#(I really should reread it)

[purrfectlycontent]

reason #539 why i should reread the bsd manga: apparently dazai drew a self-portrait of himself on the wall in his office and it was so grotesque that elise thought it was done by an enemy

[heirofnepeta]

i should reread homestuck sometime soon

[jessepinwheel]

love rereading some of my writing like damn this person really knows how to write that appeals to all the things I personally love

[miniimerry]

My litmus test for deciding if I respect or value a person’s One Piece opinions is looking at the way they discuss Usopp tbh. You can tell a lot about someone based on how they talk about Usopp specifically.

If a person insists that Usopp is useless (whether it’s because he’s not as strong as Zoro or Luffy or Sanji or because he “doesn’t have a real job” on the crew) it tells me that they don’t pay attention to what Usopp does contribute, nor do they pay attention to what the story itself deems useful. Usopp may not be a massive, hulking powerhouse with ultra-powerful haki, but he does have utility in the crew. (And even if he didn’t, he would still belong because they wanted him.)

If a person insists that Usopp is just a crybaby or a coward and that he sucks because of this, it tells me that you don’t pay attention to what he’s doing while he’s running or crying. He might cry or shake or run, but he always comes back. He always stands up and fights in the end. He feels scared and then he does it anyway. It’s easy to forget, but Usopp is just a human in a world of monsters. For him to stand up and fight takes a lot of courage.

If a person insists that Usopp is not strong, it tells me they miss what the story itself tells us about what strength is and what it means to be strong. He has a skill that most do not. He is able to shoot with a degree of accuracy that is borderline inhuman. Whether he can kick through a boulder is irrelevant. Sanji can’t snipe from hundreds of feet away.

If you can’t look at Usopp and see where he fits in the story, I am truly uninterested in anything else you have to say about this story.

[aterfish]

Another "Guess that Artist" game in Haunting Heroes discord server. This time drawing fanarts for fics with less than 10k hits on ao3.

I chose amazing IRIS Log #1548 by @deadchannelradio!

Love this fic. "As buddies" got me. Hilarious and absolutely worth reading and then rereading twice. Or trice.

@arzuera thanks or hosting the game! @serxeri thanks for tormenting me! i won tho.

[mxtxfanatic]

The return of Wei Wuxian after his 3-month disappearance is meant to evoke this terror and sense that something is wrong, and it definitely does, but like…

Do you not see the playfulness in which Wei Wuxian handles the ghoul child mirrored in how he later handles A-Yuan in the Burial Mounds?

A white child squatted by his feet. Like a young, carnivorous beast, it was gnawing on something that Wei WuXian fed it. Wei WuXian took his hand away after patting on the white ghoul child’s sparse-haired head.

—Chapt. 62: Evil, exr

Lan Sizhui replied, "I'm not sure either, just that when I saw Chenqing, I thought that it was extremely familiar......" It was unsurprising that it was Chenqing that made him remember. Wei Wuxian said, "Oh, of course you'd find it familiar, back then eating Chenqing was your favourite habit and you would drool all over it and make me unable to play it."

—Chapt. 111: Wangxian - Everyday Means Everyday, chiaki_himura

Do you not see the gentleness in which Wei Wuxian handles the blue-faced woman mirrored in how he handles Wen Qing when he takes her to the Qiongqi Path labor camp?

When she had been fighting, her face was almost hideous, but now, with her dark face against Wei WuXian’s lap, she somehow seemed to be a charming concubine, obediently pleasing her master. Giggling laughter came from her mouth as well. Wei WuXian sat leaning to one side, his right hand stroking her soft, long hair over and over again.

—Chapt. 62: Evil, exr

The shock that Wen Qing received was too strong. Finally, she couldn’t hang on any longer and passed out. Standing behind her, Wei WuXian caught her without saying anything, letting her lean onto his chest.

—Chapt. 72: Recklessness, exr

And then they both go on to reciprocate that care via over-protectiveness, even when Wei Wuxian isn't actively controlling them:

The curvature of Wei WuXian’s lips dropped slightly as he glanced at him. Jiang Cheng had also heard the dissonant tone, “Second Young Master Lan, what do you mean by this?” Lan WangJi’s eyes were glued to Wei WuXian, “Answer me.” The ghoul child and the blue-faced woman began to stir. Wei WuXian turned around and looked at them. They backed off slowly, reluctant, and sunk into the darkness.

—Chapt. 62: Evil, exr

After reading the entire novel and seeing how he maintains this same level of care towards everyone he has no antagonistic relationship with, alive and dead, how could I not be moved when circling back to reread this moment?

[runningatypufullspeed]

Miss Harmonia COOUGUGHHH cough cough COUGH

COUGH COUGH COUGH

[applestorms]

L can be such a possessive character at times. he always strikes me as the type of person who is deeply aware of everything that he owns, both in a more literal sense and metaphorically-- like, he knows what money he has and how to use it, what resources are readily available to him and what he has to be sneakier to utilize, the habits and tendencies and emotional states of individuals and world governments both. the DN musical really puts an emphasis on the more computer-y aspects of how his brain functions, which isn't as obvious in the manga/anime but i think still works well as a way to follow his thinking. it's kinda what near does too: everything is a factor to them, every tiny detail a new opening to optimize for the best results, every person and location and object a part of a puzzle waiting to be solved. and as a part of that, L is deeply aware of every and any little thing he may or may not have control over, and exactly to what degree.

his habit of stealing titles as depicted in the LABB murders novel is such a good example of this. ryuzaki, eraldo coil, deneuve. he eats people alive and then takes their names for himself like some kind of fucked up fae or trickster god, creating new masks and personas to hide behind from the remains of the people he's devoured. i have to wonder if he would've used the title of KIRA for himself had he won-- i can hardly imagine what kind of power such a title could hold if held in his hands. of course, he could've just used the defeat of KIRA as a way to build up the L title even further, offering up the body of a dead god like perseus showing off the head of medusa. but L is so emotionally attached to the kira case, i struggle to see him allowing it to fade from existence so thoroughly as near does, even if it is only kept close on a private level...

this is part of why i think it genuinely makes a lot of sense that L's ultimate win state would include capturing light to some degree. even if the memory of KIRA somehow manages to fully disappear from the public consciousness, there is no fucking way L is letting light yagami out of his grasp. honestly, the moment that L truly loses this game is not when he starts investigating misa while still under rem's watch, not when light gets back his memories, not even when he dies, but the moment when he allows light to be freed from the handcuffs. the moment when he allows the other members of the task force to turn off the cameras and keep him from watching light and misa talk in the lobby. the moment when he gives up, lets light yagami go outside of L's personal sphere of control, is the moment when L starts the clock ticking down to the end of his own life.

this is one of the key ways in which i see light as a true equal and parallel to L, as after L's death he, intentionally or no, continues the same tradition and takes L's title for himself, twisting the two sides together into the L-KIRA amalgamation. only, the L title functions a little bit differently than every other persona or title that we see in the series-- because L's true name is L. that's all that he is. on a literal, legal, and emotional level, i don't think that L is anything more than L. he is the world's greatest detective, he's an incredible, weirdo super genius, but he does not afford himself much more than that, barely allows himself personhood or humanity outside of his work. light was the one to ultimately defeat L because he did not just put a stain on his character (as BB attempted), did not just kill him, but stole his very identity and took it for himself.

one of the biggest contradictions of L's character that i think you must accept should you attempt to portray him accurately is that he is both deeply detached from humanity while also having all of his work and effort and life be focused around saving it. it's one of the ways in which he is an exact opposite to light-- where light relies on humanity for external validation, to be Seen, while also looking down on it as dumb and immoral and spineless, L is so separated from it that he barely exists as a person, all the while dedicating almost every action he takes to helping it. remember: for all the emotional turmoil that wammy's house and the legacy of L may put on the kids living there, ultimately it's entire existence is nothing more than L's logical solution to his potential demise. if he dies, the world goes down with him, all of the cases that are yet to happen and he is yet to solve being left in the air. he has the foresight to set up a fail safe, but not to consider the emotional implications of what being that fail safe might feel like, how high the price of your own humanity is if you are not already alienated from it, the inability to have your own name on your gravestone-- though perhaps some of the blame also falls on watari's shoulders in this case, philanthropic old bastard that he is.

imo, playing his game really got it right in presenting L and light as one and the same, synonyms on either side of the mirror. in every action they take they are both so selfishly selfless, playing the game for themselves and their own pleasure but plastering the needs and will of humanity on top of it. L isn't invested in saving humanity for the sake of humanity-- he just likes the thrill of having the stakes raised so high. hard to shit on ryuk for wanting entertainment when the humans he finds are just the same as him.

[fumifooms]

Chilchuck analysis speedrun: As a hardworking half-foot who grew up poor and discriminated against and had his gullibility taken advantage of multiple times in his early adventuring days, Chilchuck thinks optimism is a dangerous flaw. He’s stressed and strict all the time because his job is noticing details like traps that could get everyone killed before anyone knows it, he takes the lives of everyone to be on his shoulders, and with the way he speaks about it that probably partly reflects how he felt about taking it upon himself to provide for his family too. His life’s always been pretty centered around work and has become even moreso now that his wife left and everyone is independent, and due to past events he’s very iffy with bonding with coworkers. He thinks feelings and job are a disaster mix. Like with his wife or with parties hiring him as sacrifice, being open or having good faith is vulnerability which can get you hurt, so he processes and shows all his stress as anger instead of worry. Doing strict dieting probably isn’t helping the irritability what with hunger, and on top of being a hunger suppressant alcohol might be the main stress reliever he has.

His grey hairs are so earned

[inumbrapugnabimus-maybe]

I read Howl’s Moving Castle and it is officially a comfort book now so here is Sophie :D

[benevolenterrancy]

@doctorbluesmanreturns so true, so true!

The Big Bad Wolf and his commitment to self-improvement!

book titles all courtesy of @meso-mijali who is funnier than me:

Mirror Mirror: 10 Steps to the Fairest You 7 Dwarves' 7 Steps to Romance, by Doc Red Riding Hood and You: Finding Your Inner Child and Learning to Trust Again Into the Woods: CPTSD and the Self Gnolls, Trolls & Wolves: It's what's inside that matters

(+ "Meyers Briggs: we aren't astrology for STEM, honest!" which didn't quite make it in, but assume it's one of the untitled books u.u)

[lunarharp]

more phoenix wright situations

[moralcandy]

fifteen things that don't come back, by charlie slimecicle:

number one. the paper airplane you and your daughter throw at your husband while his back is turned in the kitchen, the two of you hiding behind the counter as you snicker quietly when he stops humming and yelps a curse as he turns around with a faux angry expression and a poorly-hidden smile.

number two. the glass your daughter broke trying to grab it from the cabinet on her tippy-toes. you didn't look over until you heard the glass shatter against the kitchen floor, too preoccupied with grabbing the jug of cold orange juice from the fridge to notice until it was too late. golden, afternoon sunlight shone warmly on the both of you from the open window as you swept it up while she stood to the side with a sheepish expression.

number three. your husband's soft shirt he let you borrow when you said you couldn't find your own but really you just quickly shoved yours under the bed when he wasn't looking. you absently noted that it smelled like him. your lips curved into a slight smile without input. your foot shoved your shirt under the bed a little bit farther.

number four. the pictures you took of your daughter and niece, hugging eachother as they posed for the camera, the photo incinerated into ash when you blew up your house. you frantically dug through your daughter's chest afterwards, soot covering your hands as you searched for the photograph. you did not find it.

number five. your niece.

number six. the feeling of a cold glass of wine held tipsily in your hand, the waterdrop of condensation slipping down the glass at the same pace your tears did down your cheeks. you downed the alcohol until there was nothing left except a burning feeling and a lump in your throat. the bartender did not give you another drink.

number seven. your friend, the one who used to laugh hysterically with you as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders before he began to scream at you while he wrapped his hands around your neck. he pushed you into the dirt, the metallic taste of blood in your mouth and the feeling of wet dirt on your skin as you absently question whether the water dripping on your face was the rain or the tears slipping down your friend's face. you know that was the funeral of your children, but you think both of the real 'you's died that day, too.

number eight. the warm, rumbling feeling of laughter in your chest as a smile hurts your cheeks, the sensation long gone. your mouth, for a moment, twitches into a small smile at the memory of the feeling.

number nine. the feeling of hands on your own, your husband's warm hands intertwined with yours as your cold, golden rings clink against eachother. your daughter's tiny hand clasped around yours as she leads you to a butterfly she found, grass brushing your ankles as you walk.

ten. the sound of your daughter's amused laughter, snorts interrupting occasionally. her head leans back as she giggles, her eyes scrunched up in happiness.

eleven. the sound of your husband's soothing voice, lilting with fondness as he looks at you. a smile absently crosses his face as he speaks, audible in his voice. you always remember smiling back.

twelve. your golden wedding band your husband lovingly slipped onto your ring finger so long ago, the one you furiously tossed into a dusty corner with particularily bad aim. you blame the poor aim on the tears blurring your vision, but it could've been the alcohol, really.

thirteen. your husband. you try to go to sleep in the center of your bed now, knowing that he won't be there. when you wake up, you always find yourself on the left side of the bed, as if you've moved in your sleep to accommodate someone. you scowl and think that your asleep self should stop being so stupid. ..you make the bed just in case he really does decide to come back.

fourteen. your daughter. whenever you make yourself breakfast now, you keep accidentally making two bowls, the muscle memory automatic, familiar, and no longer needed. you sit down at the table and set the bowls and begin to eat, but you always end up just stirring the cereal with your spoon as you stare at the untouched bowl across from you. you always end up throwing them both away. without your input, a frown tugs slightly at your lips as your pour out the second bowl but you know that nobody else was even here to eat it anyway. your eyes burn.

fifteen. your daughter, the one you know isn't the real one. sometimes you walk down those train tracks where you found her, hoping she'll be here this time. she never is. ..you still keep checking, just in case.

[as8bakwthesage]

Considering that in the Iliad and in the Odyssey, a lot of Odysseus' faults aren't even discussed like they are in the "Epic" musical, how different stories paint the sacking of Troy with more or less detail (the Iliad versus the Aeneid, for example), and who murdered Astyanax also depends on the story (Astyanax isn't even mentioned in the Iliad, Odyssey, or Aeneid, but in other lesser known books/stories), it's very interesting how Jorge Rivera-Herrans chooses to paint Odysseus' character.

You can only assume that "Epic the Musical" really is just a very specific character study about this one dude that Jorge hyperfixated on, huh?

[randomminty]

Yeahlow

[starpros-sunshine]

Look at themmmmmm look at my images people observe them and rejoice!