Thinking about how my mother’s like 20 year old Gameboy Advance SP still survives to this day and got drenched in plant pot water and still works afterward and only really has a led light problem like holy shit bro is a fucking TROOPER
I wanna start bringing it around more, I did for a while but i didn’t have a good case to care it till I JUST FOUND ONE IN A DRAWER LIKE WHAT THE HELL HOW COME NO ONE EVER TOLD ME??? Its yellowed and i wanna clean it up but like damn its a good as case. Its a side zipper though i dont like that but like it does a good job keeping it safe. But that shit built like the nokia phone man. Also saw that there was like a hip clip case when you could whip it out like a fucking gun bro that was so cool i need one of those
I wanna get some stuff for my ds lite but idk if i should fix it up first cause…yall have seen it…its a little fucked up and most people say to just buy a new one than spending more money to fix it and i probably should but like the emotional value man. I cant replace it!! It’ll get jealous!!! But either way that shit need like some sort of protection cause that thing is HANGING LITERALLY HANGING ONTO DEAR LIFE
My retro gaming collection continues to grow, and soon i will radiate epic swag im telling you man imma be the coolest kid on the block
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Stop, stop, stop. There is only one 'Destiny's Slave' in the boundaries of Honkai: Star Rail, and that is Elio. Whether speaking about Kafka, Blade, Silver Wolf, and Firefly as a collective or as their own individual selves, the Stellaron Hunters are not "Destiny's Slave(s)".
You can call every living entity in HSR a 'slave to destiny' if you so insist, as that is honestly a common perception of destiny in media and in our actual lives, but that does not make it our title. Elio is the only one, the only one, directly referenced (and capitalized accordingly as one would do with a title) as 'Destiny's Slave'. Singular, not plural. Never once is it utilized in plural form, and capitalized like that. So stop taking it from him. Stop giving it out to the others and diminishing what it means for him within the greater narrative of the story.
Here, let me explain the fundamental issue behind taking this from his character, it lays with the burden that he bears. For just a second, imagine being able to see all the ways in which destiny can unfold: you can see the destruction of worlds and of the lives that inhabit them, of which some may be dear to you. You see things that you don't ask to see or may never want to see, but you have to bear it. And then there's the reality that that's the only power you hold, and you are powerless to directly influence it yourself, or stop it from occurring in any way. You know what that makes you? Destiny's Slave. That's one hell of a cruel 'destiny', isn't it; to bear witness, but no more than that?
Seriously, think again before you call Kafka, Blade, Silver Wolf or Firefly 'one of Destiny's Slaves' or 'Destiny's Slave' individually, for it's not what they are. Stop taking something from one character, to then also, quite frankly, mischaracterize the others afterwards.
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Your hair feels so good around my fingers. Can I touch it forever?
For the few silent moments he had felt that touch on his hair, aside from a strong flinch, Leonard had remained still, calm, and silent as he quite literally widdled away his time with what appeared to be some sort of stake he was making - could it have been for a tent? Some skewer for game? Regardless, the hermit had remained notably tense, yet otherwise unbothered as he continued his simple task. There was a frown on his face, but he didn't speak. He didn't move.
...So it had continued that way for the next few minutes, Leonard continuing his work with a gradual loss of tenseness as the feeling numbed off - The knife in his hand (Certainly not one for the purpose of widdling, but small and handled with enough care that it could have been) continued to snip patiently away as he felt the vague, nonchalant feeling of long locks wrap around the another's fingers. The sound of cutting wood filled the air as he worked, and if he were to be completely honest, even as little as he began to notice it, Leonard had almost begun to feel relaxed in a sense that he truly had nothing to fear...
...At least, until the sound of Popshi's voice had reached his ears.
"....!?"
At this the large shoulders of the hermit jerked upwards with a sudden start at the unexpectedly masculine sound of the other's voice, and immediately, a flustered hand had dropped the small knife he was using to cut the wood and waved blindly to shoo the other back.
"P...Please, that is enough..! What are you doing!?"
It had taken him a moment to find a solid standing in his voice, Leonard crying out with more firm insistence than roughness, though there was no denying his obvious shock that the past few minutes of peace had been spent with an unexpected stranger. Just who was this man? Had his heart been any calmer, Leonard would have otherwise been uncharacteristically bothered that just anyone felt they had a right to that in particular. It was a rare, finnicky spot for the hermit that he cared little for others to lay hand upon for the memories - and guilt - that it had brought him. That this man (Or at least, they sounded like one) had sounded lighter in his tone served little to ease his burden.
He didn't know this man... Did he? Now that the initial shock had passed enough for him to think, that voice did sound rather familiar.
...But whoever it was, it certainly seemed that it was no one the now-startled hermit had expected.
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