#definitely important information

[elizabethzoopzoop986]

Fun fact: Akane is the only person in the cast to beef with all 3 child characters

I don’t know what you’ll do with this info but there you go.

Kou comes in a close second but he doesn’t have beef with Tiara.

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

We should talk more about the fact Jason got swarmed and attacked by a mob as Robin, like??? Hello. He had to be left there because the mob was too violent with Batman near. He had to be taken to the hospital.

Look at those injuries!!

The next time we see him he's forcing himself out of bed and putting on the Robin costume thinking "I've gotta do what I can to help, even if it kills me!"

The next next time we see him he has walked into yet another violent mob

I cannot stop thinking about this story and the effects it probably had on him honestly. Do you think it's made him nervous in crowds, do you think it made him trust others just that bit less. How long do you think he was being attacked before he was found, the scene had cleared. "I've gotta do what I can to help, even if it kills me!",,,,

Just the concept itself! I don't know about you guys but being attacked and grabbed and trampled into unconsciousness sounds absolutely terrifying! Did he black out, still getting hit, thinking he was going to die? Knowing he couldn't defend himself as his injuries to took their toll? At their complete mercy?

1986-87 Legends, issue #2 (the attack), #3 (the hospital), #5 (getting up), #6 (defending heros from another forming mob)

2010 DC Universe: Legacies, issue #6 (flashback panel to Legends moment)

[shalpilot]

a notepad that slowly got turned into a journal

[br1ghtestlight]

i dont think the ii contestants are like. incapable of growing and learning abt the world beyond what mephone knows and taught them obviously they could do and be anything. but for the time being the reality is they dont really have any life experience outside of reality tv and the world mephone created for them based off his ALSO very limited experience of the "real world". they never thought to question mephone when he said this is the way the world is this is how it works, this is what exists and what doesn't exist. and why would they?? its like they were raised in a weird reality tv cult except in their situation the cult leader was also raised in a way weirder genocidal abusive cult. like he's trying his best okay!!!!

anyway i dont think mephone intentionally kept any information from them and i dont think he was like..... controlling their brains or what information they were allowed access to. but u never think to question things you dont even know exist outside of a vauge abstract reality tv context

[crescentfool]

having the hc that minato is ace is incredibly funny sometimes when you think about how ryoji is oh so very bi because it's like. "ah. death stole my ability to be attracted to people," in the same way that ryoji stole minato's eye color and energy level. like wow, thanks ryoji, you just keep finding things to steal from minato!

[aliusfrater]

[majorshatterandhare]

GPTim having both visual and hearing disabilities is so important to me. That man’s eyes were *burned out* when he *exploded the moon* his hearing is gonna be affected also; and having functional accessibility aids (his mechanical eyes, here) does not equal not disabled, it just means that the disability manifests differently.

[despair-tea]

this was just an observation my friend made a while ago but it got me thinkin' a little bit. Personally, I got over my aversion to sports by fencing in college. Coz it turns out I didn't hate sports. In fact, I think training and learning the rules and pushing myself to improve is super fun! That's the same stuff I like about video games. And despite being a life-long poindexter, all that physical activity felt GOOD, and it was nice to connect with folks.

What I hated about sports as a kiddo was the shame. I hated people acting like I ought to know this or that (despite being a know-nothing child). I hated being excluded and looked down upon for not being good. I despised the way the adults around me treated kids wrt sports. Also I couldn't see and had asthma and neither of these problems got treated until I was on my way out of high school (getting my first inhaler was one of the main reasons I was able to fence at all, in fact).

combat sports are great to me because they're all about that individual journey. I didn't have to worry about letting a team down who might yell at me later for my performance. It's just me and my own heart and my love for the game - THAT'S sports.

[panakoui]

just some random college/university au doodles

[sysig]

I can’t stop drawing tiny Watchdogs (Patreon)

[andresmounts2]

I'm a high masking/low support needs autistic and I genuinely don't think living alone is in my best interest.

I'm not saying that I can't, and I'm not saying that I'm not capable of being independent, but I think it's important to acknowledge that not all autistic people can live without at least some assistance from others.

I'm concerned that I won't be able to drive, and since most places don't have walkable cities I'm gonna be screwed. Frankly, I don't have a good reaction time & I will freeze up if I get stressed. I literally have bad reactions to being the front seat with someone else behind the wheel.

I'm concerned that I might forget to feed myself or buy groceries. Sometimes I forget to feed myself or I don't eat enough. I also have sensory issues & I fear that being left to feed myself will worsen my diet.

I struggle with social interactions. I often freeze up and don't know how to properly communicate with others. My responses may be awkward or socially unacceptable. Which could be dangerous because I'm a black trans guy.

[jasontoddstherapist]

PSA |

Yes this is a Jason Peter Todd centric blog, but it's also 100% supportive of Talia al Ghul. There will be no slander here. No perpetuating of the racist, misogynistic bullshit that drove the narrative divebomb of her character.

[shittywriterbrain]

yes i've used it a thousand times but i've got to bring out the meme again

[constarellations]

👫 xilonen / kinich.

Send a 👫and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship || STILL ACCEPTING!

1.)  I  believe  these  two  would  have  a  steady  stream  of  conversations  and  connections  despite  being  part  of  different  tribes.  Whether  it's  Kinich  commissioning  Xilonen  for  maintenance  on  his  weapon  and  tools  or  her  commissioning  him  for  whatever  she  needs  for  crafting  or  fetched,  Kinich  will  often  find  himself  in  her  company  and  considers  Xilonen  to  be  a  trustworthy  confidant.

2.)  Honestly,  even  if  Xilonen  were  to  come  up  with  a  way  to  'shut  Ajaw  up  permanently',  Kinich  would  be  reluctant  to  actually  use  it.  While  he'll  spout  some  line  about  how  'he  doesn't  know  the  price  to  be  paid  for  such  an  act',  it's  mostly  because  he's  become  used  to  Ajaw's  antics  as  well  as  the  fact  he  does  use  the  Saurian  to  aid  in  his  investigations,  and  it'll  be  harder  to  actually  communicate  with  him  if  he's  forever  muted.  But  Kinich  will  mute  Ajaw  for  Xilonen  because  the  former's  energy  is  entirely  too  much  for  most  people  to  handle.

3.)  Kinich  will  oftentimes  bring  gemstones  and  phlogiston-filled  ore  that  he  finds  on  his  missions  to  Xilonen;  rarely  does  he  ever  'charge'  her  for  these  seeing  as  how  they're  not  for  a  commission,  but  there's  an  unspoken  agreement  between  them  involving  the  various  'discounts'  they  give  to  each  other  for  goods  and  services.

4.)  To  expand  on  an  above  point,  Kinich  does  apply  'discounts'  of  various  amounts  in  his  commissions  with  Xilonen,  especially  if  the  only  trade  item  is  Mora.  After  all,  they're  both  regular  clients  of  the  other,  and  more  often  than  not  the  'prices'  exchanged  is  information  or  additional  services.

[spacedustmantis]

listening to the spies are forever soundtrack is so wild bc it's genuinely one of the best musical soundtracks i've ever listened to and then there's also two songs about how the nazis are 'not so bad'

[shentm]

outsider still doesn't feel complete to me but i'm leaving it here for now. blade pov, no beta we die like baiheng, check tags for trigger warnings

dreamwidth mirror, which by the way is the more updated and also likely more permanent version of this piece, as this tumblr post always runs the risk of deletion anytime i'm awake past 11pm

The dream catches itself on those at the center of the tragedy, locking on to the minds already half-emptied by mara. It watches, as the nights repeat, as the hunt grows farther from its purpose.

He's covered in it, clothes slick with blood, the moonlight sliding off of it and watching him through the reflection. Every time he shows up, Jing Yuan has to stay awake for hours afterward, scrubbing at the floors to rid his home of the stains and the stench of mara-stricken beasts. It doesn't help that he likes to trail his sword behind, leaving gouges that the blood flows through, pooling in divots and seeping into the cracks between. But it's not like Jing Yuan expected him to be different.

An Outsider, who participated in a horrific ritual, and became tethered to the merging of paths, a creation of a collector who found the occurrence too interesting to resist. Who was given the abundance emanator's blessing, transforming him into something thought of as prey by most of the Xianzhou Alliance. It's strange that he's still sane sometimes, occasionally managing to break the contradictory resonance of intertwined paths where the hunt and the abundance intersect.

In the shared dream he sees the echoes of those he once knew, dead beings recreated in a perfect recollection of the waking world. It's just how he remembers, an everlasting reminder of what they did. He's drawn in when asleep and awake, unable to escape the repetition of memory.

In that intersection of paths he sometimes finds the shadow of the Imbibitor Lunae running away and away, too afraid to face his crimes. He finds the corpse of a dragon protected by its unborn kin, and tears it apart instead of looking back. He fights through the same landscapes again and again, always waking up in front of the same dim lamp. The only reason he can think of for this endless repetition is that someone out there likes these memories, wants to see the moment of the sin done right.

Skin melts against skin, fire burning through hair. The wet noise of a blade squelching as it rips through meat is the only sound that interrupts the guttural screaming of those beasts, displacing the cries with blood down their throats. Their pathetic existences mirror his own. Eyes press against his brain where they grow inside his skull, amplifying the beats of his heart. A constant high pitched whine carries through the sky, staying with him wherever he goes. Physical discomfort keeps him in the dream, afraid of what deeper pain awaits with the dawn of wakefulness.

He sees her too, sometimes, guarding the path before the corpse. She sees him in return, and they always meet in a clash of swords, the moon almost close enough to touch. It watches next to them, the blue light of her own weapon brilliant against the clouded orange sky. There was never any other choice; a recreation can only travel down the path of the original, like wheels in a rut on a dried dirt road. They tell each other that the dream will end. He continues the hunt again.

The dream is an awful thing to endure. He wonders about its purpose when cleaning his blade that Jingliu so kindly returned.

Dan Feng never acknowledges him, never admits to what he did, never even calls him by name. But it's clear that despite the physical differences, he's still the same arrogant coward that lives in the dream. How else would Dan Feng manage to kill him every time with the weapon he forged with his own once-deft hands, buying useless time before his inevitable judgement?

When he wakes up it is only a brief moment of respite from the dream as clear-cutting pain reminds him of his immortality. Sleep comes with the soothing promise of comfort, but also with the knowledge that it will not be restless.

Later he joins the Stellaron Hunters, gets taken in despite being on the brink of insanity. Feels the frenzy slipping away with Kafka's words, feels the understanding leave his mind. Turns him into a docile puppet, waiting for the next command. He names himself Blade. She gives him the first genuine rest he's had in seven hundred years.

His senses are diluted with her influence, not enough to render him completely useless, but enough to clear his mind. It's mostly just his sight that's a problem, and it's easy enough to counter with his other senses. The other one is touch, but he doesn't expect that to really be important. He does most of his hunting with a sword anyways, distanced enough from his prey.

He's never gone back to the Luofu personally. Once or twice through the years he hears news of its whereabouts, and soon has those reminders taken from his mind, rendering his sleep dreamless yet again.

He doesn't go back because he's not done hunting.

But at some point it was bound to happen, the meeting of three tragic sinners and that other guy who was also there.

A mission brings him back to the Luofu, and he doesn't complain because his mind is too empty to think. He tries to think of himself as just a simple vessel to help Elio carry out his plot. A stagehand for the endless show that they try to put on. It's quite nice, being like this, the desperately needed reprieve from the eyes that always try to crawl their way back into his brain. It's not easy to forget once your body has learned.

Kafka says the mission went well. Elio says he can break the tether now. He doesn't remember any of it, except from the brief moment of clarity when Jing Yuan asked him if he was done, and then the consciousness when he wakes up later.

Jing Yuan looks the same now as he did all those years ago, except for the young shadow he keeps at his side. He's still just as radiant as the sun, the center of everything he joins. Of course a comet like himself was never meant to stay long in Jing Yuan's orbit. The sun does not need to change when a dirty snowball cuts through its orbit after centuries of desolation in the universe; the sun burns bright on its own, without a need for a secondary light.

None of them are, were, like that, just a product that reflected their surroundings instead of the magnetic core that shaped their era. Maybe that's why they're all criminals wandering the stellar seas now, shot out from the gravity well and driven by their own definitions of the hunt.

But eventually he feels the searing pain start to fade when he chokes awake on drying blood, glances over at the dissolving bodies next to him. The eyes can no longer see. Kafka helps with her lightning, and soon the only physical links left are those burning wounds inside his brain.

Between puddles of blood and dripping black stone he wakes up, and the night grows deeper but the streetlights start burning. He collaborates, strangely, with Dan Heng (a new trailblazer) to force Jing Yuan back into his bed. He sees the artificial sunrise a few times, occasionally with Kafka, and sometimes just on his own. The sight of a celestial object rising behind the clouds has been one he's not seen for a while, even if it is still a false sun.

It's done, the dream has an end. The hunt is over, its conclusion long since found.

He meets the one who couldn't let go in the waking world, both of them more alive than they should be. Neither of them deserve to be here, yet they sully the Luofu with their presence anyways, carving and gouging out a place where they no longer belong.

She meets him with the same intensity she always carries, unable to be diminished by time or a dream's veil, and he feels alive as they dance the familiar battle once again, for what may be the last time. Unlike the cycles before them, this time it feels like a breaking of bonds, like something being set free.

On the last night of his stay on the Luofu he ends up at Jing Yuan's family home after he manages to separate from the dream, and he's lucky that Jing Yuan still stays here even after seven hundred years. Conveniently, Dan Heng mentions that Yanqing would be dragging the Luofu's heroic trailblazer on some sort of sword-hunting adventure on that day.

"Yingxing," Jing Yuan says when he enters civilly through the window, "please stop dripping blood on the floor."

It's that name that breaks him into the clearest state of mind he's had for centuries. That and the newfound control over his own mind, now that the moon no longer watches him. Jing Yuan still sounds the same, calls him with the same tone of voice. When's the last time anyone's referred to him as Yingxing? When's the last time he's been able to hear that name without his consciousness slipping through the cracks?

"Jing Yuan," he responds, and he's suddenly aware of the winds outside, carrying with them a fine mist of pollen that coats everything in a layer of grit, sticking to the drying blood on his clothes. He's aware of the artificial moonlight that gazes into the room, blue in tone and so much softer than the harsh orange red in his sleep. He can feel the silence of the home, where four others once gathered and where only one stays now.

"That's not my name."

The dream tries to call to him, but its voice is quiet here.

Jing Yuan reclines on the mass of pillows he calls a bed, and when he shifts he can hear the sound of feathers scratching at their confinements. He hears his pulse in his head, reviving nerves once thought to be dead, and he can feel the tingling sensation where it creeps through his limbs.

The air is cold where it hits his skin. It's been so long since he's been able to feel the temperature. He looks at Jing Yuan, and he can see the shine in his eyes, the strands of his hair where it was only a blurred image before. The world is clearer than it's ever been. It's like getting glasses. Do they still have those?

Jing Yuan grounds him in the present, the physicality distracting him from the broken link between his mind and that all-seeing eye disguised as the moon. The moon here on the Luofu is fake, as is the rest of the sky over most of the ship. The mara-stricken here do not scream as they claw at their faces, nor do they tear apart their prey with overwhelming strength.

He can touch and be touched now, acutely aware of the blood on his face, his body, his hands, the stains across the sheets and the fabric where he dares to rip them apart, but it doesn't matter in the moment. Cauterized wounds of foreign eyes that once grew inside his head start to make their presence known again, but they don't try to regrow. Flesh, not his own, knits itself together when he lets go, and the scent of iron permeates the air.

He's never been a particularly selfless lover. He bites down again.

"Ren," Jing Yuan says, quiet with an edge of something else. The false moon silently hangs behind the clouds, diffused into a hazy shower of light. The metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.

Jing Yuan is just as pliant for him now as he was centuries ago, body remembering and opening its vulnerabilities for him so readily. The heat in his head is easily ignored in favor of the heat beneath his hands. It's easy to get lost in the chase to consume and feed, but he reins himself in with the control he thought he'd lost a long time ago.

An Outsider, on equal ground with the Luofu's general, if only for one night. An Outsider, carving his own mark into the Xianzhou's history.

He finds Jing Yuan again after all these centuries, and he's still just as passionate as he's always been, fervent energy and primal fear driving him deeper into the desperate desire to stake a claim of his own.