#(but only if you squint lol)

[wishfulsketching]

Some not so serious doodles about the idea where Silco survived and Warwrick!Vander found him. I did these as fanservice for ME! Especially the clothes thing

(have fun trying to figure out the reading order of the third sketch dump)

[puppppppppy]

littlest furth shop

@laikascomet

[spaceouttatime]

I just want something to go right.

[clockwork-ashes]

Unbowed (one-shot)

Summary: The Lady of Autumn decides it’s time to murder her husband. Read also on Ao3.

Note: this was inspired by one of my favourite plays <3 i LOVED reading agamemnon, and could not help writing this one shot using clytemnestra as a base for the lady of autumn!!! thank you for reading :)

The Lady of Autumn stood by the window, watching as the leaves drifted lazily towards the ground. The gentle breeze had them dancing in pretty swirls, like an elegant script, as they fell from the almost bare branches of the trees. 

The moon was bright, its scarlet hue casting everything in an eerie glow. When she squinted, the pale stones leading to the garden resembled a river of blood, frozen in place. 

If she ignored the winding path, the world outside seemed to be entirely at peace, a striking contrast to the constantly shifting pattern of her thoughts. She fought to maintain her composure, shoulders back as if she were a puppet with the strings pulled taut. She clutched at the emerald fabric of her skirts when the door creaked open, the temperature in the large space shifting as her husband entered. 

"You're back so late," she said, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging beneath her calm exterior. 

Beron’s boots echoed against the stone floor, each step deliberate as he made his way towards her. She could feel his presence, a looming shadow behind her. It was nearly instinct to turn and face him, to watch him with a careful eye in case he moved without warning. 

“And yet, Callista, I knew you’d be awake.” Her name rolled off his tongue, familiar to her ears. When he spoke softly, voice low and lovely, she could nearly forget how much she hated him. 

Callista kept her gaze fixed on the scene outside, although her attention remained on the sounds her husband made as he removed his jacket. She caught the elegant clatter his dagger made as he placed it on one of the low tables, and she wondered if he was rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. 

When she had been younger, Callista had always liked the careful way he would untie the laces at his throat, each movement sharp as broken glass. It was an effort not to turn and look, to be reminded of a time when things between them had not been good, but had at least been better. 

Beron remained silent for a long moment, and she knew he was studying her. She could practically feel the burn of his dark stare, like the most gentle press of fingers around her throat. The world continued to spin, and Callista remained unmoving, unbowed. 

The feeling of his large hand on the small of her back made her heart skip a beat, a response born of uncertainty. She felt the way he bent down towards her, his chest pressed against her as he wrapped an arm around her thin waist. His breath fanned along her neck, sending shivers up her spine. She leaned into him, the action involuntary, expected. 

Callista twisted her neck, tilting her chin up so that she could meet his lips with her own. The kiss was rough, Beron’s hand tightening around her waist in a possessive claim. With her eyes closed, the scent of him was overwhelming, raging fires and the wind before a storm broke. She wanted to bite down on the full lower lip so close to her teeth, to taste the copper of his blood inside her mouth. 

When Beron pulled away first, she kept her eyes shut a moment longer, letting the darkness wash over her. 

“You won’t ask me about your son?” He murmured, the words an angry catch in his throat.  

Eris. 

Cruelty brought forth cruelty, she thought bitterly, and Eris had never truly been hers. She had been too young, had not known how to raise a child, and had been too angry at the world to try. Even in her memories, she could not picture a boy who smiled. 

Callista would still have burned the whole of Prythian to ash if something had happened to him. 

She took a sharp breath, looking up at her husband. “Does he live?” 

The question hung between them like an axe. Eris had moved against his father in an unexpected turn of fate’s wheel. He had betrayed them all, and had run to the Night Court, to fight alongside Lucien in a battle that had been brewing for months. 

Callista had never been more proud. 

Beron frowned, his lips tugging downwards in a convincing display of concern. If she had not known him better, she would have assumed he was grieving. “Who could say? The emerald fields of Spring are stained ruby dark.” 

Callista grabbed the High Lord’s hand, feeling the cool metal of his rings beneath her fingers. She shrugged out of his embrace, and he let her. Leaning against the window sill, she looked at the stars that cut through the darkness of the night sky. 

“You’re not afraid the others will follow him?” She whispered, biting her lip. 

Their home was an echoing womb of guilt, and had in turn raised sons with warring hearts. They fought amongst themselves like rabid wolves, but had only ever been loyal to one another, an inseparable pack. 

Beron growled deep within his chest, his footsteps thunderous as he created a well of distance from her. “No,” he spat, and Callista whirled around to watch him. 

He grabbed the bottle of cognac she had left on the ancient dresser by their shared bed. The crystal glass she had set next to it sparkled like ice as he took it in his hands, pouring with a flourish before drinking deeply. Callista kept her gaze on him, tracking each of his movements. 

“Don't drink so much,” she said softly, a loving wife’s quiet warning. 

“Speak less, Callista, I prefer your silence.” Beron poured another glass for himself, the amber liquid nearly spilling over the edge. He ignored her, draining the contents of the glass. His throat worked, the pale column of his neck white as bone. “I’m going to run a bath.” 

Callista looked at the broad width of his back, noticing the way his muscles pulled at the expensive fabric of his shirt. She could barely hold back her smile, a vicious promise as the balance scales of justice turned in her favour. Callista straightened her skirts, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

The water swirls red.  

A caged bird sings. 

Roses bloom in winter. 

Elain Archeron’s prophecy echoed in the Lady of Autumn’s mind, the never ending toll of a bell. She liked having a daughter who could see what others could not. 

Callista waited until she was certain that her husband’s heart was beating slowly in his chest, and then she waited even longer just to be sure. She had been afraid, had thought despite her understanding of hemlock that it would not have been enough. She nearly laughed at how easily she had gotten him to drink another glass of cognac. 

Her slippers made no sound as she walked towards the bath, her fingers shaking as she pushed the oak door open. Callista felt a cruel sort of delight grip her by the throat at seeing the High Lord so powerless, chained like a hound by her hands. 

The only torch that he had lit flickered sharply, and she paused, holding her breath. The fire’s glow lit her face as she approached the bath more carefully, her gaze falling on Beron’s sleeping form. His chest, peaking just above the water, rose and fell with a steady rhythm. His eyes were shut, but even then, he looked annoyed, on the breaking edge of a scowl. 

Callista could not help but run her fingers through the chestnut coloured strands of Beron’s hair, a gesture she had done countless times over the centuries they had been married. It was soft as silk against her skin, nearly gold, she knew, when he sat in the sun. 

She brooded on this trial, this ancient blood feud year by year. At last, her hour came.

Callista felt the rage build within her like a wave, waiting for the right moment to crash against the shore. The knife in her hand was weightless, silver and ancient. She wondered if it hungered for blood like she did. 

Lioness. 

The thought filled her with strength, and was all the push she needed to strike. Callista reared on her hind legs, the instinct primal and sharp. Her claws were out, her fangs bared, the flickering fire her only witness. 

The Lady of Autumn did not allow herself a moment’s worth of doubt as she dragged the dagger’s sharpened blade across her husband’s throat. 

[ylge]

NIGHT

Inspired by this scene in ToG S2's new opening song

[lesbian-rook]

could you draw ragatha comforting an abstracting pomni? like ragatha calms her down enough to make the abstraction go away! thanks :3

🎶When darkness is all you see This is our Sweet Blasphemy🎵

[isjasz]

The brainrot continues (Blame @vesperionnox and @cherrysherin we are dragging the whole server down with this au)

Part 1

[thatonebipotato]

a somewhat swap au of Scarab and Prismo. i say somewhat because its not just swapping them, i changed a lot of stuff other than just like their jobs. heehoo ok enjoy :]

text descriptions and more information under cut ^^!

Prismo -

his [physical] body is "frozen" in time

a bit more calloused over his years of working, but still considered very chill

he usually talks people down so he doesn't have the fight them

the crystal weapon is around his neck

it shoots out like a flashlight

the auras/souls of his victims get trapped in jars

pupils go starry when he does this

So here, Prismo is a god auditor! He's still very down to earth, but after years of fighting and monitoring and capturing, he's a bit worn down. That being said, he's still generally considered to be everybody's pal! The crystal he uses can't store the people he gets, so he has to carry around the jars. Because of this, he can usually only detain like two people at once, maybe three if he pushes it.

Prismo has some resentment about not being Wishmaster, but not the way that Scarab would! He just thinks he could do a better job, but he respects Wishmaster Scarab and just kinda lets it slide. He and Scarab are actually pretty close, and if he's injured or just very bored he'll go bother the cosmic bug.

Things he can do that aren't mentioned are that he can walk on walls/defy gravity, make duplicates of himself, and teleport. Duplicating himself and teleporting takes a looot of energy out of him, and considering that he is perpetually tired, he really doesn't use those abilities a lot.

Scarab -

this form resembles his physical body, but is still just a projection

he can touch stuff, but can't feel anything and can't be hurt/damaged

he's a bit more relaxed, but is still quite strict/rule oriented

the wings of his mask can open up, but usually don't

he is very big :)

the time room is less of a room and more like a never-ending labyrinth of paths

only the truly determined will obtain a wish

Scarab as the Wishmaster is a lot more relaxed than in canon, but due to his nature he is still a bit strict about rules and such. He will explain how exactly a wish will work to those who reach their goal, and if they choose to ignore that, they don't get a second chance. He usually won't go further into detail about the rules, either. This is where Prismo's slight distaste comes from, because he thinks that if he were in Scarab's place he would be nicer about it. That's about as far as that goes, though.

The main entrance that everyone is allowed through(the labyrinth) is infinite, but there is space around it(like a pocket dimension inside of a pocket dimension). Getting into the outside space will lead to the rest of the Time Room, but only Scarab has access to that. He spends most of his time floating in the abyss of the main area. There is no set path to find him, and he will instead come to whoever enters, if they're determined enough.

Scarab does not let people wander freely through the Time Room, so most of the other cosmic entities tend to avoid him because he isn't very fun. Prismo doesn't, though. Unlike anyone else who may enter, if Prismo simply calls out for Scarab, he will arrive almost immediately. Though Scarab has a 3D form, he is still confined to the Time Room, and does not find joy in watching the universes(he only does it if he's reeeallly bored, or if it's necessary). And since he blocks off the rest of the room to anyone else, he never gets any visitors, only mortals looking for his favor.

He doesn't mind the isolation at all, but he does enjoy the company that Prismo offers him. He doesn't mind being secluded, but he gets lonely sometimes. Prismo has many tales of his adventures being an auditor, and Scarab has begun keeping notes on all of them. He looks forward to Prismo's next visit always.

That's about all I have to say about them and their lore, at least as a base to build off of later, so uhhh here's they're color pallets :]

On the left is just how they both look, and the right is just missing the gradient for Scarab so it's easier to see(they don't look super great, but im just laying out the colors)

[cyanocophrenic]

Sweets (1/?)

The snugness was barely tolerable. She had overestimated herself. She looked surreptitiously over her shoulder and ducked around a corner. The only thing following her were her bad decisions, but she felt chased all the same.

Okay. Calm down. Breathe (but not too deep). Evaluate the situation. What are your options? Can you loosen anything?

She looked down at herself. Past her swollen breasts, past a fluffy roll of upper belly, she examined her waistline. Nope. The button was the only thing keeping the zipper together, and vice versa. For the millionth time, she lamented her morning. What a bright idea, interviewing for a job with a snack company. She was very well aware of how sweets affected her.

Could she find somewhere discrete to wait out her... little metabolic mishap? She looked around for a discrete nook to accommodate her fresh bulk.

The little atrium she had found had a series of plush benches around the walls. She sighed and headed for the one in the corner. She sucked in as best she could and sat down. Some horny little corner of her mind made note of how it felt as her tight belly shifted against her puffy thighs.

Sitting like this, only barely upright lest bending too far compromise her jeans, she couldn't ignore how her waistband was trying to cut her in half. She thought back to how she had done this to herself. The lovely HR manager had very explicitly pointed out the basket of the company's sugary offerings there in the middle of interview table. The woman had been insistent that she try at least one of each, gushing like any good salesperson about their rich flavors and subtle textures, occasionally even peeling one out of its wrapper and handing it to her.

How could she have done anything but eat what was offered to her? And by a beautiful woman, no less. She knew how her body reacted to food like this, but she had been desperate to make a good impression, to look good and eager and employable. A good girl. She ignored that last thought, and the accompanying shiver through her frazzled tummy.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth (but not too deeply). All she had to do was calm down, and give her body a chance to do the same. Then she could find a back door to sneak out of, go home and hope that somehow that she hadn't blown the interview.

She opened her eyes again and caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room. Holy crap, she was huge. She had been her normal, narrow self, and her outfit had fit very very normally, when she had arrived. But now? Now it looked positively painted onto her. Her breasts were trying to spill out of her tastefully exposed bra and over the lapel of her blouse. She was more balloon than woman at this point. She ignored another tingle.

As she watched herself in the mirror, she noticed something change. Slowly but surely, the last wrinkle in her blouse smoothed out. Uh oh. That meant... she was still filling out. Panic. She tingled again.

No. No. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). She closed her eyes again, and could feel her plump body quietly grow. Crap.

Panic. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). Calm.

Maybe if she didn't look, it would go away. That had never worked before, sure, but there's a first time for everything, right?

As she rationalized to herself, she noticed the sound of heels clacking towards her hiding spot. Panic!

Maybe their owner would pass and not notice her?

No such luck.

The woman who had interviewed her rounded the corner.

"There you are!"

She struggled to stand. So tight.

"You left your purse upstairs. I get it, though. Interviews can be pretty stressful, huh?"

Like nothing had changed. Did this woman not notice that she was currently three times the size she was when she had shown up? Could this woman not hear every seam in her clothes creaking in harmony? Could the woman not see how wide and deep and round she was becoming?

"It's such a beautiful handbag, I almost wanted to keep it for myself!" The woman laughed. "Oh well."

She took the bag from the woman. "O-oh! Thank you!" Leapt out of her.

"Listen," said the woman, "technically I have to review a few other candidates, but I think you're a shoo-in for the position." The woman moved closer. "No one else has shown so much... enthusiasm." Closer still. She basked in the smell of the woman's musky perfume.

"Oh... that's great!" she managed to squeak out.

"In fact," the woman continued, "if you'd like to come back upstairs, we can have you fill out the onboarding paperwork now, so you don't have to come back just to fill out some forms if... when we give you the job." So close now.

"Um! Okay!" What.

The woman placed a gentle hand on the side of her massive, tight, growing belly. "Listen, between you and me, that passion you showed today will take you far with us. Do you feel like the offer is fair? We can negotiate further if you need." The woman's eyes were so sincere.

What was going on here? She could barely think.

The woman placed her other hand on top of her belly, well hidden by her burgeoning breasts. "I do hope you'll say yes."

"Um..."

There was a pop. Her button pinged away across the room from her overburdened jeans. It made a little thwack sound as it hit the far wall. Her zipper flew down, zizzing audibly. Her belly erupted through the breach. Her blouse retreated upwards. The tingling became a roar. All the while, the woman, as though no tectonic shifts were happening right there and then, continued to implore with borderline puppydog eyes.

The world held its breath with her. How had this woman not reacted to any of that?! What? Was the woman still waiting for an answer?

"...okay?" She tried. She wasn't sure if her brain was still working. "Sure?" Best to stick to small sentences.

"Yay!" cheered the woman, "I really think you'll love it here!" The woman launched in for a quick hug around her exposed belly. The woman's arms didn't go even halfway around her. And still the woman didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

"Well! If you'll follow me back to the elevators, we can at least get the formalities out of the way."

The woman took her by the hand and pulled, still gentle. She followed, mutely. Even the horniest, shamiest corners of her mind were silent, waiting with bated breath.

As they reached the elevators, the woman pushed the up button and stood to the side. "Please," said the woman, "after you!"

On autopilot now, she stepped into the elevator and... wedged into the door. Stuck. What. Panic? Calm? The elevator dinged again as if to say "I'm waiting!"

The cold of the elevator doors brought her back to reality. She put a hand on either side of herself and tried to pull herself in. As though this were somehow normal, the woman chirped "Oh, here, let me help!"

She felt a gentle pair of hands press into her oceanic bottom. Her horny brain thrilled again. She clamped down on those thoughts. No time to be a pervert.

Between the two of them, they muscled her into the elevator. She turned to face the doors in time to watch the woman press into her in order to let the doors close. Normally equipped for eight full-sized human adults, due to her immensity, it very barely fit two.

"We need floor thirty," said the woman into her barely contained cleavage. She tried to reach for the panel of buttons, but by now there was simply too much of her in the way.

"I've got it," said the woman, reaching behind her without looking.

They rode the thirty floors quietly. She could feel herself still widening, pressing towards the walls of the elevator car. Her embarrassment had burnt out, leaving only a kind of stunned peace in her mind. She tried to will her body away from the woman, but where else could it really go?

By the time they reached their destination, the woman was firmly pressed against the doors, still showing no indication of the extra-ordinariness of the situation.

As the doors opened, the woman stepped back, grabbed her hands, and pulled as she tried to wiggle through the door. Eventually she floomped through, and they set off toward the HR suite.

Full-on waddling now, she felt an inner tension release. She had stopped growing. Relief. If nothing else, at least things had stopped getting worse. Sure, she was almost round enough to roll. Tingle. Sure, her clothing had been reduced to barely covering her... rude areas. Tingle. Sure, a beautiful woman was acting as though this was all perfectly normal. Tingle tingle tingle. But hey, at least it finally wasn't getting worse.

The woman pushed open the double doors to the HR suite and welcomed her in with another glittering smile. They seemed to be the only ones there. The woman led her, patiently, to the front desk area. The woman ducked behind the desk, looking for something.

"Hmm, it looks like I'll need to go print off more some more copies of the forms. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two." Finally she'd have a moment to collect herself.

Then the woman produced a basket, laden with various goodies, from underneath the desk. "Here! Help yourself, sorry to make you wait." Uh.

"Oh, here, allow me," said the woman, picking out a chocolate confection, peeling it, and pressing it into her mouth. "I'll be right back!"

She chewed and swallowed the treat.

Uh oh.

[dragonsdendoodles]

every time i see your horace his hair is bigger, its long enough to be braided now, good for him

Did I ever tell y’all I made older designs for them like. A year ago

[cure-whimsy-arts]

6am Snotlout doodle page... He is my favourite character

ko-fi ☕ | ID in alt text

closeups under the cut:

[soupmanspeaks]

something something ghost hunter au where its the same that Michael post sister location wants to right his fathers wrongs somehow but Jeremy is like "Right right right I gotchu, I got an evp, a rem pod, a ghost box, a-" and before Michael can even protest they're already at the FNAF 1 location doing an Estes session after a promising Ouija board usage

[escapizm]

"No song can reach me, so I scream silently

A sea where all light is silent,

Grab my lost ankle again,

Can't hear any sound,

Killin' me now, killin' me now, do you hear me?"

- BTS, "Black Swan"

[skrunksthatwunk]

idk if i've discussed it before (i have certainly THOUGHT about it) but someone on my kuwa suffering ep 89 comp mentioned it and i just had to go off about it like. ok. sensui tells yusuke something along the lines of "you heard itsuki" when itsuki's inside the uraotoko, implying that not only can sensui hear those inside the uraotoko, but that he expects yusuke to be able to as well. which means that yusuke Almost Certainly Heard And Kind Of Ignored kuwabara's prolonged mental breakdown and wailing about how much he needs yusuke to live etc. which. guHHH i hate him yusuke you ass but also listen.

the only acknowledgement yusuke gives to this (if any) is when he says something like "sensui you're sooo fucking cooked this plan's going perfectly (my friends are going to get strong and kill you when i die)." he's trash talking to sensui, ignoring the others because, i think, he doesn't want to acknowledge what he's doing to them.

yusuke is explicitly recreating the experience he had with kuwabara's "death" at the hands of toguro, complete with the announcement of intent (and power) to kill, the inability to impede the threat in any way (barring a power-breakthrough), and the target in some way racing towards/volunteering for their death. yusuke learns through doing, and through tough love-style approaches. it's only effective if it hurts. watching kuwabara die like that was devastating to yusuke, but it sure as hell fucking worked. he beat toguro because of that maneuver. so even if he has to (re-)traumatize his friends in the process, this method will make his friends stronger, and he feels confident in that. but he never had to live with the consequences of kuwabara's death, not really. that's something hiei makes clear before they enter the cave as well, that there are no fake-outs ready to make him or anyone else stronger. the only deaths here will be real. the only power gained will come at a high, permanent cost. hiei's warning is an attempt to keep everyone alive, to keep yusuke from being stupid. and then yusuke decides to take that fatality into his own hands, but it's kind of his friends who would pay the price. he's going to make them live through the days, months, years without him, the actual permanency of loss (assuming they survive for that long), something he never experienced with kuwabara (a new facet of that traumatic scenario), AND he's escaping the emotional fallout of this choice through death. he doesn't have to see them mourn, won't get yelled at, won't watch them fail to move on. he's tapping out and choosing to believe they'll be fine.

but i think he feels guilty. just a little. i mean, yusuke couldn't even believe that people cared about him enough to want him alive in episode one. he's staked everything on his friends, which means he still kind of... doesn't value his own life, at least not compared to theirs. but he believes his friends love him and want him around, and we know that because he has to, or else he wouldn't make a plan that depends entirely on that love. he is actively leveraging the care he doesn't think he deserves, trying to hurt them in a way he is intimately familiar with (only worse), for.... what, exactly?

this is kind of my sticking point tbh. i don't think the answer is... super clear, but let's start with what it's not.

yusuke is not doing this because it is the most practical way to save all of humanity; that would be the mafukan, which he stopped. it could be a gamble to save all of his friends? the mafukan strategy would guarantee koenma's death/eternal imprisonment, whereas this strategy gambles all of humanity on the chance that his friends come out of the Easy Break Oven strong enough to avert the end of the world. if the sacrifice of even one friend is completely intolerable, perhaps he'd accept those slim odds and their steep consequences. yusuke tends to take risks like that, especially when he's got fight-induced tunnel vision. he doesn't think things through too much; his schemes are usually dependent on surprising his enemy enough to oneshot them. truthfully, i think this is the closest we'll get to an answer, and it's a more conventional one for this kind of story. but there is another layer i haven't been able to get from my mind.

i think yusuke is gifting each of his friends an honorable warrior's death.

so, in case it needs saying, yusuke, kuwabara, kurama, and hiei all (at least once, if not several times) exhibit a desire to die in combat in a way they deem noble to give their lives purpose (usually by self-sacrifice, but sometimes by another metric of honor, like hiei's duel with shigure and his desire to die in mutual defeat against an evenly matched opponent; or even kurama's decision to fight shigure in his human form, displaying a sort of passive suicidality via placing being true to himself in this (somewhat symbolic/inconsequential) way over survival). they need to make their lives count for something, because they feel guilty for being alive (kurama and hiei feel guilty for their past actions (hiei's is most evident in his distance from yukina, though that's not its primary reason), hiei, kuwabara, and yusuke have all been ostracized and made to feel like burdens on/unwanted by their caregivers and general society; all four of them have felt profound isolation even from their loved ones (yusuke and hiei are rather obvious; kurama can never tell his mother about the majority of his life nor what she truly means to him in the context of it; and kuwabara is separated from his peers for his spiritual awareness and his "stupidity" (plus his parents aren't around? and he is Desperate to define manhood/manliness through a broader pop cultural one which includes the warrior sacrifice thing bc he has no male role models BUT that's for another post) (i will admit kuwa's the most tenuous one here irt isolation)). they want to die for a cause so badly it's actually physically painful to me. it is passive suicidality, and they define their lives and identities by their relation to, engagement with, and skill at doing violence, etc. they live to die by the sword. anyway. nobody talks about it but i think it's very important to understanding what yusuke's doing here.

because i think he knows that about himself and his friends. they're kindred spirits. at the very least he knows this about kuwabara, who literally made a speech about this before diving into toguro's fingers In The Event That He Is Recreating Explicitly. he is dying nobly like they all want to on the chance that they'll get to break out and fight sensui rather than dying without even getting to take a swing. it's about his pride and theirs. but i don't think yusuke necessarily believes they'll win. he knows better than anyone how strong sensui is, and how wide the gap is between sensui and team urameshi. his stated position that humanity is doomed and that he doesn't care about its fate is, i think, not completely genuine, but if we take it at face value, he's not killing himself so that his friends can survive the end of the world. something's going to come around and kill them eventually. he's doing it so they can survive long enough to fight sensui. he needs them (specifically kuwabara) to be strong enough to free themselves to begin round two. but he's given up on their side winning, on humanity surviving, on his own victory---why should he think his friends are capable of winning? this could be another case of yusuke's fight-blinders. it could be another gamble, more blind faith put in his friends. but honestly it reads more to me that yusuke's giving them a chance to die together on the battlefield. them winning would be great, but it's not his goal. it's a pipe dream.

he knows he's going to be killed. they're probably going to be killed, too. but to make it so they last a little longer against sensui, to make the odds a little more even, so they are killed not like livestock, but like worthy fighters, he'd die a little faster. it's the best kind of death someone like them can have; and he'll deprive himself of it just to make their ends a little sweeter. even if the road to that is far more bitter.

but it's not like yusuke's friends know what he's thinking or agree to it, and he can't exactly make his case for it in the moment. he's making that choice for them. whatever his intentions, whatever odds he thinks they have of beating sensui, he's kind of sealing all of their fates. so how the hell is he supposed to acknowledge kuwabara screaming at him not to die, trying desperately to express what yusuke means to him in what could be their final moments together? this plan is going to hurt his friends terribly. it is already doing so, and he can hear it. his choices to stop koenma from using the mafukan and to die for his friends' strength are both selfish in some way, no matter how you read the scene. if yusuke comforts kuwabara, he might not get strong enough. if he twists the knife, well... how could he forgive himself? and either way by responding he would have to face them all and say yes, i'm doing this regardless of your feelings (with the intention of hurting you). so i think he does what he often does. he avoids it. he lets that emotion glance off him and his bravado and his one-liners so he doesn't have to deal with the fact that he's hurting people, that he's scared and guilty and unsure of himself. that he's about to die again, about to put kuwabara through the grief he saw at his wake again, only worse; about to put his quieter friends through something similar.

yusuke is confronted with the responsibility one has to the people who care for them, and he runs from it in an attempt to give them some small peace. just like when he died before and thought hey, at least my mom and keiko won't be burdened by me anymore. because the only thing he can really do for them is die.

[zeroducks-2]

Bart and Thad: you and Barry Allen are out grandpas.

Eo who’s immediate thought is he and Barry had a child: of course we are.

Man would find a way to make a child with Flash as some sort of revenge or show that he’s the superior speedster.

See I consider Eobard as part of the "flashfamily" whether everyone likes it or not lmao.

He's been there forever. He's brought Barry back even when no one could/was willing to. He helped Wally's kids mainline their connection with the Speed Force just because he was passing through and realized the kids needed it. He raised Barry's twins (Don and Dawn) in a now unfortunately erased timeline, after saving both their lives, and they had taken to call him Uncle Eobard. He protected Barry's granddaughter (Jenni) and her father by chasing them away from mortal danger.

I wouldn't be surprised if it turns out at some point that he and Barry ACTUALLY had a kid in some timeline lmao

(idk if it would be to demonstrate that he's the superior speedster. He doesn't seem to care much, he knows he's faster than the others. Which makes sense - the Speed Force is "divided" between a dozen of people, while fortunately for everyone, there is one Negative Speedforce user who is also the Negative Speedforce personified)

[seesboy]

it's finally time for me to unveil my piece for @klapollo-minibang 2023 !! go check out off the record by @mikuworld right now >:-)