#because that’s what I have to offer

[thebluestbluewords]

Mal's video shifts in shaky, pixelated motion. She's smiling. "Eves, slow down. You're going faster than us non-nerds can follow." 

Evie's video is showing in crystal-clear Auradon City reception. She tosses her hair back over one shoulder, but she's grinning bright and cheerful like she never did back home. "Get faster, then! You're supposed to be my future lady-in-waiting, M. I'm going to need you to keep up with me once I'm queen and you're the one taking notes in all of my horribly boring meetings." 

"I'm going to be the worst lady-in-waiting ever then," Mal scoffs. "I'm not taking any notes. You can get your new nerd friends to program you dictation software, and then you'll be one of the nerds who carries a recorder in your purse all the time, and you'll have to design new purses just to fit the thing. It'll be a design challenge." 

Evie looks delighted at the thought. "I should. You're so right, it'll be much more accurate than a human note-taker, and much less awkward to fit in my purse." 

Mal's video is too choppy to see her face, but Jay knows her, and she's probably thinking through the potential liabilities of making Evie carry a recording device all the time. There's a shitload of them, but Mal's also stupid when it comes to things that make Evie happy, so they might end up getting her a recorder anyway. 

"Only if I can record stupid shit on it too," Mal's saying. "If I can't fake my own death on the official Auradon record and then show up to court and act like nothing happened the next day, I don't want it." 

"Babe, you can always fake your death with me. Le petit mort--" Evie makes a rude sort of hand gesture that maybe, probably isn't just an isle thing. Mal laughs so loud that it crackles the speakers of Jay's sort-of-shitty cell phone. 

"If you promise that I'll buy the recorder on my way home!" 

Evie's smile closes down into the flat one she uses when she's secretly mad. Or cold, or tired, or hungry. Jay's pretty practiced with reading his crew's expressions. He knows when an Evie-smile is fake. She's good at pretending everything is fine when she's not, but he's been watching her for years, and his fake-smile is better. "You're coming home? Really, babe? And here I was thinking that you're staying up in the middle of fucking nowhere until the end of the year, like you planned." 

You planned, not we planned. 

Evie's still a little bit mad about Mal's post-graduation roadtrip. 

Jay's not mad at her. He's not mad at Evie either, for being loud and annoyed about it, or Ben for being quiet and careful about enabling it, so that Evie won't be mad at him too. Mal's their leader no matter where she is. They've got cell phones and emails and the Auradon Postal Service now, so it's not like Mal's decided to fuck off and travel outside of where they can reach her. Jay's not even a little bit mad anymore, which he should maybe worry about, actually. He's supposed to be all charming and fun and connected with people, and instead of being that, he's sort of-- 

Well. 

He's sort of tired. 

And like, Jay's not stupid. He pretends sometimes, because it keeps people's expectations of him low, but he's not. He's lived with Mal since they were kids, and he's lived with Evie and Carlos almost as long, and he knows what it's like when they struggle. Mal gets mad, and Evie gets quietly, painfully self-destructive, and Carlos shuts down internally and stops making weird dangerous stuff, which is almost as dangerous as when he is actively making stuff, because half of the shit he steals from the chemistry labs will also explode if it's left untouched for too long. 

Ben just cries when he's upset, which is a lot easier to manage. 

So. Jay's not stupid, and he's well aware of what it looks like when his crew struggles, and he's also aware that they've got a whole fuckin' laundry list of acronyms listing off exactly what's wrong with them from their Auradon-appointed therapists. He's never actually read the list, because yeah, he's still slow at reading tiny text and handwritten notes, and that's what the whole fuckin' therapy files are full of, but he's heard the rundown from Evie. The short version is that they're all fucked from hell and back (home and back, Mal always says) and they're probably going to do some stupidly self-destructive shit and die before they're thirty. 

Jay's not entirely sure what stupid thing he's going to do, but he's pretty sure it's going to happen soon. 

[vinestaff]

sighs. another guy in my brain i guess

[yuwuta]

you ask yuuta if he wants a bite of your food and when he says yes you offer your plate to him, but he’s just sat there looking at you with his dumb big bambi boy eyes and his mouth slightly open and he will not look away or blink or close his mouth until you lift your fork to his lips to feed him and then he grins like shit’s sweet and hums about how good the food is like nothing happened like he’s not ridiculously attractive. gonna chew on steel

[royalarchivist]

Pac: I can't keep doing this, I can't do this– [Laughs] I can't do this anymore— What is this, man?!

If you didn't see Pac suffering in Sims earlier today, here's a (translated & subtitled) compilation of some silly Sims Hideduo moments that made poor Pac look like he was questioning all his life choices.

[wistfulwatcher]

3.18 The Crossing | 17.04 Kingdom of the Blind

[uncanny-tranny]

The hardest, but most important, part of my transition has been untangling what my personal dysphoria is, and what is more a result of cissexism.

What I mean by this is that I learned that I am not dysphoric about certain aspects of myself, my body, and my life, but my discomfort in these aspects was influenced by the cissexist culture I live in which told me I couldn't exist as myself.

It's definitely a slow process, but I have found that it helps me self-actualize and actually see myself instead of what others demand of me.

[mushroom-kin]

Morning on the path to Liyue Harbor - A study with original additions

[endoferasandallthings]

[equill]

Another Otsutsuki?!

we’re messing up the timeline for this one. (I lost this crack idea but then it came back… the abyss stare back and I jumped in.)

anyways, now some kids meeting the new kid

Panel 1: There’s something wrong here.

Comic 1: Attention.

they’re both in the same boat

Comic 2: Day Off (with confusion.)

he just a little insecure,, (kakashi still told him to get it together)

back to the future now

Comic 3: What. (huh?)

Panel 2: very tiny.

[turtleblogatlast]

I think a lot about Leo’s tendency to push his way into the spotlight despite clearly being a natural in the shadows. Hell, you could argue that his worst moments are when he’s forcing himself onstage, and his best are when he does things no one notices until it’s already been done.

[sweetsouldhavernas]

we all deserve to belong somewhere | STAR TREK: PRODIGY

[vigilskept]

i know it would've been difficult for them to tackle, but it absolutely kills me thinking about the missed opportunities of getting into religious angle of everything that's going on in veilguard.

because it's insane, right? that there are gods in this game. and the game will tell you over and over that they aren't gods, that they're Just Mages, but that's actually not precisely true. they're something very different from what a tevinter magister is, at least, and not only on a power-scale.

powerful spirits are gods in this setting. that was the religion ascribed to by most of humanity, before andraste. the avvar and chasind still ascribe to that belief.

a lot has been said already about how the game fails to engage with belief for dalish characters, and i agree. i think the game also really fails its andrastian characters here though because this is actually huge.

it's not just whether the golden/black city is/was the seat of the maker. it's the very meaning of what god is that's at stake here.

the maker has abandoned humanity. only through the pleas of his prophet andraste is he willing to consider the idea of offering a second chance to his creation. he will not respond to your prayers, and he will not give you answers. his will is inscrutable, to be interpreted only through the words of his prophet which have been changed over the centuries.

and if you are a mage, you are taught that this maker has cursed you. your very being is a curse.

and then you meet elgar'nan. and then you meet ghilan'nain.

they are not your maker. not really. not even if you're an elf.

but these gods are knowable. they will speak to you, personally. they may even do so with kindness. they will tell you what you could do to please them, and even offer you something in return.

and what they ask is terrible. maybe even unfathomable. but in a world where exalted marches have been called in the name of the maker and entire circles annulled, isn't that enough to give you a little pause?

[rin-solo]

This came to me earlier, and now I am utterly obsessed: While it was clear to me that Odysseus stabbing Poseidon wasn't any kind of Vengeance, there was one act of Vengeance after all, even if inadvertent—it was Odysseus disproving Poseidon's "Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves" belief right in front of his very eyes. With him as the subject, even.

Think about it—the fact that Poseidon remained ruthless and insisted on punishing Odysseus was the only reason he got stabbed repeatedly. If Poseidon had been merciful, if he had accepted Odysseus' offer of forgiveness, he would've been fine. His own ruthlessness backfired so hard on him this time that I am sincerely hoping it haunts him forever.

I am actually utterly obsessed with Poseidon thinking back to Odysseus "Maybe you could learn to forgive?" on a daily, no an hourly basis. I cannot and will not lie to you that is unironically my favorite moment in the whole Vengeance saga just because of what it says about both the characters—about Odysseus for offering and Poseidon for declining (and also because Odysseus sings it in Poseidon's own motif which is just absolutely brilliant.) And this makes me love it even more.

Poseidon was going to decline, we all know that. I don't think anyone watching—even Odysseus, probably—expected him to accept. But then I'm picturing him lying there, bleeding into the stone, and, against his will, wondering whether maybe he should have. Maybe if he had, he wouldn't be in pain. Maybe if he had not killed Odysseus' fleet ten years ago, he wouldn't be in pain either. Maybe this one time ruthlessness wasn't mercy upon himself—maybe this time, his one grand belief was wrong. Maybe ... it was always wrong.

Obviously, he would never admit to these thoughts, he would slap himself for having them one second later. But I simply need this self-proclaimed god of ruthlessness to be utterly haunted by that and question whether he made the right choice or no—whether he's even lived by the correct philosophy all his immortal life—and no matter what, be too stubborn to admit he was wrong.

He's trying to pretend like nothing changed, but the thoughts still remain. They pester him. They won't leave him alone. Especially every time someone—anyone—is kind to him for whatever reason, they come crashing back into him and they won't leave.

"What if my own ruthlessness hurt me that time?"

"What if ruthlessness isn't mercy upon ourselves after all?"

"What if I'm wrong?"

"What if I have always been wrong?"

The most dreadful thoughts imaginable to a god as proud and stubborn and old as Poseidon, but they're there now and he can't do anything about them. You all don't understand how much I NEED this god to jolt up in his bed at 3 am after having a dream or nightmare about something related to one of his many ruthless deeds (maybe even sinking Odysseus' fleet) and go "BUT WHAT IF I HAD LEARNED TO FORGIVE?? WHAT IF I STILL COULD??" only to immediately slap himself for it because that's absolutely ridiculous.

He is left to watch this belief shatter before his very eyes as he's clinging to the remains of it desperately, trying to keep it all from crumbling. Not because he genuinely believes he's right anymore, but because he simply cannot imagine ... does not know how to live by any other philosophy.

No matter whether it's objectively correct or not, it's the very thing that defines him. The thing he's known for. He has built his entire image around this, he cannot give it up no matter what ... at least not quickly or without help.

But as much he would seek to deny it, his core belief has now been proven wrong; he has actually lived through an instance where it was wrong, and he can do nothing to erase those memories or conclusions from his mind no matter how much he yearns to go back to simpler times.

And that was the real Vengeance, guys—possibly the biggest, most painful existential crisis of Poseidon's immortal life. I rest my case.

Although before I disappear back into the void I simply must give a shout out to @o3o-lapd-o3o (this came to me during a conversation in one of their comment sections for the glorious Friends In Higher Places AU, which is quite possibly my favorite piece of EPIC fan content that exists ...)

[gunstellations]

a little family

[stiltonbasket]

sue me but I think Shen Yuan as an old man with crow's feet, laugh lines, and gray streaks in his hair could cure Bingge completely. It would just fix All of his problems.

[little-pondhead]

The Curse Of Hope

_

Danny is in another universe. He had a reason, but he doesn’t remember anymore. He can only stare, horrified and disgusted, at the sickest city spirit he’s ever seen. Shivering and swaying with every step, core exposed, and ectoplasm leaking from wounds that are decades old. A ratty blanket was thrown over their shoulders, barely hiding the spirit’s pale grey skin and protruding black bones.

The spirit didn’t even sense him until he reached out to touch its wispy shoulders. The spirit flinched, clutching at the dozens of trinkets hanging from their neck and tucking in on themselves like they were expecting a blow.

“Oh, shit,” He swore, floating back a few feet, hands in the air, to show he meant no harm. “I’m sorry. I promise, I’m not here to steal from you.” The spirit shivered again and rolled a pearl necklace in between their fingers. A nervous habit. “Uh, I like that pocket watch? It’s very nice.”

That got their attention. They peeked at Danny, and he saw that more tattered cloth was covering their eyes, blending in with the stringy hair that reached the ground. Their blanket fluttered weakly, revealing hundreds of thousands of tiny marks etched into their skin. Scars, really. Scars that wrote out curse after curse onto the spirit’s very being. They burned with evil intent, and even reached inside the spirit’s body and wrapped around their core.

Occasionally, blinding specks of color raced across their body, temporarily erasing the writing, but it always returned quickly. He watched, a little detached, as one particular line rewrote itself across their rough forearm, drawing fresh ectoplasm like someone was writing it with a thin knife.

“Are you…alright?” Danny stuttered. A stupid question.

The spirit cocked its head. He couldn’t see their eyes, but he felt their burning gaze as they pondered the question.

“The pain of others becomes mine own.” They rasped. “The lights of the city dim as rotten wealth clogs mine veins. Magicks long forgotten have eaten mine skins, pulled mine cloak, and darkened mine skies. Helios has refused to grace mine doorstep, and the seasons of the Earth have revoked their kindness.”

Danny held his breath. It felt like he was the one with the exposed core, not the spirit.

The spirit shivered once more. “Tell mine soul, little lamb. How could this Forsaken City know peace, when it was long since ripped from mine hands?”

Shit, he needed Frostbite. And maybe Clockwork. Now.

-Or-

Danny meets the spirit of Gotham City. The villains and rogues that have plagued the city for decades are literal curses that are taking quite the toll on Gotham, and honestly, Danny isn’t sure how much longer they can hold out. The heroes seem to be doing some help, and are probably the reason Gotham made it this far, but the poor city needs help from the Realms if they want to get better.

Luckily, Danny can provide that help.

But only if he could get Gotham to leave their city behind. Because recovery is going to take a very long time.