#damned if you queue damned if you don't

[sheyhem]

Just got a letter informing me that my good friend Jonathan is going on a business trip to Transylvania in a bit under two weeks! I'm sure he will have a wonderful time on his travels! Can't wait to hear all about it through his letters!

[utilitycaster]

I truly have no patience for "criticizing a creative choice is disrespectful" as a statement. If you can't tell the difference between sending hate or harassing creators/fans, vs. saying "I didn't like this and here's why" you are an idiot. And on the flip side if you're a creator and someone says "I didn't like this" without any sort of personal attacks or hate involved, simply on the basis of critique and personal preference, and that makes you feel bad enough to stop creating then maybe you should step back and either get offline or make room for someone who has an actual creative vision that isn't "I want everyone to like me."

[starrywangxian]

little mushroom manhua panels that look like movie posters

part 7 / ∞

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+ bonus

[ghostoffuturespast]

Honestly, getting real tired carrying and supporting other folks around here when most of them aren't returning the favor...

[that-spider-fan-over-there]

So I've read Chapter 427: "Who Was Shigaraki Tomura?"

Or as I am calling it in my head: *lights up candle* ... Is it a safe space to be a BNHA Hero and Villain fan yet? 

Okay, this is gonna be a long one- Prefacing this:

I love Izuku. I really really do. And I also wanted Spinner to lash out at him. This was even more than I could've asked for- I'd have been 100% on board with Spinner's vengeful widow arc if he wanted. Jokes aside, I liked. 2/3 of the chapter, would've been fine without the Overhaul stuff. I'm switching typing "Tenko | Tomura", probably, so please bear with me.

Spinner's been called a hypocrite for calling Izuku a murderer. I don't think Izuku is one; he wanted to save Tenko, broke his mental barriers to reach out when he gave away OFA, not to destroy his body. I don't think he knew the end result until Tomura!AFO was really breaking down. He failed, and he’s drowning in guilt (eyebags, repression, war veteran look, letting Spinner take it out on him).

In Spinner's defense: he's faced discrimination from society. His first friends were the LoV. Outcasts like him, no one would've been surprised if Spinner killed someone, sad as it is. Stain spared Izuku as a worthy hero, yet he fought Tomura, and no corpse was left. The flawed logic of Ch. 19: Heroes and Villains commit violence, but a hero was seen killing a person, and is praised for it. Who cares "Midoriya Izuku killed a person"? Hero Deku defeated a villain. Of course he'll be a "hypocrite" and say that.

Late add-on: It can feel worse because even Spinner fell into the bystander mentality; even he knew he could've helped Tomura before the final battle but didn't, and is dwelling on "what if a hero rescued him then?" Izuku technically is the only person to extend a hand, even if the results were. Well. Izuku tried and still was not enough. It's a gut punch on both.

Izuku saying he won't deny the murder comment, though? Cheers, I want him to have a mental breakdown. (I mean, he didn't have to talk to Spinner personally. I think it's both him wanting to honor Tenko and being driven by guilt).

People calling Tomura a monster is justified, even if it sucks. Tenko never had a choice in believing he was anything other than that and It's 100% AFO's fault. But in the end, Tomura still made the kill, unfair as it is. Not humanizing him, however, is a mistake; he should be humanized. Anyone could've ended up the way he did. Spinner is just on the extreme of sympathizing way too much to acknowledge how much suffering he brought. Society isn't better, they've regressed into Pre-AM paranoia. 

Pikahlua (here and here) and Kikibats (Twitter, here) said Ch. 322 scene was paralleled, and I'm kinda relieved— I thought I was brainrotting the parallels. So I'm just repeating them rn:

Scarred right side, the "regretful murderer" facing a grieving Spinner vs. the intact left side, the "child soldier young hero" bearing too much, listening as an apology for Spinner? From stranger danger to a connection no one else has. And then they stop facing each other when Spinner breaks down from how much Tomura meant to him as his first friend, hero and hope, something Izuku only saw a glimpse of!? (likely foreshadowing Izuku's own emotions yet to burst) Damn that was good. (I hate the scar but that was a good use I gotta admit)

(Parallels of fanboys with identity issues following someone like them, seeing them as their heroes, and when they died, lost control of themselves and their Quirks and now they're lost as to what to do next?! Being a Spinneraki shipper paid off in a way I didn't expect but should've.)

(Also every duo that has "My Hero/Hope/Light" is romantically canon I do not make the rules take it up with Horikoshi- /j)

Izuku's repressing for taking Spinner's grief and letting him manhandle him (really, just Spinner doing the equivalent of grabbing him by the collar and breaking down, but angst's angst). Taking a step further: Ch. 118, Someone wanted to fight and be punished for something that wasn't on them, after weeks of hiding their guilt. Time for Someone to be there 'cause Izuku ain't handling it alone. And I miss emotional Izuku I want him back, but His Trauma Also Has Hands.

Spinner writing a book to spread Tomura's gospel and Izuku suggesting to make it a comic makes sense; Quirk Singularity/Meta Liberation book (as he narrated the My Villain Academia Arc) vs. the OFA/AFO conflict that started through comics Toshinori, Yoichi and AFO read as kids. Those books were taken as bull or rewritten to fit the times/ideals, and only a select few read it. Comics would play into the reality-fantasy themes and reach the younger generation. Past doesn't die but if you don't let it haunt you it can be a lesson to take for the future. How would that be executed depends on how much Tenko is romanticized or sympathized with.

Izuku says he won't forget the LoV (and let's be honest, neither will Shoto, Ochako and Katsuki. And Iida, with luck) feels a little empty for now, so I'm betting on hindsight to see what he will do with this knowledge. After all, Izuku is (supposedly) the symbol of hope and the reality check everyone needs. It's still there, tangled in that trauma, the silly hero fanboy who's way too selfless, reckless and willing to fight for what he loves at the cost of himself. He just gotta let it sink; he doesn't have to hide and do it alone.

Waiting for Izuku to prove everyone wrong is just common sense :3

And the "Joki Joki" guy is being set-up to be either Tenko (ideal scenario) or someone who'll stand in as him (not-so-ideal in my opinion), and will definitely face the shunning from the civilians. They want to return to their fantasy, but consequences exist for a reason.

I'm convinced this is the beginning it was being referred to in 403: An era of reform for the world of BNHA. And it's part of the reason I am sold on the idea of a sequel; if that's the end of it, then that's a hell of a lead for a bittersweet/bleak ending for a story all about hope and bright futures. What does it mean to be a hero in a world that doesn't trust them anymore? Well, why not explore that?

Okay, with that out of the way. Overhaul. I don't care for him, so: he's pathetic, cry harder and maybe I'll feel bad, Izuku may hate him but still. Too kind to save him. His boss woke up to put him in his place (as if growing up in mafia didn't mess him up too. Joy /s.), too little too late, I hope Aizawa has official custody of Eri, otherwise she's gonna have to go back (adoption in Japan is only for 6yo and under so they can absorb them into their family. Eri is 7 so I hope she's staying with Aizawa). I'm sorry but. No.

After that, not many thoughts, but I see possible foreshadowing of Hawks bringing in more heroes, maybe a rehab for both villains and heroes? I hope so. (Izuku asked if he had that much power. I say: He should have. As a treat. :3333)

And as for the last page: Weird that it wasn't a Himichako cliffhanger but I guess it's because they'll be the last plot point of 428 and it'll lead up to "Joki Joki". I'm also expecting Hawks to be there, because of Twice.

And 2-A will be good role models, teaching 1st years blind worship is not good but that aside. Those fangirls better pack it up Shoto doesn't care (glad the family stuff didn't affect his school popularity) and if Katsuki isn't enjoying the attention then we got confirmation he swings for the other team- /hj

And with that, I finish this by saying: Fuck everyone who ignored Tenko, especially that hag who didn't help Tenko and led him to a hero or the police. She just had to drop him off with someone. It wasn't like he was gonna kill her back then as a traumatized 6yo fearing his own hands.

Thank you for reading!

[seaofreverie]

I'm back and Guys they played my favourite song they played where your eyes don't go and they played spy and last wave and the darlings of lumberland and let me tell you about my operation and

[cattewife]

(nsft/tmi perhaps?)

truly a joke the way u can be sitting down to figure out what you're getting off to today like flipping thru a scenario book showing each one to ur clit like "is this it? is this what gets you excited, girl?"

and it's like. no, we aren't feeling the one where he has a desperate stifled allergy attack in the office he's trying to hide. nah, the messy dramatic overwhelming sick sneezes scenario is not for today. i know we were really into that yesterday but we'll revisit those again later. hmm. sitting with the cat he's allergic to on his lap and just continuing activities while sneezing uncontrollably. yes. play reel.

[mosylufanfic]

Rebelcap Whumptober Day 2

I went with the prompt in the title because I just loved it so much!

I’ll call out your name (but you won’t call back)

The first thing he heard was the monotonous beep of a heart monitor, slowly speeding up as he came to full consciousness.

The first thing he realized was that he couldn't move his arms or his legs.

"Easy!" said a voice. "Easy, easy. It's not permanent. We had to give you a paralytic."

He stared up at the strange face hovering over his. Twi'lek, he registered. He wasn't a prisoner of the Empire, then. 

Of course, that didn't mean he was among friends, either.

"I couldn't have you thrashing around and undoing all my hard work," the Twi'lek went on.

He made a questioning noise.

"I had to  brace your back to keep the spine immobile, remove your spleen and your appendix, set several ribs and vertebrae, and pump in a lot of synthblood. You're not entirely out of the woods but you may be seeing daylight. Do you know where you are?"

Scarif, he thought, but no. That was where he'd been. 

The last thing he remembered was kneeling on the beach, Jyn in his arms, holding onto her as his internal injuries and the shock wave of the boiling ocean raced each other to kill him first. And the burning point of her kyber crystal, pressed between them - 

How he had gotten from there to here was a mystery he couldn't even begin to solve.

Jyn. Where was Jyn? Dead? Somewhere else in this facility? He tried to look around but there was some kind of brace keeping his head immobilized. All he could see was a rough pourstone ceiling, pitted and stained with age, and some of the area around the foot of his bed. That wasn't any more informational - just pourstone wall and a jumble of medical-supply crates, long expired if their labeling was anything to go by. 

"You're on Tamsye Prime," the medic informed him. 

Tamsye Prime, he thought. Why was that important? Why was that ringing the most distant of alarms?

When he tried to reach for it, pain burst in his midsection like a bomb, and a groan escaped his throat.

"Sorry, let's get these meds dialed up." A couple of clicks, and something cool began to spread through his veins from a spot in his elbow.

"What are you doing?" said a second voice. "She wanted to know when he woke up."

"I'm checking him first." A straw nudged at his mouth, and he instinctively jerked his head away. "It's water," the medic said.

He considered pulling away again, but his throat was dust-dry and a coughing fit might tear him open. And this medic didn't seem the type to poison him after working so hard to put him back together. He accepted the drink, holding most of it in his mouth to trickle as gently as possible down his throat.

"Right away, she said."

"I'll comm her in a moment."

The painkiller started to take effect, blurring the knife edges of the pain into spiky clouds. He thought about asking for it to get dialed down again. He didn't like to be fuzzy. But he wasn't sure he could form coherent words.

Jyn, he thought. Jyn.

A click and a buzz and the second voice said, "Yeah, he's awake."

"Kriff you," said the medic.

"I'm not presenting my ass to be kicked along with yours," said the second voice. 

He lost time then, awareness blurring in and out until a door swished open. The mysterious Her.

"Everybody out," said a voice. It had the mechanical edge of a vocoder, distorting it from original. 

Shuffling and murmurs as people exited. 

"Everybody means everybody," said the vocoder'd voice. 

"Kest - " the medic said in a pleading voice. 

"Do I have to say it again?"

A pause, and one last set of footsteps, and the hiss of the door. 

He scrabbled through the clouds in his head to pull his thoughts together and work out what to do. 

Was this Jyn?

The aggression tracked. But why would she be wearing a vocoder? Unless she was trying to disguise herself from whoever it was that had them. 

"You awake?" said the voice, now clearly addressing him. 

He let his eyelids flutter in confusion that wasn't entirely feigned. 

"I'm turning down your painkiller drip so you're clearheaded enough to talk," she went on. "Of course, that means the pain will come back, too. If I like what you have to say, I'll turn your meds back up."

No. It couldn't be. Not talking to him like this.

He was pretty sure.

He waited long enough for the clouds to clear to the edges and then allowed his eyelids to slide open.

"Took you long enough," said the voice.

She was staying to one side of his head, correctly guessing that with his neck braced, his field of vision was severely limited. Anything he could use to guess at age and species were disguised by the vocoder, of course. Gender, too, if he hadn't heard the pronouns the medics used.

But he had the feeling that, like many inexperienced interrogators, this one was letting the vocoder do the work and didn't realize the kind of information he could extract from what it left behind. 

Like a Core accent, there in the syllabic emphasis, the rising and falling tones of the sentences. 

Like - 

No, it wasn't her. 

He didn't think. 

"What's your name?"

He flicked through aliases like flimsicards. "Aach," he managed. "Clem Aach."

"Hmm. Where do you come from, Clem Aach?"

"Ogem," he said. Mid-Rim, far enough away from Scarif so that if the Empire were searching for them - and the Empire had to be searching for them - it might throw these people off the scent. 

"How did you get here?"

"Crash," he said.

"Crashed in what? We didn't find any wreckage. Anywhere. "

He made a puzzled face, as if the lack of his entirely fictitious spacecraft was a surprise to him as well. "Crashed," he said again. 

Silence for a moment, as if she thought he might change his mind about that. He waited it out with the patience of one who used silence like a scalpel. 

Soon, much sooner than he would have, she went on, "I was the one who found you. In a rock canyon just outside our perimeter."

"Thank - you," he managed. A little politeness sometimes went a long way, and if he played this right, they might think he was some gormless civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"You were saying a name," the voice said. 

"I was?"

"That name is why I brought you back. You think we waste resources on every broken wreck of a being we find in the wastes? I want to know where you heard that name."

"Don't know," he lied. "Maybe - delirious?" That was possibly not a lie. Given the extent of his injuries, and his lack of memory, he could have been delirious. He hoped he hadn't dropped anything other than Jyn's name.

Because who else would he have been calling out for?

"Handy," the voice said. 

Stalemate. He wasn't willing to betray Jyn's identity, she wasn't willing to give him anything to go on. 

And yet, his captor had already heard him. If he admitted to it, maybe they could get somewhere. Even if "somewhere" was knowing how he'd ended up here. 

"Could - have - could have been 'Jyn,'" he said. 

Silence again. This time, calm and considering, like she was working out which of his fingers or toes to slice off first. "Jyn Erso," she said.

Hells. He had said her full name. Maybe in response to someone. That wasn't like him. 

Reluctantly - "Maybe."

The footsteps again, traversing the length of his bed. Slowly, his interrogator stepped into view. 

It was Jyn.

And it wasn't.

Her face was different - rounder in some parts, sharper in others. Her mouth was softer and fuller, most of the lines and shadows around her eyes missing, some scars vanished, only smooth skin in their place. And there was no recognition in her eyes as she looked at him. Just suspicion. 

Her eyes cut to the heart monitor, whose high beeps matched the sudden galloping pace of his heart. "So you do know who I am," she said.

He made a noise of partial assent, still staring dumbfounded. If the girl in front of him was a day older than sixteen, he'd walk into the nearest Imperial base and give himself up right now. 

"Good," she said. "We've got that out of the way." She stepped out of his line of sight again, and he stared at the ceiling, trying to feel his way through a situation that had suddenly gotten a lot stranger - and it hadn't been particularly normal in the first place. 

Tamsye Prime.

Sixteen-year-old Jyn. Clearly not going by her original name, and not willing for anyone else to hear it, even in the Partisans - for that had to be who the others had been. 

Impossible. 

The dial of the medication clicked again, two times. Three. Downward, as there was no cool rush into his elbow again. 

"Now," she said very softly. "Who sent you?"

FINIS

Inspired by the woooorrrrrrld of difference between Felicity Jones as Catherine Morland and Felicity Jones as Jyn Erso.

[mvndrvke]

my computer crashed and i lost all of my replies COOL

[amapolamystery]

8.5.2022

[schnaf]

22 days until gaon's 22nd birthday

day 19 - gifs you can hear

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

blog maintenance

hope everyone is having a lovely weekend :)

i just went through my whole blog! made a few little changes i thought i would share:

i tagged posts from specific episodes, so now if you want to see any ice content, you can look up "#1x08" and so on. this will make it easier to access any gifs, meta, jokes, etc for if you're really in the mood for thinking about one particular ep. it was also fun to see which episodes i post about the most- ice and revelations are, to no one's surprise, on the top of the list!

and i included my own episode writeup in each of the tags as well, even though it would probably be much easier to just go to the masterpost and find it there if that is what you're looking for. but hey! now you have options!

also! i went back and added a "read more" bar to all of my reaaaaaally long posts that previously did not have them. i did not think to start implementing this until around s3, so if you ever went to read or reblog a post from before then, it was novel length. well! now this is no longer the case! and it will only BECOME novel length if you click the option to read more!

i was put on this planet to Sort and Organize.

[not-poignant]

Me anytime I see you post an excerpt: An update’s coming an update’e coming an update’s coming 🦗🦟🦗🦟🦗🦟

Me any time I post an excerpt: An update's coming an update's coming and update's coming

🦗🦟🦗🦟🦗🦟

[mythvoiced]

@xinxiins | ♥

Wénzhé's knuckles are almost white. His fingers are wrapped around the edge of the bench they're sitting on. There's no reason to be this tense, right? But Wénzhé is exactly the kind of person who needs to hold on when things are calmest.

There aren't many moments in his life these days where he feels like he's holding onto one important enough to make his grip that tight. It'd been easier for weeks and then months and now nearly a year to simply loosen his grip around everything that had ever mattered enough in his life to mold its shape into his palm.

He'd let go at the worst of times and cost someone's life, so he might as well stop holding everything else, too, right? Clearly his grip wasn't meant to hold safe and secure, kindly and cherished.

Enter him.

Lí Chényǔ is a man unlike... where should he even start? He doesn't think the English language was invented with the foresight of Wénzhé one day needing it to describe Lí Chényǔ and his heart in relation to him, or it would have tried harder to be half as, a tenth as beautiful as Lí Chényǔ himself.

It's not so much his appearance, though there's nothing to complain about there - if he took his hand, would his fingers wrap around his wrist in one go and easily because Wénzhé's fingers are lithe and long, or because Lí Chényǔ is malnourished enough to allow encompassing in a way Wénzhé doesn't want?

There's a reason he doesn't turn to meet his eyes a lot. Wénzhé has never been particularly good at any kind of sport. Team or solo as they may be, he can hold his own in those that require height, because the kids used to drag him

and her

into their games solely for that advantage, and what you do a lot you inadvertently end up learning a little off. Sure, a basketball net or the one tugged across a volleyball field, he can maybe navigate around it well enough. But if he imagines Lí Chényǔ to stand there and were to turn and meet his eyes, he'd fall flat on his ass.

If he were a figure skater, he'd slip and slice his own hands.

If he played tennis he'd get every ace directly in his gut, and would use it to pretend he can't breathe because the ball impedes him, and not because every time he turns he wants to brush those strands out of Lí Chényǔ's eyes and lean in until he can breathe the rest of him in.

That's why the white knuckles, that's why the grip, that's why he can't sound confident enough to his own ears even though he doesn't stutter as bad as he'd figured he would, that's why he looks away almost instantly, pretending the joy erupting out of Michael and Wendy's throats had suddenly caught his attention again.

There's a lot of something ugly buried in his chest as well, makes his stomach coil and turn on itself uncomfortably, because how can someone like him be deserving of wanting to hold onto someone like Lí Chényǔ?

That's why he tries.

Something twists painfully in his neck when his head whips around at the tightness suddenly in Lí Chényǔ's voice, the sniffling, and he instantly slams his hand against the spot, as if that would ease the uncomfortable pain shooting through his skull.

"What-? Fuck, sorry, did I-" he falters and bites his tongue, lips uselessly parted on apologies he doesn't know how to word because he doesn't know which part of his statement he should apologize for, and then the attempt dies anyway.

He hates interrupting Lí Chényǔ when he's trying to put something into words, but he gets the urge to do it here anyway. It's ugly, too, he doesn't want to hear it almost because certainly, surely, in a way, there's no way-

Lí Chényǔ bumps his knee against his own and Wénzhé scrunches his nose to not start crying, too.

"I don't know what that means," he says pathetically, as if Lí Chényǔ doesn't know that. It doesn't matter, though, does it? Whatever he said, it most likely matches the English that had preceded it, and sometimes wonders if Lí Chényǔ resorts to Mandarin for the part of his words that would cradle Wénzhé's heart a little too lovingly out of a sense of mercy for Wénzhé.

"Don't say that, gosh," he runs his other hand across his features. Thanks whatever higher power had put his head back on properly on his shoulders enough to push him into Lí Chényǔ's life.

"You're gonna fill concert halls in this life," he points at the ground in emphasis, suddenly fierce, suddenly desperate. He leans closer. "Not in a few centuries. Okay? I'm your first fan. Not your only."

His fingers tingle.

Would it be all right to touch?

His thumb shakes as he brushes it along something glistening suspiciously at the corner of one of Lí Chényǔ's eyes. His hands shake when he pulls away again. "Sorry, uhm," he gulps, rubbing his palms together to get rid of the tremors. "You hungry?"

[extasiie]

@polarean // continued.

“Oh sorry, you’re still talking?” Anatole says with blithe boredom. He stands in his boxers, leaning one hip into the mattress in a posture motivated by the drunken need to attach himself to something steady, but which undoubtedly adds something to his air of nonchalance. 

He’d been pulling back the covers from their heap in the middle of the bed, but stopped when Andrei spoke up, and now looks over his shoulder with an assuming, condescending look. Andrei tries to get under Anatole’s skin with his cold avoidance, but Anatole knows conversely that the best way to get under Andrei’s skin is to look, and to let Andrei know his isn’t impressed with what he sees. He gives his reluctant roommate a scathing little once over, and smiles, as if Andrei’s insistence were funny. He scoffs, even, to try to make Andrei turn around — to be sure Andrei sees this look. ‘You can’t even bear to ignore me, and we both know it,’ it says. ‘How embarrassing. How desperate.’

What goes unacknowledged within himself is the immediacy with which he's rising again to the chance to get a reaction out of Andrei. It’s over, he doesn’t matter, Anatole keeps thinking, and still he wants to stoke Andrei’s anger. If he doesn’t care, why tease?

“I’m already over it, Andrei Nikolayevich,” he returns, in a mockery of Andrei’s stern tone, so Andrei can know just how stupid he sounds. “Honestly, why are you so obsessed with me?”

[scorpion-flower]

Me on the day I was hired: I know you can't tell, but I have a disability, which I am heavily medicated for and I have to constantly go get check ups by my doctor. The headmistress: Okay. Me on last Monday: I have an appointment with my doctor on Friday, at 10am. But I know how these things work in that hospital and I may not be on time. My shift starts at 12:10 but the soonest I can probably be here, is a little after 12:30. The headmistress: It's okay, I'll ask your co-worker to stay a little longer, or I'll take care of the kids myself before you come. Me on the day of the appoinment: *leaves hospital at 12:35 and immediately goes off to work* The headmistress: Throws a temper tantrum because I wasn't on time, accuses me of lying about what she said to me while I let her know that I'd probably be late, lies about me always starting my shift a little before 1pm, accuses me of being entitled, threatens to report me for my behaviour and basically accuses me for everything that's going wrong in the school.