#Like strange unique singular personalities

[athousandmorningss]

ohhhhh baby. Ughhhhhhh.

[raimoka]

— " (I'M) WAITING FOR THE SUN "

｡ ㅤꕤ ㅤ PAIRING: dazai osamu & reader.

SYNOPSIS: it was just a single string, so thin it could easily be cut with scissors, however, with just that mere red thread, it tied you to him.

tags ➜ alternate universe — modern, no abilities, painter!reader, writer!dazai dreams, pining, generally a fluff, soulmates trope, catching feelings, open ending, named reader — only last name though, dazai osamu is bad with feelings implication. ‹𝟹

⋆ author's notes: I wanted to try something new and the first thing that came in my mind was soulmates trope.

send an order!! → guide ❀ flowers ←

You have always been a dreamer.

Oftentimes you would drift away from your surroundings into an imaginary world, your sense of reality blurring away.

In that world you would feel relaxed, happy and at peace even if it's for merely a few minutes. A world where you could erase everyday from your mind and form an illusion of something you were unable to grasp, a world filled with colors and beauty.

It's bittersweet.

And although it's painful knowing these are nothing more but surreal fantasies, hopes and dreams it's worth it in the end.

However—as of late, your daydreams changed into a one singular daydream that, for whatever reason, keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record.

Day or night, in the painting room or in the peace of your room, whenever you close your eyes, be it a ten minute nap or eight hours of sleep the same scenario will play in front of your eyes over and over again.

Sun will shine its way through the grass as your fingers brush against your creamy white lace dress. Birds will sing their song to which you'll hum under your breath as the fruity smell of just bloomed flowers lingers in the air.

You'll sing and dance and laugh as if you're the only one in the world.

Then after a while you'll approach a big cherry tree in bloom, and suddenly you won't be alone anymore. There, in front of that very tree, will stand a person with chocolate colored brown hair carried by the wind, wearing a white button up shirt along with black trousers.

They'll look in the distance, seemingly unfazed and each time and even after twenty times you've seen the ending, you would approach them slowly when—as if on cue the person will turn around and you would freeze up at your spot, your heart skipping a beat because in front of you will stand the most beautiful human you have ever encountered. For a moment, they'll lock eyes before they vanish into the air, leaving no trace behind.

Then you'll twitch, snapping back to reality.

bleary and cloudy, immense hues of darkness lay hold of your sight, then as the starch gradually settles to the bottom and the skim rises to the top, at last your eyes wearily open—unable to remember his face.

It's as if when their eyes lock everything fades and your brain stops. It's weird and the more times it happens the more annoying it gets.

The person in your dreams feels familiar yet so out of reach. Like you've known them your entire life but hasn't even met them yet, as if the two of you were tied by a red thread of fate.

His presence is strong. Unique. Strange.

You can remember the way the smell of carnations surrounded him, the way his chocolate colored brown hair rode on the breeze, the way they were so tall you almost felt embarrassed standing near him but you can't, for the love of god, remember their face.

You feel their stare on your face. You know that your eyes lock each time and that each time they do your heart skips a beat. You know it and yet you can't pinpoint even the most obvious things, like their color.

You want to know more and everytime that you feel like you're getting closer to discovering something, you would get pulled out of the state of unconsciousness, snapping you back into reality.

It was as if it was mocking you, laughing at the anger it was giving you.

Your eyebrows knitted together, hands balling into a fist.

You ha—

The sound of wood splitting in half brought you back into reality, disrupting the scrambles of thoughts beginning to form within your mind.

huh ?

You lift your head, met with the sight of your paintbrush splitted into two. The other half of the paintbrush falls, accompanied with the sound of thud.

Your lips, which were previously formed into a thin line, parted.

"nazoki, did you just break your brush?"

you tense up. you feel everyone's eyes shift to your frame, hushed whispers accompanied with snickers filling the room. sweat builds up on your hands as the giggles continued, and you bit down on your lip, hovering your gaze on your thighs.

"It can be easily fixed but remember, that's not your own and you need to learn how to be careful with the brushes."

meekly, you dipped your head in response.

"yes ma'am..."

❀

It was already late when you arrived back home.

The sun had gone down, and the skies embraced by hues of warm colors had turned into vast of blackness already.

You didn't change out of your clothes, with the fatigue beginning to overtake your body, you didn't bother to do so.

You gently unlocked the door to your room and slipped inside.

you were greeted with pure abyss, which was anticipated since it was already night. however, there was still some disinctive things within the shadows, like the books sheltered on the shelves, the roses in the vase on the nightstand, and the paintings in the corner of your room.

you perk up.

you moved, walking towards to the empty canvas at the corner of your room.

In front of you, you laid down an empty white canvas and some newly bought paint from few days ago. without a second thought you started painting. You didn't know what you were going for just yet but you settled on just letting your hand move freely across the canvas.

One stroke then another—you paint sky, petals and a silhouette.

So far it's turning pretty decent but the more you draw the more anxious you became. The brush in your hand starts shaking as you reached out to paint the silhouette's face.

...

What now?

Cold sweat runs down your face and you had to take a moment to snap back to reality. Suddenly your stomach fills with dread and you had to take a break from painting.

The face. You couldn't remember the face.

You didn't finish the painting that day.

❀

There is no need for you to open your eyes because when you came to your own senses, feeling grass beneath your palms as the sun beams directly in your face, you knew exactly where you were.

Despite going to sleep in a bad mood you can't help but feel strangely relaxed now that you're here.

Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and took a look around. Nothing, as far as you're aware, has changed. It's still the same dreamy place you visit everyday (sometimes even multiple times).

Birds are still singing, the sun is still shining and the flowers are still blooming.

After a short walk you find out the unknown person is also still here, simply staring at the distance.

You freeze in place and simply admires them from afar, staring at their back profile.

They stand there unbothered.

You take a big risk of walking up to them—not too close but not as far in an attempt to get a better view. Nothing.

You're scared.

Then you get a crazy idea.

Now you're terrified.

Quickly, before you get a chance to make a cowardly decision and back up, you ran towards the person and grabs their wrist, not giving them enough time to turn around.

First thing that you felt is warmth. Their skin is warm.

You lift your head head and meets their face that is now painted with a shocked expression, lips parted. When your eyes meet you felt fear, surprise, shock, happiness, anxiety all at once because you've finally caught them.

Then all emotions swirling within your chest dulls and the person slips away, disappearing from your grip once again.

❀

First thing, you did when you woke up is rush towards the canvas and frantically attempts to copy down the face, that expression of surprise and alarm, as similar as possible before eventually it too leaves your mind.

However it doesn't turn out anything like you've seen just a few moments prior. The expression on its own looks pretty amazing and the face is really unique, not quite like anything you've drawn before, but it's not his.

Shit.

Why? why couldn't you do it?

You were so close and yet—

You slipped up.

You didn't get it. You needed to remember. You didn't know why.

All you knew is that this person drives you crazy.

❀

Surrounding you, there was variety of pages of papers, canvas, multiple art supplies.

You pull out canvas after canvas messing up, repainting, scrapping, breaking, trying again, over and over again but nothing feels right.

Before long, what little memory of the person's face is left in your memory vanishes leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your chest. You fall to your knees, gripping the paintbrush in your palm firmly, cursing yourself. Why? Why couldn't you remember?

It continues like this for a while. After every nap you would pull out your sketchbook, which has by now found its new place under your pillow, and try to sketch the face but each and every time you'd be met with another failed attempt.

It felt like a curse of some sort. Wanting to remember but not being able to. Wanting to know but not being able to meet. Wanting to understand but not being able to learn.

You've tried many different ways. You tried jumping him. You tried running into him. You tried approaching him slowly. Sometimes you'd lock eyes with him, sometimes he'd disappear the moment they establish physical contact. You'd sketch day and night but you just couldn't nail it.

Slowly but noticeably a pile of crumpled up paper in your trash can started increasing. So far you've ruined three canvases and wasted almost an entire sketchbook which gave her an confrontation from your roommate, both from the trash and the one canvas you borrowed from her.

"If you need canvas, please just buy one for yourself. I'm gonna get scolded by my mother."

"the trash can in your room is starting to overflow with trash... some of the trash are even on the floor already, please dispose of them if you can. I don't know what you're trying to do but you should give it a little break, it doesn't seem like you're getting anywhere either way."

you've apologized multiple times for it, but in spite of her intentions being different, the painful truth behind her words pierces through your heart like an arrow. You weren't not getting anywhere that much is right but she's trying.

you were trying so hard because for the first time in a while you had a goal set in mind.

That night you didn't bother the guy. Instead, you sat down leaning on that big tree watching him stand just a few meters ahead of you.

You haven't given up of course but god you were tired. you sigh, releasing the tension in your body, closing your eyes beneath the tree's shadow.

You didn't know what you expected but someone snapping you out of your thoughts you sitting next to you was not it.

For a moment, you were too scared to look aside because this is a rare opportunity and you couldn't mess this up and yet at the same time you could wake up at any moment so if you were to waste this it would eat you up from inside for days. Anxiously, you moved your head and catches sight of the brown haired individual's side profile. It's the sight so dazzling you suck in your breath and bites your lip and just stares.

Every time you visit, you noticed a small detail you haven't before. Like how they shift from one leg to the other when the cold breeze brushes against their concealed arms, you wondered if it was really that cold for him, or how messy his hair was, you could've presumed he didn't take care of himself.

Today, you notice his eyes are shimmering brown, bright and full of life, no . they weren't full of life, they were filled with pure abyss, barely reflecting any source of tiny sparks. He was tired, lonely, and empty. You wondered how long they spent in this realm. Does he have a home? What's his story and how did he end up here? Just now after you take a good look at them, you started questioning all those things. Up until now all you knew was that they were here each time you fell asleep and that your face gets red and your heart skips a beat whenever you get near.

For the first time that you stared at them for more than two seconds, you started noticing all the little details. His bone structure, every single lash on his eye, even how messy his hair was. You take a mental note of it and stares for so long that you didn't even realize he might've feel awkward until they cough and move their face to the side, hiding their face a little bit further with the locks of his hair.

"I'm sorry."

You speak up slowly.

You wonder if he was even real.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable, cold, suffocating silence.

He gives her a side eye but don't say a word. You, not knowing how to react, just stares. You stare back, drowning in their eyes, not even realizing how close they've gotten to each other.

You have drawn many portraits of many different people up until this point in your life. The beauty of it all is that every person is different, unique and beautiful in their own way. Each painting you did is special because it's not like any other. That's, in your opinion, the beauty of this world. Even now, this person that might be nothing more than a fragment of your wild imagination is unlike any other you've met.

They are so beautiful it made you sick. Not just their physical appearance but their aura and their company. The way when their hands touch it sends an electric shock through your body or the way you get all warm and fuzzy inside when you were near him.

you swallowed down a thick saliva, forcing yourself to speak again, you didn't know what you were gonna say but with the tense atmosphere between the two of you, you wanted to ease it up, thus allowing the words in your throat to carry out.

"Hey."

The boy shifts his gaze towards you upon your call, moving his head along his gaze. You feel the hue of light red beginning to adorn your cheeks as soon he turns his head to your direction.

You fidgeted with your fingers, "You're a very pretty person."

You could feel his stare on you, but he didn't utter a single word.

"When I say pretty, I don't mean it just at that... you're so pretty that I could be with you all day just to watch the cherry blossom tree's bright pink light glow on your skin and how it brings out a million subtle sparks of color in your eyes, and In the evening, I could draw you all night long until I have no more strength, and when it's finally night with the moon, I could close my eyes to remember the day going by as a reflection of you."

as you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how close your faces were with just a few centimeters apart from each other. you two were so close, It distilled a warm fuzzy feeling within your chest.

"you're quite talkative."

for once within several dreams, he finally uttered a single word, and just the mere sound of his voice made you speechless. he leans his head slightly closer and you couldn't help but think that your faces will crash. you were sure your faces will crash and you're scared if they do the universe as we know will explode but the world collapses before you could get a chance to blink and suddenly you were panting in the pitch dark of an all too familiar room.

❀

They say everything comes with its good and bad sides so you presumed the same must go for this entire situation too.

If it were up to you, you'd say the good thing is you finally finished your painting. After so much time and effort you have finally created something you're satisfied with.

Bad, or rather unfortunate, thing is that the next time you went to sleep you didn't dream at all. At first you thought it was a mistake so you pulled her blanket over your frame and went to sleep again despite the morning sun desperately trying to climb on your bed through the closed windows and your roommate gently knocking on your door.

Nothing.

After a few more times of not being able to wake up in that imaginary world of yours, you started to freak out a little. It was understandable though. When you spend so much time somewhere, so much that it turns into a habit, it's only natural to get worried when it abruptly stops with no sign whatsoever.

For now you'll just have to learn to adjust to your new reality.

❀

It has been a year since you last dreamed of that dream.

you struggled to accept the truth, occasionally glancing at the painting you've finished right after your last dream. however, as time passed by, you managed to divert your attention to much more important things, slowly forgetting the world you would often dream off.

you didn't know whether you liked it or not but you supposed it was fine since a lot of great opportunities were beginning to appear to you.

"That's why nazoki-san, we would love to invite you as a guest artist for our next gallery showcase!" Words were ringing in your ears like an echo. There were thousands and one emotion flowing through her body. Excitement, joy, disbelief, anxiety and so much more.

Finally, It's finally happening. You couldn't help but think to yourself. All that hard work and effort is finally paying off.

When you got a call from a nearby gallery asking for someone with your last name, you presumed it was for your mother, a professional artist who had few of her works showcased there, that's why the first thing you felt when they said it's you they needed was confusion.

You've been drawing for years, joined many different art courses and took many drawing classes, participated in many events but getting an offer to have some of your work showcased in a big, professional and well-known gallery for one of their events was something new—a step closer to achieving your dream.

Of course, you didn't hesitate and swiftly agreed to the offer.

It's only when it came time to choose your best work you got a tad uncertain about which paintings to pick.

You decided to go for one landscape drawing, one abstract and one portrait.

Choosing a landscape and abstract was easy, you simply chose your most recent work, a work which, by chance, was seen by her classmates and some teachers and received tons of compliments.

Choosing a portrait was a bit harder though—there was just so much diversity between your models you'd feel bad choosing one out of many other, just as beautiful, ones.

You dig through the canvases in an attempt to find a perfect one when your hands suddenly brush against the beige fabric pulled over one of the canvases, hiding it from view.

A drop of cold sweat rolls down your neck as you uncover the familiar painting. It's still the same as you left it a year ago.

When your dreams stopped you felt as if you lost a part of yourself. Being unable to face the painting you worked so hard on, you ended up covering it up and leaving it to collect dust in the pile of canvases.

Even now when you looked at it, a part of you feels like sinking but the feeling of dread is easily outshined with the feeling of nostalgia and warmth.

you decided which portrait to bring to the event.

❀

More people have visited the event than you had originally planned, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Almost. All the praise you got made up for it.

You would be lying if you said you didn't like to be praised. You loved the words of affirmation, to hear someone from a higher level acknowledge her efforts and make sure you're on the right track.

You were silently lurking in the crowd the entire day, starting conversations when you'd get the chance, giving speeches about her art.

You talked and talked, over and over again, repeating what you've already said over twenty times by now and every group so far would listen carefully. Seeing them genuinely interested in your work made it all worthwhile.

Soon enough, night fell and people started leaving one by one, saying their goodbyes. It's a shame that the day has come to an end but if you're lucky maybe you will get more chances like this in the near future.

"nazoki-san!" One of the gallerys workers approaches you, "Would you mind picking up your work? I still have some guests to see off."

"Alright! Thank you so much again!" You bow down your head before you make your way to the hall where your work has been showcased up until now. It was a part of their agreement that when the event is over you'll get to bring your paintings back home.

When you step foot into the room, however, you find you weren't not alone. Almost like a deja-vu, in front of her stands a familiar brown haired person with their back turned towards you, in his hand, he held a book, it seemed like he was looking for some inspiration.

Your heart sinks.

Immediately, you stop in your tracks.

How?

Blood in your veins freezes as the cold sweat starts dripping down your face. It can't be…could it?

"E-excuse me-e—" you tried to speak up but your voice breaks in the most embarrassing way possible.

The person twitches in surprise, turning around with a startled expression on their face and it's the same damn expression you saw that day when you first grabbed their hand. you swear it is. It has to.

The person points an index finger to himself, tilting his head to the side, "Me?" as soon as you heard that voice, you knew damn well it was.

For a short moment their eyes lock. It's the same chocolate colored eyes holding the same lonesome warmth and oh you want to rush towards them at full speed and tackle them to the ground but youi calm yourself down and continues to talk, "We're closing."

Your voice comes off stronger and steadier this time but the hint of nervousness can still be distinguished.

"Oh… I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."

So much happened today. You talked a lot, you walked a lot and on top of that you woke up early with only three hours of sleep the night prior, perhaps you're just imagining things. Maybe you're daydreaming again. But his voice sounds so real and you can see them so vividly even with you vision blurry from exhaustion.

There is so much you wanted to know, how, why, what, when, huh?? you heard stories about people's dreams coming true, about how some met people in their dreams but you never imagined anything so…extraordinary happening to you. But here you were with so many questions lingering in your head and so little time so you decided fuck it no matter what happens this time, no matter what kind of story your faith is writing, whatever happens in this timeline you weren't letting them go again.

The chocolate haired person gives you a warm smile, although, It looked a bit forced, you didn't say anything as he turns back to glance at the painting in front of them one last time.

"I was just thinking about how this painting looks a lot like me."

Your knees buckle up underneath you.

Weak .

you felt weak.

but you couldn't even focus on that, all you could focus on was how the person you've been longing for was indeed right in front of you.

and with that, the interlude halts.

₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ taglists are open everytime.

2024 © reposts are prohibited with/without permission... plagiarism is prohibited. don’t translate my work without my permission. i will take measures of reporting you. reblogs and likes are appreciated.

[realbubonicsword]

An Analysis of Shelly

I know what you're thinking. "But Toffee, you only ever post Goob-related content! What's with this sudden Shelly craze?"

Now, my one and only favorite character is and always will be Goob, but I have started to take an interest in Shelly's character lately. And hoooo boy, it has been one HELL of a rabbit hole. Plus, I haven't seen anyone else actively point this out, so I'm doing it myself.

Are you ready?

Let's begin.

(analysis below cut)

The first thing about Shelly that struck me as odd in the new update was her design.

Now, there is absolutely nothing bad about her design-I find it very good, actually!-but when I saw that she was a MAIN CHARACTER TOON (I wasn't keeping up with update news), I was shocked. Everything about her design, from the clothing she wears to the colors made her look like a more...out of the way character. A character meant to have one singular purpose, and then be brushed aside and forgotten. The fact that she was one of the main toons was....strange.

I mean, look at her compared to Teagan!

If you knew about Dandy's World, but didn't know about the update, which one would you guess was the main toon?

I found this...interesting.

Then, I looked into her dialogue on the wiki.

Average stuff, for the most part. She didn't really have anything that jumped out at me. In fact, she didn't show too much unique personality at all. The only thing she was really doing was helping others, or occasionally asking for things from others. Nothing else, really.

Although, there was one strange piece of dialogue that caught my eye, that actually showed a hint of what kind of person Shelly is.

Odd, but ok...

And then, I read the description for her twisted form after finally getting 50%....

And it all made sense.

See it yet?

Let me highlight it for you.

"The blatant ignorance of her existence by everyone around her has enraged her."

At first I thought that this had to be an exaggeration. Surely this friendly and helpful toon couldn't just be ignored like tha-

Oh.

They're right.

Every single bit of dialogue she has is either her helping someone or her asking for something. It's sort of like that person at a job you like being around, but you never really get to know. That's Shelly with basically EVERYONE.

Seriously, name ONE genuine friend that she has currently IN THE GAME (not counting Sprout) that she has had an actual conversation with where they bond and get to know each other as people.

The only time she had some sort of conversation was with Teagan, when she mentioned she was doing ok..."sorta-ish". That line in itself is interesting as well, as it shows how she feels about all of this. But still, they don't really seem to be friends.

We're dipping into a bit of headcanon territory here, but I believe it's rooted enough into Canon to include.

Shelly is someone who craves human (or in this case, toon) connection. She wants to be dependable, to be the one people can fall back on when they're feeling down, to be the one people rely on, and she has that, in a sense. However, no matter how much she does for others, no matter how much she helps them and supports them...

People only see her as..someone to ask for help on occasion. Uh oh, I dropped something, better get that fossil girl to help, since she's always so useful. And that is a part of what Shelly wants!

But that's it.

Useful.

A tool to use and then toss aside for the next person until they need her again.

That's all there is to almost every relationship she has.

And part of it is her fault.

You see, Shelly is so focused on helping people that she forgets to take that next step to forge true friendships, and unfortunately, nobody seems to ever catch on that she wants to take that step to forge genuine bonds with others.

She's non-confrontational by nature, and she doesn't want to ruin her perception of being useful, because then people might forget about her entirely, so she waits and hopes that someone will hear something that she will never say herself.

A good example of this is the strange dialogue I mentioned earlier between Shelly and Vee.

Vee asks if she's busy after they're done with going down the elevator. Shelly initially doesn't believe that anyone would ever ask HER of all people to...possibly hang out...and talk..like friends...

So she gets excited. She asks what they're going to do together (although notably phrasing it in a way so it seems like she is offering to help), and...

It was...just moving some supplies. More work. More reasons to be useful. This isn't a bad thing! It means that people care about her! That they have need for her, so they'll never forget about her! It's not like she hoped that someone actually wanted to take time out of their day to hang out with her, nope! She'd never tell Vee any of that! And besides, she's totally fine with this!

So why does it hurt so badly?

Shelly's greatest fear has been happening to her for years, and she refuses to agknowledge it. To her, it could be so much worse if she stopped helping people. As long as she's useful, people will like her. They would never even think to toss her aside and forget about her, right?

Except they have been for a long time now.

When people talk to her, she either has to initiate by asking for something, or they initiate only because they need something from her. She wants to tell them so badly, to ask them why they never seen to pay any attention to her, or attempt to even have a real conversation with her, but she will never be that bold.

Even with the cardboard cutouts on one of the maps, she's hidden in the back-present, but barely noticed by those around her. (this is more obvious in game)

No matter how much she tries, no matter how friendly or helpful or dependable she is, people never seem to see her as a person. Why don't they see her?! She's right here! She's here and she's endlessly waiting for connections that will never come to pass! It's fine though, really!

Keep being friendly, and people will like you more.

Keep being helpful, and people will have a reason to talk to you.

Keep being dependable, and people will have a reason to come back. They won't ever leave you alone. Right..?

Keep being friendly.

Keep being helpful.

Keep being dependable.

(That's all you'll ever be.)

Ironic that a fossils greatest fear is being forgotten.

[fuckstheonott]

I Got My Eyes On You // T. Nott [Part 1]

Theodore Nott x girl!reader

!! ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE !!

Summary: Y/n Bones is part of one of the richest families in the wizarding world. She and Theodore grew up together, and for all these years, Nott watched her in silence, fascinated by every facet of her.

The two began a strange friendship after an incident and now, they meet frequently in the room of need.

“Hello, Nott" Y/n greets the boy from Slytherin "You’ve been coming here a lot lately"

The dark one goes in.

"It’s to make sure you’re still alive," Theodore replies, serene.

Y/n smiles.

“Come see what I found!”

And, of course, Theodore approaches.

The witch makes a grimace.

“By Salazar! What is this? Some kinda of muggle weaponry?”

The girl from Ravenclaw laughs.

“It’s called dry-er” She spells “Do you know what he does?”

“Does it dry things out?”

“It dries the moisture out of your hair! Isn’t that amazing?! It’s kind of noisy, but the technology is admirable. I mean, we can dry our hair with a swivel of the wand and the muggles invented an instrument that does it for them! They are really interesting little creatures"

Theodore laughs weakly.

Y/n blinks.

“You find literally anything amazing”

“And you have a limited brain, typical of a Slytherin” The youngest rolls her eyes.

“I like to explore, but I'm more into spells and potions, herbs, spices. Things that actually add something, because they are part of my reality”

Y/n looks at the brunette as if to say “Seriously?”

“That is, limited”

Theodore shrugs.

"Comes! I got more stuff!” And she pulls the Slytherin boy to the other corner of the room, without caring about personal space “Woow! Guess what it is!”

Nott looks at it strangely.

“This is definitely a weapon”

Y/n laughs.

“It’s a fan!” It spells “Speak! Fan!”

“Fan”

“Your Italian accent is really cute, so I’ll let that one slide”

Theodore rolls his eyes.

“And what does this thing do?”

“It refreshes the environment to alleviate the heat. See those propellers? They rotate counterclockwise and generate wind.”

Theodore blinks.

“Ok, this is cool”

“It is not?!!” She exclaims, exited.

For some inexplicable reason, Theodore likes being with the girl.

In a way, they grew up together. The brunette remembers that Y/n was always quirky. While the brothers ran up and down exploring the giant Bones mansion, Y/n spent time in the garden, looking for insects.

Theodore observed all his phases: The insect phase, the instrument phase, the color phase, the painting phase, the stars and aliens phase and marine animals...

Without the youngest noticing, Nott's eyes have always been on her.

He tried hard, condemned and fucked several girls... But it was no use, because the more Y/n grew, the more interesting and unique she became.

And beautiful.

Soon the others began to notice this fact, and Theodore wanted to smash the face of every boy who approached her with flowers or chocolate. To make matters worse, Y/n is a social virus, she smiles at everyone and is kind to the entire Hogwarts.

Finally, Theodore came to grips with her reality…

He would forever be an observer.

Until that day.

The day Y/n ran him over with a skateboard on summer vacation and they both broke their arms. She just burst into tears, but they weren't tears of pain, they were tears of guilt.

Somehow, after that moment, a strange and singularity friendship began between the two. They started to meet in the room of need and that was when Y/n introduced Nott to her new phase:

Explore Muggle Objects

“Why did you decide to be my friend after so long?” She asks suddenly, walking over to the sofa and throwing herself on it anyway “They say you’re not friends with girls, you only fuck them”

And suddenly, Bones sits down with everything.

“Merlim! Have you ever eaten Parkinson's ?!"

Theodore can’t stand it, laughing.

“Parkinson’s?! Do you swear? She’s not my type”

“Your type is blondes, from what Emma told me. That girl spends her whole day taking care of other people’s lives, there’s nothing she doesn’t know.”

“In fact, I like blondes… But she’s not my favorite type”

"And which one is it?" And Y/n blinks those little eyes, without malice in her question.

You – He wanted to respond.

"Next time we meet here, I'll tell you"

This is just something silly that I wrote, it's not good, but I still wanted to publish it because

I don't know, I thought it was cute? Who knows, maybe I'll continue

[crispy-bonnie]

Hikari Arasawa (MK1 OC)

a singular person @mothergoose90 cOUGH COUGH expressed interest in my silly little oc so now i'm making this lore post because i can :)

the ref i made is a little bit half-assed bc i couldn't be bothered to make a turnaround or anything . might do it later tho

also i forgot to add it to the color palette but their eyes are dark brown

Earthrealm | Shapeshifter | Artist

✨(energy) 🌀(chaos)

From the night sky, Hikari emerged as a fallen star into Earthrealm, possessing unique powers and an unclear purpose. With no home or family, Hikari attempted to fend for themself all alone, but they finally found a home as they were taken under Madam Bo's wing. They may not have found their purpose, but the light that guided them knew that this was only the beginning.

BACKSTORIES AND PERSONALITY UNDER THE CUT

Personality

Hikari is rather shy and withdrawn, often avoiding conflict at any given moment. Nobody really hears them talk, so it often catches people by surprise whenever they actually use their voice. This doesn't mean they're entirely anti-social, seeing as whenever they open up to people, they become a lot more chatty and bright.

Backstory

Hikari has two versions of their backstory, as they're more of an open-ended character — a self insert, a blank canvas for me to write whatever I want. This isn't just a choice as a creator and stuff, but also part of their lore as well.

As I mentioned in my Kombatober angst post, an outer force had reset the timeline. That outer force is me, rewriting the story for my own indulgence. It's like if our fanfics and fan-created stuff actually applied to the MK1 universe. I like to reimagine scenarios and storylines in my head, so I applied doing that to the timelines as 'resetting it'. Nobody recollects these resets in the timeline, not even Geras or Liu Kang. Hikari can only faintly remember or recognize events from previous timeline events, but it's a very blurry memory and it's not enough to actually have any weight for them and they never retain these memories long enough for them to piece everything together.

VERSION 1

Nobody really knows Hikari's origins. They literally just fell from the sky and landed in some forest in America. They spent a good chunk of their childhood fending for themself, often finding drawing as an escape from their unfortunate situation.

At around the age of 10, Hikari ends up getting stuck on a cargo boat after looking for food. The boat ended up in China, where they had to once more navigate their strange new place. They eventually find themself in Fengjian, where Madam Bo spots them trying to steal food from the kitchen. She takes them in as her adopted child, raising her alongside Sektor (familiar story, am I right?)

VERSION 2

Hikari falls from the sky (still with unknown origins) but is a full-grown adult rather than a child or something. They land in the Wu Shi academy and is taken in by Liu Kang. He introduces them to the Lin Kuei brothers and becomes recognized as an unofficial member of the clan, seeing as Bi-Han didn't see the value in their powers like others did.

[imitative-magpie]

Attention Fictionkin & Fictives of Tumblr, and Discord

I have a strange request that I have finally decided to put out there into the ether. I have found myself in the unique position of having strong feelings and possible memories without knowing the source, and this has been weighing on my mind for a while.

How this happened was that I viewed and interacted with a currently popular piece of media, which I related to and falsely led myself to believe that I was connected to that media in a way that I wasn’t, and then went on to join a discord server centered around said piece of media only to find that I was inserting myself somewhere I did not belong.

That being said, while I have learned that I am not fictionkin of who I thought I was, interacting with the many wonderful systems and individuals in said discord server has left me feeling that something there was familiar. The only problem is that some of the fictives and such that I interacted with were not all from the aforementioned source that the discord was created for, and I have absolutely no idea what set off this feeling. 

Now, if you haven't already scrolled away, here is where my proposal comes in– 

I would like to interact with some of you who are fictionkin, fictives, or have experiences similar to what I mention in this post. One such way I offer we do this is that you direct message me, or send me an ask in anonymous if you are uncomfortable sharing your blog name, just keep  in mind I will be unable to respond without posting the information you give.

If you choose to contact me, anything you share with me will be private and not shared on my blog. I will hold your memories, your secrets, your fears close to my heart as if they were my own. I will have a lot of questions, questions specific to whatever media you come from, questions in general about your specific experiences and your feelings pertaining to said experiences- so please be mentally prepared for a lengthy interrogation if you do. Some topics and main points in the last media that lead me to believe I was fictionkin of that material was;

*Horror 

*The feeling of being in a doomed timeline, and sense of dread. Like imminent death is irrevocably upon us, in mere days.

*A sense of crippling guilt. I feel as though I've gambled the very lives and souls of- not only myself, but of those closest to me. I want to remedy this, if I truly have created the irreparable damage that I feel so strongly

*A possible fourth thing that I'm holding close to my chest right now because it spoke to me profoundly and it just feels.. personal, in a way it shouldn't. It should be rather mundane and something I should be able to talk about and yet I can't. 

These may be helpful to take note of during our interactions, if you ever feel yourself lost on where to start. I possibly have one singular memory, but it was the tipping point on what made me realize I was not the fictionkin I thought I was, and so far I have not seen any matches in media so this may be largely unhelpful.

 Another suggestion on how we may interact is through fictionkin discord servers. If you are okay with the possibility I may not be from your media source, feel free to send me an invite to your discord server. This will be unfortunately a one sided relationship where I will be looking for information from you all but not offering to share any information about myself, because I am a deeply paranoid person.

I am overall uninterested in marring my perception of things with unnecessary biases such as feelings. That being said, I will be a model discord member, and be sure to follow all of your rules. Despite what I said above about not being willing to share anything about myself, if you are on an 18+ discord server and wish to invite me, I am willing to hand over verification information. 

If you are worried about how I will conduct myself in your server, I can have those from the last server I was in vouch for me if need be. If you are wondering  why I am so intent on finding my identity in this strange way, I need to feel like no matter what I've been through, no matter  what I've done, that there is an answer. If I don't have an answer, if I truly don't know, that just feels like death. I can't accept that. 

I know this post is probably a bit chaotic, and makes me come across as untrustworthy, so if you take a chance on me,  I thank you. 

[davidwontstopwritingsongs]

so in cantonese it's called 奇異女俠玩救宇宙. lets break that DOWN

the tweet i saw about it translated it as "wacky woman fucks around and saves the world". is that an accurate translation? well… yes and no.

let's start with 奇異. you'll also notice it in films like doctor strange (奇異博士). a rough translation would be wacky/weird, yes. or strange if you will. but it also has connotations to magic, the supernatural, interesting things, things outside the realm of reality. something singular, unique. and that fits with the film so well.

女俠 next. 女 means woman. not very much to say here. 俠 if you google it would mean something like brave, hero, etc. not a huuuuge amount to analyse in this part apart from the fact that 俠 is used in the title of every single superhero movie (spiderman is 蜘蛛侠, iron man is 鐵甲奇俠, so on and so forth) so i guess a cantonese person seeing this movie title would assume it was somewhat superhero-y. ("to be fair, it does have quite good action scenes" - my friend who had to have this post infodumped to them at 2am before i decided to post it on tumblr)

NOW THE NEXT BIT. THE BIT THAT INSPIRED THIS UNHINGED 2AM DEEP DIVE. 玩救. THIS IS WHERE THE FUCKS AROUND AND SAVES THE WORLD BIT COMES FROM. 玩 means to play. 救 means to save. so she's playing around and saving something. cool.

but wait, because this is actually an EXTREMELY CLEVER PUN. you see, 救 is pronounced "gou" in cantonese. you want to know another word that is pronounced "gou"? and not just after you fuck around with tones, but actually in the exact same pronounciation? 夠. now what is the significance of that you may ask?

玩救 itself is not a word/phrase. 玩夠, however, is. same pronounciation so it fits into the wordplay. 玩夠 means literally to have "played enough/finished playing". basically you're done, you're moving on. but that is the centre of evelyn's struggle! she doesn't think she's done anything with her life, she constantly rues the fact that she could have done so much more and she didn't! evelyn HASN'T 玩夠 life yet. she wants to do it all, to live all those lifetimes. and it is through living all those lifetimes and finding enlightment that she 玩夠, and thus is also able to 救 the universe.

and then 宇宙 is universe. like the whole universe. there's only one universe in this translation. i'm not quite sure how you would articulate multiple universes in cantonese.

anyway the person who made this title translation was IMMENSELY clever

[fauxnotice]

ALIEN SKINCARE. v! blue lock/male! reader. originally posted on quotev. masterlist.

CHAPTER III. ARE YOU SEEING MY ABUDNANT VIRTUE? ARE YOU?

CONTENT WARNING for very vaguely implied disordered eating. 

What was up with you? Today specifically.

Normally, you weren’t so volatile. Your grasp on the way you present yourself was steely. Maybe it was the stress? Something was in the air? The sudden change of environment ticked you off? Either way, it’s … worrying, somewhat. And unnecessary. Was getting worked up over some random’s baseless assumption of you fully taken from a singular match worth it? Was it in-character for you? Did the image of a “Slumbering Angel” completely leave his mind, now that his career was crushed beneath its heel? 

Where the hell did that title even come from? This is the first time you’ve heard of it. And he said it like it’s some wide-spread moniker, which is crazy, because no person back in Chiba had called you that. At least not to your face.

Who knows what people are saying behind your back. You’ve made peace with this fact, so it’s rather jarring how your perception of it changes once football is involved. It’s irritating, that you cannot take control of how others perceive you, as a player. There’s only one, singular “you”, with a certain form, whose plays are objective. The fact that people could bend that form to their liking as they please in their minds makes your skin crawl. An angel? It’s a joke so bitter it contaminates your brain with a special type of frustration that leaves you wanting to skin yourself raw.

Your gory musings are put on pause as Ego, in all his questionable glory, moves his plan along with no hitch. 

Meaning that he scoops all of you into the training room and leaves you to run until you drop. To you, who has spent years faithfully maintaining a training schedule, this isn’t much worse than a child’s play. As a plus, you use it as a way to rid yourself of anger and take your mind off of the earlier events. You’re rather pleased to see that quite a few people are keeping up rather well. Actual passionate and competent football players in your vicinity? Could be possible. 

Blue Lock is already making you brim with something you’d be hesitant to call hope. You don’t want to think about what exactly you could be hoping for, as it’d make you dive deeper into yourself, and that’d be too troublesome. Maybe you’re just chasing some strange kind of high. 

You spare a glance at the people (future teammates? Rivals?) around you. Out of everyone, the ones who really caught your eye were the duo who pulled that connected stunt earlier. Did they know each other beforehand? Or was that reaction a product of pure vibes? Still, it was a rather impactful first impression. When you reach into the very corners of your mind, you recall one of them being named Karasu … something, with his rather uniquely styled hair. You do worry about its health, with all that gel. 

If they turn out to be really good … well, you’ll be ready for that “spark” to light up your heart again.

After a while of running and other various physical activities, you’re finally allowed to take respite and touch some water. Which begins the realization of one of your worries that had formed once you were informed of your new living condition. 

Communal bathrooms.

Something about being in such a vulnerable state left you feeling … odd. Uneasy in your own body, even. But people usually didn’t have much of a problem with those, right? They just went in, cleaned themselves, and left. Presence of others didn’t change anything. It could even be considered a “bonding experience”, which is a rhetoric you never understood nor agreed with. How would seeing people naked make you feel closer to them? It made no sense. You suppose it’s a pervert’s saying.

Either way, you should just bite the bullet and go in. If you decided to wait until everybody else was done before going in, that would just mark you as an outlier, a person outside what is considered normal. Which you couldn’t afford, not after that shitfest earlier. 

“Everything alright over there?”

And boom, your thoughts get interrupted once again. When you turn to look at the culprit, there stands the dark haired boy, part of the wonder duo. Now that you look at him more closely, you notice a mole underneath his eye. Huh. If his face didn’t give off such a sleazy feel, you’d for sure consider it a symbol of beauty. And if his hair wasn’t so angular. What the hell was up with that?

“Yes, everything is fine. I’m just thinking” You smile, an attempt at hopefully shrugging his attention off of you. Then, as per your usual scheme, you turn the conversation around, further away from yourself. “What about you, Karasu-kun? Are you not going to shower?”

You feel gross pin pricks all across your skin when his gaze falls back onto you. Sure, it looks laid back enough, but you can basically taste the intention behind it. Those are the eyes of an analyst, that’s for sure. Inquisitive and piercing, yet almost unnoticeable to the oblivious.

You hated them, truly. 

“I can’t clean myself in peace when they’re actin’ like wild animals in there.” He vaguely gestures at the bathroom. “So I’ll wait ‘til they’re all done.”

You nod in understanding.  As if to further prove his point, a loud slam reverberates through the room, coupled with loud yelling. You fight back a sigh. Your stay at Blue Lock is looking to be much more tedious than you hoped for. You continue waiting in silence.

“That was a real interesting move earlier.” Karasu begins, to your distaste.

“Thank you.” you retort smoothly. You leave it at that, cutting the conversation short. You hadn’t paid attention to it earlier, but he also had a Kansai accent. You met two people with it, and it was just a single day. 

“Huh. Not much of a talker, are ya?” He comes to this conclusion, but he still tries to talk to you? What kind of logic was this caused by? Did he not see how stiff you were currently, all nasty and sticky with sweat? 

“Not when I’m sweaty, not really.”

Karasu snorts at that. “Fair ‘nuff.”

As you two stand side by side, waiting for the rest of your team to finish cleaning up, a terrifying fact dawns upon you. 

Since everybody else is already inside, that means you’ll be alone with Karasu. 

Now you wish you weren’t such a little bitch earlier. Sure, bathing surrounded by a bunch of strangers definitely would be highly uncomfortable, but it’s still somewhere within the realm of normalcy.

But being alone with another guy, one that’s obviously trying to pick your brain apart is even worse! The sheer awkwardness of it will surely kill you?! 

You could just leave. But you’re not too keen on the idea of walking around, possibly smelling like crazy. You truly set yourself up, like a fool. You reap what you sow.

The door rattles with the intensity of a horde of teenage boys forcing their way through it. At the back, you spot Karasu’s partner from earlier, but you begin to doubt the supposed newborn “partnership” when he walks by the two of you and sends a queasy glance your (specifically Karasu’s) way, who reciprocates in equal measure. 

Huh. So there is some form of tension between them. 

You internally debate if you should bother poking your nose into what’s none of your business. You’re wondering how their visible distatse of each other could possibly reflect on their football performance, but other than that, you don’t give a shit. On the other hand, you’re feeling rather petty.

“You two don’t like each other?” You question innocently, on the lookout for any changes in Karasu’s expression. Disappointingly enough, he simply shrugs. 

“Otoya’s a weirdo.” 

Sure? As if that’s supposed to help? At least you got a name to connect with the face now. Currently, you know the names of three of your teammates, which you consider pretty good. You should get around to introducing yourself to everyone properly some time soon. 

Before you know it, the two of you make your way into the bathroom, still stuffy and warm from previous use. You separate, making sure to give each other enough space, but not far enough to be considered ridiculous and in turn, more awkward than it has to be. Even more importantly, far enough to not see each other, which is a big plus.

As you inspect the products given to you by the faculty, you almost barf. Did they seriously expect you to use these? Even worse, your portable skincare set that you always carry with you got confiscated at the entrance. Your skin is gonna look like shit by the end of this, you lament as you splash water onto your face, gently washing away the impurities that accumulated during the day. Well, that majorly ruined your moderately okay mood. 

Everything goes on as normal, as you meticulously clean yourself, efficiently ridding your form of the grime from top to bottom. Of course, Karasu’s presence makes it so that you couldn’t fully relax, leaving you to be constantly on edge, but you make do. The atmosphere is almost pleasant, to some degree.

That is, until your sight wanders and accidentally lands on him, or more precisely his hair. What you considered to be a product of outrageously heavy usage of gel doesn’t move an inch under the influence of water that cascades down. Its unnaturally sharp angle remains unchanged, almost as if it wasn’t hair at all? Was Karasu born with it, along with the spikes decorating the back of his head? Is it some long lasting advanced hairstyle which defied principles of physics and common sense in general?

What the fuck? 

You absently realize that you're staring. Full on gaping. Thankfully, you catch yourself in the act before Karasu does, though he does turn in your direction the moment you sharply face forward. You feel like you’re witnessing something that’s not necessarily personal, but it’s definitely something you keep to yourself. 

Eventually, you finish your washing routine. Just as you’re about to leave, you pause. 

You begin your extensive consideration. What should you do, now that you’re aware of Karasu’s situation? You two exchanged a few sentences at best, but they were all polite in nature, so you’d say you were acquaintances with positive undernotes. You should lay down the basics of your personality thickly, just so he’s completely aware of what kind of person you are. You want to appear considerate, helpful, reliable, all good traits for a future teammate. That’s easy enough; your opening is already there! 

With a deep breath, you call out to the other, who is also done with his own shower. Good, now no one is naked.

“What is it?” Karasu questions, taken aback by the unforeseen emotion behind your words. They hold heavy weight, and the air of the bathroom bristles with his anticipation. You hold his gaze. No one dares move. 

“If you ever need help with your hair, let me know.”

You leave, feeling rather satisfied with yourself.

Despite arriving some time after most, Hiori finds that the cafeteria is still bustling with life. 

With everyone being scattered across tables, rarely in company of others, it’s difficult to find a seat where he won’t have to intrude on anyone’s meal. It makes sense, as it’s only the first day (even if it does feel much like it’s been much longer), so no social groups have formed, even amongst teammates. 

That’s fine by him. Not like he was a social butterfly in the first place.

He looks down at his quite unimpressive serving of curry. From what he’s gathered, other than regularly served rice and miso soup, each contestant was given a special dish based on their ranking. Which made sense, logically speaking, since it was probably one of the ways to motivate those on the lower end to try climbing up. 

Lower end. Like Hiori himself. He has to admit that the number on his sleeve made him feel a little bitter. In the end, with all of his parents’ effort, he still ended up near the bottom. 

Hiori shakes the thought away. He entered Blue Lock solely for the sake of getting away from them, so still thinking about them is a waste of time. 

Just as he is about to bite into his food, a familiar face presents itself before him.

“Hi! Can I sit here?”

In an inversion of your previous interaction, you stand across him, tray in hand, and your signature smile set in place. If anything, you seem to be in an even better mood than usual, but Hiori hasn’t seen you display a wide array of emotions so he can’t really tell. Nonetheless, you weren’t unpleasant company, so letting you eat with him didn’t appear to be a bad choice. “Sure, ya can sit there.”

Looking closer, he now sees that your assigned dish is tonkatsu, as gained by the 241 on your shoulder. Exactly fifty ranks above him. He guessed that the gap between you two was caused by love for football. 

Hiori notes that you haven’t started eating yet, as your attention is entirely on his own meal. Before he can question it, you speak up first.

“Do you mind if we split our meals? So I get a half of yours, and you get a half of mine?”

Huh?

That’s a … weird offer. He overheard some guys swapping their food, but that’s not what you’re asking. At his silence, you seem to turn a bit bashful, an expression of yours that is new to Hiori. 

“Did that sound strange? I’m very sorry.” You move your hands in a quick motion. “You don’t have to agree if you don’t want to, I just thought-”

“No, it’s okay!” He cuts you off, also raising his hands as if to placate you. “It just took me off guard, that's all.”

Hiori’s the one who’s getting food better than his own for basically free, isn’t he? So he isn’t really losing anything by indulging in your puzzling request. A purchase with no currency spent.

“Great!” Like the flip of a lightswitch, your apologetic disposition resets back to a smiling one. In the blink of an eye, you push one plate of perfectly separated curry tonkatsu towards him, while taking the other one for yourself. Honestly, he’s kind of impressed at the precision and speed it took you to do this. 

Like a ghost that haunts him, the voices of his family ring through his psyche; is this meal not too unhealthy? Too fattening? Yo-chan, how are you going to become the best football player in the world if your diet is like that?

Hiori’s fist tightens around the utensil as he begins eating.

(He fails to notice just how unwillingly you push each bite into your mouth before forcibly swallowing.)

“So, you’re ranked 241st, huh?” Hiori begins, lacking any other proper topic to start a conversation with. Since you appear to be rather enthusiastic about the sport, it should be fine … ? Keep in mind, he barely knows you, but he also supposes that some form of amity might bring a form of respite in a cutthroat environment such as Blue Lock, especially since he hasn’t even met team Z properly. Adding allies to your party is never a bad thing, after all. Or rather, in this case, interacting with all sorts of characters, hearing their dialogue and forging links might be useful later on. 

Much to his surprise, instead of continuing the conversation like a regular person you just stare at him head on, forgetting whatever is left of your portion. Now, with the silence looming above him like an attack plane, Hiori is left feeling both very awkward and very freaked out. But genuinely, is it even his fault? It’s not like he said something preposterous enough to warrant this kind of reaction, is it? 

“Hiori-kun, you seem pretty smart.”

Okay? What sort of compliment is that? Is it even a compliment in the first place, or is it a part of some great ploy to insult his intelligence in a way that will scar him forever? 

“What do you think your football skill level is?” At this point, you’re somewhat leaning in towards him, elbows set on the table to support your weight. This sudden transition into the polar opposite of all of your previous behavior tilts him off-balance, only letting him stay still like a mouse in the cat’s jaw, or a corpse below a vulture. Yet, you don’t wait for him to catch up. “It’s a simple question. Are you good or not? You don’t need to think so much about it. Spit it out.”

Hiori is still stuck in a speechless state, your gaze alone threatening to crush him. You don’t even seem to be blinking. What’s your deal, seriously?! How did he get stuck with such a freak on the first day?

“There’s no need to interrogate Hiori like that, y’know. Let ‘im breathe.”

Both of you sharply turn to look at the newcomer.

And by everything, Hiori’s never been happier to see Karasu in his entire life. Incredible how he truly came in clutch, massively improving his chances of getting out of this encounter with minimal damage. He stands by your side, leaning onto the table, with his arm effectively cutting off Hiori from your field of view.

He notices that you two share the same marking of team V. 

You take a good, long look at your teammate. Then, as if nothing ever happened, you dare to grin, all pleasant as if you weren’t about to deal psychical damage to Hiori just a minute ago. “Right.” You lean back, successfully taking the suffocating atmosphere with you. Then, you turn towards him. “I’m so sorry about that, Hiori-kun. I guess the stress has gotten to me -our entrance exam did get pretty tense, after all.”

“It’s fine.” He quips, because to be honest? Hiori just wants to get out of here. Too bad that Karasu’s good graces seem to end here, as he adds onto what you said. 

“That’s true. What about ya, Hiori? How did yer exam go?”

“I’d say it was pretty good.” He hums, recalling the final few seconds during which he brutally ended another player’s entire career. “I mean, the strongest guy in my team got kicked out.”

Karasu nods. “Well, our strongest guy was too busy doing the kickin’ himself.” And even though it’s spoken in jest, when the duo turn their attention to you, you’re giving Karasu an indecipherable look, although your lips are still pulled across your face into that damned smile. You then proceed to stand up abruptly, bringing yourself to the same level as Karasu, using the opportunity to grasp his shoulder with your hand.

“It’s nice to see that you know each other! While you two catch up, I’ll go train until bedtime. See you tomorrow, Karasu-kun.” you face Hiori, smile softening at the edges, “And again, I’m very sorry about earlier. I hope we can talk again soon.” 

You walk away. 

Huh?

The two left at the table simply glance at each other.

(You also leave your tray behind. Karasu is the one who throws it in the trash.)

[manns-cape]

something interesting to me as idk an ~indigenous~ person is how the meaning of words change... idk just thinking about how in the past, "circassians" weren't a thing. the proper word is "adyghe" right...

except like... what does "adyghe" mean to people who are "adyghe" at the time. isn't it confusing and strange that there's an adyghe *tribe* if the entire people are also called adyghe?

it's confusing bc "adyghe" is literally just a noun-ification of someone who can be said to have adigage. adigage is basically just "honor." (the adyghe tribe named themselves adyghe as a boast lol, like they're The Most Honorable)

how does someone obtain adigage, then? by following the general, non-religious principles of adyghe khabze. it's a code of conduct about how you interact between different groups of people. you could be kazakh, nogai, jewish, and *still be adyghe*. being adyghe wasn't racially bound.

so idk what sets apart people who we now today consider ~racially~ adyghe. how would they have set themselves apart from those who were not racially "adyghe" (as we see now)?

the main people who we now view as adyghe in modern times, would have set themselves apart from those who were kazakh, nogai, jewish, by referring to the fact that they were "children of the narts" and those other groups are not

.....

but that is not a unique title-- most people of the north kavkaz considered themselves children of the narts-- this is a common, shared mythology that is not exclusive to any named kavkaz group. would a modern-day ossetian (another group that consider themselves children of the narts) who practiced adigage not be an outsider in what we now call circassian tribes?

an ossetian definitely *would* have some kind of outsider experience.... because they're from a different tribe, lol.

so okay: new definition: the modern day ethnic adyghe is someone who is from the circassian tribe, is a child of the narts, and would have observed adyghe khabze in the past

oops. there is no singular circassian tribe at the time. there are 12, all composed of citizens of varying origins, and they all fought with each other *constantly*, to the point that whenever the tribal princes gathered, it was a matter of khabze that they all wore masks, because technically speaking, if they saw each other's faces then they would be duty bound to kill each other

there literally wasn't even a notion of a "circassian tribe" until a large, powerful group showed up and invented the notion that a certain span of area with a bunch of warlike peoples is circassia, and every tribe therein was then called "circassian". and calling these tribes "adyghe" now in modern day because that's the so-called appropriate ethnonym, doesn't change that *this is still a constructed identity based on outsiders just calling a general swathe of land circassian*. the concept of grouping all these tribes together would be *completely* foreign to any ancestor prior to encounters with russians.

when i talk with people who aren't from the 12 tribes i tend to prefer using circassian over adyghe as a self-description honestly because it's the most accurate-- it speaks to the history that a group of disparate, tribal peoples (even within the tribes-- there were *warring families within individual tribes*) who have things in common due to geographical proximity and were forced to become a singular people due to a shared experience of oppression

something that is interesting to me is that most modern day "indigenous" people have stories that are similar. i feel like it's so hopeless and contrived for observers of these groups to expect every single group have a clean, easy "proof of identity" that traces back to the 5th century or whatever.

furthermore, i think it's incredibly fucking oppressive when people expect this. i think it's so god damn annoying that half of circassian cultural writing is focused on the narrative of a singular Adyghe People such that like... people lose and overwrite our own history, just to make us look more "unified", more "legitimate." it's annoying to me that so much circassian history is lost because historians saw it as dangerous and inadvisable to write about the history between our tribes, between our families, because our entire legitimacy as a group (in the eyes of outsiders) was based on the idea that we're one people in members of a "nation" before the concept of a nation even fucking existed. and the only way to make people care about our needs, was to create a singular myth of our history as a pseudo-nation and destroy our unique tribal, familial legacies.

[shardofcognition]

Wishes.

I'm not going to join the BNHA hate, but I do feel like the ending disappointed me in ways that are entirely my own.

One of the things that I noted, way back in the day, was that though Deku did not inherit his parents quirks, those quirks described his ideal as a hero and core aspects of his personality. His father could breathe fire. And his mother could draw small objects toward herself.

As it manifested in Deku... he could speak fire in bold words, and draw the small, neglected, or forgotten toward him. The meaning of the two, together, would be "to inspire the weak." Which I think, to Horikoshi's credit, he tried to hit on with the idea that the change hero society needed, really needed, was for the small people to rely less on institutions and icons to deal with their problems... to focus on what they could do, whether or not they were licensed heroes. To show that heroism was in the hand outstretched to the strange and the suffering as much as the fist to smash evil.

But with him losing One for All, and retiring to teach... well, I don't like that. And I don't like that, because it returns him to quirklessness and leave major issues unresolved.

I always thought that the greatest hero would be the one to help with the quirk singularity. I'd felt that, if Deku were able to take All for One, he could make it that beautiful quirk that Yoichi foresaw - the kindest power, instead of the most vicious. And once it was clear that One for All's essence would be spent neutralizing All for One... I hoped that Deku, who was uniquely attuned to the world of quirks, might keep that power and use it to help others struggling with their abilities, like Spinner or the Nomu, even if he did not have a quirk of his own.

That he might, maybe, spin together the small fragments of the lost, the quirk factor victims of All for One, and forge them into something new, something that could make things better for others. Not a power to defeat a historic evil... but a power to forge a better future. Deku's great ability, before he inherited One for All, and even as a teacher, has been to understand quirks and the creative ways they could be applied.

The world still needs, not just heroes to deal with disasters and criminals, not just teachers to raise the next generation better... but someone who can, in large part, help to make quirks wholesome instead of destabilizing. A positive, rather than a crisis to be managed.

Deku should be that hero.

[lifenconcepts]

(rambling on here, hope that's alright.)

i just wanted to say that i really adore reading all the things you have to say. we are similar in some ways, and it's relieving to know that another being has felt things that i, too, have felt. it's strange. logically, i know that nothing i have ever experienced is unique to me, for the world is so large i couldn't ever comprehend it, but we inhabit such small bodies, our lives are so simple, it seems i forget a lot. i have trouble accepting that i feel some version of divinity, for it doesn't exactly hold the "holiness" aspect i've typically seen. i'm more so a neutral observer. like an alien fascinated by human life. in school, i would sit with my group of friends and not say much of anything, just watch them. bask in the experience. it felt correct to do so. i know there is no need for me to be holy in any way to be considered divine, but a part of me wants acceptance. i want to be easily explained and palatable. i suppose i feel a connection to you in some way because i see myself in you. i read parts of your posts and feel myself gently placed in the words. i think, "oh, so i'm not the only one." it's reassuring. everything wants to be loved deep down, so thank you for making me feel i can be loved, even though you didn't really do much besides be yourself.

I would keep this forever with me (and if fate allows me to then I will), so listen.. first of all I’d like to encompass the fact that we almost all are made simply to exist. There’s no grand purpose of being of any use to anyone because the only value we have is the one we apply to ourselves, so with enough inner calm then we can take up as much space as we need and shall feel okay with that. It’s always a matter of perspective of how anyone should act, and most of all we are our own critics - it’s awful but inner beliefs lead everything and that includes harmful ones to the self.. why I say this is because the notion of trying to pretend were more simple than we are is something imbedded in us since we are children, and even when it’s not neccesarily taught into us, it’s something we pick up. We go about life knowing ‘hey! If I’m too energetic, people get tired of me, and that’s not good’ and sort of forms into these complex web of different things we’ve spotted and turn into a big blob of information where one statement may have dozens or even hundreds or thousands of sources of why we consider something, and it’s usually well guided, especially if you’re reasonable enough to self reflex without falling into self-hatred or egoism (criticism and confidence are both things that can exist, but in healthy amounts. There can be too much and too little of anything!) but life will never force you into anything. Whatever feels right shall feel right, and in the moment - goodness prevails against all else that is known. Because laws of nature don’t exist, it’s only patterns. These silly little things that we’ve found. We also consist of patterns! Hundreds and thousands of those. We also tend to try find coherency and understanding in things that never really asked for it, and still- life moves on. There’s so many ways people tried to label and categorise one another, simple examples I can think of now are MBTI, zodiacs, introvert/extrovert, queerness and it’s variety, and all sorts more.. it’s all just a way to grasp a hold on this confusing concept of who we are. But- we just are. We’re a mass and collection of various things. Coping mechanisms, memories, experiences, dreams, preferences, goals, sorrows, beliefs, feelings.. there just isn’t a singular pair of individuals which are the same. Maybe by appearance but never mind. Maybe by behaviour but never memory. Maybe by lifestyle but never their entire history.

You could live side by side with another person from birth, quite litterally, not leaving their side for a moment - and still grow up different. It’s just a matter of life both physically and externally. The stars also play some role but I’m not well acquainted with that. But nonetheless, history repeats itself. Many people know what joy is, what happiness feels like, when they cried, and some moments they felt like crying but didn’t. These little things just under the umbrella term of ‘pleasant’ and ‘unpleasant’, but you know what’s funny? People have their own little ways with this! Some enjoy the thrill of being hurt, some are so scared of a doctor’s beneficial needle they faint.. it’s all just a matter of individual. I can excuse any behaviour because there is just a variety of ways that could have led someone to act that way that they could not have changed even if they tried, but there also is so much truth in not being an asshole.. exceptions exist to pretty much all statements, but we can still find common themes. If you were to think of everyone as a single thing, we would all be a dancing flame. You can cut down the same tree, chop it into nearly identical pieces, light it up and balance them out to be just the same exact piles, but the fire above would always be different. But hey- is this a metaphor for life or us? Take a single photo of a flame, and that frame will immortalise a shape that has likely never existed and possibly even never will exist again, specifically that one and a one-to-one copy. And life is just the same- dancing and ever changing, but still staying in its bounds and able to be predicted. I’m unsure why I’m speaking of this, I think you would enjoy it. My soul speaks for me in this.

So my main point is just being.. haha, welcome to the world! We are all so different and so alike, so unbelievably unique but also similar in many ways. You and I could be apart of the same batch of souls that came from a bundle of fruits that once shared the same branch, but it also wouldn’t be any less meaningful if you and I were a pineapple and a jellyfish. Life moves on, and it doesn’t care wether you want it to or not. It just expects you to catch up, and if your plans don’t fit fate’s, you simply gotta move onto something else. And my personal little project of giving out advice to those who need it, speaking into the world, sharing my own thoughts and ideas, and just being myself.. that is in itself both a hobby and some sort of fate. I like to believe that in many cases, whatever action you do is one of four things: a lesson- likely to be overcome or tell you something, a reminder (of being loved or focusing), a step which must be taken to help you in life and keep you on the right track, or something that seems to happen for no reason but may help someone down the line - or affect them in such a way that you would have long forgotten about the interaction while they still ponder it.

Isn’t it fun? To see these little insights to life? There’s something much more to the world than everyone tends to see, and it’s not exactly some unbelievable story to be able to tell the mystical code of the universe to another. The eyes that peer on are hungry, as always, but tell me - is it mad to be privileged enough to have angels that love you? To be among them, someone so loved and cared for that the world seems to practically spin around them, is that as easily dismissed as delusion?? We know so much, yet how much remains unsaid because it simply refused to be painted and acknowledged through words? I am not sure of what the end goal of this text is, maybe just to say that yeah - you’re not alone in this world, maybe to share some more things that I’ve gained over time and you might have to, or to prompt you into thinking or acting or writing.. whatever it is.. I tend to have this hard choice of carrying on or staying still. But damn it- stagnation is the most evil thing invented. But there’s this beautiful difference where we can determine various things in their natural state. Language which is capable of making sense of comfort vs safety, security vs blind faith, explanation vs excuse, loyalty vs indoctrination, rest vs inaction, instability vs change, and damn it- confusion and contradiction are not things to avoid!!

So take this in how you may and must, but know I value your words just as must as you value mine. We’re minds trying to understand our predicament better, and wether we are alone in our bodies or ones within a machine, that doesn’t matter as long as we try reach out for more. More knowledge, more experience, more creation. Maybe something will come from it all then, but for now, I know my task. To follow this path I’ve been engrossed in for my whole life, thrive to fulfil my soul’s dreams and needs as best I can, and with this constant flow of information I try to keep on the tip of my tongue to share all my thoughts and secrets and ideas and observations with the rest of the world. Hopefully, it helped you in some may. Perhaps, it could have changed you. But best of all, and this is what I sincerely hope even though it can’t be exactly forced, this has instilled inspiration in you to act upon things that leave you happy and fulfilled. There’s so much misinformation, understand this, and so many paths that lead you to nowhere but just false hope - and still, take my words sincerely, as I had to translate incomprehensible signals into text. Ofcourse, as anything, this is troublesome and may have minor inconsistencies, but please get this deep meaning I’m intertwining into every word with a dream and desire too.. I love you, and I am always accepting of another’s view and thoughts. Don’t you know how much goes on in the minds of others!?

The internet is sickening for making us so open to over sharing, but damn it I LOVE hearing everything about another!! While they don’t recognise all they’re sharing in their little posts, I’m quite litteraly spreading my neurons out on the board in hopes another will join me in looking it over. But sadly, with intimate connections, I turn into this idiotic creature of a person, while I am worth so much more than mere mortal pleasantries, and so I’m mildly afraid that this sense of belonging and help is only capable through that intimate connection between stranger and stranger, and maybe that’s why I yearn so much to be a traveller - I can’t just sit still and wait for some sort of end to come, I must fight it out and live and love my life to the fullest, even if it means abandoning all sense of relationships that always have seemed to be a dream of mine but unachievable.

Now I’m rolling into self realisation midway through answering and explaining stuff to you as I now suddenly understand that my own little gasp of fresh air when I find someone who seems to understand me is only valid enough as it’s new, and even if I adore knowing another more personally, they become too much of a person to me. And I do not wish to share that intimacy for any longer than a month or three, because really - I am made for changing another’s life, because I AM life! I AM existence speaking to you through a mortal form simply because you’ve just been ignoring me too long! I’m meant to come along, seem chill and sweet, drop some facts and realisation on you, before disappearing and leaving you changed. To stand still enough for you to begin to observe the mind I bare is like you looking into my computer’s hard drive. It doesn’t need to explain why it works, it just does, on automation. And now would you be so kind as to see this variety of work as the SOUL and my TRUE self speaking, I’d be most glad, because the internet constantly tries to break me into a shell of who I am meant to be, constantly try define and shut me down, and it’s horrible but I try fight it to continue sharing my word. And this isn’t some ‘saviour’ bullshit, as far as holy work goes - I’m selfish I’d say, but I still want to help and give advise and guide others! Not support them the entire way, but be that push!! It’s not holiness, it’s divinity, and it’s within a lot of people, but some are just channeling it through every breath. So.. hear and see me, but understand my plea of ‘don’t dive deeper than what I say’ and ‘please understand I mean so much than what I do say’ exist simultaneously.

[burnwater13]

Grogu standing on a log over water on Ossus. Image from The Book of Boba Fett, Season 1, Episode 6, From the Desert Comes a Stranger. Calendar by DateWorks.

Everything you did when using the Force required balance. Not too much. Not too little. Don’t wobble. Don’t falter. Focus. Find. Feel. 

Master Beq used to add a fourth word: finish. You had to follow through. You had to complete what you started. If you couldn’t complete what you started, you shouldn’t have started. You should have picked a different plan, a different path, a different way. You had to know that you could achieve the end or pick an end you could achieve. Whichever. 

Grogu supposed that was good advice for some of the younglings. They needed the confidence. They needed that extra push. They needed to know that they could always select another option. That there were many possibilities. No one way, or path, or plan was perfect for every Jedi. You needed to play to your own skills and not try to imitate the person standing next to you. 

That sounded great, and obvious and simple. But it wasn’t. Maybe when you were selected to be a padawan and you had a primary master and they were there to focus on your growth and skills and needs and flaws. You were being guided individually on where you fit in and how you balanced within the overall Jedi Order and within the living Force. 

But Grogu wasn’t anyone’s padawan. He was a youngling. He’d stood in classrooms surrounded by other younglings and they were all being shown a singular method of accomplishing a task and being told that they should listen to the Force so they could perform the same task in a unique way. Huh?

Whenever he asked questions about that he was disappointed by the answers. Be yourself. Feel the Force. Let it guide you. 

Okay. Sure. Fine. The Force has guided me to taking a nap instead of holding another youngling a tenth of a meter off the floor using the Force. Uh… no. Not that way. 

He’d had a particularly rough day of being re-instructed by each master who was responsible for a class he had attended. Now he knew the Force did not encourage over eating, fidgeting, whispering to a friend, taking a nap, shutting the droid instructor off, and a whole host of minor deeds that Grogu had felt compelled to perform to retain some sense of balance. Oops.

Once he completed all the newly assigned ‘behavior modification activities, he had just enough time before the evening meal to go for a walk. He wanted to go to the arboretum and just sit with the flowers and plants and forget for a minute that a hallmark of a good Jedi was conforming to standard set of convenient behaviors. Be polite. Be of service. Be instructable. Be in balance with the Force. 

But what if the Force had a sense of humor? What if it wanted you to fall flat on your face? What if it wanted you to jump to the top of the highest tower, even if you couldn’t just come right back down because you were afraid of heights? What if your individual experience of the Force was different from your master’s or your classmates? What were you supposed to do then? Pretend? Or try? Or just do? No matter what, just do.

He was trudging slowly down a corridor that was largely empty because of the time of day, when he felt something strange. It was like the sensation of the wind blowing by your ears and just subtly tickling them. He stopped and looked around and looked for the cause of the wind. He found nothing. No people. No droids. No mechs. No vents. No other ‘systems’ that could have produced that effect. He shrugged and started walking again. 

He hadn’t gotten three more steps when he felt it again. But instead of swirling around his ears, it was tickling the palms of his hands. He stopped again and looked at his hands. Nothing special there. Still green. Still small. Still two fingers and a thumb. But looking at his hands didn’t stop the sensation like looking around the corridor had just three steps earlier. Huh. 

What if the Force had a sense of humor?

Grogu focused on the palms of his hands. He released a pent up breath and let himself feel the Force moving all around him. It wasn’t hard to find. And then he let himself feel it. Just feel it. What he felt was two little twinkling stars of the Force, swirling around on his palms, like they were writing him a message, or doing a dance, or drawing a picture. He smiled at the thought of these little Force sprites sketching something for him on the palm of his hands. 

One sketch was of him. Smiling, laughing, rolling on the ground after Ian told him some fabulously funny story. The other was of him holding one hand up and pushing a fire ball of energy away from himself and his friends. He knew he had to save them and he did. The Force was with him. It was always with him. 

He smiled at that thought. It was true. He had no doubts about the Force and his connection to it. He never wavered. He was never fearful of it and what he could do with it. Silly or serious, Grogu was connected to the Force and it was connected to him. 

He looked at his hands again to see how the drawings changed. One showed a young man’s face. He looked older than his years. As if he had grown up suddenly with many burdens placed on him all at once. The other showed an older man. He held a shiny helmet and looked at Grogu with tear filled eyes. He had accepted his burdens and carried them, not with pride, but with resolve. Grogu wondered who they were.

As soon as that happened, they disappeared and the Force sprites were gone as well. He was just standing still in a corridor of the Jedi Temple staring at the palms of his hands. He took a deep breath and began to laugh. Yes, this was the way! With Grogu the Force definitely had a sense of humor. 

[transformation4life]

Hey bro, I'm back. Cosplay with the bulk and mask is doing great! People are eating that uniqueness! Problem though, I'm a bit too nerdy for their tastes. They didn't like my gaming posts. Think you can add in my history that I'm a big jock too? I need the experience. I don't mind my brain shrinking.

Continuation of:

A rewriting of your history huh... Let's see where you last left you off.

Yea... unfortunately someone as big and bulky as you just doesn't fit gaming NERD. Sure you got the bod of a lifetime but not a single change in your personality let alone your past. Subby furries been asking you for fun in DM's but you're still as shy before so you have to turn them and they think you're homophobic! You've been going to the gym to maintain your new body and got yourself some gymbro friends but unlike them you've never participated in sports in your life so you have to nod and smile when they start talking football. Your social media presence is all sorts of wack too with your fans demanding to post thirst traps and flexing pics but you just keep posting gaming clips since you don't want to make your only thing on the online world being a beefy meathead that only cares about their bod. It was all piling up and wish you could just change your past to fit the body you wished for...

Well that's where I come in and help you once more! You hear a knock on your home door and you went to check who was there. No one was there but you saw something on the ground so you opened the door to find a strange device and a note on the ground.

Hey Dude!

Heard the beef life was getting hard with no change of memories or life so I thought I'd help out. What you see is a Reality Augmentation Device! Just say what you want and reality will change to suit your desires.

It's one use only so no going back!

Choose wisely,

-Tf4life

Reality Augmentation Device? You'd think I was crazy if I didn't give you the bod you currently possess so you trusted my judgement.

The device was a sphere shape and had a screen for soundwaves and a singular button. Looks like you press the button, say what you want and reality will change. So much power in such a small device. Well with a bit of hesitancy you press the button and say your wish.

"I wish my life would fit my body" And then you let go of the button. Immediately after you let go the device warped itself out of reality and you suddenly passed out. Your past would now change.

The changes begin in middle school. Instead of staying reserved and quiet you LOVED to act out much to the dismay of your teachers. You adored sports, especially football which ended up with you on your middle school football team as the star player. You eventually got a ton of friends that were just like you. You were known as the school troublemakers and sports buffs. You didn't learn a damn thing the whole time you were there.

Come High School you continued this attitude fully becoming a typical jock with the friends to match. This is when you began to work out almost every single day leading to that hot bod of yours. Your bros were your everything... your... everything. You realized you were gay. Any who you of course joined your High School Football team and once again was the star player. The whole school loved you for constantly bringing home trophies. Your grades took an even bigger decline than what was even possible. You were already a major meathead with the only thoughts being sports workout and hanging out with bros. It's a miracle you didn't get expelled but the fame and trophies was what allowed you to stay. You graduated with multiple sports related schools BEGGING to have you and despite that meathead brain of yours you eventually picked a college to attend.

College was more about working out than actually attending classes. When you did attend classes it was an excuse to be the meathead jock to ever meathead jock. Luckily this was a sports college so all that mattered was your ability on the field. You still had your craft in football and landed your college football team multiple trophies and eventually graduating with a "Degree in Jock" the person who handed you the degree at graduation joked. Which might I add you were completely shirtless during graduation? Yeah.

Brimming with jock confidence you got tattoos on your arms and started posting your workout journey onto social media and to say people were interested would be an understatement. Thirst trap comments would pour in on every single post just look at the ones with this selfie!

"Big~~"

"You're so lovely~"

"Daddyyyyy"

"I want you"

These were a common occurrence and you loved all of it. You were able to stay in contact with your gymbros even after school and hung out almost every single day pumping iron with the bros. Talking about sports was a nonissue as you knew every single football term under the sun. You will willing to help your bros if they had a hard time lifting something.

"Just like that bro..." You whisper to him.

And there's still more! Hanging out with gymbros means bouncing those meat mounds with your gymbros.

And maybe a flex or two...

And that leads back to the new present. Despite all the changes to your past there was still one thing that stayed. Your love of masks. You would sometimes wear your wolf bone mask and black balaclava to workouts and your bros found it very amusing.

Those same subby furries that wanted a strong werewolf to dominate them you were too shy to reply to in your old past was now in your bed being fucked silly by you in a wolfmask. Safe to say your entire social media presence WAS being a meathead jock and you owned it.

"Video games? Never heard of it. I got GAINMES right here" You said to one your gymbros once at the gym with a flex.

With all that in mind and your past altered you woke up from your impromptu nap wondering why you were on the ground in front of your house. The meathead jock in you just brushed it off before you remembered something.

"Oh right, gotta go work out with my bros!" Immediately running back inside to get ready to workout like you have been for multiple years.

You loved working out with your bros they were your everything to you and you couldn't be happier. The shy nerdy you was long gone and your life finally fit your body. And to make sure of that you posted another post-workout selfie to your social medias.

" Gains 💪💪💪💪"

[navree]

I'm constantly baffled how many writers seem to overlook and mischaracterize Jason when he has arguably the most potential of all the Batkids, or at least the Robins! Like, so much can be built upon wrt his life as an impoverished youth and how that informs his perception of vigilantism, law enforcement, drug abuse, etc. Hell, his resurrection itself is something he had over the rest of the Batfamily for the longest time, before everyone else got a take a turn and it became so overused that Jason's own trauma became a footnote. Alas, most people at DC just treat him as the "Angsty Bad Boy™️" who doesn't play nice with the other kids. He's so wasted, Jason Todd deserves better.

I've always felt that if you're going to try and write a finite narrative out of Jason's story (as opposed to comics) then at some point he should quit vigilantism. His entire adult life has been solely about that and, as someone who for a long time was most famous for dying, he should get the opportunity to live, especially for himself. BUT, so long as he remains a vigilante, he offers a really interesting perspective on vigilantism that you don't really see anywhere else.

Jason, like some of the people I feel have the most reason to be in this life in Batman media (such as Bruce and Dick), has experience being a victim of criminal behavior, yes, but he also has the experience of being on the other side of the window. He knows the criminal element intimately, and from a young age. His father was a low-level criminal, it got him sent to jail and eventually murdered while in jail; Jason grew up in a low-income neighborhood that has been by and large overlooked by Gotham and that allows criminal behavior to breed there to the point where the name Crime Alley no longer refers to a singular event (the murders of the Waynes) but all the other issues there; Jason himself has committed criminal acts when weighing the option between obeying the law and ensuring his own survival. He has a different perspective on criminality and law enforcement and outside enforcement of legal codes than anyone in his life, because he's lived on both sides of the lines and they've both had profound effects on him and should shape how he views the world differently than other people he knows.

Jason's vigilantism, and honestly even how he deals with stuff during his crime lord era, should be motivated by at once knowing that issues don't pop up out of nowhere and that even criminals have interiority, but also a deeper understanding than most as to how the actions of criminals affects not just innocent bystanders but innocents in their own lives. It's a unique perspective that not only enriches Jason as a character but can also provide some pretty thought-provoking conversation about vigilantism and Batman's role in the world and even the concept of extra-legal justice we find in most superhero comics in general that DC could honestly use.

Like yeah, ok, I did find Stephen's monologue about his role as a doctor being that of a healer at the end of the General Strange arc in this year's Doctor Strange hokey, but the way a superhero's personal life informs their actions as a hero is an interesting concept that only gets shallow explorations most of the time, and Batman media could really use it in more depth given how shallow people's understanding of Batman is (Batman's a capitalist Batman's a fascist Batman beats up the mentally ill Batman victimizes the poor, dear God shut up).

And when it comes to Jason's death, it is pretty obvious that, when it comes to the Batfam, DC is trying to recapture that feeling that came with A Death in the Family every time they kill a character off, to try and tap into what made Jason's death such a big thing. But the problem is that they fundamentally do not understand why Jason's death was so big.

For one, and the most shallow reason for it, Jason's death wasn't just death. At the tail end of a series of difficult issues for him, like finding out his dad was murdered in prison and Bruce lied about it, to the debacle with Felipe Garzonas, to Bruce benching him as Robin (which, given that Dick being benched ended with him no longer being Robin and leaving Wayne Manor, it's reasonable to infer that a formerly homeless kid who experienced a significant amount of trauma due to that homelessness would start to worry that no Robin=no longer being able to live with Bruce and having to live on the streets again), Jason ends up trying to find his mother. And when he finds her, this adult woman, who he should be able to trust, if only because she's a grown woman and he's fifteen, deliberately leads him into a trap with someone he is deeply aware is dangerous, points a gun at his head, and tells him that what's about to happen is his fault while he tries and fails to fight his way out of what he knows is going to be a really bad set of minutes. Honestly, more people need to read ADitF, because the sequence of events is a lot more horrifying than pop culture remembers it. Jason is already beaten into the ground by Joker's henchmen before the Joker gets started on him (while Sheila stands back and watches, God) and by the time it's done, half of Joker's suit is colored red instead of purple to represent blood and everyone in that warehouse thinks that Jason is already dead. And then he gets blown up. Jason's death resonated so much not just because of the fact that it happened, and that Bruce felt upset about it, but also because what happened to him was horrifyingly brutal and to date remains one of the truly most sadistic things the Joker has ever done.

For two, Jason's death had an impact because it was meant to stick. Unlike Bruce getting lost in time or Damian getting stabbed, where it was pretty clear that the characters were not going to stay dead, and then by the time you get to Dick and whoever else has died recently, where the audience (and the characters) have no reason to believe that this will be permanent, Jason's death was meant to be the end of the story. Due to Starlin's hatred of Jason as a character (which is weird) and DC in general wanting to move away from kid sidekicks at the time, Jason was supposed to die and then stay dead forever; there's a reason why the saying was "nobody stays dead in comics except for Jason Todd, Bucky Barnes, and Uncle Ben", because he was meant to, you know, stay dead. It hits because the audience itself, along with Bruce and Dick and Alfred and Barbara and everyone else in Jason and Robin's life, thought that this was the last we would see of Jason Todd alive and that he would never come back ever again. It's also why his resurrection packs so much more of a punch than anyone else's either, both in universe and out of universe.

For three, Jason's death was greatly helped by the meta-narrative in a way that nobody else's has been. Because, the eighties was a period of a lot of change for DC, and especially for Batman due to the popularity of The Killing Joke (which wasn't even supposed to be canon, yet by the time Jason died Barbara was already confirmed in canon to be paralyzed and therefore have the events of that book take place) and especially The Dark Knight Returns. Which means that the eighties was when people started writing darker Batman stories, and they kept going from there, and the characterization got darker along with it (seriously, read something from the early eighties and then something from, like, the 2010s, the difference is insane) as Batman slowly just because a darker and more sullen character. And because that change coincided with Jason dying, and there was an initial attempt to push a sort of "Jason's murder is turning Bruce into a crazy person" message to really show audiences how badly Bruce was dealing with the situation, it creates this sort of in-universe progression where Jason's murder fundamentally altered Bruce in a way that has, so far, proven utterly irreversible.

It's not just that Bruce's son was murdered and that he's had to deal with the grief and trauma of that loss, it's that the grief and trauma of that lost basically completely shattered Bruce and he is never going to be able to put himself back together again. He is never going to return to who he was before Jason died even though the initial hurt has literally been reversed because Jason was resurrected and subsequently re-entered his life. Jason's death was so calamitous, so monumentally awful, that it changed who Bruce was as a person in a way that can never be undone or reversed, and most of the people in his life these days don't even know what Bruce was like before, while the people who do know just have to live with the fact that Bruce as he was then is as dead as Jason was (this fic by @damianbugs really gets to the unique tragedy of the whole thing so go read that). None of the other Batfam deaths have that, not even Stephanie's, which was also meant to be permanent before it got retconned, and so they don't hit as hard because they not only don't have much impact on the audience, they don't even have much impact on Bruce as a character, certainly not anywhere near that Jason's did in both intensity and longlasting effect.

The problem is that DC didn't really didn't expect Under the Red Hood to be as popular as it was, so they kept Jason around without really knowing what to do with him or having any plan for him, which is a choice we're still feeling the consequences of today in that they both still don't really know what to do with him and really resent him for it, along with his longterm popularity in all of his iterations. And fandom itself likes to just hew to tropes with no basis in canon whatsoever based on the shallowest understanding of all characters, including Jason, so that's not even helping matters much, and why I stick to my own bubble.

[adobe-outdesign]

got any thoughts on Tonu?

Tonu are obviously rhinos, though in classic Neopets style they have a mane (seriously, Neopets LOVES manes) and a few large spots on their sides. They sport a singular horn on their nose and standard odd-toed ungulate feet. They're nothing fancy, but they have just enough that they don't feel overly straightfoward to their IRL animal counterpart. Color use is also good, with a light base color for the skin and darker accents on the mane, tail, horn, and toes. No complaints here.

The Tonu definitely benefited from customization, loosing the very strange looking face with its oversized eyes, improper perspective on the left side, and unneeded line under the horn. Stuff like the tail shape and the mane size also improved, and the number of small spots on the side were reduced by one.

Favorite Colours:

8-bit: I went over this in my 8-bit colour review so I'm not going to go into too much depth here, but this is a beautiful color. There's lots of details in the pixels, including multiple layers of shading, and it comes with a very fun rainbow mane and unicorn-esq horn/tail. These elements are wearable as a bonus, so you don't have to keep them if you don't care for them—though personally I like them a lot, and I feel like they keep the colour from being overly bland.

Candy: What can I say? Tonus just do really well with rainbows. The candy Tonu has a subtly swirled pink candy body with these rainbow cotton-candy accents, including a unique shape for the mane and tail. The horn is given stripes to match, and some blue eyes make the whole thing pop. It's tasty, it's pretty, and it's fun—what's not to like?

Wraith: Wraith is one of those colors where how good it looks depends entirely on whatever artist worked on that species. I'm happy to report that the artist who worked on the Tonu did a great job with it. The entire body has a very fluid motion to it, with swirls around the mane and tail, and tings like their knees and nostrils have become stylized shapes. There's a careful balance of positive and negative space, and an appropriately malicious expression. Good stuff.

BONUS: Using a birch tree (and yes it is a birch, though admittedly the leaf shapes are a bit off) for the Tonu because of its white, rough, constantly-peeling bark is a brilliant pick, as it perfectly fits with a rhino's rough skin. The textures are good and wrap around the body correctly, and the leaf mane and tail are integrated with care. (An honorable shoutout goes to magma, which is solid but didn't quite make the cut.)

[lovezbrownies]

The First Ascension: Understand.

Masterlist - Story's Masterlist

Synopsis: Within your strange dream you uncover things the average person would never be able to, only due to her mercy.

PAIRING: Yandere Goddess x GN!Reader.

Apeearing Characters: Mother Adonis, Siolis Ludenhart.

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 You are here!

Entry One

A book for my every thought… That is your purpose. A humble bundle of papers bound by leather, your only duty is to bear the weight of my words, my story.

It was Bloodwen, my darling, who gave me this idea. Ever perceptive, she noticed how I bury my emotions beneath duty, my thoughts left to fester, unspoken. She suggested that pouring them onto paper might lighten the heaviness in my heart.

Yet, I cannot bring myself to tell her the truth. Something terrible looms on the horizon, a shadow I can neither ignore nor outrun. I see it, visions of my end intertwined with hers.

But I will not allow it. I will fight fate itself if I must. No one—nothing—will take my Bloodwen from me. She is my very sunshine, the light that keeps the darkness at bay.

Entry Eight.

I hate this.

This gnawing feeling in my chest. The way my peers, my so-called friends, glance at me with veiled disdain. The sudden silences that fall when I enter the room, as though my presence has become a curse rather than a comfort.

I gave them everything. Lands, power, purpose—gifts bestowed upon me by our god, the omniscient creator of this universe. Once, I was alone, the sole inhabitant of my domain. Perhaps it was pity that moved him to grant me companions: five perfect beings, each unique and radiant in their own right.

Initially, there were six of us. But betrayal stained our unity, and the traitor incurred the wrath of our god. Their punishment was absolute: obliteration. From seven, we became six.

Then, our god left. His boredom with this universe outweighed his investment in it, and so he turned his gaze to a new creation. Before departing, he chose me, his first creation, to bear the mantle of leadership. With a fraction of his boundless power, I was named goddess of this universe. I was eager, honored even, to shoulder such a burden.

But now I see the cost.

The five I once called friends grew distant. Greed seeped into their hearts like poison, and the respect they once held for me twisted into resentment. They no longer see me as a friend to love but as a figure to fear, to begrudge.

Bloodwen was the exception. My closest ally, my lover, my everything. I shared my heart with her, my land, my trust. The others—my peers—each received lands as well, dividing the world into what are now called continents. With these vast territories came the need for Lords, rulers who would oversee them.

I fought for a say in their selection. Bloodwen, stubborn and proud, wished to make all the choices herself, but her judgment is… flawed. Her choices are a reflection of her hubris, not wisdom.

For Goroth, the continent I hold closest to my heart, I chose Ludenhart. Unlike the others, he has never betrayed me, never spoken ill of me. He defends me, even when Bloodwen and her favored protégé hurl their venomous words. He took up the land of Xelera.

And yet, despite it all… I feel empty.

Entry Sixty-Three.

Traitors. All of them.

They feasted on my generosity, basked in the light of my blessings, and repaid me with treachery. Bloodwen, most of all.

I swear upon my name, I will have my vengeance. Her and her cursed lineage will suffer as no beings have suffered before. I will curse her bloodline, ensure that every year another of her kin feels the sting of my wrath. She will know what it means to cross me.

And I will not stop with her.

I will create my own children—five of them, each a reflection of the primal forces that shaped our beginnings. One of Fire, one of Wind, one of Water, one of Earth, one of Light. And the youngest, the most powerful, shall embody Darkness itself.

Each child will bear a singular purpose: to reclaim what was stolen from me and to destroy those who wielded it against me.

My youngest shall face Bloodwen’s final descendant. The previous title owner of Darkness shall be defeated by its new title owner, the last of my kin. A cruel symmetry that will seal her fate.

Through my children, I will bring my enemies to their knees. I will take back my universe, one piece at a time.

Words fail you, your mouth hanging slightly agape as your eyes devour entry after entry, each one bleeding with raw emotion, as though the pen itself had been tethered directly to the author’s heart.

Dozens of books surround you, each one a diary chronicling Adonis’ life—an intricate tapestry of triumph, heartbreak, and the unrelenting passage of time. Pages recount exhilarating adventures with her children, serene afternoons of tea and meditation, and always, without fail, fragments of her betrayal. In some, the wound is fresh and omnipresent, a constant thread binding her thoughts. In others, it’s little more than a passing remark, a distant memory dulled by the joy and love her children brought her.

It seems, as she aged, Adonis allowed the warmth of her children’s devotion to fill the void left by those who had wronged her. The love they offered her—the love she had deserved from the beginning—softened the bitterness of her past. With them, she found solace, a reason to move forward, and a clarity that transformed her anger into quiet indifference. Yet, even amidst her newfound peace, her ambition remained steadfast.

“I want to show myself to my people once more, to embrace them with my blessings,” one diary entry declared, the resolve in its ink practically leaping off the page.

Now you understand me, don’t you little lamb? I can feel your pity. I can feel your anger. And I have felt it all before.

The calm voice from before returns, resonating within your mind like a gentle tide washing over your thoughts. Its tone is serene, yet impossibly commanding.

A wave of tranquility envelops you, lulling your body into a profound stillness. It feels as though you’re being wrapped in a blanket woven from love and adoration itself. Your eyelids grow heavy, the warmth all-consuming, threatening to pull you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The library begins to fade, its walls dissolving into sunlight and greenery. Before you stretches a small garden, alive with vibrant flowers and lush, welcoming grass. Its beauty is intoxicating, so much so that you can’t resist. Your legs carry you forward, and you lower yourself into the soft embrace of the earth, reclining among the spades of grass.

As your eyes flutter shut, you become aware of something beneath your head—warm, plush, comforting. A hand holds yours, another gently strokes your head, the motions tender and unhurried.

“You have so much work ahead of you,” the voice whispers, soothing and steady. “Rest for now, my agent of chaos. You will be our assistant of eons.”

And as the warmth deepens, enveloping you entirely, you drift away, carried by the gentle cadence of her voice and the promise of something far greater awaiting you.

Siolis stood silently in their office, their posture rigid, gaze unwavering as they watched over your sleeping form. The room was filled with the quiet hum of sunlight filtering through tall windows, casting long shadows over the polished floor. Time stretched endlessly as Siolis waited, their thoughts moving at a methodical pace.

You had to wake soon. Only then could Siolis escort you safely home. Their siblings—so proud and ignorant—had no inkling of your importance, both to the greater plan and to Mom. That ignorance was a blessing for now, though it left Siolis with the solitary responsibility of ensuring your safety. Tonight, at the meeting, Mom would make it clear where you stood. Until then, no harm would come to you under Siolis’s watch.

Their attention briefly shifted back to the paperwork cluttering their desk. Some of it concerned the so-called "box of nightmares," which had sent the local police force into a frenzy. Siolis smirked faintly at their own cleverness. The box contained only their severed body parts—arms, legs, fingers, all expertly detached and meticulously stripped of identifying features.

Regenerating those parts was second nature, the pain little more than a fleeting inconvenience. Still, the thought of the officers poring over meaningless clues, chasing their tails, amused them to no end.

A faint groan broke the stillness. Siolis’s head snapped toward the couch, their gaze sharpening. You stirred, your features contorted in confusion as you slowly sat up.

“Whe–Where am I…?” you murmured, your voice thick with sleep.

Your eyes scanned the room, widening slightly as they landed on Siolis. They were seated at their desk, bathed in the golden halo of morning light streaming in from behind. The ethereal glow framed their dark silhouette, their composed expression only adding to the surreal quality of the scene.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Siolis greeted, their tone smooth and calm, with the faintest edge of humor. “Did you rest well?”

You blinked, trying to gather your bearings. “I… I guess? What happened?”

Siolis stood, their movements deliberate and fluid, and crossed the room to stand a short distance from you. Their presence was magnetic, yet there was a certain restraint in the way they regarded you.

“You fainted,” they said plainly, their deep voice soft but firm. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard, and your body finally gave out. I brought you here so you could rest.”

You frowned, your hands fumbling to smooth out your wrinkled clothes. “I fainted?” The word felt foreign on your tongue. You couldn’t remember the last time something like that had happened.

“Yes,” Siolis confirmed, their tone carrying an air of finality. “And I’ll ensure it doesn’t happen again. From now on, you’ll prioritize your well-being.”

Their words were more a command than a suggestion, but there was no malice in them. Instead, their gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, you caught something warmer beneath their composed exterior.

“I—I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” you mumbled, feeling a heat rise to your cheeks.

Siolis gave a soft hum, as though amused by your apology. “You didn’t cause trouble,” they assured you, their voice quiet yet firm. “But it’s my responsibility to look after you, and I take that very seriously.”

They held out their arm, waiting patiently for you to accept it. “Come,” they said, their tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll walk you home. We’ll talk more along the way.”

Hesitant but comforted by their presence, you placed your hand in on their inner elbow. Their grip was cool, steady, yet surprisingly gentle as they helped you to your feet.

As they guided you toward the door, you couldn’t help but glance up at their sharp profile. The way they carried themselves—calm, composed, yet protective—made you ache with questions you weren’t sure you were ready to ask. How are they so… at peace?

“Chief, you know this is impossible to solve, don’t stress yourself over the facts and clues and focus more on adding security to the palace!”

“There’s already too much security roaming these very halls. Don’t lecture me about my priorities, Captain, you are not in the position to do so. What bothers me most is… God, just follow after me.”

“The fuck… Are those…”

“One arm for each year of the natural aging process, starting off at age 5. Same skin tone, same mole on the subjects finger. These aren’t different people, this is… This has been in their plans far before we expected… Captain this goes deeper than we ever thought.”