#because then maybe i could get sleep

[twinstxrs]

idk if this is accurate but i’ve felt like in previous seasons riz & gorgug have been one of the inter-bad kids dynamics we’ve seen the least of & this season has been so great in that aspect. gorgug having helped make some of riz’s magic gear. riz helping gorgug with his studies. the shared birthday party. gorgug’s gift to riz being something he himself made to protect riz. riz’s gift to gorgug being something he illegally grabbed to protect gorgug. gorgug who utilizes rage to put his body on the line for his friends & riz who will take deep levels of mental stress for his friends. even though it was within the context of a joke, riz calling gorgug an “absolute sweetie.” like yea they might not be in a band together or both part of a presidential campaign team or owlbears teammates, but they’d go to war for each other, because they’re best friends.

[driedlillies]

Do you think you can get drunk or high by kissing the distortion. Additional question do you think Gerry didn’t know that the first time and just went to work and Gertrude asked him if he was under the influence and he annoyed her so much she decided death was too kind of a fate for him and he deserved to be trapped in that fuckass book

[coquettemouse]

A time ago (1, or 2 years?) I used to draw Leo with a lip piercing and I never mentioned it, but I HC he got it while dating Jason. Which meant lots of praise but also puppy dog looks because he would have to wait two weeks to kiss him (I'm pretty sure they aren't eating ambrosia for small stuff)

[happyk44]

Jason who immediately loses respect for people who don't own up to their mistakes vs Annabeth who would rather die than admit she made a mistake

[moldypoff]

God, I want to make a fanfic where you kill (accidentally or not) Jimmy after you find out that he assaulted Anya and the crash doesn’t happen but now you have to deal with the consequences.

Even if you do the “morally right” thing everyone’s gonna hate you (they won’t say it but they’ll think it).

With the way Pony Express operates I think Curly will have to severely punish you. Either A. Lock you up in a secluded space for the rest of 8 months or B. Kill you, as per policy because you’re mentally unstable and at risk of harming the rest of the crew.

Besides the mental strain that’ll be on just you for the next few months, everyone else has to bear the consequences as well.

(Elaboration under the cut)

Explaining the situation to the company and cops is going to be hell for Anya, because when you explain that you did it on Anya’s behalf they’re immediately going to assume that she may have been an accomplice/and or orchestrated the attack. Not even that but you’ll permanently stain her already half-baked resume since this can be seen as her being an ineffective healthcare provider since she’d clearly misjudged your mental state during psyche evals.

What’s worse is that Curly might not get that promotion because of you since he failed, as Captain, to settle the dispute. Not only did you kill his long term friend but you ruined his life and now he has to deal with keeping everyone calm and Jimmy’s rotting body on the ship.

Daisuke? Considering you’re probably the closest to him out of everyone in the crew because of his friendly personality he’s going to feel so betrayed on top of stressed from living in the environment you created for the next few months. Again, rotting body. Next, everyone’s going to have to decide on how to collectively come up with a solid strategy to get out of this somewhat or completely scot free WHILE continuing to perform their usual tasks on the Tulpar.

Swansea’s probably furious right off the bat. Not just because he already know’s there’s going to be so much work when you all get to your destination (too which he will simultaneously be unemployed), but because he thought you were better than this. Jimmy’s an asshole and rapist, but you? Adding to their troubles of already being laid off and traumatizing them at the same time just because you felt like playing hero? You’re almost just as bad as Jimmy.

Of course they didn’t know how things would play out if they kept Jimmy alive, but is this really any better?

They’re filled with impending doom, they need to keep the smelly, rotting crime scene untouched to prove their innocence, and worst of all they probably still have to take care of you, if you’re alive, AND take over your tasks for your role on the ship as well as Jimmy’s.

Inspiration + Reflection:

Tbh I feel like this is a good reflection of how society treats heros. I remember hearing about this dude who had his daughter SA’d and out of pure rage he killed her abuser, and upon realizing that he was going to jail he went on a spree to kill as many predators and rapists as he could.

That man will never see freedom again but he saved countless young girls and women from being taken advantage of.

It’s also interesting to think about the families and friends of the predators and rapists. Did they even know about what their friend, brother, or husband was up to? Do they comprehend the sheer capacity for cruelty at which this person they trusted operates themselves at? And are they sad to see them go? Are they mad at the person who took them away? Are they willing to accept the fact that they were a bad person or do they desperately cling to the memory of them when they were ‘good’?

I’d really like to explore these topics with multiple endings. Writing a whole fanfic is hard man- I’d rather just get to the important stuff, I’m sorry 😭

Speaking of, I have a couple in mind.

Endings:

Estimated reader satisfaction: # / 5

Bad Ending: -1 - 0 / 5

Everyone dies under the pressure of it all.

Mini Bad Ending: 0.5 - 1 /5

Curly kills you.

Neutral ending#1: 1/5

You live, everyone’s alive (except for Jimmy, duh), all of the expected consequences occur, you’re in jail, you all go your separate ways and struggle like hell. (The most realistic ending.)

Neutral ending#2: 3/5

You only kill yourself. Everyone else is proven innocent and gets to live a somewhat “normal” life, but is forever haunted by your sacrifice.

Good: 5/5

Pony Express is sued, and you all (well… maybe except for you) are awarded a shit ton of money in compensation. You all live happily ever after (you’re actually in jail but the others can easily bail you out). <- Very unlikely, kinda vanilla if you ask me, but fix-it AUs do go hard tho, I just wouldn’t write it myself.

Side notes: Did I remind you that Anya’s pregnant this entire time? Also, this can serve as justification for Curly for his ‘inaction’. If this were him instead of you it might be two times-ish harder on him to be honest.

[pkmoth]

MOTHER SERIES TUMBLR EVENT?! ASK-A-PALOOZA INTEREST CHECK

Hello mother series enjoyers!!! Or, more specifically…. hello askblog enjoyers!!!! this event is for you!!

So, here's some background from me: I've wanted to make an askblog for a little while, but the idea of dedicating myself to a single concept/au/whatever is a little daunting (plus I would worry about how long I could keep it going for, etc etc)

Then, after seeing [this post] (hi zhari hi nana!!), my eyes were opened to the idea of temporary askblogs. And I thought wow, that sounds fun and much less daunting :D

SO THEN I thought: why not make a whole event about it? Where a bunch of people turn their blogs into mother series askblogs for a little while!! (You wouldn't have to actually change your whole blog theme of course, just have your askbox open and give some indication to askers that you're participating!!) You could also interact/rp with other askblogs/people participating and it'd be a grand ol' time overall!!

Would anyone be interested in an event like this?

If the results of this poll look promising, I'll make another poll for what week(s?) it should be!! Also, if you have any questions before you vote, don't be afraid to ask in the comments or dms!! I want everyone to feel welcome to participate :]

[insomnya777]

joel etho single dads au .........

[c-kiddo]

jus rememberd abt this and. the way i used to draw cad in 2020 vs now in 2023 is funny to me idk why

[moongothic]

WAIT WAIT WAIT HOLD THE FUCKING PHONE

So normally we only get fullblown, extended and dedicated flashbacks for heroic characters in One Piece, the characters who we're meant to root for. The literal only TRUE exception we've had to this rule was Big Mom's flashback. Even fucking Doflamingo's flashback was tied to Law and Rosinante's

So the fact that we haven't gotten a single fucking GLIMPSE at Crocodile's backstory is?!?

Like sure, we haven't gotten like a Moria flashback, but you know, he literally told us all we needed to know himself, AND we got to see glimpses of him in the Wano flashbacks. Arlong didn't get a flashback of his own, but he did get to cameo in Fisher Tiger's flashback. And Rob Fucking Lucci got a flashback that was 6 whooping panels long

BUT CROCODILE?? Not only do we know almost Fuck All about his story, but also have never gotten as much as a glimpse at it? But his backstory has been HINTED and TEASED at multiple times??

GUYS. FELLAS

Like. I am SURE the "Full Backstories for Heroes Only" rule is going to get broken again, but with Imu and Blackbeard already there just BEGGING to have their beans spilled, can we even be sure Sir Fucking Crocodile is somehow going to become A Villain So Dangerous To The Narrative that he ALSO should also recieve a Full Fucking Backstory?? For his Nefarious Schemes?? AT THIS POINT??

Y'all

I think it's more likely Oda's been saving up Croc's backstory because it might just completely recontextualize his entire character

[triglycercule]

killer being like "yeah i know every single little thing about horror and dust" (because he watches them as a part time hobby (freak) (find something better to do)) and then he acts surprised when they do something that he wouldnt expect them to do in his little predetermined absolutely perfect concept of them

like what do you MEAN horror licks spoons clean when he's using them so he doesn't have to get a completely different one for the main course and the dessert. what do you MEAN dust has a lisp even though he speaks fluently and uses even more complex words than killer himself. horror knows how to sew and he often patches up their things without either of them noticing?? dust always wears oversized and clothes that cover him up just because he finds it comfy?? what??? out ra geous???? these guys have small little quirks to them that killer doesn't already know about???? killer immediately wants to know more. so he can expand his internal profile of them of course. not for any other more endearing and sweet reason. not at all,,,,,,,, (:3)

[blaiddraws]

Sleepy cuddles with Ingo as the big spoon and Zisu as the little spoon OR sleepy cuddles with Ingo and a pile of sneasel kittens/his pokemon

more eepy <3

[nico-di-genova]

Just a Little Rain

Prompt: Palex where Alex comes to Pato for a sleepover in his bus because he can't fall asleep alone  A/N: Don't ask me the timeline of anything, idk. Anyway, found out Alex apparently has a fear of lightning and I ran with it.

The rumble of thunder through the bus lot is what pulls Pato from his sleep, a sound that roils through, bringing Pato’s consciousness with it. The lightning that flashes, casts shadows of his blinds across the ceiling and illuminates the messy state of his room for a blink, is quick to follow.

Pato groans, muffles the sound into his pillow when he turns on his side and curses the weather.

The storm had been forecasted, discussed in their meeting the night before because it is meant to be slow-moving, still sitting above them come morning and impacting the practice session he sorely needs. The rain that beats against his window would normally be appreciated, soothing in nature, if not for the fact that it is what will be keeping him out of the car come tomorrow. Ovals and their temperament, their unreliability, and the fact that they can kill, have killed, aren’t safe to drive on in wet conditions. Pato wouldn’t want to take the risk, not for a practice session, but he is itching to get in the car.

May is already weighing heavy on him, despite the fact that the month is still in its infancy, still ripe with potential and promise. Pato cannot help but think twenty steps ahead, can’t help that his brain seems to be working in overdrive these days, especially where the 500 is concerned. It’s exhausting, which is another reason he curses the storm. He needs sleep.

Thunder rumbles again, louder this time, enough to shake the bus. Enough that Pato misses the knocking until it comes again, frantic. He could pass it off as storm noise, if not for how it echoes and sound far closer than what is brewing in the sky above.

Grumbling, he pulls himself from the bed and pads down the length of the bus, wiping at the sleep crusted in the corners of his eyes. He opens the door mid-yawn, not expecting anyone, but least of all the man who stands on the first step shivering in his soaked through pajamas.

“Alex?”

Alexander Rossi looks up at him through the rain beading on his lashes, squints when it drips and joins the rest of the cascading trails down his face.

“Hi.”

“Hi?”

“Can I come in?” He shivers again as if for emphasis, curls his arms tighter where he’s wrapped them around his torso. His shirt is plastered to his soaked through frame, sleeves tight against the swell of muscle. Pato stares, wondering for a moment if he’s maybe dreaming, before Alex tacks on a feeble, “Please?” and his voice, trembling just as much as he is, pulls Pato back to his senses.

He moves out of the doorway, motions for Alex to enter, and then Alexander Rossi is standing in the entryway of his bus and dripping water in a puddle on the linoleum. His shoes leave muddy tracks, before he looks down and notices the mess.

“Sorry,” He mutters to Pato before kicking the sneakers off, standing in the puddle of water in his socks once he does.

“It’s okay,” Pato promises. His bus isn’t the sanctity of cleanliness that Alex’s is, there’s enough half empty water bottles and piles of clothes scattered around to attest to that. But Alex probably can’t see the mess in the dark of the bus. He isn’t looking at anything anyway, just the floor beneath him, his socks changing color where the water is soaking into them.

Pato isn’t sure what to say, what to do, shuffles around Alex from where he’d been standing with his hand still on the door and then makes for the kitchen so he can flip the switch to illuminate the small space. The light has them both flinching, blinking against it, even though it’s dim because Pato has it on a slider and always keeps it on the lowest setting. It casts Alex in a new light, makes his soaked through state even more apparent. Their buses are on opposite sides of the lot, which means Alex has run through the grass and the mud, braved the torrential downpour that now beats against the windows, to stand in one spot on Alex’s bus and shiver.

“Are- do you- do you want a change of clothes?” Pato asks. They’re not the same size, but Pato thinks he maybe has a hoodie or two that are oversized on him.

Alex swallows, nods, “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”

Pato wouldn’t have offered if he did.

He doesn’t look at Pato, still keeps staring at that same spot on the floor. Alex doesn’t ever speak much, but he doesn’t show up at Pato’s place at close to three in the morning without explanation either. They’re friendly, friends even, but Pato is used to long text conversations and casual flirting, not whatever this is. He’s out of his element, Alex too if his stilted behavior is any indication.

Rifling through the bit of clean laundry he still has, Pato is able to procure a tan hoodie. There’s a stain on the front, probably from spilled food, but it’s clean. Alex doesn’t seem to mind, which is strange too, just peels his shirt from his body without preamble and wipes himself down with the towel Pato offers too before sliding the hoodie on.

Pato tries not to stare, fails, watches as Alex runs to towel over his chest, his arms, the expanse of his abdomen. He’s seen Alex shirtless before, worked out with him occasionally and seen him strip out of his fireproofs when he got too overheated, but never in the intimacy of his temporary home. Never when Alex was so close. Alex dries at the water along his v-line, and Pato’s mouth goes a little dry.

He forces himself to look away, makes himself a glass of water and chugs it while leaning against the sink so he can maybe not feel so thirsty that he thinks about dropping to his knees and licking away the rain dotting Alex’s skin himself. Alex doesn’t seem to notice, just slides on the hoodie and then strips out of his socks, adding them and his shirt in a soggy pile next to his shoes.

“Thanks,” Alex says when he’s dressed, no longer standing in the puddle, but across from Pato in the small space of the kitchen. He’s leaned back against the door of the bathroom, arms crossed over his chest again, eyes still not quite meeting Pato’s.

“No problem.” Pato sips from his water now, casts a look at Alex over the rim of the cup.

“I-“ Alex starts, shifts against the door, sighs, “I don’t like storms.”

The thunder rumbles again outside as if to accentuate Alex’s point. He tenses, noticeably, fabric of the hoodie stretched tight across his shoulders.

“Oh,” Pato says, for lack of anything better. Alex didn’t seem like the sort to be afraid of anything, least of all thunderstorms.

“I- it’s the lightning really. Or just- just the whole thing. I don’t know. Mainly the lightning.”

“Oh,” Pato says again, still unsure what he’s meant to do here, “Okay.”

“Sorry, it’s stupid,” Alex says, forces out a laugh, but Pato knows when he’s faking something so it’s not hard to miss the tension in his tone. He glances up at Pato for a second, quickly looks back down, finds another spot on the floor to study with avoidant interest. Pato’s never seen him like this. Quiet, annoyed, yes, but awkwardly picking at the sleeve of Pato’s hoodie with anxious fingers, that’s a new one.

“No, it’s not stupid,” Pato assures him, sets the cup of water down behind him, “Sorry, man, I don’t mean to be an asshole.” He steps closer to Alex, sets a hand over where Alex is pulling on the hoodie at his bicep and then releasing it, repeating the behavior again and again with increasing agitation. Alex flinches at the contact, eyes darting to Pato’s holding for a second before they leave again. He’s biting at his bottom lip nervously, enough that Pato can see blood beading up when he pulls at a loose bit of skin to hard. Alex licks it away quickly, ducks his head further like he’s ashamed.

“It’s not stupid, honestly. What do you need me to do? How can I help?”

Alex shrugs, shakes his head.

“Come on, Alex. You came here for a reason, let me help. Please.”

“It’s dumb,” Alex says, quiet, ashamed. The thunder comes again, and he tenses impossibly tighter, goes so rigid in Pato’s grasp that Pato can feel it. The bus does little to help, just keeps rocking with the wind that gusts against it and doing nothing to mute the cacophony of noise that is the rain pounding against the roof. The storm is picking up, and Alex is only growing more and more agitated with it.

“Alex, I want to help,” Pato pushes. He hates this, hates seeing Alex practically trembling in the dim light of his bus, looking smaller than he should. He’s exhausted, and he can see Alex is too in the dark circles under his eyes and his weary expression. They need to sleep, they both need this rain to end. Alex because he clearly can’t stand the storm itself, Pato because he needs to get in his car tomorrow, drive out the anxiety and frustration that’s crawling up his spine. He curses Indiana weather again, mentally gives it the finger, it responds with a clap of thunder so loud the bus shakes with it.

Alex’s face goes white, his grip on his own bicep goes so tight Pato can see it, feel it beneath where he’s got his own hand resting atop Alex’s. It must be painful, has to be, because he’s gripping skin and muscle with enough force his knuckles are going white too.

“Hey, woah, it’s okay.” He soothes Alex like a spooked horse, pulls the man’s hand away from where he’s attempting to bruise his own arm, lets him grip his hand instead. “You’re okay, dude. All good.”

“S-sorry,” Alex stutters out, choked sounding. He’s squeezed his eyes shut, just as tight as the rest of his body, leaning against the door behind him heavily for support. His breathing comes out ragged, unnatural. “I need- I need to lay down. Please. Under something, with someone. Just- I can’t- I don’t like being alone when it’s- when it’s like this.”

Hence running through the rain and to Pato’s door. Pato remembers Alex telling him Hinch was out of town, gone to Miami for the Formula 1 race. He wonders if that’s who Alex would have run to instead, assumedly he had not been the first choice. They’ve endured plenty of storms during this season and the last, but this is the first time Alex has shown up at his door seeking shelter.

Carefully, still handling Alex with all the care one would a particularly frightened thoroughbred, he takes him by the wrist and leads him back to his room. Alex follows, numbly, blindly, trusting Pato fully. Pato has contended with his fair share of nervous system overloads, understands the way you feel frayed and exposed, like a raw nerve. He doesn’t blame Alex for shutting down.

Alex’s sweatpants are still wet from the rain, and Pato doesn’t have a pair that would fit him.

“Do you want to sleep in these?” He asks, gently tapping against the waistband of the clothing.

Alex shakes his head.

“Okay if I take them off?”

Alex nods.

It’s not the way Pato had envisioned undressing him, and he does so with a gentleness he had not pictured either, sliding the elastic band down past the hem of his briefs, the muscle of his thighs, and then letting them pool around his ankles so Alex can step out of them when Pato pulls him forward and eases him down onto the bed. Alex sits on the edge for a minute while Pato crawls in behind him, all rigid and unmoving, and then falls back on the pillow with a sigh of relief when Pato grabs his arm and pulls him down. He is taller than Pato, longer than him, but the height doesn’t factor much once they’re laying parallel. Pato holds him, Alex turns himself around to bury his face against the crook of his neck. The blanket Pato eases over him ends up pulled to his ears.

When lightning flashes, illuminates the room, Alex’s breath stutters.

“Okay,” he soothes, “You’re okay.”

Part of him wonders at the fear, wonders what it is in the lightning that causes Alex to press closer to him. Come morning maybe he will ask, or maybe he will text Hinch, or maybe he will say nothing at all, and Alex will leave once the sun arrives. This could become something they aren’t meant to talk about, like the flirting and the texts that Alex sends when he’s drunk and alone. Just another thing they step around, until the next storm that Alex comes knocking during.

Pato holds him closer, closes his eyes and inhales the scent of him, the sharp copper scent of rain and skin that isn’t really Alex at all, but will be what Pato recalls when he thinks of this night.

“You’re okay,” Pato promises, because the bus doesn’t muffle much sound, but it keeps out the rain. Alex lets him run a hand down his back, muscles jumping under the touch, coiled so tightly he can’t hide the reaction. Pato does so until Alex begins to relax against him.

Slowly, his own exhaustion begins to return. Despite the rain still pounding down on the roof, beating against the window in sheets, the noise begins to lure him toward unconsciousness. He’s warm under the blanket with Alex, almost unbearably so, but it’s also comfortable. He likes the extra weight on the mattress beside him, how Alex dips toward him, they dip toward each other, with the weight of their bodies at the center of the bed. Alex has nuzzled himself right under Pato’s chin, so that his breath is warm when it ghosts along his neck.

Warmth and heat and a familiar hand clutching at his hip, this is how Pato falls asleep.

In the morning, Alex is still there, snoring softly, body relaxed. One quick look at his phone assures him they can stay in this moment for longer, Pato’s engineer having texted to let him know practice is, predictably, delayed. It’s easy, for a moment, to fantasize a life in which this is normal. Where he might, one day, wake up with Alex in his arms and it will feel like home. Certainly it is the closest Pato has come in recent weeks, since leaving Monterrey and having to pack his life into a bus, an Airbnb, a hotel room over and over and over again. Alex is one of the constants now. Next to Elba, he is usually the first person to text Pato in the morning. Often, it is to ask him if he wants to work out, go for a walk – because Alex doesn’t run – and now, for a moment, he is here. It feels right.

Pato, harshly, hopes they have another storm.

He doesn’t wake Alex, just sets his phone back down on the nightstand and carefully eases himself back to where Alex is curled against him. Alex mumbles in his sleep at the movement. It’s nonsensical, not even words, but Pato can feel them because Alex is so close to him that his lips ghost along the exposed column of his neck.

“It’s okay,” Pato calms him once more, another hand down his back, down the fabric of his hoodie that Alex is now stretching out and claiming, “Go back to sleep, it’s okay.”

“M’kay,” Alex mutters.

Pato smiles.

Sun is beginning to filter through the blinds, despite the rain still pattering against the window, and Alex continues to sleep.  

[pushing500]

Look, she's paralysed and won't really get in the way of Mechi's work around the colony. Mechi gets a psylink neuroformer, and Angst gets to spend nineteen days facing a bleak white wall in the corner of the laboratory. Win-win!

A distress signal? How curious. Archotechnology is always tempting...

Mechi went to investigate with Chief of Security Ratchet and Deputy Rocket, only to discover the place was crawling with gross flesh. They left with zero archotechnology and a renewed disgust for all things biological.

Finally, everyone meet Hummel, the newest wild man on the map. He looks like the world's most irate, washed-up foxboy. I love him.

First | Next | Previous

[politemagic]

you ever listen to sleep token and then get overly emotional because out of all the years of human existence, you get to exist at the same time as them?

[a-s-levynn]

About those new masks..

So i saw this take a few times already and i have some thoughts. Obviously it's paraphrasing but you'll see these a lot similar to this if you scroll in ST spaces since yesterday:

"These new masks have too much personality, they said the people behind the music is uniportant but they now have this new personalized look instead of the uniform sleek minimalist one and it is the direct opposite of what they are saying. These new looks do not fit Sleep Token"

Let me preface this: I'm not going to explore specific reasons why people might hate on the masks because... No i refuse to go there, but i will talk about the issues i have around this a bit.

No.

If you are hating on the new masks so much so as to cry about that "this is not what they supposed to be about" you are missing your own point. You are in fact shooting the opposite direction. You are no longer in it for "just the music" but you are very much caught upon the "everything else beside the music." You got distracted. You putting the blame on them instead on yourself for loosing your own point.

There is no moral highground in this whole ordeal. Please respect yourself enought to try not to look utterly stupid if you frothing about something you visibly misunderstood. Do not hide behind excuses. Do not put this on the artists. Own up to the fact that you simple don't like it.

Admit that it's your opinion purely; because ultimately the artist creating their own art will understand creative choices behind their creations more than you ever will. No matter how far you try to bend backwards.

The masks fit Sleep Token because it is Sleep Token who decided to have them. End of story. You can hate it all you want but it is still part of the shabang now. And don't try to mask your distaste over visuals with shouting about the artist not understanding their own ideology.

If you are so hung up on how they look like, more than what the music still is, than stop and think for a second please.. You have it backwards. If you really truly only care about the music, what it is about, what it gives you, than you are not going to give a shit what they are wearing on stage.

Maybe in a passing few sentences but otherwise you are not going to be worked up about it to the point you sent hatecomments to the artist who made them.. It is shameful.

Besides i hate to break it to people but they already had their personalities with their outfits just not this strongly. III had the random whacky shit. IV had the hint's of this comfy leisurly punk-ish techwear whatever going on besides the fancy stuff the past a months since the summer. II had a slightly sleeker but maybe sort of tech-ish look which is now reflected (in my opinion) much more strongly with this new look (which sorta reminds me of a stylized oni or something tbh and that is extremely in line with their older far-east inspired thematics visually, just saying).

They are not handing you the "we are unimportant" part anymore. They are not spoonfeeding it to you. Not in the way they had before at least. They presume you are mature and smart enough at this point to get it. To get to the conclusion that it is unimportant what they look like. And allow them to still have fun with it.

Or just they are being cheeky and went for something that would shake up the people. I don't know, i don't know them or anyone close to them. I don't have answers. But they are trying something new an it is perfectly fine.

Also which would have come off so much differently if Vessel is 100% btw. Be honest, if they would have been able to perform to their fullest abilities, far less people would be so loud over this.. This was just an unfortunate turn of events and when shit hits the fan it usually never just one dose. And my heart breaks for the boys for all this.

Besides, people were so loud about hating that "they looked the same" and "so hard to distinguish" and "easy to replace because of this" ... now they have personalized masks and looks and the same people cry about the exact opposite they did before..

Also it just occured to me that this is basically the same as the lightshow upgrade. It gives you something to look at at the rituals. The new looks are visually interesting, and with the lighting setup they have now they are gonna look like some seriously fun nightmare creatures btw. I love that already.

So all in all i don't know, i don't really have a point here i guess, but the boys are in such a no win situation right now and i hate the fact that people are shitting on them just because they don't fit their idea of "an anonymous collective" anymore. Which is reddiculous and sad because nothign has changed.

It never was about being a blank page. It was about being human. It flies over so many peoples head but the anonymity part isn't about not being a person under there. It is being about that person not having a name. It doesn't matter if the person has a personality or not. What matter there is that no name.

There is no definitiveness. It gives an open invitation for anyone to step into that person but first you need to recognise that there is a person there. And there is no doing that if there are no traces of personality. Or humanity if you will because personalities makes us humans. Don't make me hold a philosophy lecture here on what it means being human please.

It does not matter who that individual it is by tagging a name on them. But it is extremely important that there is a person there. Otherwise there is no connection point. If there is no person there is nothing to understand. But it does not matter how that person looks like. It does not matter what the person wears. Or what that person is called. What matters is that it is a human being. And as such you can understand it. Our at least you should be able to.

Regardless of the design of a mask.

[fala-alfredo-pasta]

One of the most weirdest things to me about the fandom is the idea that Nagito would be extra-warm towards Hajime upon waking up, due to Hajime retaining all of Kamukura's talents. To me I think it would be the total opposite. I think there'd actually be a lot of angst deriving from just how alienated Nagito feels around this Hajime, who's not quite the same person he fell in love with anymore. Taking into account what 2.5 implies about his true feelings about talent (that deep down he's always resented what talent has done to the world and his life), I think it could be especially aggravating if Hajime tried to act as if there's no power imbalance between the two.

"...Stop pretending like I'm still your equal. I'm a talentless freak with a brain that's falling to bits, and I'll be gone in a few years. You're the most talented ingenious human being on Earth, and you've probably got a life expectancy of like 250. You don't get to reap all the benefits of being the Ultimate Hope, and then act like you're still an average joe just because you had some profound revelation in a computer world about how okay it is being talentless."

Yeah I feel that. Though it's understandable fandom would run with the "Talent-sexual" Nagito joke given how much he fawns over those with talent and to then apply the logic to "the more talents = the more Nagito will like you". The moment in the anime when he's overwhelmed with adoration simply being in Izuru's presence for the first time also doesn't quite help in this regard, though pretty sure that was put in there more so for fanservice and comic relief.

Funnily enough, as you mentioned, the anime also brought into question how much sincerity Nagito's love for talent truly is. So then it makes you think--if Nagito actually resents talent, then applying the earlier logic: wouldn't the more talents = the more Nagito resents you? Both things are somewhat of a flawed logic, but it's interesting to explore that side of Nagito because it really paints a picture of how deeply entrenched his delusion with hope and talent are. How many layers of denial and repression do you have to be in order to act so sincerely and consistently with your fake ideal that talent=hope and the Ultimates are destined to bring forth that hope? To the point that you circled back around and gaslight yourself into believing it to be a fundamental truth?

At what point did that resentment arise? Did it grow alongside his admiration for talent? Every time he felt his resentment towards talent did he push it back down with positive thoughts of talent instead to try to "look on the brightside/find the silver lining"? Did it get to the point that his resentment was so incredible that he had to think talent positive thoughts 24/7 just to keep it at bay? Is he doing this because otherwise all he'll have left will be hatred, despair, and a bleak view of the world being cruel and unfair? And he'll constantly be wondering why some are blessed with advantage and prodigy while others are seemingly born to suffer and stay stagnant despite their best efforts? Why does the world continue to favor some and crush everyone else? What has everyone done to deserve the life they have?

Honestly, this just further proves that Nagito's obsession with hope and talent are his last ditch attempts at giving himself purpose in a world cursing his existence. Ironically, this unhealthy coping mechanism is the better of two mindsets he chose to follow. Really goes to show that Nagito, despite everything he says, has not given up on himself if he's trying THIS damn hard to keep up the facade and have a reason to keep going everyday. And this is the reason why that OVA is my favorite episode from all the anime as that one line adds so much more nuance to Nagito's already complicated ideology.

Sorry, I sorta derailed things to ramble about Nagito but what did you expect from a Nagito simp after all? He's been rotting my brain for over four years now. But to come back on topic, this post-game Nagito with his looser chokehold on hope and talent would most likely have to contend once again with that resentment, but now with a weaker shield. As such, I do think he'd have mixed feelings about Izuru/Hajime. Part of him would probably sympathize with Hajime's pain from the surgery and the fact that he'll never quite be only Hajime anymore. Izuru is and will always be there. Learning to live with the permanent changes to his body and mind is something Nagito knows intimately--way before he became a remnant. That being said, well....Hajime did get the best case scenario for his outcome. Even some of his emotions returned despite the physical improbability of it happening. And yeah--he gets to keep all those useful talents now too. He's also in better physical health than most of their other classmates and his real name isn't inherently associated with Ultimate Despair. He could go back into society looking the way he does with his legal name and no one would even know he was ever involved with Hope's Peak.

So yeah, that sympathy Nagito has would not be enough to squash down his resentment. I can't imagine him fawning over Hajime post-game given everything that's happened and especially after finding out how Izuru was created (as I talked about in a previous ask). There will definitely be an adjustment period where in Nagito may even be passively hostile towards Hajime. But I think a part of Nagito--the part that white knuckled that silver lining for talent---would try its best to look past that and accept Hajime as a sincere friend. It's just going to take a while for him to get there. But he'll try. Doesn't mean he won't be a snarky passive aggressive guy through out it though. I do think he'll be more blunt about his honest feelings towards others whether they like it or not. Talent be (slightly) damned.