#feel free to share any thoughts you have

[fear0phobia]

I noticed that in ep 4, when they watch the woman jump off the lighthouse, edwin and crystal have a similar reaction and niko and charles have a similar reaction. what does it mean? idk I just think it's interesting

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[supreme-leader-stoat]

The "deathmatch between your current and childhood favorite characters" post has got me thinking about the inherent comedy that you could wring out of dropping Reepicheep into. basically any other fantasy setting as a detour on his way to Aslan's country. Here's what I've got so far for dropping him into Middle-earth:

Ideally he gets dropped somewhere random, wanders around for a while, and then winds up at Rivendell at the same time at the rest of the Fellowship

Reep might be vulnerable to the One Ring a la Boromir, but there's a chance his faith in Aslan would have some sort of mitigating effect on that

He would absolutely try to fight the Balrog though

Gandalf, trying to hold back a helldemon: "Fly, you fools!" / Reepicheep: Seen 2:41 pm ✔️

He would also try to fight Saruman, or at the bare minimum call him a coward from the foot of Orthanc

And possibly would challenge the Ents before realizing they were friendly

Wormtongue is definitely going to lose a foot or something

“Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man may hinder me!" "It is, then, my good fortune not to be a man!"

[teruwasright]

I still to this day do NOT understand how people defend Hanako in this scene.

Honestly just this entire scene I found SUPER disturbing and I don't understand how anything defends this...

Everyone's argument is "oh but he loves Nene" or "he's just misunderstood"

Like- tf is there to misunderstand in this??

He tells Nene straight to her face that Aoi died and he DOESN'T CARE.

Nene even felt LIED to bc she thought Hanako and her were meant to be saving Aoi.

And before people say "Hanako didn't sacrifice Aoi!"

Yes that's true but he DELIBERATELY didn't do anything to prevent it and even let it happen on purpose bc it was convenient for him.

Both Hanako AND even the summery of volume 15 paint the picture of Hanako finding this CONVENIENT.

It's his literal JOB to intervene with stuff like this and he doesn't do it bc of his desperation to "fix" Nene's life span-

Even tho it was Nene's BEST FRIEND he didn't care...

But the thing is, is that Hanako does care but he ONLY cares about Nene and even so much so to the expense of even her loved ones

He even shows exactly what he told us in the beginning here...

He's says he "granted your wish" but Nene says it wasn't what she meant...

But it seems really similar almost like exactly what he told us in the beginning?

"You have to pay a suitable price."

A life for a life.

Nothing good comes from supernaturals and to date even now NOTHING good has come from the living interacting with the supernatural.

This scene for me just proves what Teru's been trying to tell us..."there's no such thing as a "good supernatural".

[makalyta]

Seeing Brynjolf alone at the Ragged Flagon as he brushes everyone off, stating that he's busy when he is clearly not, is... frustrating. I had to give this behavior an explanation, so I put myself in his position: Brynjolf has just handed over his life and afterlife to a Daedric Prince. Was there really no other choice to avenge the Guild, did he really have to sacrifice his freedom forever, even after death? Empty chests can be replenished with gold, a new Guildmaster can be elected, but he will never have his future back. Maybe he even starts to understand Mercer Frey's choice to betray Nocturnal. There at the tavern, drinking ale and keeping his face hidden to conceal the pain, Brynjolf realizes that there is no escape from the fate he was forced to accept.

[micmacrobin]

imagine one of these nerdy stores, you know, where you might find videogames, trading cards, anime merch... and among other things, a figurine section. different styles, different characters, some figurines made to look cute, some to look cool, others obviously meant to be sexy.

among them, a tiny, bound and gagged, forced to stay in the pose it's been put in, most of their body exposed. their outfit, which doesn't cover much, is a bit humiliating for them— but not as much as being forced to stay there and endure the people browsing the shop.

some don't really react— missing them completely, or only sparing them a glance as they look around the shelves, not giving it much thought. it feels quite demeaning to see how little they mean— just a product among many others, not even deserving to be acknowledged, and unable to do anything about it. it makes them feel really small; well, that and the fact that, from their position on the shelf, and with their impaired mobility, they can't even see those people's faces most of the time; forced to stare at their shirt as they consider the massive size difference between them.

but of course, this is still the best situation the tiny can hope for. the other possibility is that people do react, stopping in front of their shelf to look at them; some staying at their full height, unknowingly overwhelming the tiny with how big they are; others bending down, their huge face filling the tiny's vision, fully displaying their feelings as they stare at their forcingly exposed body: curiosity, interest, amusement, lust, or a mix thereof, depending on the person.

but that's not all that can happen. because for some goddamn reason, the store the tiny wound up in doesn't bother locking their figurines behind glass; so anyone can just grab them if they are so enclined. and grab them they do. along with poke them, run fingers all over their body, turn them around to look at them from every angle, fondle parts of their body between their fingers, pass them from person to person so everyone in a group can get a good look at them all the while commenting on that interesting novelty figurine— it's not every day you see a tiny used for that, after all.

unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, their rarity means that their price tag is quite high; and so people always end up putting them down after having had their fun. the tiny doesn't want to become the property of any of these people, but everytime, they have to wonder: would it be worse to be bought than to stay here, and be left to endure the same treatment from the next person that comes in?

well. does their answer really matter? after all, they do not have a say.

[lunarharp]

played dragon age 2...just simple scribbles

[dao-the-starlight]

Cross your fingers this post actually shows up on the damn tags 🤞

Hello Our Life fans! This is a sort of weird post and I’m hoping this doesn’t break any Tumblr etiquette or something, but I just wanted to gauge something

I’ve had ideas of some long OL fics (1 or olba, 1 or olnf) that are AU type things, one being a Ghibli inspired fantasy and the other a horror/supernatural mystery, and I’m curious if anyone is actually interested in reading them so I thought I’d post the synopsis for each fic and see if anyone’s interested via interaction!

Here’s each synopsis (sorry they’re both long as hell)

I wrote these both a little while ago, so these are kinda subject to change, but that’s the basic gist of each plot! (Yes I’m aware the OLNF one is just stranger things that was the main inspo)

P.S. If I end up deciding to go through with turning these into proper fic series and posting them, uh don’t expect my posting schedule to be even a little bit regular- I have quite a bit of stuff going on irl and I’m really bad at balancing my tasks, so this is just gonna be on a “I work on it when I work on it” kind of project

[bisexualjonahsimms]

Autistic Bones Characters and Diagnosis: My Thoughts!!!

Zack: I think Zack showed a lot of stereotypical signs of autism when he was young (lining up toys, no eye contact, frequent meltdowns, no interest in other children), and given that he was a white boy he was probably diagnosed young.

Despite being diagnosed it was hard to access any sort of support growing up since he excelled in school, and with eight kids his parents couldn’t afford things like occupational therapy (but they did all they could to support him).

Brennan and Cam know from day 1 since they’re his superiors, but his first few months at the Jeffersonian he doesn’t tell anyone else or ask for any sort of accommodations, both because he’s grown used to not having any, and because he wants to ‘fit in’ with the others.

Brennan: Not diagnosed until sometime during the course of the show, and doesn’t consider that she could be autistic until someone else brings it up (either someone casually mentions her being autistic assuming she knows, because let’s be real, it’s kind of obvious, or someone comparing her to Zack who she knows is autistic).

Lots of internalized ableism and definitely rejects the idea that she could be autistic at first. I imagine she has a lot of experience with ‘autistic’ being used as an insult towards her, and her general dislike of psychology ties into it as well. She does get over this, but it takes a lot of work, and even when she does get a diagnosis from Sweets, she can’t accept it right away. But everyone around her loves her and is there to help her come to terms with this information and figure out where to go from here !!

Hodgins: My audhd king. Late diagnosed ADHD, never diagnosed autistic (but he is, argue with the wall). His autistic traits all get written off as ADHD or anger issues.

I don’t think he’s at a ‘disadvantage’ by not being diagnosed, because he works in such an environment that he can get the support he needs without it, and ADHD diagnosis helps him to understand why he is the way he is (especially in the context of his childhood and realizing that he wasn’t ’a problem child’ he was just neurodivergent)

[milksnake-tea]

sometimes i think about the way sunday is 100% fine with doing fucked up things as long as he thinks the people he’s doing those things to deserve them

[kingofanemptyworld]

pokémon: verdant winds —beginnings and endings

WBK Pokémon AU | 1.5k

In the middle of the ash-painted hills just east of Fallarbor, Sakura sits in the shade of a rocky overhang, relying on its scant protection against the volcanic debris to keep himself mostly clean. The jacket’s a hand-me-down from a relative he only met twice, and his shoes might as well as never have had tread to begin with with how badly he’s worn down the soles. It’s not the clothes he cares about, really, it’s the pokéball cupped in his hands that he’s been staring at for god knows how long.

He presses the center button and the pokéball expands to fit perfectly in the curve of his palm. He presses it again so that it shrinks into a size he can hold between his thumb and forefinger. Presses the button, expand, presses it again, shrink. Rinse, repeat, like those games he’s seen other kids play with flowers.

He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.

Stupid way to make a decision, in his opinion. No flower’s gonna be able to tell you what a person thinks of you. It’s actions that matter, not words, and not hearsay. The only thing you can rely on is your own damn judgment. Whether you can see through the facade is on you and you alone.

He loves me…

Expand.

He loves me not…

Shrink.

There’s a weight in Sakura’s hand that doesn’t match the size of the pokéball, big or small, and there’s a weight on his chest that he tries to breathe through, forcing air past his too-tight throat.

Love has nothing to do with this — it’s got nothing to do with other people, either. He has a choice to make, that’s all. Which he can’t do until a certain someone shows their face and gives him a chance to answer the question he’d been asked when this pokéball was first dropped unceremoniously into his lap.

The ash continues to fall, smearing across Sakura’s shoes when he kicks out in a frustrated shuffle. He could have stayed holed up in his house today, avoiding the townspeople and traveling contest participants alike. He wouldn’t be dusty then, at least. His parents wouldn’t notice or care about the mess — they won’t be home for another week, the conference they’d been asked to attend was in Sootopolis and they’d gone by cruise. But he’d still have to clean up after himself, and it’s a bitch to mop the floors every time he comes back from Route 113.

“Shit.”

Sakura stows the pokéball in his pocket, shrunken, and pushes himself to his feet. He brushes off his shoulders and the front of his jacket as best he can, ignoring the soot he can feel settling in his hair. He shouldn’t have bothered waiting all this time. They’ll be leaving Fallarbor in less than a month, anyway, so there’s no point in—

Pebbles skitter down from the overhang above him just as Sakura moves to step out. A shadow sails over him, blurry and indistinct among the drifting ash, and then there’s a body blocking his path.

Absol.

He cuts a striking figure in an otherwise desolate-looking landscape. Bright white fur, sharp claws that glide easily through the soil. Curving horn that carves straight through the air ahead of him.

He’d scared the shit out of Sakura the day they met. Appearing out of nowhere from the underbrush, on the heels of a Sandshrew frantically trying to dig itself an escape route, and nearly flattening Sakura in the process.

The anger had come first, quick and blistering the way it always was — is — and Sakura had snapped out some insult he can’t even remember now. Absol had turned a cool, assessing look on him, abruptly ignoring the Sandshrew even as its tail disappeared into the earth. They’d stared each other down, unmoving — until the rockslide started Sakura into taking cover.

When the dust settled and he’d realized what had happened (two Skamory fighting over scraps gouged a chunk of rock out of a nearby cliff, which knocked everything loose in its path to the ground), Sakura had found Absol standing over him, his piercing eyes on the fallen rocks.

That Sandshrew would’ve gotten crushed.

The thought hit him like a truck. Absol had chased the other pokemon out of the danger zone, and prevented Sakura from moving into it. And not by accident.

He’d heard stories about Absol; you couldn’t grow up in this region without getting your ear talked off by some crotchety old person with their own harrowing tale of disaster from their youth. Absol was a bad omen, a sign of impending doom. They only showed up right before a fire, or a storm; even experienced trainers rarely saw them out in the wild unless trouble was brewing.

But they didn’t cause the disasters, did they? They acted as a warning.

When the Absol finally turned to leave, Sakura didn’t expect they’d ever cross paths again.

Every time Sakura ventured out onto Route 113, though, Absol found him. He watched, in the beginning, from high vantage points. He came closer whenever Sakura stayed still for long enough, as infrequent as that was.

Sakura started — talking, at some point. To himself! Just thinking out loud, so the quiet, dampening effect of the ash wasn’t quite so prominent. Dumb things, inconsequential things, like complaining about stubbing his toe against a chair that morning, or the unsubtle stares from the kids lingering outside the contest center. One day Absol started talking back. Little growls and chirps and weird vocalizations Sakura didn’t have a name for.

And now they’re here, with Absol standing in front of him, head cocked in question, and Sakura feeling for the pokéball in his pocket.

“I’m, uh.” Sakura winces, clenching his hand around the pokéball. “You dropped this,” he says, ripping his hand free of his pocket and uncurling his fingers enough to reveal the pokéball. “Before. Last time I was out here.”

Absol continues to regard him silently, like a goddamn statue. Sakura curses and lets the pokéball roll from his hand, where it drops to the ground and rolls to a stop right in front of Absol’s neatly tucked paws.

“Y’have it back now,” Sakura says, gruff, turning his head so he’s not making eye contact with Absol. “So we’re… good.”

He scuffs his heel in the dirt, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders hunched. Still looking away from Absol. And he can’t even say why, exactly, this is getting to him so much. He’s leaving, he’s not a trainer, he’s — Sakura Haruka.

He’s used to this. He’s had to get used to this.

Something nudges against his foot.

Sakura looks down instinctively. The pokéball’s just bounced off his sneaker, rocking back and forth for a moment before falling still. He raises his eyes slightly to see Absol bent down, eyes rolled up to look back at him, clearly having just sent the ball back towards him.

Sakura’s shoulders drop even as his fingers curl into the fabric of his pants. “What, Pick Up ain’t your ability?” He knows it’s not, he’d looked it up before. Purely to know what he was dealing with. “You dropped a pokéball in my lap,” he reminds Absol, “and the only other thing I can think of is—“

He cuts himself off, scowling.

“Not a trainer,” he says, narrowing his eyes at Absol, who returns his stare, unblinking. “I’m not doing the gym challenge, or contests, or… or anything cool. You don’t wanna come with me, alright?”

In answer, all Absol does is raise his head and lift his paw to trap the pokéball. Without taking his eyes off Sakura, he rolls the ball forward again, placing it firmly between Sakura’s feet.

Sakura’s ears burn and he furiously scrubs a hand over his face, knowing full well it won’t do anything to wipe away the red scrawled across his cheeks.

God, fuck, he hates this. Absol is offering— and he’s so stuck on the what-ifs, so unsettled by the possibility of anything working out in his favor.

His thoughts snag on the excuse he’s just given. I’m not doing the gym challenge. He isn’t, and until now he hasn’t been interested in it. Hasn’t had a Pokémon to take it on with.

He thinks of the empty house he’ll be walking back into. The weeks of radio silence from his parents. The promise of always sticking around a town just long enough for him to become the local pariah before he’s uprooted again and again and again.

Sakura crouches down, slowly. Plucks up the pokéball, slides his thumb over the button. It expands to fit snugly in his grip, and Absol picks himself up and pads closer, until he’s practically nose-to-nose with Sakura.

“Don’t come cryin’ to me if you regret this later.”

Absol squints at him — almost like a smile — and butts his nose against the pokéball, triggering it to open. He disappears in a flash of red light, and the pokéball rocks in his grip. Once, twice, three times — the button lights up and something in Sakura’s chest unravels.

He holds onto the pokéball all the way back to Fallarbor, full-sized and warm against his palm.

Three days later, he registers himself for the gym challenge and doesn’t look back.

[melit0n]

Somewhat of a random thought, but I've always been interested in the slightly distorted voice in Decending.

We've had talks about how some songs are response to others, from Vessel to Sleep or Sleep to Vessel, such as Sugar being a response to The Offering, but I don't think it's been talked about much with the two responding to eachother in one song.

This leads me to Decending, particularly, the main chorus. It's the only part of that song which has some sort of vocal distortion: a reply of sorts.

The lyrics begin to take a bit of a different shape: "You come crawling back to me, but I'm already on the ground", sounds like someone's being brought down to their level. Vessel is just as close to being a forgotten corpse as Sleep is.

Then, we have more of a response in, "And we all know that talk is cheap." to "So come on and save me now". Obviously, this one can go both ways. Both are in need of saving, and the 'response' begins to sound a bit more desperate.

Next, we have, "And you wonder what I believe." to "But you don't wanna be around". This can be joined into one, but I like it better as a two part response.

Finally, "So, what would you do for me?" and "Yeah, what would you do for me?" It's a clear-cut deal. Both know what they have to lose and both are very ready to risk it.

When put into context, it feels like a somewhat desperate, forcefully playful back and forth. Depending on your viewpoint, you could swap who's speaking when quite easily too, and still arrive at a similar conclusion.

Either Vessel is feeling somewhat confident and joking around with Sleep for the sake of a gain, or he's watching a dead and dying God of old tongues realising he's the perfect host.

Just a little thought.

P.S: I am very, very aware that this is half baked-thought and this could easily just be a production choice made for funsies. Hence why it is just 'a thought', lol.

[borutosdad]

one day i'll write a better meta about bruce/batman and the justice system because i have so many thoughts about his "no kill" philosophy not as a core tenet but as the natural evolution/extension of his other principles of fact-finding and rehabilitation as justice (as opposed to the punitive and corrupt carceral justice of the GCPD).

like i basically believe what makes batman really work is the idea that like, justice as truth requires a level of time and effort and resources to discover the events and the motivations and those involved in a case. when you're too close to the events or you don't have the time/resources/ability to conduct the necessary fact finding, you can't really achieve justice because the truth has not been uncovered. and bruce wayne as a wealthy man with no real need to work to put food on the table is uniquely resourced and disconnected from these cases such that he can be a relatively "unbiased" (to the extent any person can be unbiased) arbiter and fact-finder. he's not beholden to, say, the grieving mother calling him up every day asking for a breakthrough; or the mayor putting pressure on his boss to get the closure rates up; or the fact that tracing financial crime takes up more upfront resources than the force is able to spare; or that turnover of staff means that institutional knowledge about ongoing cases gets lost in the shuffle. what makes him "the greatest detective" isn't some innate gift, but rather the fact he has the time and resources to develop his skills and dedicate them to solving crimes, and that he's not pressured by outside corrupting forces that either consciously or unconsciously bias an investigation.

but something i've been thinking about is the invention of batman as coming WAY before miranda rights were established. batman comes about only a few years after substantive due process was established and foundational rulings on due process/14th amendment like brown v. mississippi. like batman's whole thing was established and defined before we get so many rulings about due process and criminal procedure that we take for granted today, like brady and reasonable doubt (as a standard).

i feel like that history contains a lot of clues in terms of a) what a "corrupt GCPD" looks like, b) the need for an independent fact-finder who was not beholden to political or public scrutiny and, c) batman's processes as someone who works in collaboration with but also in counterpoint to the GCPD.

anyway i'd need to do a lot more research on this topic but i think it's fascinating because like i feel there's a level of like, yeah batman as a detective and a hero makes more sense pre-miranda and pre-brady almost?? like you get cases that are closed but not necessarily solved, at least in a way that meaningfully satisfies the idea of "beyond reasonable doubt", and in a way where all the evidence is actually brought to light. in the very corrupt and classist environment of gotham it's easy to compel self-incrimination or mislead defendants about their rights and use that oral evidence in a trial, rather than documentary or other evidence that would more fairly represent the events of the case

i think there's something there about the increasing focus on writing batman as an action hero rather than a detective, and that he's now portrayed as focusing on "supernatural" or science-fiction crimes/criminals, rather than more mundane crimes and the ways in which the law has evolved since his conception

[hirazuki]

For Now [Chapter 16 snippet]

Sasori/Haruno Sakura, Sasori & Haruno Sakura | T | Blank Period | canon divergent | angst, hurt/comfort, enemies to friends | ongoing [AO3]

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

“Oh, my.” 

Sakura's attention snaps. 

Her body whirls on its own, as though she is camped out in the wilds of Grass and a twig just broke in the darkness, because she knows that voice – its soft rasp snaked into her ears long ago and sunk its fangs into her dreams – and, more importantly, Sasori knows it too.

She’s only a split second faster than him – she’s still in active service and completely healthy and he isn’t – but that’s all she needs, because, once she grabs hold of him and it comes down to a contest of strength, she’s always had the advantage. 

Her hands close around Sasori’s forearms and she disrupts his chakra flow with her own before he can shoot any threads from his fingers, grappling him from behind and forcing him to the ground to keep him secure, safe, from both Orochimaru and himself; even as he fights back, viciously. 

“Stop,” Sakura frantically whispers, as close to his ear as she dares without risking him cracking his head back against hers. “I get it, I really do, I promise, but you need to stop.” She pins him down with a knee on his back, digging in until his torso is virtually immobile against the pavement. “You can’t attack him in the middle of the village!” 

He’s not listening at all, though. 

It’s like all of his composure, all of his apathy, all of his progress has fled in the face of this man standing before them, this rottenness and ruin given human form – and she has to bite down her panic at the familiarity of this, at the remembrance of someone else’s composure and reason falling to this very same person in another time, another place – and, it turns out, Sasori’s joints are as bendable as his puppets’; despite her strength, it’s taking all of her attention to maintain control of his hands. 

Orochimaru – for better and for worse – has not moved a single step.

“You really do see some interesting things if you live long enough,” she hears him remark, perfectly placidly, from somewhere above them.

Sasori increases his struggling at that and, between the angle that his right arm is at and Sakura’s absolute terror that she’s losing her grip on him and he’ll break away and fight and draw attention, and get hunted and captured and killed, her chakra control – always so precise, so exact, her longtime pride and crowning glory – slips, and she feels two of his fingers crunch loudly, sickeningly, under her own.

He doesn’t scream – he’s too well-trained, too war-wrought for that; he only goes still, completely still, for a single moment and that’s somehow worse.

“Get lost!” she snarls at Orochimaru, in a voice that she hasn’t used towards him since that awful day, when Sai proved to be a double agent and Naruto burned from the inside out and Sasuke-kun left again and Kakashi-sensei wasn’t there; the day she thought she’d lose her whole team, really lose them this time.

She didn’t, but she may very well be losing someone today.

Orochimaru chuckles but, thankfully, humors her – although he does make sure to pass right by them as he does so. 

“I do hope you found it well-kept for you,” he says – how can he sound so sincere? –  as he disappears into the darkness between the buildings.

There’s a shallow breath and then two and then five, and Sakura counts ten whole breaths before she very, very carefully pries herself off of Sasori, moving as though he is an explosive tag she has stepped on and set to detonate.

Free of her hands and her weight, he scrambles out from under her and doesn’t stop until he’s several feet away – shuttered, wordless, cradling his right arm to his chest.

The resulting hurt at his reaction to her is excruciating, but she reminds herself that she has no right to it. She doesn’t even know where to begin to give voice to her mortification, or her remorse. 

“I – I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, here, let me –”

Sasori levels a glare at her – of the kind that she’s seen him throw at Chiyo-baa-sama and Orochimaru, at the mention of Kabuto and, more recently, Akatsuki; the kind that’s personal, poisonous, and brimming with betrayal; the kind that she’s never seen directed at herself, before – and vanishes with a body flicker.

Sakura lets out a shaky sigh and falls back on her feet, utterly uncaring about the dirt on her expensive yukata or the mess that is her hair or even the fact that no one saw this happen, since the crowds started thinning from this particular street some time ago and she’s all alone, on the ground, on a dark, empty sidewalk under a multi-colored sky.

She only has enough in her to pick herself up and walk herself home, before collapsing in a sobbing heap as soon as the apartment door closes behind her, feeling like time has turned back and she's twelve again – small and useless and like the world is ending.

[25centsoda]

I am Once Again thinking about disaster preparedness

and, like, what are we doing?? D’y’all know how many tornadoes we’ve had in my area in the last month?? Way more than usual! A lot more flooding in the past 8 or so years also. What are we doing.

also shoutout to FEMA (US Federal Emergency Management Agency) for finally including considerations for disabled people on their easy-to-find infographics on disaster preparedness, I’ve been reading these articles since I was like 7 years old and it’s nice to see more than the assumption that everyone in a household is young and able-bodied. It just takes a few extra lines to say, or one more infographic to make