")

(Danny shut down in his grief -- his friends are worried, but can't reach him. When he goes back to the manor with Vlad, he fishes out his phone and sends them a message.)

(They are ecstatic to hear from him.)

It all culminates until one day, when Danny is leaving to go back inside, that Bruce speaks up. "You know," He says, leaning against the railing. "The manor has many rooms; plenty of space for a guest."

The implication there, hidden between the lines. And Danny is smart, he looks at Bruce with a sharp glean in his eyes, and he nods. "Good to know."

The next time they see each other, Danny has something in his hands. "Can you hold onto something for me?" He asks.

When Bruce agrees, Danny places a pearl into his palm. or, at least, it's something that looks like a pearl. Because it's cold to the touch; sinking into Bruce's white silk gloves with ease and shimmering like an opal. It moves a little as it settles into his hand, and the moves like its full of liquid.

Bruce has never seen anything like it before, but he does know this; it's not human. "What is it?" He asks, and Danny looks uncomfortable.

"I can't tell you that." He says, shifting on his foot like he's scared of someone seeing it. "But please be careful with it. Treat it like it's extremely fragile."

When Bruce gets home, he puts it in an empty ring box and hides the box in the cave. He tries researching into what it is. he can't find anything concrete.

Everything comes to a head one day when Danny appears at the manor's doorstep one evening, soaking wet in the rain, and bleeding from the side.

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch.20

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

Believe it or not a large section of this chapter was actually one of the first things I wrote for this story, it was written out before the first chapter actually and I’ve been really excited to show it. This chapter is super long and has shifting perspectives.

This chapter also mirrors Ch.10. This is a long chapter.

First - Prev - Next

WARNING: T/W implications of past sexual assault. Implied past torture. Character death.

CH.20

“So you’re gonna show me that super off-limits study room?”

“Yes. I only ask that you keep an open mind, and please do not judge me.”

“Alright PhD, I’ll only judge you the normal amount.”

“Come inside.”

“-Woah- ahhh. You really like …Triangles, huh?”

“Stanley, you’re shaking.”

“It uh, it kinda makes me uncomfortable, not gonna to lie. Are you in a cult?”

“No. Come here, follow me to the mat in the center.”

“Okay…”

“Now, what do you think of this? Does it remind you of anything?”

“A newspaper clipping? Uh… That’s a pretty messed up car- oh, wait, yeah it does remind me of something.”

“What does it remind you of?”

“I used to have a car just like that. A red El Diablo.”

“And what happened to it?”

“...I don’t remember, actually. I’m trying to remember but it just makes my brain feel like it's on fire.”

“How did I not see this before…?”

“See what?”

“Stanley, when you were first traveling with Sanchez, were you sick at all?”

“Oh yeah, totally sick. I had this massive chest infection. Kept knocking the air mask off when I was delirious. If Rick didn’t constantly shoot me up with weird sci-fi drugs, it probably woulda killed me.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Where’re these questions coming from Doc?”

“I’ll explain soon, but I need to show you something else. Sit down on the floor.”

“Okay…?”

“I’m going to sit back-to-back with you. I need you to fall asleep.”

“You want me to… sleep?”

“Yes.”

“Doc, you know I got problems sleeping.”

“I doubt it will be a problem this time. I’m going to meditate, but I need you to sleep.”

“You’re not setting me up for some ritual sacrifice, right?”

“Do you trust me?”

“...”

“You don’t have to answer that. Either meditate or sleep, whichever comes first. But I’m going to meditate.”

“...Alright. But if you cut my heart out and sacrifice it to the math gods or whatever, I’m haunting you.”

(...)

“Stanley.”

“Huh? Where are we?”

“The dreamscape. Specifically, we are in your dreamscape. You could also call it the mindscape. It’s a metaphysical representation of your mind.”

“You can beam yourself into people's minds?”

“Within limitations, yes. If I were to do so when the person is awake, I could only access their surface thoughts and memories. If the person were asleep, I could go a bit deeper and see their dreams, but I wouldn’t be able to easily traverse, and some deeper, more unconscious memories can’t be accessed.”

“So… Ya brought me here? What for?”

“We can access your mind deeper. But I need your permission to do so.”

“You can un-bury all of my lost memories?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to force it. I want to help you… but I know this is painful; both not knowing, and knowing. Do you want to know your real past? Even if it meant you’d have to remember why you forgot it all in the first place?”

“...Yeah. I think- hey what’s that thing coming out of your chest? Is that a rope?”

“...Yes, how did you-”

“I think I have that same thing, hold on, lemme just-”

“You’ve never been here, how would you-.”

“See, same thing. Is it supposed to do something?”

*Ford in shock suddenly grabs at the severed ends of both ropes and tries desperately to push them back together, but the ends keep repelling each other like magnets with the same charge*

“Hey doc, I don’t think you’re gonna attach ‘em like that.”

“Why isn’t it working? It’s supposed to work. It needs to-.”

“Woah! Calm down, PhD. Aren’t we here to dig up the past?”

“Right, right. We’ll get back to that. Do I want to know why your mindscape resembles a gambling lounge?”

“I spent a lot of time in a place called Lottocron Nine before I was banned from it.”

(...)

“Have you been in my mind before?”

“...Yes, during one of your sessions with Fiddleford.”

“...What kind of session?”

“An interview.”

“Oh, thank god. So ya just… broke into my mind?”

“Stanley, I understand if you are feeling-.”

“That’s really cool.”

“...What? You’re not upset?”

“Pft, I’ve broken into houses, cars, shops, warehouses; and even the Infinetentiary, twice . A persons mind though? That’s hardcore.”

“You’re being awfully candid about your multidimensional adventures with Sanchez.”

“There’s no point in hiding it now. You learned the first time you went into my mind, didn’t ya? That's how you knew who I was talking about when I mentioned Rick.”

“You’re handling this rather well.”

“Doc, we’ve both seen some crazy shit. This dreamwalking stuff isn’t even in the top ten.”

(...)

“FORRESTER!”

“Catch you on the flipside, sucker!”

“God, I hated that guy.”

“That IRS agent… What’s his name?”

“Agent Powers, why?”

“Just putting a name to a face.”

(...)

“I don’t like remembering this.”

“Tell us where your boss is hiding, and maybe we’ll spare that ugly mug of yours.”

“You think anything you do is gonna be worse than what Jimmy will do to me if I rat her out? I’ll take my chances with your sleazy ass.”

“This ‘Jimmy’ is female?”

“Yeah. Jimmy Snakes is just a street name. Other bikers wouldn’t take her seriously if they knew from the bat she was a chick. Her real last name is Jiménez.”

“But the J is pronounced as a-”

“Yeah, but guess how everyone who doesn’t speak Spanish tries to pronounce it when they read it?”

“Tough talk, Alcatraz. But everyone's got a limit.”

*the gangster takes the lit cigarette out of his mouth and brings it closer to Stan*

“Yeah, we don’t needa see this.”

*the memory suddenly blacks out but a sizzling noise is still heard*

(...)

“Stanley, this is a pit memory. These are memories your unconscious mind has been hiding from you.”

“Do we just, ya know, jump in?”

“Yes. In a way, it is like the bottomless pit, we would fall back right where we started, or your mental defenses could forcefully-.”

“Screw that, I’m imagining stairs.”

“You can’t just imagine -”

“Violá. Stairs.”

“...”

“What? This is my mind, anything I can imagine should be possible, right?”

“It should not be this easy for you. It takes months of rigorous meditation to-.”

“Maybe it woulda been easier for you to control what's in your head if it wasn’t so far up your ass all the time.”

(...)

“I don’t remember this.”

“It’s the science fair incident I told you about.”

“This is all your fault, ya dumb machine!”

“And now you’re about to-...”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, what did I do?”

“Man, did I fuck up or what?”

“There. Alright. Good as new. Probably.”

“...Stanley. You- you didn’t ruin my machine on purpose?”

“I don’t see you anywhere, but it looks like it.”

“You only hit the table …”

“Does it matter? The results are the same.”

"Stanley, I haven't been honest with you about this incident. After this, yes we fell out, but our father overheard and-."

"And he kicked me out? Yeah, I know."

"You know?"

"Yeah... I think I always did. Just didn't wanna."

"But... I lied to you about it. I told you that you chose to leave."

"Dude. All I fuckin do is lie. I'm not feeling like being a hypocrite today."

"You're not mad at me? I turned my back on you!"

"Get in line, PhD. Rico outed me to the Aryan Brotherhood. Rick cheated on me with an Alien Hivemind. Jimmy chased me for fifty miles on the interstate on a flaming motorcycle trying to drag out my soul with bottles and chains. You got tired of my shit and told me to buzz off? Big deal!"

"I ruined your life..."

"I ruined my own life. It's kinda my thing, ya know."

(...)

“No- no. Oh, no. We can’t stay here, we need to leave.”

“This looks like the homeless shelter from Glass Shard Beach.”

“Hey- sir? Can ya help me with something?"

"Watcha need, kid?"

"I haven't been to one of these places before and its kinda-"

'Scary - no, I can't say that out loud. He'll think I'm being a baby.'

"It's kinda new to me. I heard there were phones here that don't charge ya?"

'I wanna call ma...'

"There sure is, just follow me."

"We need to leave."

"Stanley, what-?"

"We need to leave we can't stay here we need to-"

"This isn't- wait, what're ya d-? Hey!”

“Brats like you are too damn easy.”

“Back off you piece a-!”

WACK

“Why isn’t this memory blacking out, I’m trying to end it-.”

“Get offa me! Stop!”

“I don’t wanna remember this.”

“Stanley, I’m so sorry. I had no idea-.”

“Cry all you want, it won't help you.”

*the memory blacks out*

(...)

“...Do you want to talk about it?”

“ No. ”

“Okay. I won’t make you.”

“I think this pit over here is the one that… ya know, made me forget everything.”

“You are sure it’s this one?”

“There’s a giant neon sign over there that says ‘Do Not Enter: Everything is Worse’.”

“How considerate of your subconscious.”

“…I don’t think I can go any further. Go on without me.”

“Stanley-.”

“Stanford. I’m giving you permission to see that memory, whatever it is. I’m not going to kick you out of it. Just tell me what you saw after you get out, and we’ll go from there.”

“You are okay with that? Are you sure?”

“You asked me outside if I trusted ya. Here’s your answer.”

(...)

‘Moses, the fog’s getting pretty bad… can’t see shit’

‘Ain’t safe with all the curves ahead’

‘I should take a stop soon and wait for it to clear’

‘Huh? What’s up with my breaks?’

‘WHY ISN’T IT WORKING? WHY?’

‘He didn’t! That son of a-’ 

SCREECH

CRASH

Fwooosh!

‘Fuck! I gotta stay calm- I’ve gotten out of worse’

‘Ugh the smokes getting really thick-.’

‘Why isn’t the seat belt unbuckling? I don’t have a lotta time here.’

‘Where’s my strap cutter? Why isn’t it-!’

‘I’m really lightheaded…’

‘Can’t-’.

‘It’s too hot-.’

‘I’m trapped.’

‘I-I can’t breathe.’

*Stanley reaches up and pulls the picture of himself and Ford, which is on fire, off of the sun visor. It burns up into ash within his hands, which then start shaking*

"That was all I had... Now I have nothing. And I have nobody... I'm… alone."

‘I'm alone…’

‘I'm alone.’

*the memory suddenly blacks up, and then the scene changes and he’s looking at Rick Sanchez as he lies on the floor of his space cruiser. Ricks words are muffled at first*

'Where am I?'

'Who's this guy?'

'He tased me? Is this a cop?'

'Why was I in the woods?'

'Catatonic...?'

“This isn’t going anywhere. Can you tell me your name?”

'I'm alone' 

“It’s…? I... 'm alone . Wait. It’s- Stan.”

“Stan Malone huh? My name’s Rick Sanchez.”

(...)

“I do not understand… I suspected the car accident was the catalyst, but how did he escape? Did Sanchez rescue him and lie about it? What would he gain from that?”

“Nope!”

“Bill?”

“You know you can’t go anywhere without me, Fordsy.”

“Why did you wait until now to show yourself?”

“Dramatic entrance, of course!”

“...Right. Why doesn’t Stanley remember escaping his burning car?

“Because he didn’t. He died of smoke inhalation right there.”

“... What ?”

“Yeah. He died. Ironically, of suffocation. Isn’t that hilarious, Sixer? He used to suffocate you, and that ended up being the thing that killed him.”

“CIPHER! Whatever cruel joke you are trying to-.”

“Joke? I’m hurt Fordsy, I know when to be serious.”

“He didn’t die! We are in his mindscape! He’s asleep right behind me in the waking world!”

“Oh, Sixer… Your mommy was right when she said denial like this isn’t healthy.”

“STOP PLAYING THESE GAMES WITH ME BILL CIPHER.”

“Alright, alright. Here, let me give you a sneak peak of what happened between the scenes; he doesn’t remember, because it happened in his mindscape. So here’s my memory of what happened.”

“Your-?”

SNAP

(...)

“Hey there slick! Things getting too hot to handle?”

“What are you supposed to be?”

“Call me a guardian angel.” 

“Are all angels as geometric as you?”

“I took a form that would be comforting to you. I’m the symbol on the back of the money, you like money right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well there we go! I’m here to help you.”

“... Why?”

“I’m a friend of a friend. And that friend would very much hate it if you burnt to death here. Shake my hand and I can get you out.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Like I said, friend of a friend. Just shake my hand. I’ll have temporary use of your body, and you’ll get to live.”

“I’d sooner chew up and spit out a gold chain before I fall for some Faustian bargain. No ones ever been nice to me in my entire life; there’s no reason my death would be any different. Leave me alone.”

“What about your family?”

“They won’t be surprised, there’s no way they didn’t see something like this coming. I’m surprised I lasted this long.”

“What about your brother? Your twin? You’re two halves of a whole - are you really going to leave him to live the rest of his life incomplete?”

“I’m the incomplete one, I failed by myself. But he can stand on his own.”

“Don’t you realize this will devastate him?”

“... I know it will.”

“Then why aren’t you taking this deal? Fordsy isn’t going to get over this. I know everything about him, and I’m telling you he never will. This will haunt him the rest of his natural life. The same way it would haunt you if he died.”

“If you’re such a Stanford expert, would he ever think I’d take a deathbed deal with a floating triangle in a top hat and fake eyelashes?”

“The eyelashes were a low blow. But, I’ll give it to you, slick; he does know you would never fall for flattery and trickery. But he’d also agonize why you’d give up like this.”

“There’s giving up, and there’s acceptance. Every decision I’ve ever made has led up to this. And most of them were the wrong ones. The consequences have caught up to me, and there’s nowhere to run anymore.”

“You’re choosing now of all times to accept the consequences of your actions?”

“Might as well, it’s the last chance I can.”

“You are going to die here. Stanley Romanoff Pines, if you don’t take a deal with me in the next minute you will die.”

“Guess I get one whole minute to reflect on everything huh?”

“And what would you reflect on?”

“If you’re really friends with my brother… if he ever asks about me for some reason, could you tell him that I love him?”

*a rope suddenly appears, with one end fading into Stanley’s chest. The other end appears to fade off into the distance*

“What’s this supposed to be?”

“Your twin bond with Sixer.”

“That’s a real thing, no shit?”

“Yes. It’s how I found you, actually. IQ was getting this sinking feeling of dread and didn’t know why, so I just followed it without telling him.”

“Does that mean he’ll feel it when-.”

“Yes.”

*Stanley looks at the rope before grabbing it with both hands, and pulling it in opposite directions until it’s broken into two. The end not connected to him disappears.*

“He doesn’t need to know what dying feels like.”

“...He doesn’t want you dead. He never hated you.”

“I know. But he doesn’t need to worry about supporting all of this dead weight. Ha! Get it? Dead weight! …Dead weight? It’s funny because I’m about to be dea-”

(...)

“-and he died exactly how he lived; making stupid jokes that no one but him finds funny- except for you, I can see even though you’re crying, you’re also trying really hard not to laugh .”

*Ford covers his face with his hands in grief*

“...That was a good one…”

“I waited for his heart to stop before I could take over - I can possess corpses you see, and for those fleeting minutes, he counted as one. I flexed just enough of my power to drag him out of his car - had to wait for that stuck seat belt to burn enough to rip - but all of that activity re-started his heart and brought him back, kicking me out of his body.

I had enough time to change some things - kept enough oxygen in his blood supply to prevent brain damage, deleted his fear of heights so he could climb out of the ravine, and rewired his optic nerves so he didn’t need glasses anymore - he wasn’t going to get any for himself anytime soon, he won’t need them until he gets cataracts at fifty-seven.

Anyways, that’s the real reason he was immune to that green cryptid; his worst nightmare was dying alone, and he already went through that.”

“...Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”

“You didn’t ask. Not me. Not anyone. Not even yourself.”

“...”

“You always pushed your thoughts of him into the corner of your mind, Sixer. In your journals, any mention of him you’d cross out or write in a code. I saved him because I know you care about him. I didn’t tell you what happened because you wanted him out of sight, and out of mind.”

“Bill!”

“It’s true, isn’t it? And look at that, he still made his way back to you. Either that twin bond was magnetically pulling him towards its broken half, or I left just enough of an impression on his mind that the weirdness of Gravity Falls drew him here.”

“You left an impression on my brothers mind?”

“It’s like when you crinkle paper, Sixer. You can try to smooth it out all you want, but there’s still going to be traces that something happened. There’s not pieces of me left in his mind, if that’s what you’re worried about. He didn’t make a deal with me, unlike you. He just picked up some of my tendencies. Definitely explains why he uses nicknames so much, doesn’t it?”

“This is my nightmare.”

“This is the dreamscape.”

“...Why did you repress his memories?”

“You think I did that? Sixer, he died . You don’t come back from that the same way you were before.”

“Then why would he still remember most of the last ten years of his life, but not being kicked out or his entire life before that?”

“Fordsy, you heard his last conscious thoughts, and those became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Before he passed out and then away, all he could focus on was how alone he felt. His brain did that thing all human brains tend to do; hid all the stuff that would hurt him more.”

“...No, he wouldn’t-.”

“Sixer. I know you can see the truth, you can’t hide your thoughts from me; why bother remembering himself, why bother remembering loving people when they didn’t bother to remember him, not even when he needed them the most?”

“...”

“Oh, goody, now you’re crying! Don’t worry, I know exactly what to do in situations like this. I don’t care if you don’t understand the reference, you’re not the one who’s supposed to.”

*Bill conjures up and then starts playing the Nightmare Realms smallest violin*

To be continued…

[secondbeatsongs]

Hello, you said in some tags in a poll that Speed Racer (2008) is your favorite film. If you’re okay with it, I’d really like to hear more about why you love it. I love the Wachowskis’ work (they’re among my favorite directors), but I kinda ended up bouncing off Speed Racer (2008). So, hearing that it had a real impact on someone makes me very curious why. I’m not interested in criticizing your opinion or arguing with you, I’d just really like to know why you love it in the hopes I might be able to enjoy that movie more in the future.

oh god this is from seven months ago, I'm so sorry - but I do love almost everything about Speed Racer (2008) and I still think about it nearly every day.

I love that it's so bright and colorful and absurd. I love that it's an anime in live action form. and I love that at its heart, it is a story about love.

it's about the mistakes people make out of love, and the consequences of that. it's about the way children grow to understand why the adults around them make the choices they do, and maybe choose to do the same things. it's about taking risks for the people you love, and the pain of failing to change the world, because everything is capitalism and everything hurts.

(and it's also about being transgender btw. like, that's one of the main things about it - it is very much a movie about being transgender)

what if your father's choices hurt your older brother, and your older brother's choices hurt you, and now it's you and your younger brother staring down a future where you're going to end up hurting him by making the same choice?

and then...what if you can escape that? what if the broken parts put themselves back together, and the hope doesn't run out, and you're not alone with the things that haunt you? what then?

and now you're at the end and mistakes were still made, people were still hurt, but everyone's grown and changed and they're different now. and they've figured out that maybe, just maybe, you can change the world by doing something you love, by creating art and beauty and making people feel things.

maybe you really can defeat capitalism by driving a car really fast. and even if everyone thinks you can't...don't you have to try anyway? shouldn't you fight with the skills you have, the only way you know how?

what if it works?

and I'm not even gonna get into most of the Racer X stuff (because I want people to go watch this movie, and most folks probably won't be spoiled for it), but his whole deal is just...everything. I love him.

(if there's a guy from Speed Racer that I want to put in a jar and shake every so often, or maybe wrap in a blanket so he can have a nice nap, it's Racer X. he's a great character. prime blorbo material)

anyway I've been rotating this movie in my head ever since I saw it for the first time, and I think I've seen it...seven? times now? and I still cry at the final race, and I still get blown away by the intro sequence.

(the beginning of the movie is genuinely one of the best things I've ever seen - it does an amazing job of introducing you to the world and the story of the characters, and gets you emotionally invested in it right from the start. it's fantastic filmmaking)

also like. story stuff aside, from a technical standpoint, the movie is a masterpiece. it's the type of thing that people hated when it first came out, but when you look at it now and see how it was made, how it intentionally looks bizarre and cartoonish, plastic and surreal, you can see the exact vision the Wachowskis were going for, and it's brilliant.

the way they did the visual effects, the way they made the outdoor scenes feel so detailed, the way the driving and the tracks work - they put so much thought into that, and the behind-the-scenes vids show how cool their process was.

also uhhh cars go vroom, crash into each other, flip upside down, explode, maybe have bees and hammers in them sometimes?

(the above is me complimenting the unhinged vibe of the races themselves, which I love very much)

anyway I could make other full posts about the script of the film and how much I love it, or the cool side characters, or the fanfic potential of the amazing world of the film, or how I can prove that it's set in 1991...but I guess if anyone wants those rants, they'll just have to watch the film and then come talk to me. :)

(please. please come talk to me about Speed Racer.)

so, yeah! I kinda lost my mind there and made this post way longer than I intended, but I do feel strongly affected by this movie, and I hope this has helped explain why.

[froschli96]

You know what, fuck it, I have to speak my truth! (this is gonna be a rant, so anyone who actually likes assassin's creed revelations and/or the secret crusade, be warned or maybe don't read this at all)

remember how altaïr talks to king richard at the end of ac1, and richard is like "[humans] come into the world kicking and screaming, violent and unstable. it is what we are. we cannot help ourselves."? and how altaïr answers "no. we are what we choose to be." and how that ACTUALLY has meaning bc he himself was "violent and unstable" at the beginning of the game but he has learned and is now CHOOSING to be a better person who cares about others and humanity at large? remember how his calmness and gentleness was something that he ACQUIRED over the course of the story?

and remember how in revelations they then suddenly had a PRE-AC1 altaïr say about the first of his targets "no man should pass from this world without knowing some kindness." and be all wise and calm and collected during a nice little chat with al mualim, who suddenly acts all fatherly? (like, this is suddenly supposed to be a positive relationship? what??)

also, during the confession the target says to altair: "you put too much faith in the hearts of men, altaïr. [...] humans are weak, base, and petty." and altaïr answers: "no. our creed is evidence to the contrary." KJASJFJDKL???? like, it’s almost insulting how close this exchange is to the one with richard. you know, the one that was actually earned after a whole game of character development. like WTF??? cool congrats now that development means nothing. like, apparently that was just altaïr reverting BACK to being the exemplary assassin who understands and believes in the creed that he was apparently just born as. (i also hate how having a young inexperienced altaïr saying this implies that altaïr's faith in humanity is a sign of naivete instead of a sign of the wisdom he has gained after being confronted with counter arguments for a whole game, and also something that distinguishes the assassins from the templars who use humanity's supposed wickedness to justify controlling them like in AC1, but whatever)

altaïr’s development in AC1 mattered BECAUSE he is not NATURALLY a good person, it actually said something about humanity's capacity for both bad AND good and how humans don't have to be forced to be good through mind control bc they can by their own free will choose to be better when taught how and when allowed the freedom to grow. but no. apparently altaïr has just always been calm, wise and gentle. and he just sort of forgot about that during AC1 bc…. ? bc of adha?? bc of abbas???

oh don’t get me started on the whole abbas thing. (it doesnt even make sense that abbas is so hung up about his father and "his family’s honor", like what about the whole point of al mualim not allowing parents to be close to their children bc it would make them weak? like, my dude, you’re not supposed to HAVE any family aside from the brotherhood)

they used the throwaway character that had like 5 lines and made him into altaïr’s main antagonist in revelations… like, abbas wasn’t supposed to be this ONE dude who had personal beef with altaïr, he was just supposed to show how while altaïr’s revered by many, a lot of his brothers also hate him, bc 1) altaïr is a shitty person at this point and 2) bc there’s no real feeling of community and family in this version of the brotherhood, but just a pervasive sense of competition and jealousy — these assassins don’t care about their goal of safeguarding humanity bc they’re too hung up on petty squabbles and divided by rivalries (you know, the things that made malik hate altaïr even before solomon’s temple and that he overcomes in the end which enables him to forgive and to reconcile with altaïr so they can work together and stop al mualim? (you ever just think about "we are one. as we share the glory of our victories, so too should we share the pain of our defeat. in this way we grow closer. we grow stronger." and cry? bc i do. all the time. malik, the man that you are))

and now abbas is altaïr’s childhood best friend turned lifelong enemy?? like, bowden bent over backwards to come up with an explanation for why altaïr is an arrogant ass at the beginning of AC1, when the explanation is right there: he was raised to kill without asking questions and was constantly praised for how good he is at murder, which resulted in him becoming arrogant and disregarding human life. like, it doesn’t have to be some shakespearean family feud type shit. and guess what, this "simple" explanation actually plays into the story’s themes, who’da thunk!

(like, abbas might not have been a "fleshed out" character in AC1, but he had a specific function and now that function is gone. mr bowden, mr mcdevitt, you know characters are allowed to simply exist to tell us something about their worlds and the systems they live in and sometimes that’s more important and also more interesting than having every single character have a detailed backstory to explain all their behaviors, right?)

with all of this revelations loses all nuance in regards to the levantine brotherhood and also the creed in general. like, altaïr being a master assassin at the beginning despite being a terrible person and not actually understanding the creed is a criticism of the brotherhood and the creed itself. like, it said something about the order that someone like altaïr was able to get that high in rank, simply bc he's good at killing, which also tells us what is considered important in the al mualim era assassin order. when you make altaïr’s arrogance the result of his personal conflicts instead of how we was raised by a brotherhood that only valued one's ability to kill, you lose that characterization of the assassin order itself!

and by suddenly making al mualim a semi good "father figure" you also downplay his manipulation of not only altaïr but all those under his care. (altaïr says something about al mualim being "as a father" to him exactly twice in the codex, but he doesn’t mean by that that he WAS a father to him, what he means is that he was the CLOSEST THING he had bc HE DID NOT HAVE PARENTS, not because his mother died in childbirth and his father was executed when he was young btw, BUT BECAUSE IT WASN’T ALLOWED, like his parents actually lived but weren’t allowed to be close to him, he says he came to view al mualim’s "weak and dishonest" love as enough and even better BECAUSE HE HAD NOTHING ELSE, BECAUSE AL MUALIM ISOLATED HIS ASSASSINS FROM THEIR FAMILIES. al mualim "loved" him bc he was good at killing people for him! hm, i wonder if this could be trying to say anything about cults and indoctrination and the inherent contradiction in fighting for peace and free will by taking children away from their parents and raising them to become killers?? like, altaïr wasn't ~the special orphan boy~ taken in by al mualim bc his father died a hero's death, it was "the way of the order" to have al mualim be the closest thing to a parental figure for everyone to ensure absolute loyalty! altaïr saying al mualim was like his father is not supposed to make you go "oh, he must have actually been a good guy for altaïr to consider him a father", it should make you go "oh that's kinda fucked up that he considers the dude who made him into a killing machine and who manipulated him a sort of father figure"!)

and then in revelations they suddenly portray that relationship as positive and healthy??? like, it would be one thing to give it some nuance by delving into the psychology behind al mualim’s "love" and maybe showing how al mualim did care about altair in a complicated, fraught sort of way (like, you know, there’s a lot of interesting things you could say about al mualim at several points addressing altaïr as "my child" in AC1 and how that parallels Garnier referring to the people he drugged and abused as his "children", and what that says about how the templars view the people who they say they want to save and in whose best interests they supposedly act (in any case, al mualim doesn’t use that phrase because he has any real parental feelings but rather to patronize and to invalidate any objections, like in a "mother knows best" way))

but they even fucking DARE to parallel that relationship with that of altaïr and darim in revelations, by having the reflection in the puddle of darim hugging altaïr showing altaïr hugging al mualim…. like their relationship wasn’t inherently abusive but just tragically cut short because al mualim was just "corrupted by the apple"… like WHAT???? so it’s not the very real problems like grooming, manipulation and indoctrination and the hierarchical structure of the brotherhood itself (all of which are antithetical to the assassin ideology), it was just the evil apple all along. great. that’s DEFINITELY a lot more interesting.

god im sorry i really dont want to spread negativity but this is driving me INSANE. like, somebody please tell me im not crazy bc i feel like somehow most of the fandom is in agreement that revelations and the secret crusade have better storytelling and characterization than ac1.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, can we talk about how, even IF we completely ignore AC1 and treat revelations altaïr as his own character…. the narrative still doesn’t really work?

basically, the whole point of his story in rev is that "he gave his whole life to the brotherhood", this obsession led to him not using his time with his family which has him ending up dying alone in a dark library and this in turn makes ezio reevaluate his life choices…. except. he doesn’t? neglect? his family? or whatever? like, his devotion to the assassins is sort of painted as this tragic flaw that leads to a lonely death bc it supposedly comes at the cost of his family, but… his wife has joined the assassins, (at least) one of his sons is in the brotherhood and even when he goes to protect the assassins against the mongols, he takes his family with him (except for the son who stays behind bc he has a family of his own and who, ironically, ends up dying bc of that)… like, you can’t describe altaïr as a good husband and father in the database and have his son tell him that "everything that is good in me began with you, father" when they say goodbye, and then want to make us believe that he put his family behind the brotherhood and that that is a character flaw that leads to his tragedy.

because you HAVE to have a character’s tragedy be the result of a character flaw. like. that is how tragedies work. otherwise it just becomes tragedy for the sake of tragedy which is… boring bc it has no purpose. and we know it is SUPPOSED to have purpose bc ezIO FUCKING QUITS BEING AN ASSASSIN AFTER WITNESSING IT!

it’s like they want to have their cake and eat it, too — they didn’t want to actually make altaïr a bad husband/father, but still wanted to make his life a tragedy where he loses his family which is why instead they outsource all responsibility to abbas who now has to be the reason for ALL the deaths.

like, they try to make at least maria’s death kind of sort of the result of altaïr’s rashness or whatever but like��� these guys KILLED THEIR SON and TOLD HIM THAT ALTAÏR HAD ORDERED HIS DEATH. like, altaïr losing it in response to that is not rash, it’s fucking logical and justified! if anything the scene made me angry at maria for trying to stop him. like, GIRL, he was YOUR son too??? but god forbid we give female characters actual real emotions, she has to fill the role of "voice of reason who dies for altaïr’s man pain" i fucking guess.

like, it’s this weird mix where his tragedy is simultaneously painted as his own fault but also not really bc abbas is the one responsible for all the shit that happens. it just… it just doesn’t really go together.

the only way to make his story make sense narratively and to give it actual purpose is by looking at it in the context of ezio’s story, bc the things he sees in altaïr’s memories are supposed to be a revelation (ha!) to ezio specifically. and i guess that’s maybe the crux of it all — altaïr’s story in revelations was conceived of first and foremost to support ezio’s story and development. which is probably also why many people maybe don’t notice bc, having skipped ac1 and started with ac2, the majority of people mostly care only about ezio and only really appreciate altaïr’s story in as far as it serves to push ezio forward. (tho i’ve also seen a few people say that ezio is also written kind of weird in rev, but i’ve never really been an ezio girly myself so i can’t speak to the truth of that)

like, altaïr dying alone in the library doesn’t really have to make sense for his character, i guess, bc it’s only really supposed to be a cautionary tale for ezio.

so, i guess, for once, they actually had a MAN dying for another man’s character development, which is pretty woke actually. ubisoft, i take everything back jksdsfjhgdsahfhsdhfghfdsgjhsdgjh

[dykedvonte]

Piper and Danse friendship is like the platonic version of that married couple where the husband says nothing and the wife is the chattiest most extroverted person and you cannot imagine how they found each other let alone end up as a pair.

But like he knows her favorites and the one joke, the one time you heard him speak mind you, he made had her dying with laughter cause it was specifically for her. Or she can tell exactly how he’s feeling despite the same expression for every emotion and you swear she made a comment and try corners of his mouth lifted.

Like they are those two that bonded not because they were alike but because they were so different what they did like together made them grow much closer.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

thinkin bout magneto's lil list of aliases from that One Shot of his government file or w/e in 97 and how it lists the three main men who've played him (David Hemblen, Ian McKellen, Michael Fassbender) and kinda cackling at the idea 1.) if they included All his names 2.) having 'michael' on that list twice

[mechazushi]

God, you're dense [Affectionate].

{a Kn8 short story}

Hoshina wasn't one to play games. Sure, he liked to have fun, but playing with people's emotions and perceptions wasn't something he could get into. He raised himself on the belief that being straight forward on something was the best course of action. If someone couldn't get on the same page as him, that was on them. He worked in a position where the best moves forward and anyone else that can't keep up with him were best left behind. Of course, much like most rules in life, there were exceptions to the rule. His biggest fault to everything he stood for was a tall, jolly, brute of a beast named Kafka. Kafka would be an exception to most everything he would die on a hill for. On the opposite end of the spectrum, however, was one person that he held to the highest accordance of his standards. His brother.

Hoshina made a point not to talk to his brother after he got accepted into the defense force. The restrictions on that got tighter after he got accepted as Mina's Vice Captain. Since before, he still showed up to family gatherings at the least to entertain his mother's concerns about his livelihood in the Third Division. Still, just because he didn't make attempts to contact his family, doesn't mean his family doesn't make attempts to contact him. It was always inevitable (because they don't tell him ahead of time) always with the supposed best of intentions (Because what quality road to hell isn't paved with them) and always at the most inconvenient times (an ability that seemed to be an inbred skill in every other family member). Between catching up on chores that should have been done yesterday, decaf in the communal coffee machine, and his third favorite pen breaking, Hoshina found he wasn't in the mood to talk. So obviously it was a perfect time to be visited by his least favorite person.

Walking down the hallway with a mountain of signed paperwork, his pace was intended to be brisk, but felt sluggish all the same. As he passed an intersection in hallways, he noticed the large frame of a burly friend catching up behind him. As Kafka slowed his pace to match his commander's, Hoshina tilted his face in his direction and flashed what was hoped to be a casual and respectful smile.

"Had a feeling you'd feel like that once I heard about the incident at the coffee machine. Here. Brought this for ya." Kafka said as he handed over a steaming mug of dark tan coffee.

"Oh, I already had coffee today." Hoshina tried to politely decline. he guessed his smile wasn't as bright as it should have been if Kafka could see he was feeling off.

"Yeah, but that was decaf." he insisted as he held the mug by its rim and pointed its handle temptingly toward its intended recipient.

Hoshina stiffed its steam heavily as it wafted under his nose. The smell of a caffeinated brew being much more rejuvenating than the bland swill he choked down this morning. He didn't think twice as he shifted the paper load more securely under his arm and took the offered mug greedily. There was a low, grateful moan as the hot, searing, and just lightly sweetened liquid burned pleasantly down the back of his throat.

'You might've just saved my mental state yet again, Kafka." Hoshina finally muttered after nearly downing half of the mug.

Kafka just chuckled as he walked in time with him, and after a while, held out a hand in an offer to carry the paperwork. Hoshina politely refused again, feeling genuinely better now that he had something more stimulating coursing throughout his system. Walking side by side, they engaged in pleasant idle chatter as they continued down the hallway. Without checking how far they had walked, they neared an area that had a lobby that was sparsely populated. As they got closer, an irritatingly familiar voice rang clear in the partially echoey room.

"Brother Dearest!" Soichiro Hoshina, Soshiro's older brother, was leaning against the desk in the back center of the lobby, relaxing like he deserved the space he was taking up.

"Oh God, why aren't I being delivered from evil like I ask every Shrine visit?" Soshiro muttered as soon as he realized who was occupying the open room with them.

"That's your brother?" Kafka asked as he laid eyes on the visitor.

"Unfortunately." Soshiro said with every letter somehow overflowing with distain and loudly enough to be heard by the other person.

"Come on, brother! You had to have known that one of these visits was to have to happen soon? It's been, what, months since you've even sent at minimum a hello to Mother." Soichino's words were playful, a clear difference in demeanor to the attitude his younger brother was radiating. A second had passed as he clearly gave the plus one an interested once-over after he lifted his sunglasses off his face.

"Well, hello soldier. And who might you be?" A salacious smile slithered coolly over Soichiro's glossy, thin lips. His tongue flicked out and over his teeth teasingly as he continued to stare down Kafka with a darkened sense of interest. Kafka bowed deeply in greeting before he introduced himself.

"Kafka Hibino. Officer of the Third Division." was his militantly clipped response.

"Kafka... Kafka... Where have I heard that name before?" Soichiro drawled out as he shifted over to Kafka's side, poking his shoulder with the arm of his sunglasses with playful emphases.

"He's our Kaiju Number Eight, you salacious cur. Now what are you doing here?" Soshiro snarked as he took another sip of his coffee. His brother made no move to acknowledge the comment as he continued to speak directly to Kafka.

"Kaiju Number Eight, huh! So you're the beast on the battlefield. Is it too much for me to ask if you're a beast anywhere else?" That Cheshire smile never left his face as his eyes turned into a more evaluating gaze.

"Well, I'm the Division's only on call Kaiju. It's pretty safe to say that I'm always the beast when it's needed." Kafka smiled bashfully as a hand came up to scratch the back of his neck. Soichiro practically giggled as a hand came up to mischievously smack the other shoulder.

"Look at you! Making out to be something that strong and powerful as a humble brag!" the older brother seemed to slide in closer to Kafka's personal space, with Kafka playing it off as business as usual. Soshiro could feel the handle of the mug creaking under his tightened grip as he looked on at his brother's shameless display.

"Ya know, I had originally cleared out my schedule to take my brother out on a lunch date, but I've just realized he's been a horrible brother and hasn't shown me around the Third Division's main facilities not once!", Soichiro saddled up impossibly closer and even had the audacity to slip a hand around the back of Kafka's forearm, "Why don't I be a good Captain and help clear yours so you can show me around? I'm sure any tour by you would be far more interesting than what he could provide." Soshiro watched as he saw the offer being sealed with an obviously flirty wink.

"Well, I'd be happy to! That is, if it's alright with my Vice Captain?" Kafka asked as he looked innocently toward the younger brother, seemingly unaware or unaffected by the attention he was currently being given.

"No Kafka, that won't be necessary, If my brother is going to come out all this way to see me, then he's just going to have to settle for my company alone." Soshiro said as he placed his paperwork and his coffee mug on the abandoned reception desk.

"Yeah, that makes sense. Maybe some other time?" Kafka asked as he looked at the older Hoshina brother.

"Such a shame. Don't be surprised if I take you up on that offer." Soichiro tittered as he patted the other side of the forearm he was still holding onto. The two brothers watched intently as Kafka turned around and walked down the hallway. Soshiro waited until he was out of every possible hearing range before he decided to speak.

"Alright, you bottle-platinum harlot. What the hell was that display all about?" Soshiro made no attempts to restrain his irritation at his brother's expense. He had no idea what game his brother was trying to play with him, but he wouldn't stand for it since it seemed to involve a very close and personal friend of his.

"I don't know what you mean." Soichiro said as he kept tittering. His posture and demeanor revealing to his younger brother that there was a plan brewing behind those evil eyes.

"I will not have you seducing my strongest man over to your division while I'm here." Soshiro commanded as he leveled a piercing gaze at the other person.

"Excuse me, 'Your man'? I'm sorry, but I didn't see a ring on his finger." Soichiro teased as he turned to face his brother.

"That's not what I meant and you know it, you vile rake." Soshiro spat the words out in an attempt to dissuade any further conversation on the topic.

"So catty today, are we brother? I was simply taking in the local selection. I'm not surprised you're interested in him." Soichiro chatted as he teasingly bit on the arm of his sunglasses.

"I also see you've decided to take up slander as a hobby since last we met." Soshiro grumbled as he found himself forced into a position where he had to talk to his brother in person for more than a minute.

"Oh, please! You know our family has a history of liking them sweet and dumb. How do you think Mother's marriage has lasted this long?" Soichiro continued as he leveled a knowing stare at him.

"If you're going to keep insinuating things that don't exist, I'm going to order you to cancel the lunch date and leave." the younger brother retorted as he turned around to drink the last sips from the coffee mug.

"What do you think I'm insinuating?" Soichiro purred as his sight never left his brother.

"Don't toy with me today, you troglodytic trollup. I am in no mood to bat around this string of yarn you're trying to spin here." Soshina kept snapping back as he took the opportunity to avoid eye contact as he shuffled around the stack of papers.

"Why all the denial, Brother Dearest? Especially since we're so far from Egypt. Besides, it's not slander saying you like a coworker as if your interactions weren't displayed all over the news two weeks ago." The grin broke into a full blown, toothy smile of superiority as the Captain of the Sixth Division draped himself over the desk's top next to Soshiro.

"What... interactions?" the Vice Captain hissed as he slowly turned his head to side-eye his brother

"Should I reenact it for you?" Soichiro giggled before flopping onto his back and dramatically fainting, "Oh! I seem to have taken a terrible fall and broken both of my legs! Oh, is there some dark, handsome, Knight in living armour that can princess-carry my oh so fragile body to the farthest fucking ambulance on scene and completely bypass three others that were unoccupied and were going to take me to the same fucking hospital!" It was clear that he was taking a massive amount of joy retelling his version of events that he saw on the news as his voice raised in volume with every reveal.

"I didn't break my legs, I dislocated my ankles! What would you have me do, walk?" Soshiro started to match his brother's volume and had now fully turned to him to confront this problem of point-of-views head on.

"The cameras clearly show you two having a conversation where it shows you convincing him to carry you!" The two of them were so close to each other's faces now their noses could touch.

"I was trying to convince him not to!" Soshiro returned.

"Because the cameras were rolling?" Soichiro asked.

"Yes!" his brother answered.

"AND BECAUSE YOU TWO ARE IN LOVE! Why else be camera shy about being carried around in public?" The eldest returned triumphantly as he poked him in the chest.

"NO." Soshiro shouted back as he shoved his brother backwards, "We are not in love! What part of this do you think it's okay to date someone like him?"

"Oh don't act like you can't because he's under your position. He makes his own precedent as he breathes! And you are the right type of rebellious, attention craving, delinquent punk that would absolutely fall for someone that is perfect for you in all the right ways, while also him being a human anomaly in every sense of the word! He turns into something our family has been training it's young to kill for centuries so of course you're going to deviate from the norm and be practically head over heels for him!" The Captain couldn't stop himself from cackling as his lungs quaked from talking for so long without breath.

There wasn't anything left on the matter that Soshiro could say to make his brother change his mind, so he decided to let his fists do the talking for him as he sent a vicious right hook. His fist connected to his brother's left eye and caught him off guard for a second. Before he could speak out against the assault, the younger brother wasted no time in jumping onto his brother and throwing his fists left and right. The two soon became a mass of tangled limbs and colorful curse words on the floor. It wasn't like this for long as two other people came across the fight and helped break up the fray.

"Alright, alright! Break it UP!" You two are grown up men, and Defense Force officers at that! ACT LIKE IT!" Okonogi reprimanded them as Aoi held them off the ground by their jacket collars.

"Yes, Okonogi." The brothers said in unison. As they were set back on the ground, they straightened their outfits and waited to see if their new company would leave. When they didn't, Soichiro decided to speak what was left on his mind anyway.

"The lunch date is still on, by the way. Mother's orders. How about I give us an hour to cool down and we try this whole 'conversation' thing again?" he tried to say with as much possible conviction in his smile. Soshiro just glared violently as he picked up the stack of papers from the desk.

"I do what I damn well please, you leporid bunk bunny." he said as he stormed off. Everyone watched as he walked away before his older brother spoke up again.

"He'll be fine."

 𓈒   𑁍 𓈒

It was a little after seven thirty before Hoshina felt fine enough to interact with anyone. Spending some time in the gym helped him feel better after dealing with the Lunch Date From Hell. It also helped that he got to meet his favorite punching bag for sparring.

"Look -huff- I get you -huff- don't like your brother -huff-, but did you really -huff- need to literally -huff- kick my ass?" Kafka's lungs heaved after spending what felt like hours defending himself from his Vice Captain's volley of blows.

"Ya snooze, ya loose Kafka. Intense training is for your own good." Hoshina quipped back as he walked over to his duffle for water bottles. Kafka shambled behind him slowly and sat down on the bench the bag was next to.

"Intense training, my entire bruised ass. That last chokehold felt personal." Kafka began to regulate his breathing by the time Hoshina made it over with the water bottles.

As Hoshina drank from his, he subtly tried to look at Kafka as he poured some of the bottle's contents onto himself. He watched as the water made his partner's bangs stick to his forehead at odd angles and made a swift attempt to cool his fiery red cheeks. Hoshina didn't let his imagination run too far away from him as he thought about Kafka looking worn out and sweaty for a different reason. Of course he denied everything that was said earlier that was concerning the situation between him and Kafka. Mainly because it all implied that Kafka felt the same way he did. Had it been a complete stranger talking to him this morning, it would have shocked everyone that knew him once they heard how different his answers would have been.

As Kafka finished rubbing the cool water into his face and straightened his back and arms out into an intense looking stretch, Hoshina forced himself to look away from the rippling of muscle and the straining of his tank top around said muscles. In moments like this, when he was sure no one would be looking or they were alone, Hoshina liked to play a little game with Kafka. It wasn't one that you could win with points or anything. Hell, some days it made Hoshina feel like all he did was lose by playing, but he couldn't deny that conniving little twitch that begged for him to play over and over again. All so he could see that dumb little smile.

"Still improving as slow as always." Hoshina said after a minute of relaxing on the bench.

"Hey, at least I am still improving, right?" Kafka returned as he looked back at his Vice Captain.

There was a smile, sure, but it wan't big. He could do better.

"Can't say I don't find you to be consistent at least 1% of the time." Hoshina offered as a response, deciding to bring up a well used joke between them. He turned back to look out at the empty gym in front of them.

"God, I still haven't gotten higher than that, haven't I?" Kafka chuckled out of the side of his mouth.

"It was a good thing we found out you were a kaiju when we did. Could you imagine what would have happened if you couldn't raise that percentage up high enough in three months?" Hoshina thought the comment sounded funnier in his head, but once he heard it out loud he wanted to smack himself for it. Everyone knew that it was a horrible thought, thinking about Kafka not being around anymore. Even that was something Hoshina couldn't bring himself to deny or joke about.

"I do every day." Kafka sighed heavily, "Everyday I wake up here." He closed his eyes for a second as he smiled softly, his head coming to rest against the back wall the bench was against.

Hoshina turned back to look at him, taking Kafka's moment of vulnerability to look at him fully this time. He thought about it too. A life in the Defense Force where he didn't get to see Kafka everyday. A life where he didn't bring him coffee or hear his laugh or have drinks with him after work hours. Hoshina could feel his heart squeeze at the thought of Kafka not being in the Defense Force, or worse, suddenly living at a different Division. Being close by technicality, but feeling oh so very far.

"Did you notice my brother was flirting with you at all?" Hoshina felt himself ask before he could take the words back. He felt himself brace for the answer in the brief moments in between his heartbeats.

"Wait... really?" Kafka asked with genuine interest. Hoshina could feel his face twist into something between curiosity and mild disgust. Kafka couldn't tell he was being flirted with? And was okay with it coming from his brother?

"Ye-yeah?" Hoshina returned hesitantly.

"You sure? 'Cuz I mean... wow. He's... actually interested? In me?" Kafka's smile grew bigger and more wonky as he processed what he was told.

"You're okay with this?" Hoshina questioned incredulously. He could not believe what he was seeing, and was actively praying that this wasn't the case.

"Are you kidding? Of course! You're brother is frickin' hot!" Kafka replied with joy, "Is he, like, still around? I mean, I know he's not here kinda around, but I mean, is he like, nearby? Like in a hotel or something? Nah, that would be creepy. Oh! Could you let me have his number?" Kafka prattled on as Hoshina continued to become more and more disgusted. Sure, he was a little happy to hear that Kafka was cool with being hit on by guys, (and clearly reciprocated the sentiment) but felt absolutely horrified at hearing Kafka wanting his brother's number. So much so that he immediately stood on the bench seat so he could get a good enough vantage to stomp on Kafka to stop his train of thought.

"You! Will! NOT! Be! Dating! My! BROTHER!" Hoshina shouted out between the stomping.

"Jesus! And here I thought you wouldn't be having a problem with me liking guys! Yah know, since you told me about it!" Kafka shouted back as he tried to defend himself from the onslaught.

"I don't have a problem with you dating guys! I have a problem with you dating my brother!" Hoshina said as he pressed his foot down firmly onto Kafka's hands that were protecting his head.

'Well then, who would you rather have me date?" Kafka returned rhetorically.

"Me for starters!" Hoshina finally admitted. Once he did, he let the pressure off of his foot and just stayed in the position for a hot minute, feeling as awkward as a school girl admitting to her first crush. Kafka just held onto the foot as he looked up at his commander with wide, unbelieving eyes. All Hoshina could bring himself to do was look away, his cheeks flushing hot and bright. Kafka helped lower the foot down as he got up from his seat to face him from the front.

"Have... have you been flirting with me too?" Kafka asked. Hoshina still couldn't look at him or answer, so his cheeks answered for him.

"How long have you been flirting with me?" Kafka asked again.

"Two... two years." Hoshina answered quietly.

"We've known each other for two years." Kafka responded. Hoshina still hadn't made a move, only crossed his arms defensively.

"YOU'VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH ME SINCE WE MET?" Kafka shouted as he made the realization.

"To be fair, I don't flirt like a normal person and you clearly can't read context clues." Hoshina said as he finally regained some control over his mouth. He just wished he had better control over what it said.

"Why didn't you say anything before now?" Kafka sounded incredulous at the thought of how he could have been dating the most amazing person on base before now, had be been able to read between the lines.

" I kept thinking it was funny?" Hoshina responded in a shy, quivering voice as more blood rushed to his face and made it redder.

"Okay, now I have to ask. What about me do you like? Do you think I'm handsome, or do you really just like to think I'm funny?" Kafka questioned as he waved his hands around animatedly.

"Honestly? I just really like that you're funny." Hoshina said as he relaxed and playfully shrugged. Now feeling better about having all of this out in the open.

" So, just, fuck my face then." Kafka said in a sarcastically irritated manner while turning around and waving his arms.

"I would if you'd stop talking." Hoshina accidentally let slip.

He wasn't ashamed of saying it, but probably should have found a better time to say it. It didn't seem to matter anyway as Kafka took a second to stop his flailing and slowly turned around to face his commander again. A sly smile tugged at the corner of his lips as his eyes darkened at the play on words they stumbled into.

"Well alright then." Kafka chuckled darkly as he strode over to where Hoshina was still standing. He grabbed his legs and threw him over his shoulder, holding onto Hoshina's calves for dear life as he carried his thrashing lover out of the gym.

"Wha-what do you think you're doing?" Hoshina cried as he tried to look back at his kidnapper. Kafka returned the most intensely flirtatious side-eye back at him as they walked out of the gym.

"Moving training to your place, so you can properly shut me up."

"Wha-what, no dinner first?" Hoshina stuttered nervously as he continued to be paraded down the hall on Kafka's shoulder. He got even more nervous as Okonogi slid past his line of sight and watched them walk away.

"You've been flirting with me for two years. Dinner can wait." Kafka growled as the other hand came up and audibly smacked Hoshina on the ass.

[namelessprince]

MY BEAUTIFUL RIPTIDE OCS... their names are catalina and milo avery <3 catalina's a water genasi, and milo's a tiefling :] !!

[hooffuloftootsierolls]

The “Michael and Lucifer are brothers” came other media having the two be twins. Especially the Netflix Lucifer tv show and the DC comics by Neil Gaiman that the tv show is based on.

Someone giving me an excuse to blabber on about my thoughts and ideas? That only happens in my daydreams! Also I just realized it's spelled Michael not Micheal oop-

I feel like everything can be traced back to Neil Gaiman in someway. Thank you Mr. Gaiman, for giving me more goofy but sad angels.

I haven't seen The TV show or the DC comics, but just the idea alone of these two being twins was enough to make me flesh out Michael's personality and the relationship between the two.

Just kidding : ) Michael wouldn't question Sera, he obeys orders with a morbidly unquestioning loyalty.

I imagine that Michael was the more responsible one, and would try to discourage Lucifer's ideas and dreams, but Lucifer tended to ignore him. Lucifer would cause some kind of havoc, and Michael would be the one to tell the angels. Luci 100% saw him as a buzzkill and a tattletale, and Michael knew his brother was a safety hazard with wings, but I think they still loved eachother.

Which is why it would both break them to have Michael be the one who battled Lucifer and forced him into Hell. Lucifer felt horribly betrayed, and Michael would have been trying to cope with the fact that he drove his own brother out.

I have many ideas for them, so little time to write :(

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Spider-Man India, but... where from India?

A SUPER long post featuring talks of: cultural identity, characterisation, the caste system, and what makes Spider-Man Spider-Man.

I’m prefacing this by saying that I am a second-generation immigrant. I was born in Australia, but my cultural background is from South India. My experiences with what it means to be “Indian” is going to be very different from the experiences of those who are born and brought up in India.

If you, reader, want to add anything, please reblog and add your thoughts. This is meant to be a post open for discussion — the more interaction we get, the better we become aware of these nuances.

So I made this poll asking folks to pick a region of India where I would draw Pavitr Prabhakar in their cultural wear. This idea had been on my mind for a long while now, as I had been inspired by Annie Hazarika’s Northeastern Spidey artwork in the wake of ATSV’s release, but never got the time to actually do it until now. I wanted to get a little interactive and made the poll so I could have people choose which of the different regions — North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South — to do first.

The outcome was not what I expected. As you can see, out of 83 votes:

THE RESULTS

South India takes up almost half of all votes (44.6%), followed by Northeast and Central (both 14.5%) and then East (13.3%). In all my life growing up, support towards or even just the awareness of South India was pretty low. Despite this being a very contained poll, why would nearly half of all voters pick South India in favour of other popular choices like Central or North India?

Then I thought about the layout of the poll: Title, Options, Context.

Title: "Tell us who you want to see…"

Options: North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South

Context: I want to make art of the boy again

At first I thought: ah geez. this is my fault. I didn't make the poll clear enough. do they think I want them to figure out where Pavitr came from? That's not what I wanted, maybe I should have added the context before the options.

Then I thought: ah geez. is it my fault for people not reading the entire damn thing before clicking a button? That's pretty stupid.

But regardless, the thought did prompt a line of thinking I know many of us desi folk have been considering since Spider-Man India was first conceived — or, at least, since the announcement that he was going to appear in ATSV. Hell, even I thought of it:

Where did Spider-Man India come from?

FROM A CULTURALLY DIVERSE INDIA

As we know, India is so culturally diverse, and no doubt ATSV creators had to take that into account. Because the ORIGINAL Spider-Man India came from Mumbai — most likely because Mumbai and Manhattan both started with the same letter.

But going beyond that, it’s also because Mumbai is one of the most recognisable cities in India - it’s also known as Bombay. It’s where Bollywood films are shot. It’s where superstar Hindi actors and actresses show up. Mumbai is synonymous with India in that regard, because the easiest way Western countries can interact with Indian culture is through BOLLYWOOD, through HINDI FILMS, through MUMBAI. Suddenly, India is Mumbai, India is a Hindi-only country, India is just this isolated thing we see through an infinitely narrow lens.

We’ve gotten a little better in recent years, but boy I will tell you how uncomfortable I’ve gotten when people (yes, even desi people) come up to me and tell me, Oh, you’re Indian right? Can you speak Hindi? Why don’t you speak Hindi? You’re not Indian if you don’t speak Hindi, that’s India’s national language!

I have been — still am — so afraid of telling people that I don’t speak Hindi, that I’m Tamil, that I don’t care that Hindi is India’s “national” language (it’s an administrative language, Kavin, get your fucking facts right). It’s weird, it’s isolating, and it has made me feel like I wasn’t “Indian” enough to be accepted into the group of “Indian” people.

So I am thankful that ATSV went out of their way to integrate as much variety of Indian culture into the Mumbattan sequence. Maybe that way, the younger generation of desi folk won’t feel so isolated, and that younger Western people will be more open to learning about all these cultural differences within such a vast country.

BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SPIDER-MAN INDIA?

Everything, actually. There’s a thing called supremacy. You might have heard of it. We all engaged with it at some point, and if you are Indian, no matter where you live, it is inescapable.

It happens the moment you are born — who your family is, where you are born, the language you speak, the colour of your skin; these will be bound to you for life, and it is nigh impossible to break down the stereotypes associated with them.

Certain ethnic groups will be more favourable than others (Centrals, and thus their cultures, will always be favoured over than Souths, as an example) and the same can be said for social groups (Brahmins are more likely to secure influential roles in politics or other areas like priesthood, while the lowers castes, especially Dalits, aren’t even given the decency of respect). Don’t even get me started on colourism, where obviously those of fairer skin will win the lottery while those of darker skin aren’t given the time of day. It’s even worse when morality ties into it — “lighter skinned Indians, like Brahmins, embody good qualities like justice and wisdom”, “dark skinned Indians are cunning and poor, they are untrustworthy”. It’s fucking nuts.

This means, of course, you have a billion people trying to make themselves heard in a system that tries to crush everyone who is not privileged. It only makes sense that people want to elevate themselves and break free from a society that refuses to acknowledge them. These frustrations manifest outwardly, like in protests, but other times — most times — it goes unheard, quietly shaping your way of life, your way of thinking. It becomes a fundamental part of you, and it can go unacknowledged for generations.

So when you have a character like Pavitr Prabhakar enter the scene, people immediately latch onto him and start asking questions many Western audiences don’t even consider. Who is he? What food does he eat? What does he do on Fridays? What’s his family like, his community? All these questions pop up, because, amidst all this turmoil going on in the background, you want a mainstream popular character to be like you, who knows your way of life so intimately, that he may as well be a part of your community.

BUT THAT'S THE THING — HE'S FICTIONAL

I am guilty of this. In fact, I’ve flaunted in numerous posts how I think he’s the perfect Tamil boy, how he dances bharatanatyam, how he does all these Tamil things that no one will understand except myself. All these niche things that only I, and maybe a few others, will understand.

I’ve seen other people do it, too. I’ve seen people geek out over his dark brown skin, his kalari dhoti, how he fights so effortlessly in the kalaripayattu martial arts style. I’ve seen people write him as Malayali, as Hindi, as every kind of Indian person imaginable.

I’ve also seen him be written where he’s subjected to typical Indian and broader Asian stereotypes. You know the ones I’m so fond of calling out. The thing is, I’ve seen so much of Pavitr being presented in so many different ways, and I worry how the rest of the desi folk will take it. 

You finally have a character who could be you, but now he’s someone else’s plaything. Your entire life is shaped by what you can and can’t do simply because you were born to an Indian family, and here’s the one person who could represent you now at the mercy of someone else’s whims. He’s off living a life that is so distant from yours, you can hardly recognise him.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, yeah? But, again, you’re looking at it from that infinitely narrow lens Westerners use to look at India from Bollywood.

AND PAVITR PRABHAKAR DOESN'T LIVE IN INDIA

He lives in Mumbattan. He lives in a made-up, fictional world that doesn’t follow the way of life of our world. He lives in a city where Mumbai and Manhattan got fucking squashed together. There are so many memes about colonialism right there. Mumbattan isn’t real! Spider-Man India isn’t real!! He’s just a dude!! The logic of our world doesn’t apply to him!!!

“But his surname originates from ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he’s wearing a kalari dhoti so surely he’s ______” okay but does that matter?

“But his skin colour is darker so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he lives in Mumbai so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

I sound insensitive and brash and annoying and it looks like I’m yapping just for the sake of riling you up, so direct that little burst of anger you got there at me, and keep reading.

Listen. I’m going to ask you a question that I’ve asked myself a million times over. I want you to answer honestly. I want you to ask this question to yourself and answer honestly:

Are you trying to convince me on who Pavitr Prabhakar should be?

... but why shouldn't i?

I’ll tell you this again — I did the same thing. You’re not at fault for this, but I want you to just...have a little think over. Just a little moment of self-reflection, to think about why you are so intent on boxing this guy.

It took me a while to reorganise my thinking and how to best approach a character like Pavitr, so I will give you all the time you need as well as a little springboard to focus your thoughts on.

SPIDER-MAN (INDIA) IS JUST A MASK

“What I like about the costume is that anybody reading Spider-Man in any part of the world can imagine that they themselves are under the costume. And that’s a good thing.”

Stan Lee said that. Remember how he was so intent on making sure that everybody got the idea that Spider-Man as an entity is fundamentally broken without Peter Parker there to put on the suit and save the day? That ultimately it was the person beneath the mask, no matter who they were, that mattered most?

Spider-Man India is no less different. You can argue with me that Peter Parker!Spidey is supposed to represent working class struggles in the face of leering corporate entities who endanger the regular folk like us, and so Pavitr Prabhakar should also function the same way. Pavitr should also be a working class guy of this specific social standing fighting people of this other social standing.

But that takes away the authenticity of Spider-Man India. Looking at him through the Peter Parker lens forces you to look at him through the Western lens, and it significantly lessens what you can do with the character — suddenly, it’s a fight to be heard, to be seen, to be recognised. It’s yelling over each other that Pavitr Prabhakar is this ethnicity, is that caste, this or that, this or that, this or that.

There’s a reason why he’s called Spider-Man India, infuriatingly vague as it is. And that’s the point — the vagueness of his identity fulfils Lee’s purpose for a character that could theoretically be embodied by anyone. If he had been called “Spider-Man Mumbai”, you cut out a majority of the population (and in capitalist terms, you cut out a good chunk of the market).

And in the case of Spider-Man India? Whew — you’ve got about a billion people imagining a billion different versions of him.

Whoever you are, whatever you see in Pavitr, that is what is personal to you, and there is nothing wrong with that, and I will not fault you for it. I will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from Central due to the origins of his last name. I also will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from South due to him practising kalaripayattu. I also will not fault you for saying he is not Hindu. I also will not fault you for saying he is a particular ethnicity without any proof.

What I will fault you for is trying to convince me and the others around you that Pavitr Prabhakar should be this particular ethnicity/have this cultural background because of some specific reason. I literally don’t care and it is fundamentally going against his character, going against the “anyone can wear the mask” sentiment of Spider-Man. By doing this, you are strengthening the walls that first divided us. You’re feeding the stratification and segmentation of our cultures — something that is actually not present in the fictional world of Mumbattan.

Like I said before: Mumbattan isn’t real, so the divides between ethnicities and cultural backgrounds are practically nonexistent. The best thing is that it is visually there for all to see. My favourite piece of evidence is this:

It’s a marquee for a cinema in the Mumbattan sequence, in the “Quick tour: this is where the traffic is” section. It has four titles; the first two are written in Hindi. The third title is written in Bengali*, and the fourth title is written in Tamil. You go to Mumbai and you won’t see a single shred of Bengali nor Tamil there, much less any other language that's not common in Maharashtra (Western India). Seeing this for the first time, you know what went through my head?

Wow, the numerous cultures of India are so intermingled here in Mumbattan! Everyone and everything is welcome!

I was happy, not just because of Tamil representation, but because of the fact that the plethora of Indian cultures are showcased coexisting in such a short sequence. This is India embracing all the little parts that make up its grander identity. This scene literally opened my eyes seeing such beauty in all the diverse cultures thriving together. In a place where language and cultural backgrounds blend so easily, each one complementing one another.

It is so easy to believe that, from this colourful palette of a setting, Pavitr Prabhakar truly is Spider-Man India, no matter where he comes from.

It’s easy to believe that Pavitr can come from any part of India, and I won’t call you out if the origin you have for him is different from the origin I have. You don’t need to stake out territory and stand your ground — you’re entitled to that opinion, and I respect it. In fact, I encourage it!!!

Because there’s only so much you can show in a ten minute segment of a film about a country that has such a vast history and even greater number of cultures. I want to see all of it — I want him to be a Malayali boy, a Hindi boy, a Bengali boy, a Telugu boy, an Urdu boy, whatever!! I want you to write him or draw him immersed in your culture, so that I can see the beauty of your background, the wonderful little things that make your culture unique and different from mine!

And, as many friends have said, it’s so common for Indian folks to be migrating around within our own country. A person with a Maharashtrian surname might end up living in Punjab, and no one really minds that. I’m actually from Karnataka, my family speaks Kannada, but somewhere down the line my ancestors moved to Tamil Nadu and settled down and lived very fulfilling lives. So I don’t actually have the “pure Tamil” upbringing, contrary to popular belief; I’ve gotten a mix of both Kannada and Tamil lifestyles, and it’s made my life that much richer. 

So it’s common for people to “not” look like their surname, if that’s what you’re really afraid about. In fact, it just adds to that layer of nuance, that even despite these rigid identities between ethnicities we as Indian people still intermingle with one another, bringing slivers of our cultures to share with others. Pavitr could just as well have been born in one state and moved around the country, and he happens to live in Mumbattan now. It’s entirely possible and there’s nothing to disprove that.

We don’t need to clamber over one another declaring that only one ethnicity is the “right” ethnicity, because, again, you will be looking at Pavitr and the rest of India in that narrow Western lens — a country with such rich cultural variety reduced to a homogenous restrictive way of life.

THE POLL: REINTERPRETED

This whole thing started because I was wondering why my little poll was so skewed — I thought people assumed I was asking them where he came from, then paired his physical appearance with the most logical options available. I thought it was my fault, that I had somehow influenced this outcome without knowing.

Truth is, I will never really know. But I will be thankful for it, because it gave me the opportunity to finally broach this topic, something that many of us desi folk are hesitant to talk about. I hope you have learned something from this, whether you are desi or a casual Spider-Man fan or someone who just so happened to stumble upon this. 

So just…be a little more open. Recognise that India, like many many countries and nations, is made up of a plethora of smaller cultures. And remember, if you’re trying to convince Pavitr that he’s a particular ethnicity, he’s going to wave his hand at you and say, “Ha, me? No, I’m one of the people that live here in the best Indian city! I’m Spider-Man India, dost!”

(Regardless, he still considers you a friend, because to him, the people matter more to him than you trying to box him into something he’s not.)

*Note: thank you dear anon for letting me know that the third title was Bengali, twas my mistake for literally completely forgetting

[starry-bi-sky]

okay a few more danyal al ghul au memes because i think they're funny to make. with bonus yaelokre danyal memes!

yaelokre! danyal 🤝 threes! danyal: being five years older than damian

yaelokre danyal comes from my oneshot right here. however, i would frankly recommend reading the version i put on ao3 because it's been edited and includes more content! shout out to my boy, he's got amnesia </3

Do i think that the LOA has technology in it? Absolutely I do. LED lights but in 3000k warm white instead of the jarring bright sterile white, if they've got glass windows they're those solar panel glass panes my college natural science building uses that detects sunlight position, which in term controls the lights, which in turn saves energy. Amber lights for outside, solar panels. Just. anything environmentally sound and friendly, they've got it, they use it.

Do i think they've got computers and tvs lying around for casual recreational use? ....that i'm not so sure about. For this au? I'm gonna say nooooottt really. That stuff is typically reserved for like, mission planning, debriefing, research, etc. Frankly danny probably does know how to use a computer, however i thought it was funny if he didn't. so the meme is staying in lmao.

If they're not training, they've probably like, got a greenhouse or two somewhere on base they can help with. The LoA's whole thing is balance, harmony, restoring the natural world with extreme environmentalism. All that jazz. Probably plenty of ponds, recreational areas outside, gardens, just, stuff to do that's not technology based. My most basic understanding is that these people are the world's deadliest hippies. They can't be training all the time, that's neither good for morale nor for their bodies, so when they're not training... they're off doing shit. If Ras has kept this thing running for thousands of years then it’s gotta be pretty lit enough that nobody’s revolted lmao.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

STILL on my silly little traditional art arc, just messin around with cleanin up my pen sketches. made this with NOTHING but pens n colored pencils, n error corrected with paper n glue. i LOOOVEEE my captains i love my captains so dearlyyyy it so fun to draw them n play wiht colors......

[sinhasfluffyheadfur]

[ID: A digital drawing done in pink pencil of Galadriel and Orion from The Scholomance book series. They’re cuddling, and Orion has his arms and one leg wrapped around El, the other dangling next to her legs. Orion has his eyes closed and is grinning. He wears a hoodie and baggy cargo pants, and his socks are falling off at the toes. El has an arm wrapped around Orion, and she looks down at him in a subdued loving way, with a slight smile. She’s wearing a t-shirt and baggy sweatpants. A flurry of hearts is above Orion’s head, and a single heart in a word bubble is next to El’s head. /end ID]

I just really like cuddles :3

[ghostinthegallery]

James Workshop, we need to talk.

Why THE HELL are the Primarch and Forgemaster of the Salamanders both named Vulkan? Why is Vulkan in charge of the search for Vulkan with the Spear of Vulkan to bring Vulkan back to be Vulkan’s commander this is SO CONFUSING! WHICH VULKAN ARE WE REFERRING TO AT ANY GIVEN TIME! WHY??

(Yes I know naming people after primarchs makes sense in universe but THIS is goddamn CONFUSING)