#I thought it was going to be a disaster for sure

[spiralinghearts]

”and vlyad says she can do what she wants but implies its pretty much inevitable that laurence is going to hit a breaking point. And hes completely right.” — it makes me think that, vylad and vincent convincing laurance to go back to the nether was the best diversion of disaster. if laurance stayed with everyone, kept ignoring the calling, his emotions, everything, he would have lashed out. and i feel like it would have been horribly devastating, not only for everyone around him, but for himself too. even though he didnt want to go, it was brought to his attention of what could possibly happen if he kept ignoring the signs. he had to go. and i think for this, it was mercy on himself and the ones he loves.

more emphasis needs to be put on the fact that cadenza is scared of her own brother. theyve been close for all, most, of their life. cadenza knows laurance best as a silly guy, a charming one. and just suddenly hes shifted to a different being. and his behavior is deteriorating.

"this inevitable downfall brought on by an act that was completely selfless" — it is such a great way to summarize the regression of laurances character... by an act of heroism, he was subjected to this torturous change.. to think that on top of him despising the fact that aphmau loves another man so much more than he, that she is now pregnant with another mans child, and that he just holds so much resentment of these facts, one could think that he also despises having sacrificed himself for her long ago.

honestly for "heres the thing", when i was younger i liked laurance a lot because he was just the type of male character i liked. (and like you mean. boiled down). in my own interpretation, he was a guy who was silly, charming, the classic casanova, but he had this tragedy to his character as well, and i could also sympathize. he wanted the girl he liked so badly to like him back. he felt so tainted. take the scene by the pond in the forest after he slaughtered a whole werewolf tribe (ToT) he thought he was a terrible monster and he didnt want to become like what was now in his nature. (also to mention. when i was younger and loved mcd, and laurance, i took things at face value, i wasnt an analytical gal. i wasnt seeing the slow descent of laurances mad behavior, but seeing him as a guy who cared deeply for the woman he liked, and those around him. but now i see all of the faults. the creepy behavior.)

but nowadays, i find myself sympathizing and internalizing things from a womans point of view (versus a human beings view. because i am a woman, and i do understand all emotions from all people, it is so much more connecting to feel (and project) a womans emotions as a woman). so sure laurances character is certainly a tragedy and i sympathize with it. but standing from a womans perspective, his behavior towards aphmau is foul. hes constantly, sometimes inadvertently, hounding her about love. who does she love- will she ever love- can she love him-. it feels like at this point, he would even appreciate a fake reciprocate of love from her. the way that his constant displays of affection are uncomfortable to her. i used to think she was just silly, she was laughing of his displays to save his heart from breakage, but now i see that she was laughing because she didnt want anything to change between the two, about their fun quips and jokes, she doesnt want to believe laurance is a different person, and all the same, she didnt want laurance to break into aggressive behavior.

my take !

Ill admit ive never been that into laurence (any his variations really) but something has been really bothering me since rewatching parts of MCD.

What really caught my attention about MCD Laurence is that he starts out as this well adjusted, loyal knightly and charming guy- and then after he becomes a shadow knight you just see this slow decay of him. Like hes slowly losing parts of himself and its causing him to become more and more unstable to the point where by the end of season 2 hes honestly kind of terrfying.

And ALOT of that is reflected with how his relationship with aphmau starts to shift. He goes from this sweet, suave and honestly pretty silly personality, to being so obsessive and vindictive towards her.

Theres this one scene, at the end of ep 95 S2, where aphmau has just essentially seen a ghostly image of aaron and is really shaken up by it. Laurence comes to sit with her and ask her about it. And at first, it genuinely seems like hes just trying to get her to open up so he can support her. But then it quickly spirals into him demanding to know why she cares about aaron so much and why shes greiving so hard for him, like its a problem. He becomes so aggressive and condensending to the point where Garroth has to intervene and he walks off.

In this moment you see how far hes really fallen, he goes from semingly reasuring and gentle, and by the end of it hes disrepecting a dead man, who gave his life to save both his brother and supposed love of his life, who he travelled and fought along side with for months, who close to the end of his life was taking care of an orphan (something he comlimented in aphmau), and hes thowing all of that out the window because hes taken Aphmau's attention, due to the fact he fucking died.

After that happens, aphmau has a conversation woth vlyad where he basically tells her that laurence has to accept what he is and go to the nether or else hes gonna go insane, and that the only reason he came back is because hes "chasing a fantasy". Aphmau responds by suggesting they get cadenza over so that he can be with family, and vlyad says she can do what she wants but implies its pretty much inevitable that laurence is going to hit a breaking point. And hes completely right.

Before laurence even gets to speak to cadenza, he eavesdrops on the conversation where aphamu reveals shes pregnant, and just immediately peaces out, out of fear that hes going to MURDER HER.

Not to mention that in that conversation, cadenza herself tells aphmau not to tell laurence because shes scared of how he would react. He has gotten so unstable that his own sister, who loves him more than anything, can recognise that he is a danger to some degree and shes RIGHT.

All this paints a stark contrast, the laurence we first met vs the man he has now become. Its tragic because its this inevitable downfall brought on by an act that was completely selfless, him sacrificing himself that got him turned into a shadow knight in the first place.

Even this is eventually tainted, his selfless act becomes a selfish one as he seems to cling to aphmau's love and affection as an emotional crutch. Aphmau obviously loves and cares for him deeply, but not in an explicitly romantic/sexual way. And if she doesnt love him the way he wants, then why is he suffering through this? Why did he bother to sacrafice himself at all if theres no reward? Its honestly horrifying how pretty much everyone who loved and respected him, makes what should be incredibly out of place predictions on him, but they always end up being right except for aphmau. She cant accept that hes changing and theres nothing she or anyone else can do change that. Its gut wrenching.

This all lead me to beileve that i didnt give enough credit to his character. I love this. This is the type off tragic story telling im here for. Theres so much more to this character than i ever expected.

Heres the thing.

Why the fuck do laurence's biggest fans seem to just completely disregard this? If you believed a good portion of the fandom, laurence is just this sauve uwu sad boy who was unfairly rejected and ignored by a woman who demamded the world from him.

Im dead serious, i saw people saying that laurence "deserved better than aphmau", that he deserved someone who recognised the sacrafice he made. Which like- there is so much to unpack there.

First of all, aphmau did recognise his sacrafice, she did love him and try to support him in the best way she could, even when literally everyone around her was saying it was a lost cause. She did everything she could for that man and forgave so much of what he did while struggling with the calling and she got nothing but shit for it.

Second of all, no the fuck he doesnt?? As illustrated in the examples above he did not respect Aphmau's boundaries. He did not respect her feelings. And by the end, he didnt even respect her bodily autonomy. Lets be honest here, he basically abandoned everyone he apprantly "loved", because bro tapped it before he could. She loved him so much, but because he wanted something she wasnt willing or able to provide, that being explicitly romantic and sexual attention, he just didnt see it. To try and argue that hes the real victim here, is in the same vain of "nice guys finish last". Him being kind, compassionate and selfless- shouldnt be reliant on whether or not this woman will fuck him or not. That is an insanely misogynistic way of thinking.

But most important to me in the context of this analysis- what is there to like about laurence with this interpretation? What possibly sets him apart from the gazillion other brunette pretty anime bois? Am i to gay for this? Is there something im not seeing?

I understand fanon can wildly divert from canon, and i understand that alot of this is probably down to the fact that i find dissecting and critiquing canon more intresting than reinventing it through fanon. Im locked into the Baldurs gate 3 fandom and i had the same experience there (laurence fangirls got NOTHING on Astarion girlies). But both experiences have left me with the same question- what draws you to a character, when all you do is boil them down to their most generic aspects?

I find Laurence intresting cause we are seeing this man crash out and become a monster in real time. And i dont see how he is worth even an honourable mention, when you take that away.

What is there left to be compelled to?

[gothamsmom]

If you like to write about Dick Grayson, I would love to see a fic related to the destruction of Bludhaven.

I'd be happy to write a fic about Dick Grayson and the destruction of Bludhaven for you, my beautiful child! You've been so polite with your request, and I'm delighted to create this story for you.

From the Ashes: Dick Grayson and the Fall of Bludhaven

The night Bludhaven died, Dick Grayson wasn't there.

That fact would haunt him for years to come—a wound deeper than any blade could cut. He'd been away on a mission with the Titans when Chemo, that toxic monstrosity, was dropped onto the city like a makeshift nuclear bomb. One moment Bludhaven existed—corrupt, troubled, but his city—and the next, it was gone, transformed into a toxic wasteland where nothing could survive.

Dick stood now at the police barricade, the hazmat-suited officials keeping everyone a safe distance from what they were calling the "contamination zone." The official death toll had topped 100,000 and was still climbing. His apartment, his neighbors, his fellow officers at the BPD, the bartender who always remembered his order, the elderly couple who ran the bodega on his block—all gone in a single, horrific moment.

"Sir, you need to step back," a National Guard officer instructed, not unkindly.

Dick nodded mechanically, taking two steps backward while his eyes remained fixed on the skyline—or what remained of it. Bludhaven had never been beautiful, not like Metropolis with its gleaming spires or even Gotham with its gothic grandeur. But it had been alive. It had been his.

His communicator buzzed. Bruce, again. The fifth call in two hours. Dick let it ring through to voicemail. What could Bruce possibly say that would make this better? What wisdom could the Dark Knight offer for a loss of this magnitude?

"Thought I might find you here."

Dick didn't turn at the sound of the familiar voice. He'd know Tim's careful, measured tone anywhere.

"Bruce send you?" Dick asked, his voice raw from the toxic air he'd breathed in during his initial, desperate search for survivors.

Tim moved to stand beside him, his civilian clothes casual but expensive—the Wayne fortune evident even in a simple jacket and jeans. "No. I came because I wanted to." A pause. "And because I was worried."

Dick finally turned to look at his younger brother. Tim's face was drawn, dark circles under his eyes suggesting he hadn't slept since the disaster either.

"I should have been here," Dick said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "It's my city, and I wasn't here when it needed me most."

Tim's hand found his shoulder, squeezing gently. "And then you'd be dead too. How would that help anyone?"

Logic. Always Tim's strength. But logic couldn't touch the grief carving hollows into Dick's chest.

"I've already set up shelter arrangements in Gotham," Tim continued when Dick didn't respond. "Bruce has Wayne Enterprises working on relocation assistance for survivors. And Barbara's coordinating with federal agencies for long-term aid."

Of course they were. The Bat-family, efficient as ever in a crisis. Solving problems, making arrangements, moving forward while Dick stood frozen at a barricade, staring at a ghost town that still held pieces of his heart.

"I can't go to Gotham," Dick said suddenly.

Tim's brow furrowed. "You need someplace to stay, Dick. At least temporarily."

"I'll find something." Dick's jaw set in that stubborn way Bruce always said reminded him of Dick's father. "There are survivors scattered all over the eastern seaboard. Someone needs to find them, bring them together, make sure they don't fall through the cracks."

"And that someone has to be you?" There was no judgment in Tim's voice, only concern.

Dick finally turned away from the barricade, meeting his brother's eyes fully. "Yes. It has to be me."

Because Bludhaven had been more than just a city to him. It had been his declaration of independence, his proof that he could step out of Batman's shadow. When he'd moved there, he'd been Nightwing for years already, but Bludhaven was where he'd truly found himself—not as Bruce's former sidekick, not as the Titans' leader, but as his own man.

And now it was gone.

The makeshift memorial wall stretched for nearly a mile along the highway that led to what had once been Bludhaven's city limits. Photos, letters, stuffed animals, flowers that withered quickly in the toxic air that still lingered—all testament to lives cut short. Dick walked its length every morning, reading names, studying faces, occasionally recognizing someone he'd known.

He'd found an abandoned storage facility twenty miles from the contamination zone and converted it into a gathering point for survivors. Word spread quickly, and within days, the cavernous space was filled with cots, donated supplies, and most importantly, people. Bludhaven residents, displaced and traumatized, but alive.

"Officer Grayson?"

Dick turned from the wall of names he'd been creating—a database to help connect separated families—to find a young woman holding a steaming cup toward him.

"Amy made a fresh pot," she said, offering the coffee. "She says if you don't sleep, you should at least stay caffeinated."

Dick accepted the cup with a tired smile. Amy Rohrbach, his former partner at the BPD, had been out of town visiting her sister when Chemo fell. Her husband and children hadn't been so lucky. Yet here she was, organizing relief efforts, maintaining order, continuing to serve a city that no longer existed.

"Thanks, Claudia." Dick took a sip, grimacing at the bitterness. Real coffee was becoming scarce as donations dwindled. "Any word from the FEMA contact?"

Claudia shook her head, her expression grim. "They're spread thin with the flooding in Florida. Said they'd send someone by the end of the week."

Dick nodded, unsurprised. Bludhaven had always been an afterthought, overshadowed by its more famous neighbor. Even in death, it seemed the city couldn't command attention.

His phone rang—a regular cell phone, not his superhero communicator. The caller ID showed "Wayne Manor." Dick hesitated, then answered.

"Alfred," he said, his voice softening. It was impossible to maintain his wall of anger when it came to the elderly butler who had been more of a grandfather to him than anything else.

"Master Richard." Alfred's proper British tone conveyed warmth even through the tinny speaker. "I trust you are taking care of yourself?"

Dick glanced down at his wrinkled clothes, the same ones he'd been wearing for three days straight. "I'm managing."

"Hmm." The disapproval in that single syllable was eloquent. "Master Bruce asked me to inform you that the paperwork has been completed. Wayne Enterprises has acquired the land."

Dick closed his eyes, a complex mixture of emotions washing through him. "Already?"

"I believe Master Bruce wished to secure it before less... scrupulous developers could stake claims. The entire area will be designated for ecological recovery and eventually, a memorial park."

The lump in Dick's throat made it difficult to speak. It was a good solution—perhaps the only viable one. The land that had been Bludhaven would be toxic for decades. Better for it to be protected by Wayne Enterprises than carved up by corporations looking to exploit tragedy.

"Tell him... tell him thank you," Dick managed.

"He would prefer to hear it from you directly," Alfred said gently. "He worries, Master Richard, even if he expresses it poorly."

Dick sighed, running a hand through hair that desperately needed washing. "I know, Alfred. I just... I can't face him yet. Not when I'm still trying to figure out who I am without Bludhaven."

"You are who you have always been," Alfred replied without hesitation. "A young man of extraordinary character and compassion. That has never been defined by your location."

The simple certainty in Alfred's voice was almost Dick's undoing. He swallowed hard. "I'll call him soon. I promise."

After ending the call, Dick returned to his database, but his focus had scattered. Alfred's words echoed in his mind as he moved through the repurposed storage facility, checking on families, distributing supplies, resolving minor disputes.

Who was he without Bludhaven? Without the apartment he'd called home, the police job that had anchored his civilian identity, the rooftops he'd soared between as Nightwing? For the first time since leaving Wayne Manor as a teenager, Dick felt adrift.

The dreams always started the same way. Dick would be flying—not in an aircraft, but the way he did as Nightwing, soaring between buildings, the perfect arc of his grappling line carrying him through the air. The exhilaration, the freedom, the city sprawled below him.

Then, mid-swing, the buildings would dissolve. The grappling line would catch on nothing, and he would fall, plummeting toward a toxic green soup that had once been streets and homes and lives. He would wake gasping, the phantom sensation of chemical burns on his skin, the imagined screams of the dying in his ears.

Tonight was no different. Dick jolted awake on his narrow cot in the corner of the storage facility, his heart hammering against his ribs. The large space was quiet except for the soft sounds of people sleeping—gentle snores, murmured dream-talk, the occasional cry quickly soothed.

He slipped outside, needing air that wasn't heavy with the grief that permeated their makeshift shelter. The night was clear, stars visible in a way they never had been in Bludhaven with its light pollution.

"Can't sleep either?"

Dick wasn't surprised to find Amy leaning against the building's exterior wall, a cigarette glowing between her fingers. She'd taken up smoking after the disaster—"a stupid coping mechanism," she'd acknowledged, "but better than some alternatives."

"The usual," Dick admitted, moving to stand beside her.

Amy took a long drag, exhaling smoke toward the stars. "I keep thinking about rebuilding," she said after a moment. "Not Bludhaven itself—that's gone. But something new. Something for the survivors."

Dick glanced at her, curious. "What are you thinking?"

"I don't know. A new community, maybe. Somewhere close enough to honor what we lost, but far enough to be safe." She flicked ash onto the ground. "Stupid idea, probably."

"No," Dick said slowly, something stirring in him. "No, it's not stupid at all."

For weeks, he'd been focused on immediate needs—shelter, food, medical care, reuniting families. He hadn't allowed himself to think beyond the day-to-day crises. But Amy's words ignited something that felt dangerously like hope.

"We could do it," he continued, his mind racing ahead. "Find land nearby, start with temporary housing, build toward something permanent. Create a community for the survivors who want to stay together."

Amy studied him, a small smile forming. "There's the Grayson I remember. I was starting to worry that guy was gone for good."

Dick looked up at the stars, feeling the first genuine lightness in his chest since the disaster. "Maybe he was, for a while. But I think he's finding his way back."

The Wayne Foundation grant came through three days later. Dick knew Bruce had expedited it, probably calling in favors and cutting through red tape with the ruthless efficiency that characterized both his business dealings and his vigilante work.

Dick finally called him that night.

"Thank you," he said simply when Bruce answered.

A pause, then: "You've done good work there, Dick." Coming from Bruce, it was effusive praise.

"It wasn't enough." The admission felt like gravel in his throat.

"It never is." Bruce's voice held the weight of someone who understood loss intimately. "But it matters. You matter, to the survivors. To your family."

Dick closed his eyes, feeling tears threaten for the first time since the disaster. He'd been too shocked, too busy, too numb to cry until now.

"I don't know what comes next," he admitted.

"You do," Bruce replied with unexpected gentleness. "You're already doing it. You're rebuilding, not just structures, but hope. It's what you've always done best."

Dick found himself smiling despite the tears now tracking down his cheeks. It was perhaps the most insightful thing Bruce had ever said to him.

"Will you come home?" Bruce asked after a moment. "Not permanently—just to rest. Alfred's worried about you." A beat. "We all are."

Home. The word conjured Wayne Manor's imposing silhouette, the Cave's familiar dampness, Alfred's impeccable cooking, the chaotic energy when all the "Bat-kids" gathered. Once, he'd needed to escape that home to find himself. Now, perhaps he needed to return to remember who he was.

"Yeah," Dick said finally. "Just for a few days. There's someone I need to put in charge while I'm gone."

He found Amy at their makeshift command center, poring over maps of available land parcels.

"I need to go to Gotham for a bit," he told her. "Can you hold things together here?"

Amy raised an eyebrow. "Finally answering Daddy Warbucks' calls, huh?"

Dick laughed, the sound surprising him. "Something like that."

She nodded, serious again. "Go. We'll be fine. And Dick?" She hesitated. "Whatever's next for you—Bludhaven or Gotham or somewhere entirely new—know that you made a difference here. You saved what could be saved of our city. Not the buildings or the streets, but its heart. Its people."

Dick felt something shift inside him, a piece settling into place. Bludhaven was gone, but what it had meant to him—independence, purpose, growth—that remained, carried forward in who he had become.

"I'll be back," he promised.

As he packed his meager belongings, Dick thought about what Alfred had said. He was who he had always been—not defined by location, but by the choices he made, the people he protected, the family he loved. Nightwing or Officer Grayson, Bludhaven or Gotham or this new community they were building from the ashes—those were just details.

The essential truth remained: Dick Grayson would always rise, always rebuild, always find a way to transform tragedy into hope. It was who he was, with or without a city to call his own.

And for the first time since watching Bludhaven die from a distance, that felt like enough.

[therapycat21]

His One 7:00 AM

Ultimate Masterlist KOFI Ask a question

Word Count: 722

"The Crush"

The ER was a war zone. Blood, chaos, and the sharp scent of antiseptic filled the air. Eliana Marcus moved through the pandemonium with practiced ease, her hands swift and sure as she sutured a deep gash on a patient's arm. A fresh wave of trauma cases had just arrived, and adrenaline surged through her veins like a second heartbeat.

Across the room, Dr. Robby Robinavitch barked orders, his deep voice cutting through the noise like a scalpel. He was a force—commanding, relentless, and, despite the exhaustion darkening his sharp features, still devastatingly attractive.

Eliana clenched her jaw, focusing on the task at hand. She had no time for stupid crushes, especially not on the head attending doctor. A man like Robby didn't have the luxury of distractions. He belonged to the hospital, to his patients. Not to her.

"Marcus!" Robby's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He strode toward her, "need you in Trauma One, now."

She secured the last suture and stripped off her gloves. "On it."

She followed him into the trauma bay, where a patient lay pale and trembling on the gurney. Gunshot wound to the abdomen. Pulse weak. The monitors beeped erratically, warning of impending disaster.

"Eliana, I need you to keep pressure while I insert the chest tube," Robby ordered, his gloved hands already moving with precision.

She pressed her hands firmly against the wound, feeling the warmth of the man's blood seeping through the gauze. "You're lucky you're good at this," she muttered under her breath.

Robby's lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile he allowed himself during shifts. "Don't sound so surprised, Marcus."

Before she could fire back, the monitors wailed—flatline. The patient crashed.

"Damn it! Start compressions!" Robby barked.

Eliana launched into action, pushing down hard on the man's chest, her arms burning with the effort. "Come on, don't do this," she gritted out between compressions. She felt Robby move beside her, his presence commanding, electric.

"Epinephrine, now!" he ordered another nurse, his voice like steel.

The tension was suffocating, the room holding its collective breath as they fought against death itself. Seconds stretched into eternity. Then—

A heartbeat. Weak but steady.

The entire room exhaled.

Robby pulled off his gloves, running a hand through his dark hair, and met Eliana's eyes. For a moment, it was just the two of them in the storm of the ER, their breathing heavy, their adrenaline high.

"You did good, Marcus," he said, his voice lower now.

Eliana smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. "I always do, Robinavitch."

A shadow of something flickered in his expression—something she couldn't quite name. But before she could analyze it, he turned away, already moving to the next crisis.

Eliana sighed, watching him go.

As Eliana stepped out of the trauma room, she spotted a group of fresh-faced interns gathered around Robby near the nurses' station. Victoria Javadi, the daughter of renowned surgeon Eileen Shamsi, stood rigid, her face pale as she listened intently. Next to her, Dennis Whitaker shifted uncomfortably, his nervous hands gripping a penlight as if it were a lifeline. Trinity Santos, in contrast, stood with arms crossed, exuding confidence, while Mel King, the socially awkward but undeniably skilled resident, tried her best to blend into the background. Shadowing Langdon, Mel's expression was one of quiet observation.

"Eliana, this is where you come in," Robby said, his sharp gaze locking onto her. "Show them how things actually work around here."

She arched a brow. "Oh, so now I'm the welcome committee?"

Before Robby could respond, a strangled gasp broke the moment. Victoria's eyes rolled back, and she crumpled to the floor.

Eliana swore under her breath. "Are you kidding me? She fainted already?"

Trinity smirked. "Looks like degloved feet aren't her thing."

Meanwhile, Dennis yelped as he mishandled a patient transfer, jamming his finger between the rails of the gurney. "Oh god, I think I broke it," he whined.

Eliana shot a look at Robby, who sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is going to be a long shift," he muttered.

Eliana chuckled, shaking her head as she knelt beside Victoria. "Welcome to The Pitt, kids. Hope you survive the night."

[adhd-merlin]

x

[vulpixelates]

i am being so brave about my storm anxiety, i deserve a cookie

[dreamsy990]

was messing around with coloring wof bases and made girlfriends or something

bases by tenebris-aurea on deviantart

[skitskatdacat63]

Please god, can someone give me the strength to write ANOTHER 900 word essay in German, I DON'T WANNA I DONT WANNA PLEASE NO

[cloudbends]

I feel a bit wary saying this because it doesn't feel quite real yet, but! had my last week of college classes last week. I still have to get through my last exam period but it's very odd to think this degree is almost over and done with. many thoughts about it in general.

[braceletofteeth]

Congratulations to Never Let Me Go for being the second drama to get the highest rating from me this year. Currently preparing my mind and body to be insufferable about it forever.

[mermaidsirennikita]

my message to any series writer, whether you're writing a TV series, a book series, a movie series, I don't care

before you continue a series you ended previously

ask yourself:

do I actually have a substantive reason to continue this, or am I just reviving characters who had their definitive endings already

[widowshill]

not for nothing that roger and jeff are wearing completely identical suits for vicki's wedding down to the same pearl stick pin and it's roger that is distinguished with the accessory and the visual emphasis. that roger wears the pocket square and jeff goes plain without one, without a boutonnière (as feels the most probable and appropriate; they both wear boutonnières in roger's prophetic dream of the wedding). that not only is he wearing the handkerchief, but it's folded in such a way as so take as much space as possible – straying from accepted formality of a neat TV fold, occupying more room on the screen, drawing more attention, pointing among other things to his heart in bright white.

[im-smart-i-swear]

Does Jiro has ghost like abilities (possession, ability to levitate things, etc etc) or does she just live in Shiro's head?

when i created this au, i thought the best option would be for her to be unable to interact with the physical world in any way(including possesion), beacuse i really wanted to lean into her isolation and how it affects her....... and while thats something i still want to emphasise here, lately ive been toying with the idea of jiro being able to impact the physical world somehow(though it still being fairly limited). i think letting her have some control could have a lot of potential! buuuut i also have no idea what abilities i want her to have lol

For now i think im not gonna give her any telekinetic abilities, bc i feel like it would be giving her too much power......... if she could throw shit, shed go APESHIT with it. it would made things too easy for her. i'm sorry babygirl but i'm NOT giving you the possibilty to throw knives and other sharp objects, i dont trust you to not kill someone:/

i really like the idea of her being able to temporarily posses her old body in certain circumstances tho- maybe when shiros uncouncious?? or like when hes is very tired or heavily injured she can kind of 'squeeze through' and take control back for a few minutes???? idk. i think this could be a very cool ability to give her- it cant be frequently used but can also be very helpful, and also theres so much potential for ✨shenanigans✨here>:) oh god i could put these fuckers in so many Situations with this..........

uhhh. so basically i think all of her influence on the physical world are through shiro. shes here bc of her connection to her old body, and thus its the only way for her to interact with anyone besides him- and shes NOT HAPPY about this(neither is shiro).

[nutestleper]

C tier documentaries my beloved

[hiddeninthe-veil]

.

[eden5380]

Real question. How do you read news? Like. What’s your thought process? Like I know to check multiple sources to see how different news outlets report the same event in different ways. But. So what? What do you do with the news? I think my reaction has consistently been huh ok whatever. Until people point out The Implications in their excitement or outrage. How do I make those meaningful interpretations? How do I engage with news in a thoughtful way? Like. I think this is a skill. An important skill. That I somehow never developed.

[mad-hunts]

☎ did I send this already? Can’t remember 🎵

phone contact meme!

contact name: my beautiful but scary sibling 🩷

contact picture:

(him setting their profile picture as keyboard cat both because that cat is epic and also musically inclined just made too much sense to me to not do it, so LOL here we have sibyl being represented by keyboard cat!)

ringtone: home to me — devil and the deep blue sea (the line 'and a voice like your father's tells you nothing good's for free. well that may be, but you're walking home to me' was what really solidified this song as the one that barton would use for them for me AHH)

social medias that barton is following sibyl on: X (twitter) and tiktok (yes... he has a tiktok, but barton follows very little people on it BC he doesn't want anyone to know he actually has one lol)

the most recent phone call between our muses, and how long it was: the most recent phone call between barton and sibyl was one he made towards them in which he told them a few days before it was being hosted, that there was a jazz festival being hosted in blüdhaven and he was wondering whether they wanted to go with him.

because he had bought a spare ticket for them BUT he had to muster up the courage to actually invite sibyl there with him. and this is because during their last meeting, he got the impression that he did something to offend them, but they weren't mad at all so everything turned out okay <33 the call also lasted for close to 30 minutes.

the three most recently sent messages from my muse to yours:

1.' so... i need your opinion on something, sibyl. do you think that i look washed out when i wear yellow?' 2. 'yes, you can be honest! i'm asking you because i know that you're the least likely person to lie to me about a thing like this, in fact. you won't hurt my feelings or anything but i need reassurance that this jerkoff that i went on a date with today is wrong about me looking bad in yellow.' 3. 'ahh, okay! thank you. see, i knew that this man was probably just salty that i didn't want to go back to his place after the first fucking date we had together. like i thought that was odd personally so i said no, but he must've thought that i was looking to hookup or something because he asked me 'why not' afterwards, and made it into this... whole thing for some reason. then came the insult and so i paid for my part of the bill then said BYE! because i do not deserve to be treated like that.'