#god these two are a fucking mess

[by-glass-and-waves]

Maybe a little more Courtship hoo hoo

Uhh read the page right to left my b

[the-kipsabian]

saw a take so fucking rancid on twitter i almost deleted the entire app from my phone jesus fucking christ

first of all ao3 is an archive site. this is like going to the library and saying "oh i dont like this" on every piece of media you find that you dislike and thinking they should be stamped with some sort of a marker just cause you didnt like it

you can always click back and leave. fic writers owe you nothing to explain themselves and their creations. if they have mistagged or miscategorized fics, then i understand, however there are report tools for that instead of yelling at the artist tbh

im not saying free works arent necessarily above criticism. but this is just. fucking wild. its common courtesy to just enjoy stuff (or fucking leave if you dont, the back button is free) and if the artist specifically asks for critiques, then give one - constructive that is, shitting all over someones work is not proper criticism, mind you

i just find it fucking wild people are treating art and archive sites as social media these days like this and everything needs to be policed and ~catered to the algorithm~ like. no. ao3 doesnt have an algorithm. you should be able to fucking tell what you like and what you dont like and steer away from that kind of content and let people fucking be with their art. they dont owe you anything (except trigger warnings i'd argue, but i know some people disagree with that as well for some reason), and imagine how much more energy you'd have if you only engaged with things you liked and spent time looking at instead of going to places where you dont enjoy yourself. let alone spending time telling other people you dont enjoy what they enjoy. what a fucking life

[m4rs-ex3]

callum feeling small and insignificant just being in the throneroom

vs callum practically kicking down the doors and waltzing in guns blazing

[viserya-firstofhername]

I'm fine. It's fine. Everything is fine.

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[epicfirestormer]

Okay look, I've never really read Greek mythology (my only exposure is EPIC the musical and I've never read The Odyssey or The Illiad so bear with me) but I feel like Odysseus is cursed to always suffer. Not in the same sense Cassandra or Sisyphus are actually cursed, but in an almost unwritten rule sort of thing. Like, how much of an unlucky bastard do you gotta be to constantly be thrown around by one god to another. How are the gods so involved in his life. First is Athena, which fair enough, she chose him as her champion. That one wasn't a problem. But then he runs into Polyphemus, who is POSEIDON'S SON. which, talk about unlucky. then he runs into Aeolus, which also wasn't actually a problem until the crew fucked around and found out with the wind bag, then he runs into Actual Poseidon, gets most of his crew obliterated and then yeeted to CIRCE'S island after that, because of course he does. Only after he found out his leftover crew ran into Circe of all people and was about to go confront her, does he run into Hermes who genuinely has no reason to be here and doing all this besides maybe helping his great grandson and also for entertainment purposes. Then he runs into Circe and it turns out she's pretty chill actually when she realized that he really just wants to go home and not stick around to do anything bad. Anyway, they don't run into any gods for like a saga and a half, which is a new record really, but shit still goes wrong because Of Course It Does and THEN Eurylochus tries to kill one of Helios' cows and then fucking ZEUS comes in to chime in and give Ody the illusion of choice (where he'll suffer no matter what he chooses). Zeus is literally just taking the piss out of this whole thing, and when Odysseus makes his choice, he STILL gets fucked over by being sent to CALYPSO'S island and being stuck there for SEVEN YEARS. Like, at that point it's just Zeus being petty. I'm more surprised that we don't have more scenes of Odysseus breaking down in tears during the entire musical. He's just being used like a ragdoll and thrown around.

Like. Odysseus' story is only a tragedy for everyone involved. It's actually a comedy of error for all the gods who are watching.

[okcoolthanks]

I loooove being a dick to my friends alters lmao

[the-casbah-way]

to me the most insane thing about the thick of it fandom is the fact that everyone seems convinced that malcolm tucker is a) some kind of untouchable sherlock holmes type genius and b) an all-round sweet caring guy who only ever does bad or dubious things for purely good or logical reasons. we are not watching the same show, it would seem

[lionmythflower]

Officially obsessed with epic (I've started making fanart for it)

I give you Apollo and Hermes

Closeups under cut

(the end of the tags is js me rambling lol)

[vasito-de-leche]

okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.

thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!

I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it

either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.

Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way. 

And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.

The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?

He does.

On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.

You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.

Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?

Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.

All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.

He can't tear his eyes away.

Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.

That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.

"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."

His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.

You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.

"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."

But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?

"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."

The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.

He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.

His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.

"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."

Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?

Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.

He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.

That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.

Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.

"Wait, don't do that-!"

Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.

Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.

"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"

Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.

"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."

"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."

"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."

"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.

An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?

Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.

"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"

"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.

"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."

You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.

Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.

Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.

"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.

You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.

"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.

You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.

"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."

Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.

The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.

Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.

A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.

A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.

And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.

[cassmouse]

To this day I don't understand how Ghostbusters Frozen Empire had the budget to hire all of these absolutely incredible actors, a surprisingly excellent cinematographer, a SFX team that's second to none, AND a phenomenal composer (HE WROTE THE 2005 PRIDE AND PREJUDICE SOUNDTRACK FOR FUCK'S SAKE)- and yet STILL couldn't manage to hire even semi-decent writers (this also applies to Ghostbusters Afterlife actually)

(whoever came up with the Phoebe/Melody plot goated tho)

[by-glass-and-waves]

It's HERE

Warning: added the emotional/psychological abuse tag on top of the possessive behavior, jealousy, obsession, manipulation tags to play it safe because it's a fucking trainwreck

Edit: also because of that I increased the rating just to play safe

[volfoss]

i think honestly what irritates me about yoshidas work SO much is that people will tell you that banana fish is THE gay manga (ignoring the many things that came before it and were more groundbreaking, ie MW literally having on screen (or like. on panel but still.) gay sex in it and that came out like a decade before BF did) when there really isn't barely any gay rep outside of the pedophiles and the one time ash drops the f slur. like im sorry but somehow yasha, a work she wrote in 1996, has more gay rep in it but also has the same issues.

i truly do not get how people can enjoy banana fish with the rampant racism every 2 pages or the rampant sexual assault plotlines (on women and ash bc he is just... written like how yoshida writes women lmao) that are handled IMPOSSIBLY bad and sincerely i hoped yasha would be better because it had been like a decade or so between works. and then it proceeds to continue with the heres our blonde genius protagonist who everyone is weird as fuck to and will sexually harrass and everyone finds it a VERY funny joke to point out how feminine he is when theres barely any women in the work (if you exclude the ones that are being raped/killed/creepy to minors. which to be fair yasha has toned down the sa a LOT) and that its funny that hes kind of gay except not really!! and its just absurd to me how it just persists in all of her stuff because she is not an author that handles gay stuff well. like the scene in banana fish where ash is completely ok getting gang raped and did it solely to get into the hospital when its been SHOWN that he has a lot of trauma with that. and then right after his friend makes a joke at ash's expense about that. like sincerely and genuinely is this what we are hyping up as the old retro gay manga. go read some tezuka and stop reading shit that the most the main characters do is share a kiss in a nonromantic sense and is obsessed w making every gay person be evil!!

[the-kipsabian]

a quick hot guide for people that struggle commenting on fics aka things authors love to hear and youre just over thinking it and its actually really simple to leave comments on stuff!!

key smash/emoji spam/reaction image/etc (it conveys emotions way more than you might think)

drop a line you really liked

say how much you love a ship/character and how happy you are that theres content about them

ALL CAPS ANYTHING

"i liked/loved/enjoyed/whatever it!" its better to say the most basic thing than saying nothing tbh; writers appreciate hearing anything over nothing 💜

"thank you for writing this" its short, sweet, and very powerful

think what kind of feedback you'd personally like to receive on a piece of art you made. try to translate that want into comments you leave for other people too

you dont have to be critical or constructive or anything, even if the author asks for that stuff in their notes. they'll get it from someone else, you just do you

i feel like people make leaving comments too hard on themselves, so really just make it simple. if you really dont come up with anything, just say thank you. youre there reading for some reason, tell the author what it is. fic comments dont need to be book analysis essays (tho those are. incredibly appreciated as well if you want to write one!!), writers publishing their works for free online appreciate any kind of feedback regardless if you consider it good or well written. a comment is a comment

bottom line is, leave comments on fics and other written works. its whats keeping this game alive

[sandu-zidian]

I'm having Yunmeng Shuangjie feelings I am losing it over the way these two idiots try to rationalize the decisions and emotions towards the other through duty and obligation.

Wei Wuxian attempts to rationalize the golden core transfer and his subsequent actions of secrecy and running away by trying to convince both himself and JC (and others) that he made those decisions out of duty, debt, and obligation: duty to JC, debt to Yunmeng Jiang, debt and obligation towards the Wen siblings. By doing so he hopes to mask the deep truth that his singular most important decision -- to transfer his own core to JC -- was done not out of duty, but out of love. If he admits to how love pushed him to try and fix JC, he would then have to grapple with the blatant truth that not only did the decision break the trust between himself and JC, but in fact did the opposite of fixing JC. The event only further breaks them apart. WWX refuses to acknowledge any feelings of regret he could possibly have about the golden core transfer -- either because did not understand how terrible living without a golden core could be, or because he knows that what he did to JC was agonizing -- by only accepting his actions as done by a servant for a master, as a disciple for his sect and sect leader.

Jiang Cheng also suffers from this rationalization. When WWX defects and later dies, JC attempts to reinforce his righteous anger and rage towards WWX by viewing his betrayal not as done by a close friend and brother, but as betrayal done by a sect member and first disciple. By publicly and internally deriding WWX as a traitor to Yunmeng Jiang, forgoing his duty and obligation to his sect leader and the sect that took him in, JC can delude himself into accepting the derision and gloating exalted by the rest of the cultivation world and reject the complex and often contradictory feelings of grief and loss he feels towards WWX that stem from the painful truth that WWX hurt him not because he was a trusted discple, but because he was a close confidante and an almost-brother. Such pitiful emotions are unacceptable for someone so hated as WWX. So, JC aligns his emotional turmoil with the rest of society by refusing to remember the whole truth of his relationship with WWX as not just a trusted disciple, but as a dear friend and an older brother. In doing so, JC's negative emotions are quite unfair (though in his defense it's not like JC knew the truth behind WWX's confounding actions) and also never allow JC any chance to actually come to terms with WWX's betrayal and painful downfall.

I think the best Yunmeng Shuangjie reconciliation stories are the ones where JC has to admit that his comtempt towards WWX during the 13 years that he was dead was unneccessarily unfair and allowed him no place to truly accept and grieve for the loss of his brother, and where WWX has to admit to himself the true reason for the golden core transfer and how he cannot run away from the reality of the pain such a decision caused both himself and his brother, and perhaps even admit that it wasn't really the right decision, if there even is a right decision for that scenario at all. I need JC to yell at WWX about how the whole golden core transfer just serves to prove that WWX never accepted himself as family to the Jiang siblings when JC and JYL both cared for him deeply as a brother, while WWX yells back at JC about how he could possibly dare to see JC as family when all he has done in the years since his resurrection was act as if WWX was nothing but a sect traitor and stranger not worthy of a truthful conversation.

[who-is-page]

Life is hard! Consider buying my stuff!

My life isn't quite falling apart, but things have gotten really tricky lately. One housemate (and their super destructive, permanent houseguest) is refusing to pay their share of rent or utilities for the next three months, and another is refusing to pay their full share of rent for that same amount of time and is making us cover around $75 every month, and I'm having to double-up my hours at work while still being a full-time student (and also one of my professors, who we're 99% sure is using ChatGPT to generate her citations because none of them exist and we pointed this out, hates my guts and has been grading me really harshly and forcing me to go full-sail on every assignment to ridiculous degrees in order to pass this required class).

My spouse is working on getting full-time at their job, but it looks like they won't be able to until December, and we also have no idea how much rent is going to increase this year-- my guess is it's going to go up another $500, same as last year, to a total of $3,000, so things are gonna get really fucking bumpy until around January, probably.

So basically, if you like the work I've done, consider throwing me a tip on Ko-Fi or buying my stuff on Itch.io:

(Also I promise we have more stuff lined up that we want to polish and publish, life has just been super-duper fucking busy! There is so much more going on right now than what I've mentioned here, especially in terms of surprise medical bills and other horrible surprises. And we haven't forgotten about Inky Paws issue 2, either, which we're still hoping to have done by December and which will STILL always be entirely 100% free to download, no matter what our living or money situation looks like. That will never ever change, so please don't worry!)