#The rest will be translated in other posts

[xxxstraightfromtheheartxxx]

Read my tags first, ran out of space.

Note: I change my mind a few times throughout this text post, what I began with is not entirely what I ended with. And I’m not even sure of the ‘conclusion’ I got to. However I’m too tired to try and figure the rest out about it right now. Might change this post later when I have made up my mind or got more questions about it. Heads up! Spelling- and other mistakes in writing, were made. Frequently.

I know my tags make me a hypocrite and that’s one of the judgemental thought processes I’ve been fighting/growing against most for a while now.

I expect people to think similarly to me about this and that’s not within my right, they don’t owe me anything for the choice I decided to make and put the hard work in for. That I’ve suffered for it and for the patience I’ve had to bring up towards others being judgemental and having prejudices they didn’t fight within themselves. The frustration I keep feeling every time I have to explain to other adults how to respect accept and see minorities or marginalised groups as equal in worth to themselves. It’s so tiring, and I’m just white, I can’t imagine what it must be like to try and have these conversations to protect yourself and your family and friends and loved ones over and over again whilst still experiencing racist comments assumptions treatment behaviour bullying exclusion exploitation… through systemic racism, racist communities,through so many facets of their lives.

I feel like I’ve been shouting for equality. Not sure if that’s the best most respectful word for it in english, in my language literally translated our word means ‘equally worthy”. And to me that means that from birth we should all be treated with the same amount of respect love and acceptance. It’s only society, nurture that causes this inequality to exist, that not only allows but encourages prejudices and othering for power. Shouting at people who seemingly just refuse to open their eyes, minds and hearts and keep humanity from growing into healthier behavioural patterns in the future. They refuses to put in more effort to try our best to avoid wars, make the idea of hurting another person out of anything other than self defence, be heavily rejected, punished. Instead of not saving each other out of fear for economic and political threats to our own habitants and countries. To be unified so firmly by the absolute belief that violence is wrong, that those fears wouldn’t even be an issue because we’re all know all the other countries will still have our backs and we’d be able to function without the country that’s trying to start or continue a war, while only having to put in mild effort to be entirely independent from the threatening county, as humanity instead of as “individual countries”. It would cut the county/group at war of their resources entirely, which would endanger them to much to be able to actually be able to hold out being at war and making an actual big difference in the big picture of our common humanity. I know there are many weapons that could destroy so many at the same time, yet they would be poisoning the ground they so gladly wish to live on. (Ofcourse this is an ideal that is almost utopian).

This is the goal I thought we were all collectively working towards throughout our entire lives. To eventually be able to all come together in the far away future. All of the warmhearted people in the world.

And therefore we have to start within our small circle of influence and be open to try and learn to understand and respect each other with our differences and similarities, To expect people to be good and ourselves to put effort in it.

However completely swerved away from my original point. But it is the root of that frustration, hurt, disappointment and envy I experience when I see or hear or feel negative judgement .

People have been calling me stern and too strict and rigid in thought more in the last 4 years. It’s because I’ve been responding to prejudices and discriminatory behaviour and ideas verbally, and I have to admit about 50% of the time quite hard, not disrespectful, but clear. I’ve been setting boundaries over what way there can be spoken about others and myself with me. This week I even threatened to leave the room and wouldn’t continue conversing with them if they didn’t then stop casually using the n-word, while knowing it is wrong and hurtful and what my opinion and feeling was towards it. They called my stern and frowned and sighed but at least could bring it up not to say it with me around anymore. I know I haven’t changed their behaviour without my presence this way and it saddens me to feel them rejecting that part of myself that’s at the core of me. My moral core believe of equality.

When people won’t widen their view for one minority it makes me feel unsafe as part of multiple other minorities. I’m a queer womxn with persistent mental health issues, who isn’t able to work because of it and I’m neurodivergent and have some invisible fysical issues (I have loads of allergies which used to give me big rashes of eczema in my envoys and knees and later hands and feet, it has improved a lot, the amount of allergies keeps expanding though) ( I have a very small amount of energy compared to most people my age because of having to put in too much effort as a child and teen) to take care of others and secretly fighting feelings of depression). I’m lucky to be middle-class, white and have affordable healthcare here. All of these other aspects have made life harder for me throughout my entire life. Yet others have mostly blamed me and pestered me, excluded and avoided me for my inabilities and difference, including the inability to l love men.

It feels unfair that I try so hard to be accepting, understand and respectful of others, and not get the same amount of effort and care back… which is hypocrite of me, because the people I want to make the biggest changes never asked me to do all that. And while their lives are often so much easier specifically on the those societal aspects, does that make them owe me that effort back?

I feel like yes, they should, because they have more space for it, for questioning their prejudices than us. Because of the privileges of the main beliefs in their society, they didn’t have to lift a finger for throughout their entire lives. For all of the freedom and respect they’ve just got thrown in their laps, that took up so much of our lives for us to assemble a resemblance to their quality of life.

(Many people who have to fight for their lives daily, do not have that time or space so they only get to grow slower and are part of minority or marginalised groups as well. Bc evidently their is a lot of prejudice within those groups towards the other groups who are also being pressed down.)

I don’t know if I still think it’s hypocrite of me to expect people to put effort in being good. I don’t think so. The length they are able to go through to make those improvements however, I should bare in mind stronger again, like I used to.

If I give up on following my moral compass on this, I’ll never be the person I hope to be one day. I do feel like I deserve to give myself a break and be forgiving about those negative thoughts because they come from a desire for righteousness and good. Recognise, reject, correct, forgive and trust that I’ll do better next time because it is what I truly want to in the long run. I show myself to not always respond and to better pick my battles, so I can persevere and rebuild my energy for when I can make a bigger impact In the braided context or my own. However when I notice bad behaviour or judgement towards others, I do use little parts of it to give them a correcting look or to speak up for someone else or recently even for myself.

Totally did not see this rant coming!!

I knew this theme has been more at the front of my mind again recently and that I’ve been prickly about it, yet I hasn’t reflected on its origin as deeply as I did just now. So here, little amount of people this will reach, have some personal information from my brain and my heart.

.

I’ve been typing this for so long and my attention span has loosened throughout writing. I don’t supposes I’ve managed to make everything clear, I got more and more tired and created some weird sentence structures and maybe grammar and def phrasing to try to get my point through or at least comprehended.

Don’t come at me about the war part, I know it is unrealistic to achieve anything like that in our lifetimes.

Yet I’m holding onto this dream for dear life. Otherwise what is there? To grow towards, to live for? It all comes to recognising, appreciating, sharing and maintaining the good there is now and nurturing the good to come.

The way you change your immediate reactions to things is that you catch yourself having an uncharitable/bigoted/overly judgmental thought and you catch it and replace it and then you do that a hundred times a day for your whole life and eventually one day like five years later you realize that you think differently now and you’ll always be working on something but that’s how life goes and that’s fine.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Hey, sorry if you already answered this question before, but I would like to enjoy some Welsh media, like songs, tv-shows/movies or books. Do you have any recommendations? Also, happy holidays and a happy new year!

Hello! I hope your holidays were happy.

I'm assuming you're asking for Welsh-language media specifically, so that's what I'll offer; if you want anything from the rest of Wales, give me a shout.

Music - so, my personal Welsh-language playlist on Spotify is here, which may contain things to interest you as a sort of jumping-off point to explore an artist more. I'll also put my Welsh music tag on this post, though, so you can check that and see what recommendations others have made on my posts in the past. You'll find people recommending Adwaith and Gwenno and people like that, see, neither of whom I particularly like and so don't have on my list, but are pretty popular. The true cultural tour-de-force for young Welsh speakers is Sebona Fi, by Yws Gwynedd - if you listen to no other, listen to that one.

TV and Film - tricky because availability is difficult. I gave some recent recs here; others to consider are Ar y Ffin (the big current drama on S4C), 35 Diwrnod (sort of a thriller - each series focuses on a murder, which you see in the opening minutes, and then rewinds to 35 days before it happened. You then watch the events play out. Kind of murder mystery, but no detectives), and...

Actually, maybe check out Hansh across its various platforms? It specialises in little short pieces (a few minutes each) that could be comedy skits, documentary shorts about a social issue, cultural round ups of the various gigs happening this week in Wales, etc. Very diverse. Their target audience is, basically, Millennials And A Bit Under. They also do longer form variety things on S4C, but the shorter stuff is on FB, YouTube, etc.

Oh, and my husband has a kids variety show coming out in the next few months! I don't know what I'm allowed to say yet, but I'll definitely blog about it closer to the time.

Books - Obviously I don't know your tastes in books, but my recs:

Absolutely anything by Mihangel Morgan. He's the gold standard if you're learning, because his language is lovely and accessible; but also if you're a fluent speaker, because he writes mundane sci-fi and slightly absurd horror and things like that, all with an undercurrent of social commentary, and his stuff is absolutely fantastic. Dan Gadarn Goncrit is my husband's favourite book of all time in any language; meanwhile, I was given Saith Pechod Marwol at A Level and fucking loved it. I believe he's had one book translated into English, too - Melog. I've not read it in either, but I've heard great things.

Y Llyfrgell, by Fflur Dafydd (the author is also on my music playlist). Here's the blurb:

On a cold February morning, in the year 2020, Dan, a porter at the National Library of Wales, is committing his daily offence against the regime. Greeting him at the door is Eben, a biographer, itching to be admitted. But, they are both unaware that Ana and Nan, two librarians intent on revenge, are on the brink of changing the history of the National Library of Wales forever. This novel transforms the peaceful atmosphere of the National Library into a theatrical set full of possibilities - where bullets cut through the silence, the Reading Room is a cell, and the Library itself is an anti-hero of our literature...

Spectacular book, won the Gwobr Goffa Daniel Owen at the Eisteddfod in 2009.

I hope anything in there is useful!

[thehelltingvilleclub]

OKAY OC POSTING

If you don't gimmie your OC lore in the replies I'm gonna take your toes--

Introducing:: May Osewai - Secretary of Manga Theme Songs:: Living Dead Girl - Rob Zombie | She's Out Of Her Mind - blink-182 | FUNERAL GREY - Waterparks Favorite Shit:: Anime Adaptations, Visual novels, Horror / Guro, Battle Royale(s), Monster Movies, Slasher Flicks, Acrylic Stands, Hard Covers, Asian horror, Foreign Films, Evangelion : Neon Genesis, Ghost in the Shell, Corpse Party, Torrent Sites, X-Men, Spawn, Teen Titans, Accurate Translations, Uncensored Doujins, Silent Hill, Serial Experiments : Lain

Japanese Native, although only half japanese, who moved to the suburbs of NY with her father while she was still in middle school. Outwardly, you'd think she wouldn't belong in the Eltingville Club (Aside from.. Girl--) She's quiet, generally keeps to herself.. UNTIL You try to mention anything related to Manga, Mythology Monsters, or Movies, ESPECIALLY foreign movies. A toxic fan just like the rest of them, she belittles "improper" American remakes, English Dub IS for posers, and she will die on the hill that Evangelion is an under rated masterpiece and that nobody actually understands the ending. If she saw how people interpret Serial Experiments: Lain in this day and age of the internet she would actually have a stroke. She became friends with the boys through Pete, though she attended school with all of them throughout their teens. One of her many nicknames was "Sadako", (and yes she would absolutely yell at you if you tried to call her "Samara" instead) due to her generally dead-tired expression and her hair, which used to be significantly longer when she was a kid, to the point that it eventually became her AOL handle (sadako_chan) as a joke to herself. She lives with just her dad, her mom having passed away before they moved to Eltingville, and according to him, Mr. Osewai wanted to try and find her a "less hectic" environment than a tiny Tokyo Apartment. Suffering from the curse of gifted kid burnout and also an only child, she extra didn't have anybody to build social skills with when she was young, so her outlets were manga and cartoons which turned into movies as she got older. She also will randomly blurt out facts she knows about franchises/films she is watching when she is with others (and.. honestly she does it even when she's by herself like a goof), but will get PISSED if people are talking during a scene she likes or something she deems "important to the plot". She also loves to rewatch movies, but gets frustrated when people don't notice or understand things the first time they watch something. She owns dozens, if not nearly a hundred different figures from various franchises, Western or Japanese, including the entire Teen Titans roster as poseable figmas that are practically her prized possession-- That's reserved for her signed poster for the original Battle Royale and her art book for corpse party. She is a bit of a gore weirdo, there's a reason she gets along with Pete after all, so don't be shocked if she starts going off about some random underground 4Chan shit like Metamorphosis on steroids.

Her birthday is September 9th, she thinks Mecha-Fans are a bunch of man-babies that couldn't decide if they wanted to be or fuck Optimus Prime, and absolutely will roundhouse kick you in the shins if you try to use her as an armrest.

Also, some of her favorite game franchises include: Resident Evil/Biohazard, Final Fantasy, Xenoblade, Silent Hill (Yes, even The Room), Mortal Kombat, Corpse Party (obviously), RPG Horror Games, and Legend of Zelda Majora's Mask to name a few. Oh, and the Lego Star Wars and Lego Batman games, but those are guilty pleasures she'll never admit to unless someone offered to play it with her--

[vyoongi]

“Ave atque vale”

Summary: “No matter how much the world despises us, Caracalla. No matter how much we loathe ourselves. It shall always be you and I, until the marble of Rome crumbles to dust” In a secluded corner of the imperial palace, Geta confronts the devastating decline of his brother Caracalla, who is ravaged by a mysterious illness consuming both his body and mind. As Caracalla descends into delusions and paranoia, the bond between the brothers becomes a fragile thread woven with love and despair. Geta struggles to preserve his brother’s sanity while grappling with his own suffering. Pairing: Marcus Aurelius Antoninus | Emperor Caracalla/Publius Septimius Geta | Emperor Geta (Gladiator 2) Warnings: Incestuous relationship/incestuous undertones. Mental illness. Descriptions of sores, rotting skin and other signs of illness. Angst. Self loathing. Historical innacuracies. Guilt. Toxic relationships. Words: 1.9K Requested by anonymous! A/N: Title is from the poem written by roman poet Gaius Valerius Catullus to his dead brother. Translation would be ''Hail and Farewell''. I believe this doesn't fully align with what anonymous suggested, so I apologize in advance. In the context of this story, Caracalla's illness is already quite advanced and it doesn't exactly paint him in a positive light. It's more like exploring a 'what if' scenario where Caracalla and Geta were never removed from the picture. (I don't know if I should post this on AO3 since it's quite short)

Geta had been aware of the troubling signs since an evening that felt like ages ago: his brother's trembling fingers, the dilation of his pupils, the barely perceptible twitch at the corner of his parched lips. An elderly doctor had referred to it as a nameless affliction.

Now, Caracalla had struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily like a ship on the brink of capsizing. A scream, more beast than man, tore through the stillness of the night.

"Vile traitors!" he roared, his voice breaking as he stretched his arms out wide, as though invoking a curse upon the heavens. "Rats! They stalk me, they watch me, moving between the columns! Do you not see them, Geta? They are there!"

Geta, his tunic dragging on the marble, walked slowly toward him, his hands outstretched in a sign of peace.

"There is no one here, brother. There is only you and I. Listen to my voice."

But Caracalla stepped back, heels hitting the edge of a table littered with empty goblets and shards of broken pottery. His chest rose and fell frantically, and in his piercing blue eyes Geta saw the reflection of the most primal fear: that of a wounded animal, trapped in an invisible cage.

“Do not approach!” His voice splintered like shattered glass. “It is you! It has always been you! You gaze upon me with those eyes, filled with hatred, seeking to choke the life from me!'”

Caracalla reached for something, anything, and his hand found the handle of a ceremonial dagger resting on the altar to Jupiter. He lifted it clumsily, but with enough fury that the edge gleamed in the flickering torchlight.

“Come, brother! Come closer and let us finish what we began in our mother’s womb!”

Geta didn't flinch. He didn't even blink. The dagger, trembling in Caracalla’s fevered hand, was no more than a shard of despair, sharp and cold like the abyss between them.

“If I am to die by your hand, then let it be so.” Geta moved forward, slow but resolute, the sound of his sandals striking the marble like the toll of a funeral bell. “But not tonight, Caracalla. Not like this.”

Caracalla groaned, his arm shaking and the dagger falling to the ground with a thud. At that moment, his body collapsed forward, straight into Geta, who caught him before he could hit the cold marble.

Geta's arms encircled his brother's fragile form, feeling the tension and spasms run through every fiber of his weary muscles. Caracalla sobbed, his nails digging desperately into his brother's shoulders, like a child clinging to a parent after a nightmare

“Hush now” Geta murmured softly, his voice barely a whisper through his disheveled curls. “No enemies here, brother. Only I remain”

Geta guided him to the couch carefully, almost tenderly, and forced him to sit. Caracalla could barely support his own weight, his body shaking like a leaf in the wind. Geta knelt in front of him, his firm, warm hands moving up to his brother's face, where the skin was cracked and damp with sweat.

“Look at me”, Geta's voice was a quiet command, firm yet tender. His dark gaze sought Caracalla's, until at last the emperor’s dilated pupils met his. “You are with me. There are no shadows here, no enemies. Only we two.”

Caracalla sobbed, his lower lip trembling beneath the layer of smeared makeup. Geta, with an almost instinctive gesture, leaned down and kissed his forehead, where the fever burned the strongest.

“Brother…” Caracalla’s voice was a shattered lament, as if torn from his very soul. “I would not be alone in the shadows”

“You shall not be”, Geta replied with quiet resolve, pressing a kiss to Caracalla’s damp cheek. “As long as breath remains in me, you shall never know solitude”

Geta’s lips moved slowly across his brother’s stained cheeks, until they brushed the corners of his mouth, where a tremor stopped them. Caracalla stood still, breathing heavily, his hands still clinging to Geta’s chest.

The world seemed to stop at that moment. The air heavy, laden with a silence that felt almost divine.

“Brother,” Caracalla whispered, and in his voice there was a plea, a total surrender. “Do not leave me”

Then, Geta embraced him, his arms a fortress of desperate strength, as if by that act alone he might piece together the broken fragments of his brother’s soul, preventing them from crumbling into ruin.

The dawn, once again, found them together. Caracalla slept with his head on Geta's lap, who slowly stroked his brother's reddish curls. His fingers ran over the scars and sores carefully, as if each one were a wound of his own.

On the horizon, Rome was awakening with its markets and forums, with the bustle of slaves and senators, with life that never stopped. But in that chamber, where the golden light was just beginning to filter through, there was calm.

Geta closed his eyes for a moment and rested his forehead on Caracalla's.

“No matter how much the world despises us, Caracalla. No matter how much we loathe ourselves. It shall always be you and I, until the marble of Rome crumbles to dust”

And in that instant, between the feverish sighs of a sick emperor and the tired gaze of his brother, time seemed to stand still. They were just two children again, lost in a palace too big, too cold, and with a destiny too heavy for their shoulders.

However, as time wore on, Geta found himself succumbing to the frailties of mere mortality. His affection remained immense, yet his patience grew ever more fragile. The illness consumed his will, suffocating his brother's body and mind in torturous madness.

The marble of the Palatine was cold even in the golden light of dusk. Outside, the Roman skyline burned with twilight fire, the silhouettes of columns standing like ancient sentinels, eternal witnesses to an empire that seemed infinite. Inside, in the dimness scented with olive oil and aged wine, the twin rulers were alone.

Caracalla, reclining on a purple velvet divan, watched Geta with an intensity that seemed to devour him from the shadows. The reflection of the light slid over his eyes, but there was something dull in them, something broken. Geta stood, his hands folded behind his back, his white tunic falling elegantly over his tall, thin figure.

“Why do you turn away, brother?'' Caracalla spoke at last, his voice raspy and tinged with a sweetness that did not match his hardened countenance. “Have I become a beast in your eyes?”

Geta pressed his lips together, shifting his gaze to the columns framing the balcony. For weeks now, something inside him had begun to twitch every time his eyes fell upon Caracalla's face. The small sores he tried to hide with makeup, the way his skin seemed more cerulean under the white powder, the faint but persistent smell of withered flesh that wafted in whenever his brother came too close.

“Do not speak nonsense, Caracalla” Geta replied in a measured voice, but he couldn't help the tense set of his jaw.

Caracalla smiled, a gesture that was meant to be seductive but in the uncertain light looked more like a grimace. He extended a trembling hand toward his brother, his fingers stained by the slight discoloration of his nails.

“Come here.”

Geta remained motionless, feeling the air thicken between them. That request wasn't new; The nights they shared more than wine and secrets were a tacit pact, a refuge in which the two emperors could escape the clutches of Rome. But now… now Geta felt something different. Something bitter that rose up his throat like a slow poison.

“I am weary, brother,” he answered at last, his voice barely above a whisper. “Tomorrow we must face the Senate. You should take rest.”

Caracalla dropped his arm with a sharp thud onto the divan. His smile twisted, revealing the wet shine of his teeth.

“You lie” he spat out, the words laced with contained fury. “You loathe to touch me, do you not? Do you think I do not see? Your gaze pierces me as though I were a corpse rotting in the sun!”

Geta closed his eyes for a moment, trying to contain the shiver that ran down his spine.

“Do not speak in such a manner”

“Why should I not?” Caracalla rose with a clumsy yet resolute motion, swaying for a moment before steadying himself. “Have we not shared all, brother? The empire, the purple, the power— even our bodies. Yet now you deny me, as though I were a leper.”

He moved closer, too fast for Geta to react. The sickly smell hit his senses as Caracalla took his face in his hands, his thumbs brushing his cheeks with desperate softness.

“Look at me. Have your feelings for me faded? Do you no longer burn with desire for me?” Caracalla whispered, his breath warm and bitter against Geta’s lips. “I am your brother, your other half, your very soul. You cannot turn away from me.”

Geta opened his eyes and found himself gazing into Caracalla's. Within those fierce depths, anger pulsed, but beneath it lingered an unsettling fear—deep and raw. For a fleeting moment, Geta felt a twinge of pity replacing his initial disgust. Yet, the sight of the sores at the corners of Caracalla's lips drew his focus back, shattering the illusion like fragile glass.

“Enough!” Geta pushed his brother's hands away with a sharp movement, taking several steps back until they crashed into a marble table.

Caracalla stood still, his hands shaking in the empty air where Geta's face had once been. His eyes widened, and for a moment he looked like a wounded child.

“Geta…” his voice was barely a broken thread.

“I cannot…” Geta muttered, unable to find the right words. The shadow of disgust was still there, clinging to his throat, and he knew Caracalla sensed it.

Caracalla let out a bitter laugh, teetering on the edge of a sob.

“I see.”

He turned slowly, returning to his couch with a defeated posture. His shoulders hunched, and for a moment he appeared less like the mighty emperor of the known world and more like a weary old man.

The silence that followed was heavier than any argument. Geta stood frozen, unable to move, as if his feet were chained to the ground. Caracalla, however, collapsed onto the couch, his face hidden in his trembling hands, as if trying to bury the weight of his own pain.

“Forgive me, brother,” Geta murmured, his voice barely more than a breath, a whisper meant for no one but Caracalla. “I did not mean to—”

“Begone,” Caracalla replied, his voice cold and distant, without even sparing him a glance.

Geta hesitated, but eventually turned and left the chamber. The door closed behind him with a hollow sound, like a stone slamming into a grave.

In the corridor, Geta leaned his back against a column, breathing heavily. His heart pounded, and the metallic taste of guilt filled his mouth.

He had loved Caracalla with the same fervor with which one loves a part of oneself, a bond so deeply woven into his soul that it was impossible to distinguish where one began and the other ended. But now, that love was tainted, shrouded in a veil of sickness, an affliction that gnawed at him, one he could no longer ignore.

And yet, deep within his chest, something still burned—desperation, yearning to return to the way they had once been, to hold his brother in his arms and attempt to heal the wounds that not even the gods of Rome could mend.

But he didn't.

In the dimness of the chamber, Caracalla stood alone, shadows covering his feverish body. His tears fell silently on his cheeks stained with smeared makeup, and the echo of his broken laughter was lost among the columns of the Palatine.

[fluffypotatey]

To be honest I am a huge Nalu shipper. But the thing is I want to know the difference between the way Natsu cares about his guildmates and Lucy. Like what is the obvious difference since that boy sees every as Nakama so how can we say that the wag he cares about Lucy is different?

Like even when Erza passed away? (All the way back in first season there was a segment where the guild was gathered at her grave and all) Natsu was still very reactive. Plus he was also said to be depressed even when Lisanna passed.

What's the difference between all of them and Lucy?

the fact that he stayed. the fact that before he met Lucy, Natsu wasn't one to stay in a group or even want to work with anyone besides Happy at the start of the story. hell, he was ready to just file Lucy down as "New Guildmate" once they reached Fairy Tail

but then, Lucy doesn't leave. she follows him on his mission to save Macao despite her not needing to or even really understanding everything about it. she stays and then fights with him and saves him. it's no secret that Natsu is strong and can take care of himself really well. he's been going on solo missions for years now, and no one has really stopped him, but that means he's been in a lot of sticky situations where he and Happy are on their own and have no backup. and yet, without asking, Lucy offers it

and i think this is the moment when Natsu considers that maybe it's okay to have someone there to have his back (sans Happy)

"but Natsu only needed Lucy for the next quest because of the requirements," well, Natsu also wouldn't have taken or even considered that quest if it weren't for Lucy, yeah? he was not a team player (in the picking job's sense) or really wanted other people to help him on his quests sans Happy. and then he goes and picks a job that caters to their team whilst ensuring that Lucy can't say no

or maybe i'm reading too much into it 🤷🏻‍♀️

or maybe Natsu's got horrible abandonment issues that he will latch onto people so fast (Igneel & Lisanna) but also cause him to distance himself so far when left behind (his 1st time at the guild, Lisanna's death). Erza and Gray are Natsu's closet friends after Lisanna and yet they cannot reach him when he closes himself off. and then we have Lucy, who stuck by and had his back, so who is to say Natsu didn't make some contingencies to ensure whether or not she'd join him?

but maybe it's the rose, colored ship glasses i have on

because yeah, Natsu cares for all of his guildmates. the power of friendship is his biggest motivator. when we meet Natsu, our first introductions of him is defending his guild's reputation from Bora (who was using it as a guise for human trafficking) and saving Macao. and our 1st big arc (Galuna Island), where Natsu adamantly refuses to allow Gray to use Ice Shell and sacrifice himself despite how antagonistic they've been to each other. we get Natsu 100% at Erza's defense throughout the Tower of Heaven and he is even ready to defend Wendy though they only met hours ago

Natsu is a character with a bleeding heart and cannot help but wear it on his sleeve, but we don't really see him allow others to fight his battles or have his back until Lucy comes in. to be honest, i don't even think he had his heart on his sleeve until Lucy. he still has a bleeding heart (i don't think anything could stop that), but he was not ready to be open in receiving company because he was so used to it being ripped away from him

that being said: of all the characters he interacts with, he finds Lucy to be someone compatible enough for him to start going on team missions and inviting her on them (for example, his 1st S-class mission, which he stole, he went to her house to show it to her. the fact that part of the reward was a celestial key might be a coincidence, but i wouldn't doubt it as Natsu and Happy's trump card in case she refused)

but yeah, the difference is that he stayed and didn't push her away at the beginning, but instead continued to invite her along with him to the point that doing a mission without Lucy wasn't his regular anymore. compared to the rest of the guild, of whom he spent most of his childhood with, even if he spoke to no one, they would still be around and talk to him anyway. he might not invite them on job and only challenge them to fights, but the guild is his home and a constant in his life, a constant he needs (bc heavy abandonment issues).

"okay, but he still pushed her away after he watched Igneel die right in front of him. and he left the guild for a whole year, too. so what's the difference there?" you may ask.

so 1) Natsu never thought the guild would disband. he returns to Fiore after a year and is the last to know that they disbanded. he assumed, like all the other times before and while he and others were sealed for 7 years, that Fairy Tail would still be there when he returned. he assumed that his disappearance would not impact so hard because the guild would still be around and Lucy would have the others with her

which, did not happen :)

and like, so many guild members go off on jobs, quests, or even just leave for an indiscriminate amount of time (which i, personally, believe was his rationality for leaving), so him being gone for a year was nothing! right? no harm, eh? his plan was never to be gone forever :))))

2) he just watched his father die and lose any chance of having some semblance of a long term reunion with Igneel. he literally lost one of his main driving motivations for getting stronger and taking jobs. before Fairy Tail, before anyone, it was Igneel. and to learn that a) Igneel was always with him to begin with and b) he only got to see him for less than a day after 14 years of nothing......i would feel lost too ngl

man's needed space from everybody. and he also needed comfort, but Natsu has been shown not to really be the character who asks to receive comfort (and when he does receive it, it's usually when he's already emotionally compromised). he is in the habit of shutting people out after being abandoned or losing someone close to him, with his next rationale being to "get stronger" in order to prevent what happened in the past to ever happen in the future.

anyway

what makes this different? well for one, he sent the letter only to Lucy (or it's implied since no one else is shown getting one) because of how the two spend most of their time together. even the line that goes with the panel makes it sound like Natsu is unsure on how the note will be received (maybe even hesitant? but that could be my own hopes)

and one of the 1st people he reunites with after a year is Lucy and we get such a similar parallel to the first chapter of Fairy Tail between the two as if the narrative itself is slotting them together to say "ah yes, now everything is back to normal and new journeys can begin"

but yeah, this is just a long way of saying, that Natsu does love his friends and guildmates but even when he is close to them, he kept to himself (and Happy) and sort of stayed in their orbit but always with some emotional distance because of his fear of abandonment. and then you have Lucy where he will stay for and allow her to orbit around him and he will invite to new adventures no questions asked

that's the difference

[mostotherthings]

Tim explains Reese's feelings

Orca 的陪伴讓Reese渡過了最艱難的時刻，你總是那麽溫柔的安慰我照顧我的心情，甚至泰國台灣往返只待一天只是為了做早餐給我吃替我整理家裡，有你的陪伴真好。

With Orca by his side, Reese went through the most difficult time in his life. You were always so gentle to comfort me and take care of my feelings, even flying from Thailand to Taiwan and staying for just a day to make breakfast for me and to tidy up my home, it is so good with you by my side.

萌萌頭時期的Reese 有了人生第一個像親人一樣的兄弟，那時的眼神裡都是愛與希望。

Reese who was just a boy with a cute hair-cut, had for the first time in his life brothers who were just like family, the expression in his eyes was filled with hope and love.

如果當初沒提議辦那場演唱會是不是Matt就不會離開，也不會讓Neil一蹶不振～

If I hadn't suggested holding that concert then, would Matt still be around... and Neil would not have been devastated

小海的出現像一把鑰匙一樣解開了所有人的鎖

Xiao Hai's appearance was like a key, that opened up everyone's locked up emotions

讓七年後活在自責的Reese 把塵封已久的所有情感打開，學會放下執念、重新愛自己、愛Orca，找回對音樂的那份單純與熱忱，讓我們一起完成那場未完成的演唱會吧。

To let Reese who had been living in guilt for seven years, to let out those feelings that had been locked away so long they had turned dusty, to let go of the guilt and feelings he had been holding on to obsessively, for him to love himself again, love Orca, to get back the innocence and passion he had towards music, let us finish that concert that we did not manage to hold before.

source

bonus: Director's comment

@ lienchienhung I love you

@ timliou1020 i love you too. without you there would not be the Reese we know now

[sometimes-love-is-enough]

[image description: six colorful masks in the style of Commedia Dell’arte. The first is red with golden swirls, a red ribbon and spikes reminiscent of a crown, and is labelled ‘IL PRINCIPE’. The second is light blue with a rainbow string, upquirked eyes, and a single tear running down the side of the face, labelled ‘PADRE’. The third, blue and blocky with simple geometric designs, labelled ‘INSEGNANTE’. The fourth, black with a spiked birdlike nose, shading beneath the eye holes, and patchwork violet details, labelled ‘INQUIETO’. The fifth is a yellow halfmask with snakelike decals and a crack that runs across the bottom, lavelled ‘IL SERPENTE’. The final mask is green and grotesque, with a large nose, huge eyes, and a moustache, and spiky wires emerging from the top - labelled ‘IL DUCA’. End image description]

A continuation of the thoughts from my post about AU fanfiction as modern Commedia Dell'arte - here's the sides as vaguely Commedia-esque masks. Presenting: the archetypal cast of Commedia dell'lati!

IL PRINCIPE, the prince, a more thoughtful descendant of the swaggering Il Capitano archetype. He's often seen with his distinctive red sash, and occasionally a bladed weapon. Il Principe is prideful, sometimes to a fault, and deeply romantic.

PADRE, the father, representing family values and an apparent moral compass. Often played as somewhat naive or foolish - sometimes portrayed at hiding something more devious beneath that, depending on the show and situation. He's recognizable by his fondness for wordplay, and his cheerful attitude.

INSEGNANTE, the teacher, the unlistened-to voice of reason, the provider of exposition. His misunderstandings of common metaphorical phrases are frequently the source of comic relief. It's a common plot point for him to be pushed to his limit and snap, revealing genuine emotion behind his mask of impenetrable reason.

INQUIETO, the restless one - the devil's advocate, quick to voice the negatives of a situation and recommend doing something, anything else. Often takes the role of 'jerk with a heart of gold' - frequently is the recipient of misfortune. A key part of his character is his sharp wit and sarcasm against every other member of the cast.

IL SERPENTE, the snake, is cunning and deceptive by nature. He will often emerge onto the stage in the guise of another character, having stolen their mask offstage. The inevitable reveal where he produces his true mask and slots it onto his face is always met with delighted applause. Il Serpente was originally often depicted as the villain of many productions and still sometimes is, although many recent shows have taken to treating him in a much more sympathetic light.

Finally, IL DUCO, the duke - the brother and mirrored counterpart of Il Principe. Some shows choose to tone down his original conception as a graphic and grotesque provider of foul language in order to make him easier to portray, or easier to sympathize with. Other shows turn up the crassness all the way, and make him downright villainous in nature. Il Duco is, chronologically, the most recent addition to the archetypes, but has quickly found his way into being a beloved and fascinating part of many performances.

One of the things separating the more modern Commedia dell'lati from its predecessor, Commedia dell'arte, is its willingness to play with character dynamics. The plots and settings are never certain from one show to the next, and neither are the relationships between the characters. Il Serpente and Inquieto could be in a committed relationship on one stage, and at each other's throats fighting to the death on another - although, it should be noted, the two are never mutually exclusive. Sometimes the morality of characters are black-and-white, sometimes it's all in strokes of grey, but it's all in the name of exploring new aspects of these beloved familiar archetypes.

Everything's fluid when it comes to Commedia dell'lati - but always recognizable, however distant.

[reds-skull]

Revenant Side stories

Story VIII: Lumity | Endless Tales

[Konchar] [Graves] [Gaz] [Price] [Novikov] [Farah] [Roba] [AO3]

Aka the last one... it's a little different from the rest and much shorter, but I really enjoyed writing from a Reaper's point of view...

“TELL ME OF THE PAST.”

“... What do you want to know?”

“TELL ME OF THE VOID.”

“There was no void, until you. And there will be no void, after you. Your domain was in the transient, not the permanent, ˈæbsᵊns. We did not know that, until us.”

“... TELL ME OF DESTRUCTION.”

“I was, before most. And I will be, when most will not. I am a watcher, I am a violent end, I am kriˈeɪʃᵊn.”

“TELL ME OF FATE. THE ETERNAL ONE.”

“Nothing is eternal, ˈæbsᵊns. I watched feɪt weave itself in the places of nothing, and we will watch it unravel, in due time.”

“AND YET, ITS RULE IS ABSOLUTE.”

“Nothing is absolute. Not even nothingness itself. You should know that… we are a testament to it…”

“... TELL ME OF THE HUMANS.”

“They’re blind… They’re blind, but one cannot blame the eyeless for not seeing.”

“AND WHAT OF THE REVENANTS?”

“The revenants… such volatile ones. Weak, and yet we keep them. As our little pawns… as a compromise, for us greater beings.”

“WHAT OF OUR REVENANTS?”

“Our… we both know they are no revenants, ˈæbsᵊns. No… blind pawns they are not.”

“ARE THEY TOO A TRANSITORY MATTER, kriˈeɪʃᵊn?”

“I do not know… as I did not know what will become of us…”

“AND FATE, THE ETERNAL ONE, DOES IT KNOW?”

“... No… it does not. A path was paved, but it was not feɪt’s path… this is not feɪt’s path…”

“... I SENSE NO HESITATION FROM YOU.”

“We feel no hesitation, ˈæbsᵊns… Change is no stranger to l̪ɵmit̪e.”

“IS IT FOREIGN TO FATE? DOES IT FEAR?”

“... Yes. It fears like a raw thing… unpolished.”

“IS IT A DANGER TO US?”

“Such thing is a danger to us all… and we are part of the whole, ˈæbsᵊns…”

“... WILL YOU REMAIN WITH ME, kriˈeɪʃᵊn?”

“... I do not know… I will remain, as long as you do.”

“THEN I HAVE NO HESITATION.”

“... We shall warn them… our catalysts of change… our once-revenants…”

“WILL THEY BE ABLE TO BEAR SUCH BURDEN?”

“They bore l̪ɵmit̪e. They will bear this.”

“THEY MUST.”

[frobby]

Heres some of my favorite sorrows of yukio okumura

[marswasnothere]

Thinkin about merperson shark max and marine biologist daniel

[mc-critical]

Hatice and Ibrahim have never been more divided from each other up to that point than in E43-E44. While Hatice always sensed when Ibrahim was actually in danger or she's lost him in any way (i.e. E35 when she felt something in Edirne while Ibrahim was with Nigar), nothing came up when he was shot; he didn't even tell her what happened to him until she found out herself; they were seperated while he was recovering; the wait for Ibrahim to come back felt like an eternity to Hatice and she went through several breakdowns at once (and his carriage was right in front of her but she couldn't see him, her only thought until the very end was that he was dead, isn't that what her dream with the "crying" statues meant?); when he came back she wasn't allowed to spend at least some time alone with him as SS wanted to talk to him; even their sleep was interrupted. The only thing that Ibrahim asked Hatice to do was to play him his mother's song on the violin (I like to think that Hatice started learning the violin in order to become closer to him, to who he is, to his past again after what they went through with little Mehmet).... but he no longer associates even that with Hatice anymore.

[wetbloodworm]

noticing a pattern in my writing/OCs of 'monster that preys on people pretending to be human/human-adjacent'. i mean it's not the first time i've noticed but i've been thinking about three of them recently so like. a pattern.

[thirsty-4-ghouls]

Stuff taking up space on my phone when trying to name my khajiit

Blorbo from my mind:

Just my cat 🐈‍⬛

[the-one-that-weeps]

That's so real tho I get you if I don't make fandom content for too long I also feel bad and I'm not as good at analyses that often so I do art. I do enjoy it too but longer breaks make me feel outhhjh. Which is why I was v nicely surprised yall are super supportive even if I disappeared for half a month or so and I'm sure it'd be the same for you if you didn't post smth all the time. But! I know it's hard so do whatever makes you feel comfortable and good abt yourself <3

Yes, I know. Still, one can't help but feel a little guilty over having nothing to bring to the table.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

shake your hand in character ft. flashback joe iconis, cyril von miserthorpe, krampus, the fancy tree, mister macabee, quince, little evalina, debra neezer jolie, flashback joe jr., flashback mama, poinsettia, hot candy, clouds, santa, aunt lorette, rufus?

[grosstown]

OLD art of my dragon quest characters! i started it in 2022 and didnt play much at all in 2023 necause the vocations stressed me out too much but i picked it up again this december and havent stopped playing since!!