#I am unwell about them
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marstheluminary · 1 year ago
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it stings, doesnt it?
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annoyinglandmagazine · 2 months ago
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It’s kind of interesting to me that Bill, Barry and Klaus seemed to all undergo a dramatic change from being fairly lighthearted adventurers having the time of their lives and helping people to terrifyingly controlled killing machines over the same space of time even if it’s through different circumstances.
Klaus definitely seems to think that the Heterodyne Boys would never approve of what he’s doing and that they’d find another way if they were there. And they probably wouldn’t be immediately on board but I think what Klaus is forgetting is that Bill and Barry changed too.
He seems so shocked that Barry didn’t trust him enough to come to him and the thing is, while Barry was probably shown some fairly compelling evidence, the chances are that after everything he went through and the revelation that Lucrezia betrayed them he was in a headspace where he could be made to doubt anybody.
Now who does that sound like? Someone becoming paranoid as fuck of everyone around them due to general trauma plus trust issues caused by Lucrezia and the world in general that they thought they’d helped only for it to then turn back to tearing itself apart as soon as they’re gone.
The paranoia heightened exponentially by the need to protect the child that is the only good left in their life while being convinced (not entirely incorrectly) that everyone is out to take them from them and maybe they could afford to go about things differently if it was only their life at stake but they aren’t taking any risks with the child’s.
Klaus is so certain that he’s compromising on morals because someone has to and that because Bill and Barry were perfect heroes who’d never hurt anybody they didn’t absolutely have to if they were around they’d insist on a more gentle approach but this wasn’t Klaus’ approach the last time he saw them.
Klaus himself changed no matter how much he seems to have rationalised that this was always ‘his way’ but he seems unable to understand, based on his reaction to Adam and Lilith, that his friends aren’t the same people he left behind either, they’re mistrusting, they jump straight to conflict and they will do absolutely anything to protect Agatha the same way he’d do absolutely anything to protect Gil.
(I don’t think Adam and Lilith were in the wrong in any way, they were just operating on extremely incorrect crucial information and acting accordingly, exactly like Klaus is for the entirety comic! There is a very important parallel to be had there!)
I’m not entirely sure that Bill and Barry wouldn’t do the kind of things Klaus does if it was for Agatha’s safety (*cough* locket/overlay parallel *cough*) but to Klaus believing that would actually be worse.
He knows he’s effective but he doesn’t think he’s a good person and it would disrupt something very fundamental for him if he couldn’t say definitively that Bill and Barry were completely good in all the ways he isn’t.
To him Bill and Barry are the same optimistic young men he knew before everything went south who’d always look for a solution to spare as many lives as possible just like he can’t afford to, who’d obviously come to him if they were there because they look for the best in people just like he doesn’t know how to anymore.
And when Barry heard that Klaus was back I bet that he needed to believe that Klaus at least had stayed the same. Except he didn’t and Barry didn’t, none of them did.
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ttheatre-trashh · 7 months ago
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no because even my theare friends actually have to tell me to shut the fuck up about ride the cyclone i just go on and on and on and they literally have to beg me "please go back to talking about hamilton or newsies" i just just look at them with the most AURGHSS look in my eyes
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thisonelikesaliens · 5 months ago
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on this fine saturday morning I'm thinking about the burial mounds arc again and how the official translation doesn't seem to fully capture the sacrilege of äș‚è‘ŹćŽ— which is a mass grave where you dump bodies without the respect they deserve (i.e. nameless. think mass death from massacre and plague and other unclaimed bodies in general)
(äș‚ luan means messy/chaos which is a key word here)
that wen qing and her family were able to make a name and a life for themselves at a mass grave, however ephemeral that was, just hits that much harder
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transkingcobra · 2 months ago
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having Thoughts and Feelings about Halsin trying to help an “elf” durge to “relearn” how to trance when he notices the poor thing sleeping poorly for 8 hours instead every night
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transingthoseformers · 16 days ago
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I've been thinking about tfone's future a lot, especially Megatron in specific, and all the shit that can happen during the war
(...though I'll admit I've been taking notes from aligned for a parallel to the one Plague episode in tfp where they have to go into a comatose Megatron's mind)
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orangeslikesbread · 4 months ago
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i made them hold handsđŸ„ș
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https-hunter · 2 months ago
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My tinimmy ranking. I was coerced by DT to make this and I’m sharing it with the class
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heycerulean · 5 months ago
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do you think jacobi was raised religiously? do you think he grew up going to church? do you think he ever believed in the christian god, in any god? do you think he hated himself for believing there were better things? do you think he turned back to his faith to try to heal, and found nothing, and hated himself even more? do you think he hated himself for hoping there was something out there that could save him, and that he wasn't strong enough on his own? do you think that, once he met kepler, that changed? do you think he saw kepler as more than just a savior, but a god? the thing he'd been looking for since he could remember? that this, this must be what he should've felt, the fear yet the feeling that he has to keep coming back? do you think that once kepler died, and even before that, jacobi fell into doubt again; not just from the lies, from the chaos, from the fighting, but from how his god was gone? that the thing that had saved him was gone? that it had never existed at all? that maxwell and him had just blindly followed a force that never meant the best for them? do you think that's the moment he finally turns to himself, to his own mind, for comfort? do you think that, once everything around him is gone and dead and burning, he finally realizes he was some kind of god all along? that they all are? that everything is something to follow? do you think that's the moment he realizes he doesn't have to believe in anything if he doesn't want to? that he doesn't need to anymore?
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i-mybrunettelady · 3 months ago
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hail, mighty hero
zaeim and nyra share a moment in kourna. set during long live the lich (lws4). mind the spoilers. 2k words. mature.
Allied Encampment is bustling with life. But it’s not the kind of life that would indicate happiness; in Zaeim’s head, that kind of life is almost a fragment of his imagination. It certainly is for the poor souls of Istan, or even Vabbi. Here in Kourna and the real world, it’s a life of anxiety, a life of uncertainty, of vague hope. People are carrying their restlessness with them and looking up at the leaders of this makeshift resistance group to make sense of it. 
Zaeim feels that burden intensely. He guides his Sunspears, makes plans, tries his hardest to not break nor bend under pressure. Every time he sees a wounded or dying Elonian, he sends a prayer to Kormir and it weighs his heart down even further. Every time there’s an accident, or a failed scouting mission, Zaeim wonders if they’re all going to die and Joko will remain the tyrant of Elona forever. 
So when he feels this way, he turns to Nyra. She stands tall, proud, indomitable and entirely mad. Her eyes shine with something wild and barely restrained, like fate itself had carved a chasm in her soul so now she’s trying to rebuild it back with parts of the real world. She attracts attention wherever she goes and people flock to her like moths to flame. From a distance, she looks radiant. Up close, Zaeim wonders when she’s going to burn out entirely. 
She can’t seem to fight off a sunburn from days in the sands and amongst the army. Her hair, short, messy and in constant disarray, has lightened to a near blonde, a contrast to the areas of her face that caught the beginnings of a tan. She has growing dark circles under her eyes and ever-present dirt beneath her nails, be it blood or tar or whatever else. Comfortable tunics she wears are more filled with creases and dust by the day, patched where they’d gotten nicked in the fights with Awakened. She hardly looks like their leader, Zaeim thinks, as worn out and bitter and restless as everyone else. 
He knows deep down, however, that it is her light this whole thing is centered around. And so, he can’t look away. Especially not when they’re discussing tactics, when she’s explaining things in that strangely accented Elonian of hers, or when she settles on a decision and cuts a clear line in the sand. I have listened to your suggestions. From this point on, you are with me or against me. 
Hardly anyone dares oppose her.
And thus Zaeim finds himself drawn to the moments where he’s with her. He likes the reassurance in her eyes. He likes the subtle nature of her smiles. “I’ve never been very expressive, in terms of.. Face,” she said one night, reclining against a wall. Zaeim raised his gaze to her face. “Do you mind that?”
“Some people are simply not,” he replied, with more eagerness than he’d intended. “I don’t doubt that you’re genuine about this and about Elona. Kormir knows you want Joko dead as much as anyone else here.” 
“There can only be one biggest dick in this desert, yeah?” she huffed and blew a curl of hair away from her nose. “For fuck’s sake, I need my hair to grow faster.” 
Zaeim smiled. “That growth spurt went elsewhere with you, it would seem.” 
Nyra laughed. It was a solid, deep sound, echoing in the small cottage they’d claimed as their base of command. “I’d say Joko stole it and I wanna get it back.” 
“Or Sayida.” 
“Sayida is wiser than Joko.” 
Zaeim shook his head. “Debatable, but I will not argue with you.” 
“That’s smart,” Nyra said, in a gravelly tone. If he hadn’t known better, he would’ve suspected a threat. “You are wise too.” 
Zaeim doesn’t consider himself wise. He doesn’t think Nyra herself is wise, either. All he knows is that between them, and supposedly Sayida, and the Olmakhan and the Primeval ghosts, they can take down Joko and see a free Elona. 
Sometimes, that is enough. 
Other times, though, he wants to see Nyra the woman, Nyra the person behind the legend. Then he watches her movements, and notices, rather quickly, that her right shoulder is almost always stiff by the end of the day. She’s careful to not move her right hand much unless she has to, and the occasional stretch she does brings about a pained expression. She doesn’t bring it up, however. 
He understands. He has old wounds too. But in the grand scheme of Alysannyra Ainsaph, that one thing feels like a game changer. She goes from a symbol to a person, and from person to a symbol in a way Zaeim is familiar with, as the Spearmarshal. It makes him want to hold her close, feel the heat of her skin and the roughness of her sunburnt cheeks, in a union that so few people can actually understand. 
She comes to him in a dream, once, and there, she kisses him. And maybe Joko kills them all without Zaeim ever having tried to recreate that dream in real life. Zaeim hopes he musters up the courage to try. 
Opportunity presents itself rather unexpectedly. There is an Awakened Inquest incursion that Nyra herself chooses to annihilate, and that has her painfully rolling her shoulder to try and relieve the ache of it all day. In a break between planning, when the maps are in the safety of Canach’s hands for the moment, Zaeim takes a chance to lean in and whisper in Nyra’s ear, “Does your shoulder hurt?” 
Nyra almost hits his head as she raises hers. “What?” 
Zaeim blinks and steps away. “I noticed your shoulder is stiff and I wanted to offer relief. There is something that us Sunspears use and that I have a little bit of in my pack for old injuries.” 
“Relief, Spearmarshal?” Canach snickers, still looking at the maps. “I do think our dear Commander would love some relief! She’s had so much on her shoulders for this little war of yours–” 
“That’s what you take from this,” Nyra drawls, unimpressed. “Anyone you wanna fuck, Canach?” Zaeim blushes. 
“My hand suffices, Commander.” 
“Good. Stay out of the poor Spearmarshal’s business then. Maybe his hand doesn’t suffice.” 
Miraculously, Canach backs down. He offers Nyra a smile and returns the maps in her hands. “I will ponder on the tactics, Nyra,” he says quietly. “I will also see if Gorrik has any advice on the matter.” 
“Gorrik?” Nyra raises an eyebrow. She huffs out a breath and leans in. “Lie better next time, you asshat.” 
Canach grins. “He knows more than you think he does, Nyra.” 
“Oh.” 
“Oh, indeed.” 
“Get lost, though,” she jerks her head towards the door. “Think about tactics elsewhere.” 
Canach salutes her and heads to the door. He makes sure to close them as loudly as he possibly can without breaking the damn thing. Zaeim watches him go and crosses his arms over his chest. His face feels hot still and he digs his nails into the exposed skin of his upper arms. Yes, Kormir curse him, he does want to sleep with Nyra, and is that a crime? Is it a bad thing if a man wants to sleep with a woman? 
“Zaeim,” Nyra says, “if you frown any harder, you’ll get a permanent wrinkle.” 
“Wrinkles are the least of my concerns,” Zaeim grumbles and looks away. He then clears his throat. “I hope you’re not offended that I–” 
“That you find me attractive?” Nyra taps a nail against the table. The wide stance she’d assumed earlier when talking to Canach now becomes a long, lean form. The wood creaks under her weight when she leans against the table. “No.” 
“But?” Zaeim looks back at her again. She’s rubbing her clothed arms. She’s the only fully clothed and covered person in this entire camp, barring Gorrik and Taimi. She has bandages up to her knuckles. “Are you hurt?”
“Zaeim, I’m more scar tissue than skin behind this patched up tunic,” she says after a while and laughs awkwardly. Zaeim stares. It somehow never crossed his mind that she too might have insecurities. His head has a hard time wrapping itself around that notion, that the Godkiller and Dragonslayer is insecure about her scars of all things. 
“That is hardly a concern to me, if it is any consolation,” he offers softly. “There are a lot of scarred Sunspears.” 
She looks him up and down. Her eyes linger on his arms and legs and on the peek of his chest, before she looks him directly in the eye. Zaeim squirms under inspection. He knows he looks older than he is; life of a Sunspear is hardly easy, and beauty is the first thing to go when you choose to defy Joko. In the grand scheme of things, it’s least relevant. But right now Zaeim wishes very hard that he’d been born a noble, a prince of Vabbi or Istan, someone she would find easy to look at. 
“For what’s worth, I think you’re attractive too,” she says and Zaeim’s head shoots up. She sounds a little sad. 
Zaeim breathes out. “I still have my ointment, if you’d like it.” 
She considers for a moment, and as if to prove a point, goes to roll her shoulder. She stops halfway. “Yes,” she says. She rises from the table that creaks thankfully, and carefully pulls some of her tunic down to reveal her right shoulder. Zaeim sees the tail ends of angry, dark pink burns, but when she catches it, she raises the sleeve so they’re covered again. 
He doesn’t ask. Instead, he points towards a little stool near him. She walks over, playing with the material of her sleeve, and turns her back to him as she sits. His breath catches in his throat. The scar there is gnarly, deep, like something had tried to tear her spine off. It sits in an uneven line at a weird angle too. 
“It would’ve been worse without surgery,” she says, distantly. 
“Is there a way to–”
“No.” The finality of her response makes him close his mouth and dig through his pack. He unscrews the little clay pot and a familiar, slightly pungent scent spreads across the room. Zaeim says nothing as he softly rubs the cream into the knotted flesh. The only sounds in the room are the scoops his fingers make and their breathing, rugged and tense. 
She has tan lines, he notices. Her skin is hot where he touches it. Every so often she turns her head to look at him, and her eyes seem so impossibly big and insistent, conflicted in a way he can’t possibly decode. The sunburn makes their purple hue stand out even more. Zaeim’s hands itch to touch and caress more of her. He imagines his lips on her exposed neck, his hands in her hair. This close, she’s less of a symbol and more of a living, breathing person, with dark circles and a haunted stare and greasy hair, and he cannot get enough of it. 
“Kiss me,” she says. Her voice is rough and rich and breathy. It echoes in Zaeim’s ears like a drum. 
“Gladly,” Zaeim mutters and closes the clay pot. He could die tomorrow; it would’ve been a damn shame if he didn’t leap at an opportunity to kiss her. The pot clinks as he returns it carelessly to his pack and washes his hands free of the ointment. Nyra watches him with a strange expression. 
“What?” Zaeim asks and his heart wants to beat out of his chest. He feels its thunder in his throat. 
“You remind me of someone,” she says softly. “It’s– it was a man as dedicated to his dream and his duties as you are.” The way she implies the man is dead makes it seem targeted, almost a reproach. She’d mentioned a lover before, back in Tyria, but that he is dead. Zaeim has no idea who this man is and senses the topic is too raw to discuss further, but he wonders.
Self reproach is the only thing worse than regret. 
Zaeim crouches before her. This close, she smells like the cream he’d put on her and sweat. “Do you want me to kiss you? Truly?” 
Her eyes blaze. “Enough consideration,” she bites out, “I’m not fragile, for fuck’s sake!” And she pulls him to her and crashes her lips to his, digs her hands in his locs. Zaeim moans under the attention, and he would’ve felt bad about it if it wasn’t swallowed by the domineering force of her lips on his, even if closed. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 
After a moment, she takes her head back a little, as if snapped out of a daze. “You probably wanted something sweeter,” she says quietly. “This was anything but.” 
“I will not lie,” he replies, “my usual idea of a first kiss is something that isn’t a metaphorical devouring.” 
Nyra blinks. “We can kiss slowly, if you’d like,” she says and plays with his locs. And then adds, with a grief so big it could swallow the world, “It’s been a long while since I had one of those. Probably don’t deserve them either. But..” 
Zaeim stands up. “This chair is a little uncomfortable,” he says. Nyra follows suit, close enough so he can feel the heat of her body. “I am certain there are more comfortable places in this house for people to kiss.” 
“Walls have hardly ever failed,” she suggests. Finding a little nook that’s big enough for both of them is a challenge, but when they finally do, and when he kisses her again, with his hands on her ass, the world falls away. 
Kormir knows they both need this. Kormir knows they both need a lot of things. And thankfully, Kormir, bless Her, provides. 
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yrlocalghost · 1 year ago
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i am enamoured of this creature actually. some manner of beast
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quillst · 8 months ago
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DNDADS S2 SPOILERS!
Midnight thoughts at it again :)
Sparrow named Normal and Hero that way because Hero was supposed to be a sacrifice to save the world and Normal was just the replacement kid. He didn’t be a father to them because he didn’t want to grow bonds with them and watch them die. In the end, he didn’t even take in an optimistic hope that perhaps everything goes well without his children dying and just named them what they would be in his story. A hero and a normal kid.
You would think that she’d have at least a little bit of a relationship with Hero, the person he focused his whole attention on but instead it most likely just concerned her, made her feel alone and made her distance herself from him as much as she could. Think about it. Your dad and your uncle always takes you on these ‘trips’ to go hunting, learn how to use guns and knives, etc. without your younger brother going as well. You just have 2 fully grown adults going, teaching only YOU something. Wondering why your brother doesn’t come either and if this is a normal thing that happens to people. Then, you are told by them that you are the chosen one and now put this incredibly heavy weight onto you, A CHILD. You never asked for this but you also can’t talk to anyone else about it so you’re left alone, with just your thoughts.
And Normal. You’re ABSOLUTELY wondering why your name is Normal but your sister’s is Hero. And the fact that she constantly goes on trips with your dad and uncle that you NEVER get invited to. At a very young age, you are already questioning what is wrong with you, why does your dad not like you as much, why am I not as good as my sister. You feel isolated away from them, like there is something that everyone knows is obvious that you don’t. It makes you feel like an idiot. Even if you ask, your dad doesn’t allow you on these trips so you just stay at home, wondering. Your dad never puts in much effort to be your dad, what are you doing wrong? And if he never puts in any energy into being a parent, why should you put in effort to be his son?
Sparrow was too scared to get attached to his own children.
(I love Sparrow but my GOD, he needs to take a lesson from Ron’s books and be the dad that stepped up)
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trashdragon4 · 6 months ago
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Jedi padawan besties (they're studying btw)
My baby girl Alema again, this time before she became a mando.
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Lore dump + extra sketches under the cut :)))))))
Putting this in dotpoints so that i have some semblance of order
Alema was raised in the jedi temple
she wanted to become a temple guard and wielded a double sided lightsaber
Zif (the zabrak in the first image) was her best friend
she and her creche mates had a tooka called Lutal
became a padawan at age 13, shortly before order 66 and the end of the war
was on a mission in the outer rim with her master and their troops when order 66 happened
her and one of the clone medics (whose chip malfunctioned) managed to escape via escape pod
they crash landed on an uninhabited planet
where they met my other, yet to be introduced mandos
I have so much more for her and the rest of the gang but i'm gonna call it a night for now, will probably post more about her tmrw.
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qpenpals · 1 year ago
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they’re in love, one of them rejected the other, one will never be able to think of the word friend without the other, they know that they’re using each other, they care deeply for each other, one uncovered a kidnapping for the other so they would reply to their letters pretty please
they’re frubbo and i’m qpenpals thanks for tuning into this weeks broadcast-
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i-may-be-an-emu · 6 months ago
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I’m never not thinking about sfth and the amount of references that are every day words are killing me. Friend mentioned batman -> internal and (some external) screaming. Someone mentioned the concept of love -> all I could think about is Derek saying “I love you” to Tich. Friend mentioned Katy Perry -> suddenly thinks about Marty (the evil make a wish kid) singing firework. Friend asked if I could peel her banana cause she couldn’t open it -> thinking about Sarah and Xavier.
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springcatalyst · 28 days ago
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you totally should do an oc relationship web!! id love to see that i find your ocs fascinating :] also it's a good way to quickly introduce newcomers to oc dynamics hehe
hello. i am psychologically unwell and so i want to remind you that you ASKED for this
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if some of the text is too small to read IM SORRY. it should be ok if u click to see it bigger. i also had to design nadia for this and she actually turned out spot on. and i decided shes missing an arm
i am thinking of them all crazy style always. anyone wants me to elaborate shoot me an ask or a fuckin dm idc. i will always talk about my fucking guys <3
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