#I AM SO FUCKING SAD OH

[lazylittledragon]

hey idk which anxious pre-t babe needs to hear this but i didn't get to when i was younger so. testosterone will not make you ugly. it won't make you a horrible person. it won't 'mutilate' or ruin your body. if you want to go on testosterone then literally all that happens is it makes you really fucking hot and REALLY fucking happy.

[sad-leon]

"So why am I so tiny, and why am I so mad?"

KoFi || Patreon

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

i live a healthy, balanced life. i eat a bowl of ramen for breakfast, a microwaved burrito for dinner, and then at 2 am i devour an entire head of lettuce

[silver-horse]

guys I felt genuine fear in my stomach while reading this tweet...

[mangyraccooon]

I’ve seen the fandom take a bastard character and make them a poor little meow meow, twice now

Which isn’t a lot but it’s fucking disappointing.

[demigod-of-the-agni]

A DEVIL REBORN

Happy Halloween!!! A detailed ID will be placed under the cut (it's close to being 1K i could literally post this to Ao3)

p1. ड्याम्म (dyamma) - Nepali for "(feeling) full", "hitting something"

p3. Chutiya - Hindi for "idiot", "moron" and other related insults

p5. க்ரீச் (kreech) - Tamil onomatopoeia describing scraping/screeching sounds

[Extended Image ID: DYAMMA! Slamming his hands on a table, Achanba Okram finds himself in the darkness of his laboratory. He is wearing black clothes and a white lab coat on top, and has a bowl cut with rectangular glasses.

His thoughts whirl within boxes that are coloured gold and are outlined with red; they put a voice to the uneasy feelings Okram knows are stirring inside of him. The thought boxes read:

With Pavitr gone, I finally have time to string my thoughts together. Half-drowned answers bleed out of my pores. Coalescing like some great, abysmal creature of unknown origin.

Bracing his hands against the table, Okram is acutely aware of his body, of the gaping holes in his back that bubble with demonic energy. His thoughts narrate, My body quakes when I begin to question, wracked with paranoia. With dread, as if the idea of what I had to face was unbearable.

The holes in back — four of them, spaced evenly from each other — begin to ooze golden liquid, hot like fire and viscous like tar.

And yet, Okram thinks, I felt it all the same: that crawling, scintillating horror of my reality. Of my tainted flesh and blood. My being here is the work of demonic forces.

Golden arms, fluid yet bony, powered by some otherworldly thing, unravel from the void in his back. They flounder and expand around him, filling the lab with a cold glow. The fingers are tipped with talons, and, if he looked hard enough, Okram swears they are edged with blood.

I died years ago, Okram thinks. I lost my humanity to the fire of the devil's madness. Thus, the question remains: what is the future of Achanba Okram, a DEVIL REBORN?

The lights of the lab suddenly brighten, and Okram hears him before he sees him. His arms register the presence of the other person, immediately unraveling and slipping out of reality. Just outside, Pavitr Prabhakar's voice calls, "HEY, DOCTOR OKRAM! Sorry I'm late! Traffic was abysmal today."

Pavitr's entrance catches Okram by surprise, and he stutters out, "PAVITR?! You- ah- you have one of your shifts today?"

His thoughts reprimand him, You CHUTIYA! Pavitr always has his shifts on Tuesdays!

Pavitr is unaware of Okram's turmoil, sauntering into the laboratory while hefting up a white plastic bag. He's wearing a black and white flannel shirt, and he has circular earrings. Pavitr's eyes are trained on the bag in his hand. He answers Okram's question with, "Yeah, I do. I, uh, got a little hungry along the way (I'm always so hungry)." Pavitr whispers the last part as he lifts the bag up. He continues, "so I went and bought some vada pav, and—"

He suddenly pauses, his eyes locking onto Okram. He can't tell what is going beyond Pavitr's eyes, but the other man's analysing gaze unnerves Okram to a degree beyond description.

(In Pavitr's POV: his Spider-Sense was just triggered. Red and gold squiggly lines emanate from and surround his head in a halo.)

Pavitr lowers the bag slightly in concern. "Uhm," Pavitr says "are you okay, Doctor?"

Dread and fear floods Okram's system. Suddenly he is hyperaware of everything in the room, including the golden arm that has sprouted from his back and was lying on the workbench behind him, right in Pavitr's line of sight.

Play dumb! Okram's mind screams at him. Accordingly, Okram replies, a tad too tightly, "Of course I am, Pavitr! Why wouldn't I be?"

KREECH. The golden arm scrapes its taloned fingers across the table, no doubt giving away its location.

Okram chuckles nervously, sweating almost immediately, at which his mind howls, Not that dumb!

Pavitr narrows his eyes at Okram and at the golden arm on the workbench. "Are those...demonic arms?" he asks Okram, a shadow crossing his face.

(In Pavitr's POV: In the back of his mind, Pavitr sees a vague and faded image forming in response to seeing the arms. He remembers Doctor Octopus, the man with two extra sets of arms who had attacked him many years ago; he was one of the first villains Pavitr fought as Spider-Man. But... Doctor Octopus died a long time ago. Perhaps...?)

"Oh, Doctor..."

Pavitr's gaze softens as he asks, "Are you being haunted by demons? Have you been attacked by them? Why didn't you tell me? I'm so sorry this has been happening to you. I can't imagine how stressful this is for you." A moment, and then, "Do you want to talk about?"

Okram hides his face in his hands, quickly responding, "No, I'm alright, Pavitr."

Pavitr walks forward, placing his bag down and reaching down to place a reassuring hand on Okram's shoulder. "But, Doctor, men of your generation have ignored their mental health for too long."

"Yes, I know," Okram sighs.

"It'll be okay, Doctor," Pavitr promises, "we can figure something out!"

"And what?" Okram asks somewhat sarcastically. "You will be here with me 'every step of the way'?"

"One hundred percent!" Pavitr says.

Behind them, one of Okram's demonic arms reaches out to peer at Pavitr and Okram; if an arm could be happy, it certainly was. The arm is seemingly pleased with Pavitr's helpful and understanding nature. /.End ID]

[mikakuna]

nobody wants to see real footage of me tweaking the fuck out when i see panels of bruce sincerely and happily hugging his kids, compared to his abuser-tactics 101 hug with jason

like fuck.. my boy can't have anything!!!!

[aerostaticsurrender]

Dream brother with your tears scattered round the world

Dont be like the one who made me so old

Dont be like the one who left behind his name

Cause they’re waiting for you like I waited for mine

And nobody ever came

[givemewallywestorgivemedeath]

Wait, fuck, hold on-

THEY CAN'T FUCKING BRING OUT AN ANTI-HERO ARTEMIS WHEN I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF STUDYING FOR FINALS!!

WHAT THE FUCK, DC?!? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FOCUS?!?

oh i am so excited holy shit. am i the only one getting slade vibes from her?? because im getting massive slade/rose wilson vibes from the single eye cover and im wondering if artemis is a plant, someone unconnected from slade who wouldn't be considered a threat, to go undercover and get close to the titans. this is also like, high-key a chance to make jade and artemis sisters and/or half-sisters in canon which would be neat. i know comics fans aren't huge on changes to the canon based on outside things but making them half sisters doesn't really change jades backstory, nor artemis'.

[bachirasbodyguard]

blue lock as gordon ramsay moments (shoutout to one of the most legendary haters of all time🙏)

[mag200]

its cause youre always in those damn archives

[shallowseeker]

Oh, the hilarious thought that Ellen and Jo both had the hots for Cas.

(((It tickles me ever since I thought it.)))

As we start the scene in 5x10, Ellen is playing music, a Spanish song, Oye Como Va by Santana.

It's a party!

(Rrr, flavor!) ¡Rrr, sabor! (Hey how it goes) Oye cómo va (my rhythm) Mi ritmo

They're playing a well-known party game, sure. They're bartenders at a roadhouse, so this is an everyday thing for them, maybe, but oh oh oh.

The interest.

Ellen is maybe like, "We'll do shots and see how drunk he gets. Who knows? Maybe it'll make him handsy."

ELLEN: All right, Big Boy. Let's go.

Now, it's true. Ellen is flirty and, like many of the prickly, defensive characters, deals professionally with innuendo.

But something tells me this isn't a game Ellen would play with Dean or Sam.

But a guy she wants to <OMITTED>? Ahem. Well. Yeah.

And Cas mimics Ellen, holding his pinky out, upending the glasses, and holding intense, challenging eye contact.

And Ellen...

This is the face of "Holy crap." But if you squint, it can also be read as "Wow." Or even "Hubba, hubba."

Yeah. No kiddin,' Cas.

So is Ellen, right in the <OMITTED>.

///

And Hell. Maybe Jo feels something, too. That's a slow, spreading, breathless-ey sort of smile that reminds me a little bit of Mick Davies.

"Whooooa."

///

ANYHOO.

The music (Santana) continues in the background while Dean and Sam talk strategy, and it's clear the music is coming FROM the kitchen, from Ellen's and Cas's little impromptu party.

We hear laughter, and Dean looks up at the sound. And yes, Jo looks scrumptious, but there's also... everyone's fawning over friggin' Cas? He's not even trying!

Cas isn't cool!

Right?

In the background, snippets of dialogue come through>>> ELLEN: "Damn, he can drink." JO: "Haha, Mom, but you need to stop." ELLEN: "Drink up!" JO: "I'm gonna get another beer."

///

Dean shoots his shot so so awkwardly that it's endearing.

(((Watch this, Cas. I'm the cool one. Women fall all over me, too.)))

///

Heehee. I love him.

///

And after all that, it book-ends with Cas giving the last-night on earth speech, but in a depressing, earnest, way.

(((Dean voice: Well, Jo. Not that anyone's asking,but it would probably-definitely work on me. Wish it'd work on one of you, though.)))

///

BONUS: The next day, Jo immediately starts pigtail-pulling Cas.

*fiddles with her hair, dons a slight smirk*

*smiley smile* Then, teasing: "Ever heard of a door handle?"

When she sees that Cas has gone into *SERIOUS MODE* she's rattled. She looks to her mom pleadingly, because...

If someone like CAS is unsettled, maybe they should be scared, too.

[seilon]

please don’t by k.will did more for the gays back in 2012 than any boy group can possibly do with fan service and crop tops in 2024

[tinukis]

i saw your recent sabo post and it made me think of an analysis i read a few days ago that explains this side of sabo in perfect detail, so i thought you might enjoy reading it too! it's extremely well put and highlights sabo's reaction to the current situation in a very eloquent way.

https://www.tumblr.com/sabo-torao/760248101102649344/small-disclaimer-before-you-head-in-this-whole?source=share

oh my goodness Yes. thank you for sharing this!!! it is put well together than i could explain (very hard to put thoughts into words)

and i'd like to add on, im so fucking Glad that the VA and anime can show how sabo is truly feeling about the whole ordeal. his uncontrollable shaking as he stares at the newspaper, how he's on the front and pinned for his "assassination." like even in the manga it's already clear that sabo's shaken up and how he replays cobra's words in his head.

and i love that the analysis basically summarizes how sabo puts up a front/mask which is literally true. i think about that a lot ESPECIALLY during dressrosa. how he doesn't falter his smile when reuniting with luffy, how he doesn't cry in front of him because he HAS to be the older brother, he HAS to present himself as strong and unshakable. but he's not, he's really not. and it hurts, it hurts so much.

can i also just add how he's been part of the army since he was 10? i understand that it's because dragon rescued him but also dragon himself trained him and he mastered haki quite young too. he's also only 22 which is still really young so sabo is shouldering A LOT. he watched cobra die in front of his eyes when he wanted to rescue him and he screams out his name in agony. (in the viz/official translation, the name is prolonged)

also i do believe that what sabo said to dragon is true, but just worded in a way that it's put up as a front or looking on the "positive" effects of it despite his failure. like the more rebellion sparked across nations, the better (he's coping but it doesn't make it any less true)

anyway i do look forward to how the next couple chapters play out in the anime... again, the va is doing amazing work and i really do feel his emotions a lot better

[m1d-45]

small miracles

summary: washed up on the sands of ritou, inazuma’s famous helper lends you a hand.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: n/a, just standard imposter au things. you are on the run, technically. very minor gore i guess(like veeeery tiny)

-> lowercase intended!

< masterlist > || second part >>

dirt collapses beneath your feet, your torn shoes skidding on the edge of the cliff north of liyue harbor. you can hear the waves lap at the rock thousands of feet below you, layered under the huffs of the people in front of you.

steel blades shine in the hot sun, the millelith wielding them just as fierce. you can see the hatred in their eyes, the need for your end, whether by the spears in their hand or the waters behind you. the only reason they haven’t struck is because of the woman behind the ring of them.

a dark oak pipe balances on the tip of ningguang’s finger, her eyes as sharp as their ruby hue. she lets it tip to one side, her head following the tilt, before she spins it back into her palm. every action is defined with grace, not so much as a hair out of place. every golden ornament shows off her prestige, her power, how without even lifting a finger she has you pinned in place against a cliff.

perhaps if you weren’t at risk of dying, you might feel different about it.

one of the millelith asks if they’re allowed to strike. the red tassel on her forehead swings as she shakes her head.

“no. this fake is not worth liyuen metal.” ningguang tucks the pipe away in a smooth motion, crossing one arm over her chest to rest the opposite elbow on it. a clawed finger swipes an invisible hair back into place on her bangs. “send them to the sea. their bones will serve as an excellent toothpick for osial.“

well, that was a horrific visual.

in an instant, the millelith spin their spears around, careful to keep the blades away from themselves and each other to jab to dull ends at you. behind them, ningguang barely looks fazed, examining a geo crystal in her hand. you know the nonchalance is manufactured, a subdued silence, but that doesn’t make it any better. she doesn’t care that she’s sending you to your death. she knows it, wants it, and what would the millelith be if they couldn’t remove one person from the tianquan’s presence?

your left foot is standing half on air. the part that is on ground is shaky, uncertain, dirt nowhere near as stable as stone.

you risk a look at ningguang.

ruby eyes are the last thing you see before you fall.

you wake up on a beach, sandy and exhausted. invisible wounds bleed harder as sand gets into them as you sit up to look around. your clothes are hard with saltwater, and it’s a miracle you made it here alive. though teyvat has been kind, fruit and clean water always within reach, you didn’t think that you would live long enough to hit land.

you stand—nearly falling—and shake out as much sand as you can, looking around. across the sea is a small island, within swimming range, but youre not inclined to explore when your limbs still feel so heavy. to your right, the beach narrows off, overtaken by the cliff behind you, but it seems to open up more to the left.

you decide to stumble that way, passing a spike of driftwood, and stop just as quickly.

you can see green roofs of houses, spires and what is maybe a watchtower in the distance, the architecture familiar. red and orange trees are interspersed between them, and your hopes fall.

you’d hoped you were in the stone forest. you’d hoped that you’d have a chance, knowing the abundance of hilichurls on the small islands, but now you’re…

you start walking, hoping to find some clues to prove your hunch wrong.

you see an okay looking boat, but youre preoccupied by the path branching to the left. wooden boards seem to make a walkway, and you step over them on your way inside. theres a small tent, a lantern, a block of supplies and a cooking pot. in the tent is a bed fashioned of hay, but embers light up the wood beneath the pot.

it would be a cozy enough place to stay, but you can’t risk whoever owns it coming back.

you head back the way you came and continue towards the city. the sand slides beneath your ragged shoes, but theres flowers following the breeze in the grass near the cliff. purple and a soft blue, they distract you long enough that a guard walks to their post further down the beach.

oh.

oh no.

you recognize the uniform, and the logo of the tenryou commission embossed on the armor. if inazuma is the same as any other nation—likely worse, considering the way its run—you need to avoid those guards at any cost.

you look to the cliffside. its steep, too steep to climb when youre still soaked from the sea.

you sigh, and decide to find another way up.

youre not quite sure how none of the guards saw you, but under the dwindling light of dusk, you manage to make to the southern(?) outskirts of what appears to be ritou.

…not that that means anything. you still don’t know how to get off the island, and trying to forcibly get deported will only result in an arrest. though there’s a food cart that most certainly can see you, the worker didn’t report you to the guards when they passed. you don’t remember her name, but know she sells some kind of food. maybe a fish dish? or was it egg? not that it matters, food is food, and if you’re lucky you’ll have enough mora for some.

you sit against a wall, checking your pockets. most of your stuff was either stolen or lost to sea, but your mora was still securely tied to your waist. after checking twice that you were out of people’s line of sight, you started to count, stacking the coins in piles of 10 on the grass in front of you. after a hundred, you moved them into one bigger pile.

you had more than you expected. though your pouch always seemed to weigh about the same, you didn’t think you could fit almost three thousand mora inside- or that you even had that. then again, chests typically had a few hundred, and you’d been pretty lucky in mondstat…

you set aside five hundred and hope it’s enough, but knowing teyvat’s economy… if salt was 60 mora, who knew how much you’d need?

whatever the case, you needed to eat. cradling the coins against you as you attach your pouch back at your waist, the go to move for the food stall.

your plans are dashed the second you stand.

a familiar face walked up the path towards the food stall, but quickly diverted towards you.

shit.

you step away, behind a tree, hoping against hope that he’d only seen somebody next to you instead of-

“hello there!”

you jump at how quickly thomas voice appeared at your side, taking another step back.

shit. that’s definitely him. weird horn headpiece, blonde hair, too-short jacket, dog tags and all.

you lick at your lips. they taste of salt. “hi?”

you hate how shattered your voice is. how quiet and rough it’s gotten.

“hey! i’m thoma.” he extends a hand, the small ribbon on the back of his glove rippling in the soft breeze. “it’s nice to meet you!”

you hesitate. it feels like you do a lot of that lately.

you remember him being affiliated with the kamisatos, which means he’s almost certainly heard of everything you’ve been accused of. but… there’s no way he would come up to you so casually if that was the case, right?

you want to trust him. you do. but there hasn’t been anybody else yet that you could.

carefully, you meet his hand with your own weak grip. the cloth on his gloves is leather, unsurprisingly, and though it is cold with the dusk chill, his fingers are warm. you have a feeling it’s from his vision, and your mind flickers to the last time you slept by a fire.

it’s been months.

“oh, you’re freezing! what are you doing outside?” his voice jumps a few octaves and his hand tightens around yours. “oh jeez, you’re going to catch a cold if you’re not careful. what are you doing without a coat in the middle of winter?“

is it winter? you don’t really remember the last time you knew the date for certain, but if that was true, then it was bad news. the clothes you wore you got from hilichurls and abyss mages, but the main enemies in inazuma were nobushi…

your worry must show on your face, because thoma’s frown deepens.

“now that i look at you… you’re not from inazuma, are you?”

you shake your head no.

“oh no… did you get caught up in the outlander affairs agency? they haven’t gotten any better after the decree, have they….”

“no, i-“ you cut yourself off with a coughing fit, tasting a bitter mixture of salt, blood, and bile climb up your throat. it’s disgusting, and alarmingly salty. you must have drank more ocean water than you meant to; it’s a wonder you didn’t choke on the trip over.

(how did you make it over? the distance from liyue to inazuma was too large for you to have simply floated, surely? but didn’t thoma himself float over?)

thoma’s other hand lands between your shoulder blades, patting lightly. “hey, it’s okay. it’s good you haven’t ran into the agency, but that cough doesn’t sound good at all…”

you adjust the tattered mask on your face, straightening and doing your best to look like you haven’t been on the run. “i’ll be fine.”

your chest tightens with the need to cough, but you set your jaw. you can’t afford to get involved with the yashiro commission. you’re certain the mora clutched in your grip is enough to buy you a decent meal and—alongside the rest of it—some kind of warm herbal tea.

gentle green eyes catch the money in your palm and widen. you can see the gears clicking inside his head, and he speaks before you can.

“is that all the mora you have?”

“i-“

“and you don’t even have a- ah, i can’t leave you out here like this. could you come with me to the teahouse? there’s a waypoint just inside ritou, and i’d feel a lot better if i could get you some tea and clean clothes. it won’t be the fanciest, but i know there’s some spare sets and anything would be better than risking an illness. inazuman winters aren’t kind, and the shogun hasn’t been in the best mood as of late.”

the pros and cons weigh in your head. you could go with somebody you know is kind, and get what is certainly good food and hot drinks with clean clothes to boot. or, you could risk walking into a trap with, arguably, one of the most influential people in the yashiro commission at least, if not all of inazuma. it’ll either be the best choice you’ll ever make, or one that’ll land you in front of tenshukaku in chains.

thoma picks up on your hesitation, taking his hand off your shoulder and giving you space, though he keeps your hands linked. “can i at least bring you some dinner, then, if you don’t want to come with me? or a blanket? or- or something?“

he’s awfully worried for somebody he just met. you’re not sure if his determination is evidence of his benevolent nature, or if he’s trying to make you trust him as he calls over some shogunate soldiers.

…you also can’t decide if it’s your desperation for connection with somebody you can rely on or your need for a better environment that makes you agree.

maybe his bright smile has something to do with it. or the comforting warmth in his hands as he leads you away? maybe it’s the way he holds you tightly against him after you ask to go to the teahouse and are nearly sick coming out of the teleporter.

or maybe, by chance, it’s the light in his eyes when you say ‘thank you’.