#even in pandemonium…

[ssruis]

Ruikasa hater because every time sm1 writes tsukasa & ignores saki’s existence to make rui more important to him im like (extremely loud incorrect buzzer) u have already failed to understand tsukasa tenma.

[cc4librre]

drawn to the burn / how far are you willing to go?

loser fish

[echosong971]

Pandemonium

[neko-chan-13]

Started out with me wanting to draw some fishes designs, ended up losing my mind :) featuring @remadra who replaced me by a fish :(

I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine

[kafkaoguro]

i wish prsk had a more media literate fanbase that was willing to read, analyse characters and process complex topics; even if the official writing itself isn't all that good

mizuki's latest event (road of thorns) was handled amazingly and i wish they would've done the same with light up the fire / an4. but that's another story.

on to the main point: mizuki's trans writing. it's always 'that's a crossdresser' 'mizuki is gender nonconforming' 'you're reinforcing stereotypes',... every excuse under the sun to deny good representation. mizuki's story is such an obvious trans narrative and has been for years, denying it either means that you don't want to comprehend the stories or just indirectly transphobic.

mizu5 was a double-edged sword. it gave people the chance to actually read a story out of love for such a well-written, lovable trans character and the writers poured their all into such a nuanced topic that deserves to be handled with care. it had such a big impact that even those who knew nothing about prsk prior to this event would be able to understand and sympathise with mizuki's trans journey.

on the other hand, there were still people unable to accept her identity and going to lengths to prove mizuki isn't trans even when the writing shoves it in your face over the course of 4 entire years. it's not even subtext at this point.

it's also pretty obvious this would be the first time majority of the fanbase has read a story, because there were definitely questionable takes. but all in all, i could only hope people were more willing to give the stories a chance (although prsk writing isn't stellar) and be able to set out their own interpretations, analyses,... for the characters/

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

someone could write pages and pages and pages and pages on elu thingol's life. he could be the protagonist of like five book trilogies each with 600 words per book. he was born in cuivienen where the first non-divine life awakened; he lived through morgoth's earlier attempts to corrupt the elves and very likely lost people he cared about to them; he witnessed the war of the powers; he was among the first of his people to see valinor, having visited it under the invitation of the deities who helped originate the universe; he was the sole flesh-and-blood being in all!! of!!! history!!!! who met, fell in love with, and married a goddess that was there before creation even existed; he and said goddess were the progenitors of a unique bloodline that produced some of the legendarium's most famous figures; he separated from his brother for a very very long time; he was so loved by his people that they refused paradise if he wasn't there with them; he fought battles against morgoth's forces and saw loss as well as triumph during those battles; he was one of the oldest beings and longest-reigning kings in all of beleriand, not to mention he ruled its most ancient and most mystical, otherworldly kingdom; he was the father of two of the most famous heroes in-verse, whose deeds and stories continued to be told millennia after their deaths; he was again the first!! and!!! only!!!! elf-king in all of history to adopt a human as his own son. and throughout it all, he has a cohesive character arc. he grows to respect a people whom he once distrusted and looked down on; he comes to accept the choices of those he cares about even if he doesn't agree with said choices; he has to learn to let go of his loved ones no matter how much it grieves him. if those five trilogies existed i would be reading and rereading every single one obsessively

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Little did I know

It would be a creature feature

Featuring........

The creature

[aihaloos]

Proseka devs why do you keep making obvious parallels between Mafuyu and Tsukasa if you're not gonna make them interact in canon. Proseka devs stop neglecting Tsukasa's clearly unwell side I'm begging. Proseka devs I swear when I fucking catch you--

Anyways does anyone else agree on mafukasa being oddly enough one of the most potentially angsty and toxicly codependent (we'll get to kanamafu another time) while also being one of the most wholesome ships.

[planetarythorns]

rui ate my fucking crystals again…

[tsukasalover]

ive been drawing for my mutuals on strawpage quite a bit recently :) heres some i liked

[chevvy-ryder]

[NC_RES]_00173127 mercs_night_scharfenberg_steyr_003_AFF_NSID.file ///core:_team.file\\\ — Supporting shots taken for: /// CH03_OF_MERCS_TYGERS_AND_DEMONS.file — Pics by @nervouswizardcycle. ♥️ Arki belongs to her, Vijay Hizumi and Ryder belong to me.

⚠️ READ: Please do not repost/reupload any of my art here or to any other platform, or I will be forced to do anything to get it annihilated.

[megalophobic-astronomer]

death angel/harbinger gijinka or whatevs

[chestersbraincell]

Holy shit guys is that pandemonium from the hit Roblox game pressure

[ssruis]

Also a reason I’m a big fan of ruikasa being in the same class is that like. You have a guy who gets along with everyone & has a reputation for putting a lot of effort into everything he does + a literal genius so I’d like to think that:

A) people will ask tsukasa to join them for group projects & he will either be like “I’m with rui sorry” (hasn’t even asked rui yet) if it’s groups of two or he’ll be like “oh you can join me and rui :)” if it’s a larger group

B) At the start of the year people tried to join them for group projects assuming they could just slack off only to realize they’re trapped third wheeling two insane people & the blond one insists that everyone is involved in the project

[shitty-proendo-blackout-posts]

EDI SYSTEMS ARE REAL THE BATERS CAN EAT MY SHORTS!!!! :-) anyway luv u all ur blog is so funny!!!!! saw u like pressure i tried it yesterday and i could NOT handle it too spooky,,,, got to lvl. 78 whcih is pgood for a 1st try i think!!!!!! have a njce day!!!!

-🗨️

COngrat!!!!!!!!!!

[ughigottaheadache]

Further addition to this post.

Fixer Upper.

Tommy has a realisation as he lays down the tarp, taping it down and covering the skirting boards.

Or, more of a question.

Did Wanda and Vis do this? Decades ago, did his parents prepare the walls of this house to be painted?

He could easily believe it, a picture of extreme domestic bliss, newly wed, thinking of the future. Maybe his mother wore her most messed up shirt and pants too, maybe his father balanced the paint lid on his fingers too, getting a glob of paint to lay down a colour sample. Did they ache over the paint finish like he did? How long did it take them to choose the shade?

They clearly went with a rich burgundy, he was still picking out the paint chips to prove it. He was half tempted to just replicate their choices when he started.

But that would feel wrong.

It had felt wrong when he just arranged the kitchen in an order he vaguely remembered, half memory half relying on what was left of the previously decrepit space.

An imitation of the past, just what he wanted, but it rung hollow.

Maybe he’d done it wrong. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be the same ever again.

But that didn’t mean it couldn’t be made his.

-

Up the Hill

A flyer.

Some poor quality photocopies of a hand scribbled address and time. A garage sale, just a few blocks down from him and Martin.

It could be worth a visit, even just for bed sheets and Tupperware.

A slightly hot early summer day is when he goes, cash in his bag and shoes tied tight. There’s only two other people on the grass out front, only one has the classic fanny pack slung on her hip, she smiles wide at him, waving him over near a tall vanity, a beautiful on at that.

“Hey.”

“Hello, you’re not a familiar face, hear about this through Facebook or something?” Her accent is so New Jersey that he can’t help but smile.

“Nope, got a flyer. Can I ask, is the sale only the stuff outside?”

“Oh goodness no, we’ve got so much to get rid of, we’ve got the garage set up, and just the first two rooms, anything with a sticker is for sale. Green is five, pink is ten, orange is fifteen, red is twenty, gold star stickers are anything above. You follow?”

“I follow.” She turns off to right some yard toys, so Tommy goes to jog up the stairs, not much on the lawn interested him. Maybe the long twin dressers and the vanity. Time would tell. There’s more people inside, and it’s only a few seconds until he sees what he’s really after.

Linens.

He didn’t know how passionately he would feel about bedding until he had a house to furnish and maintain, but life was funny like that. They were all in their original packaging, most of them stickered green, some pink, the only things he needed to know was the sizes and if the pillow cases were included. Next to the piles was a large crib, three gold stars stuck over a piece of painters tape.

Admittedly it was beautiful.

“My grandfather hand carved that.” The sale runner was next to him, her hand resting on the frame.

“Why sell it?”

“Got another one on the way, this’ll just take up too much room. Plus, sometimes grandfathers aren’t the nicest. Best to get rid of it.” Tommy had piled five sheet sets into the ones he wanted when he realised the woman’s eyes were burning into the side of his skull. Lifting his eyes brought a tighter look to her.

“We only put up flyers in the neighbourhood. I don’t think I’ve seen you… you do look halfway familiar. What street do you live in?” Tommy got the sense she wouldn’t leave him alone, he could just ignore her.

“Sherwood, up the hill, why do you ask? And can I buy these?” She went over them, telling him the cost, which he handed over.

“Not a lot of houses in Sherwood, not one of them’s been up for sale in decades.” She’s on a hunt for something, it’s obvious.

“2800 Sherwood, there, happy?” He’s intent on zipping out the door when she catches his attention.

“The Maximoff house? You’re sure? The one with the missing boys?” Missing? He and Billy were missing? Was that the story spun after they were taken from their mom?

“Missing boys?”

“Thomas and William, I knew them, they disappeared one day and their parents left soon after. 2800 Sherwood, you’re absolutely sure that’s the one you’re living in?”

“Yes, why?” She’s even closer now, so he backs up. She stares into his eyes, until some sort of realisation dawns on her, but her face scrunches like she can’t be sure.

“Tom? Is that you?”

He’s out the door before she can blink a second time.

-

Mandolin

Back and forth, back and forth.

The onions fly through the mandolin as he slices them, tub after tub of prepped vegetables are zipped to the front counter, his coworker busy with slotting bread loaves into the ovens, filling the cup towers and prepping the register.

Manual work had been the easiest Tommy could get into, something methodic and simple was a breeze. A quick and clean cut, like the mandolin.

Opening shift was the easiest. Martin usually woke up at ten, so opening at six to leave at nine thirty was convenient, a nice bargain his new employers struck with him. Anyone would trip over themselves to have a speedster on their payroll, no matter the job. His coworker, Ash, got to do any online work and just wait for customers while Tommy used the job as a way to zone out, expel energy and get money.

Back and forth, back and forth.

Back and forth his knife went through the tomatoes, the smells of the cooking meat to his side filling his nose.

Five minutes after Ash flipped the open sign, the bell jingled.

-

Red Carpet

It’s one at night when he gets woken up, a shout echoing in his ears. He’s all but flung himself out of bed, hopping over dirty laundry and his bag to burst into the hallway, already knocking where to go. Just a few doors down is Martin’s room.

“Master P?” There’s a lamp just by his door for this reason, it goes on and Tommy can see him, breathing heavy, halfway out of bed, a crazed look in his old eyes.

“Hey, P, hey man it’s okay, you’re safe.” He’s in front of the old guy, only slightly wincing at the iron grip that settles on his forearms. The orange lighting from the lamp casts his eyes in a strange shadow as Martin practically glares up at him, but Tommy has done this enough to know it’s not Tommy he’s seeing in his dream. It’s twenty seconds until the man’s face smooths, utter confusion following.

“A bad dream, Martin, you had a bad dream.”

“Nightmare.” The man corrects, softly, looking around his room warily, probably expecting his demons to jump out at him.

It’s late, if he doesn’t get Martin back down for sleep he’ll stay awake for hours, confused and tired. But when he does try to coax him into the sheets, he refuses, nearly growing belligerent so he relents.

He offers him a drink, some sleeping pills, music? And book?

But what comes out in a soft voice is;

“A walk, please.” It’s the middle of the night, he’s got a class to go to, getting active would make it even harder for Tommy to go to sleep, he shouldn’t agree-

“Okay, we’ll go for a walk.”

Less than thirty seconds later, Tommy has shoes and a coat on, Martin the same.

“The carpet should be red.” They’re walking down the hall, the stairs just a ways ahead.

“Why should it be red?”

“A red carpet always made me so happy.”