#guys I don’t like having thoughts

[hopefull-mindset]

Nagito is definitely more complex than some people give him credit for. He's also pretty tragic when you think about it.

Like he's been through horrible things, to the point that it's almost too outlandish to take seriously (which is something that bothers me but that's beside the point), and has become desensitized to tragedy. He has no control over his own life or even his own mind and body considering his medical conditions. And deep down all he wants is a normal life without his luck, but he can't have it, so he latches on to this hierarchical ideal of hope and talent as a way to cope with it.

And he is selfless in the sense that he doesn't value his own life and will readily sacrifice himself for his perceived greater good, but he still has his own agenda.

He's not really a good person but he's not really a bad person either, he's just fucked up.

Also I can't help but wonder if his obsession with hope overcoming despair is a projection. That it's him secretly/subconsciously hoping (heh) that his own life could improve, even if he doesn't think he deserves it.

Anyways sorry for rambling he drives me insane (affectionate).

No, it’s okay. I can see you want to start a conversation so I’ll give you a conversation to build off your points! Your speech pattern reminds me too much of my own, so it feels like I’m talking to myself LOL. A good rambling is always never not welcome, whenever I do it’s too organized to call a ramble though.

With the outlandishness of what Komaeda has experienced, it’s always topped off with his own casual speech pattern. It’s pretty hard to take seriously when Komaeda is speaking about it like he’s talking about the weather. His desensitization to what he had gotten used to as daily life has created this depressing yet self-centered view of living.

Now, self-centered? I know what you’re thinking, “but Komaeda’s view of the world is incredibly giving” and “Komaeda’s self worth would never let himself be the center”, and yeah that hasn’t changed, but take two steps back from being in Komaeda’s mindscape and you’re able to view the fact that a lot of what Komaeda uses to process the world is based in his own experiences. Everyone knows that it’s a coping mechanism, but what does that entail in reality? I can tell you.

Komaeda has experienced more misfortune than the average human being should ever be exposed to, so he’s chosen to cling onto this idea that everyone else also operates on hope and despair the same way his luck has put him through his entire life. He’s chosen the ultimates to be apart of these views because the talented are considered to be the pinnacle of human life in society’s collective, something unattainable unless you were born with it and the utter hope of a society’s future, so it makes it easier for Komaeda to justify what’s happened to him by making sure they stay up on that metaphorical pedestal, and that keeps him down there. His beliefs are distorted because they don’t align with how reality actually works; It’s why he treats them like he does because his belief in them is based in shallow, exaggerated societal expectations, so he’s going to treat them as nothing more than their talent.

This is exactly what I meant by self-centered. This type of belief does not consider anyone else as individuals with feelings or wants, and purely for his own religious-like faith in that this is what is going to save him and if not, he would gladly be the martyr to its cause. It’s either going to save him or destroy him, and what we’ve seen, has only destroyed him. Like you said, this doesn’t make Komaeda a good person, but it doesn’t make him a bad one.

If Komaeda does not have confidence in his luck, then all of that will crumble. So if any of you were boggled by his relationship with his luck, there you go. He doesn’t think it deserves to be a talent among the ones he idolizes, but he believes in it because it’s what he’s known all his life.

Like I said, this will and has destroyed him. In UDG and Chapter 0 of sdr2, it’s gotten to a point where he’s visibly confused himself while still in full confidence of an even more warped idealistic system, and seeing hope for himself (reminder that the entirety of first game was on TV) wasn’t enough, he wanted to direct it happening himself and see it up close with Komaru, a normal girl, to cause even more hope.

Even though I have personal problems with the anime as a whole (yes, even the OVA), as the OVA has mentioned, what would really make him happy and help him is a normal life, not some grand thing like absolute hope. However, he doesn’t see any worth in that because his life has always been not normal and there’s no great Hope waiting for him if it does become normal. It’s never going to happen either so it’s no fun entertaining the impossible for him, even as optimistic as he goes on to be about terrible situations.

Ugh, too many words. Too much to say. This is not the time to talk about this, but Komaeda what happened to your perception of your own bodily autonomy?

Besides the fact my head hurts having to put that into words, I agree with your points and I hope I covered everything? I always accidentally do that when I’m trying to talk about one thing at a time.

[stuckinapril]

friend wanted to see my tumblr, and when i told him i can’t show it to him bc it’s basically my personal diary he went “oh so I can’t see it but a bunch of strangers on tumblr can??” he literally does not get me. no one will get me like the people in my phone get me

[icelogged]

[notherpuppet]

Alastor is a complex character!

Despite being one of the few characters in Hazbin with confirmed identities (his ethnic background and sexual orientation), those identities are in of themselves, complex experiences.

There’s seemingly nothing about the character that is Black or White.

I think that’s why he is such a compelling character! Also, it’s probably one reason why he is such an attractive conduit for folks’ creative expression.

His identities are not necessarily why many people may gravitate towards him, but they do offer a chance for people to investigate him and explore a character—as unique as he is—into avenues they may not have considered before.

I can commiserate with feeling defensive of a character who shares an identity with you—ESPECIALLY an underrepresented one. Discourse is natural and completely fine! (And very educational sometimes in my experience)

But I don’t think it’s fruitful to police a fandom in these matters. Some folks come to my inbox (I delete the really rude ones) or comment sections with a very cop-like attitude to a space that’s supposed to be creative and/or fun *airhorn*

That’s my take as just some guy on the internet 🤓🛜 have a good dayyyyy

[missbubblesoda]

just the commander enjoying his summer I guess.

“Baby, can you pour me another one please?”

Buy me a ko-fi☕️?^^

[twoa-plus]

controversial opinion but i actually think ford being mad at stan for opening the portal back up is a lot more justified than this fandom makes it out to be

and like. to be clear. love stan. dude was just trying to save his brother and i can’t fault him for that

however. people act like the only reason ford was so mad at him was because he was just about to kill bill when the portal opened. and sure, that was probably a pretty major contributor to why he was so pissed, but y’know all those warnings ford mentions? warnings that ford, who is not omniscient and cannot see the future and would not have known he would be just about to kill bill, wrote against opening the portal?

the portal doesn’t open to wherever ford happens to be. the portal opens to the nightmare realm.

it might seem like bad luck that ford was in the middle of his closest attempt at defeating bill when the portal opened, but it was actually extraordinarily lucky that he was even there at all. how many timelines are there where the portal opened just a few hours sooner or later than it did, or where ford made a different choice at some point in time and just wasn’t there, are there? how many timelines are there where it wasn’t ford that walked out of that portal?

and like, sure, you could make the argument that it all turned out fine, but like. if you’re in a car with someone driving up a winding mountain road with no guardrails and they’re going 90 miles an hour, i think you’d have a few choice words for them regardless of whether or not they manage to get the both of you thrown off a cliff

like i said we love stan he’s great BUT i do think opening the portal was significantly more risky than people think it was

[ashpkat]

i can’t believe octavian died like… that. of all things in a middle grade kids books series. and everyone was chill about it. literally no one gaf octavian died so horrifically even if it was ‘just’ —and as the readers… we were chill with it too

[lesbianfakir]

HE FELL IN LOVE WITH HER AFTER LEARNING SHE WAS JUST A BIRD

The whole show. The whole show. We have this long running character beat of Duck beloved she, as she truly is, is unloveable and once people see her to her very core they will abandon her. But simultaneously!!!!! We have this subtle plot building of fakir, fully aware the girl has feathers, falling in love with her! And it’s so slow it doesn’t come to the forefront until the very end and AAAAAAAAA the amount of times Duck laments how no one would care about her as a bird meanwhile fakir looks at her with the most adoring eyes shut up!! Shut up literally shut up!!!! People will love you for the things you hate about yourself and you’ll have no goddamn idea because you’re so wrapped up in how YOU see yourself!!!!! HE LOVED THAT LITTLE BIRD MORE THAN SHE HATED HERSELF

[unfinishedslurs]

The boy stops in his tracks. “I know you,” he says, tilting his head curiously. He’s not tall, but he’s regal nonetheless, dressed all in white. Something about him makes Leia’s hair stand on end, and although she hides it she feels a stirring in her own chest. I know you like I know my own soul, she thinks wildly, and wonders where it came from. Has she gone insane?

“That’s nice,” she says, and shoots him anyway.

He deflects it in a flash of light, a glowing blue laser sword appearing in his hand like magic. She’s only seen one of those before, and it’s Vader’s. If this boy is anything like Vader, she realizes, she’s in deep shit.

She’s smart enough to know when she’s outmatched. Leia makes the tactical decision to run for her life.

Later, as she’s getting the hell out of there, she wonders why he didn’t try to stop her.

She remembers being young and tugging on her mothers skirts, demanding to know why their guest was so sad. “Does he not like it here?” She’d asked, and then, trembling, because Kenobi always seemed saddest around her. “Is it…because of me?”

“Oh, Leia,” her mother sighed, lifting her into her arms. “It’s not that, I promise.”

“Then what is it?”

“Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, years ago.” Breha’s eyes grew deeper, darker. “It was not his fault, but he blames himself. You remind him of that child, that’s all.”

Leia had quieted at that, contemplative.

The next time she’d seen Master Kenobi, she had given him a hug. He didn’t seem to know what to do with that, so she resolved to give him more of them. “He’s lonely,” she’d told her mother. “No one should be lonely.”

Looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi now, the memory seemed so far away. He’d aged thirty years in the ten it had been.

He looks, Leia thinks with a small twinge of regret, very lonely.

“Leia,” he greets. “It’s been a long time.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Leia sees a glint of white.

Kenobi freezes in his tracks. “Luke?” He whispers, and through the distance Leia can hear it as if he’d been speaking directly into her ear.

Master Kenobi lost a child under his care, her mother whispers in her head. He blames himself.

In an instant, Leia understands everything.

Kenobi is still staring at the boy he’d lost so long ago when Vader cuts him down.

Later, as she’s pacing around on the Falcon to Han muttering darkly about Princesses and supernatural abilities, she rememberers the way the boy collapsed, as if all his strings had been cut. Vader was too occupied with him to even look at her as she shot at him desperately.

Luke. She hates him more than she hates herself.

“They know where you are,” he hisses frantically. “They’re coming for you. You have to run.”

“Wait!” Leia quickly pulls up their sonar. Nothing yet, but it would explain the distant queasiness she’d felt since they’d landed. She tended to trust her gut. “How do you know? How much time do we have?”

“Not important, and not enough,” he says. “I have to go, and so do you. You need to leave yesterday.”

“How do I know I can trust you? I don’t even know who you are.”

He pauses. “Call me Skywalker.”

“That’s not an answer, Skywalker.”

“Yes it is.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but there are faint voices on the other end, drawing nearer.

“Shit,” Skywalker mutters. “I have to go. I’ll be in contact, okay? Don’t ever tell me where you are, or where you’re heading. Vader and Palpatine aren’t shy about reading minds. Just leave as soon as you can, and figure out the rest.”

“But—“

It’s too late. The comm has disconnected.

She stares down at it, disbelieving. How would the Empire know they’re here? Why should she trust a stranger who somehow got her personal comm code?

Gut feeling or not, on paper this was a perfect location. Supplied, armored, and most importantly, extremely well hidden. There was no real reason to think it would possibly be found out.

It’s probably a trap. Almost definitely a trap.

Han sticks his head in the door, a sour look on his face. “Hey Princess, can you tell these idiots—“

She makes a decision then and there.

“We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We’re evacuating, effective immediately.” She pushes past him, and he follows so close he’s nearly stepping on her heel.

“Why? I think it’s pretty cozy here. Actual sunlight doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Apparently too cozy.” She grabs the first person she sees, a pilot who stares at her with wide eyes. “Emergency evacuation. Spread the word to pack everything you can and leave, I’ll let you know where we’re headed when we’re in orbit.”

He salutes and scurries off.

“Woah, hey now.” Han snatches at her elbow until she turns around to face him. “What’s going on?”

“There’s a new informant. He told me the Empire knows we’re here. They’re coming for us.”

“And you trust this person because…”

“I don’t have a choice,” she snaps. Someone runs past them, holding three packs filled to the brim with rations. “It’s either he’s lying and we’re not in danger, or he’s telling the truth and we’re going to die if we don’t listen. It’s not exactly hard math.”

It could be a trap of course, but he hadn’t suggested any sort of direction or destination to follow, and Leia wasn’t inclined to share. Especially not after his tidbit about Vader and Palpatine reading minds.

He squints at her. “That’s not it.”

“What?”

“I don’t believe you,” he insists. He’s so infuriating. Leia doesn’t know why she hasn’t kicked him out yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do, and you’re either gonna tell me why, or find a different transport when we head out of here.”

“Who said I was riding on your hunk of junk?” She demands. She actually was planning on going with them, since the Falcon has more than enough room for all the supplies that can’t fit in the other ships and none of the trustworthiness of the other pilots, but Han doesn’t need to know that.

“Well?”

Damn him. Damn him for knowing how to read her. She doesn’t know when she let that happen.

“I feel it,” she admits, defeated. “Something tells me he’s trustworthy. We’ll wait and see if it’s right.”

He studies her. She holds her head high, but inside she’s jittery at the scrutiny. They don’t have time for this.

“Yeah, all right,” Han finally says.

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He rolls his eyes, like she’s not acting absolutely insane by putting all her trust in a random man she’s never even met. “Now come on, Princess, weren’t you the one who said we had to hurry?”

What is it about this man that makes it impossible to tell whether she wants to punch him or drag him into the nearest supply closet? They don’t have time to find out.

“So there’s good news and bad news.”

“Bad news first,” she demands.

“They know there’s a mole.”

“Shit.” Of course they know, how could they not? She should have been more careful, less obvious about the correlation of their movements with the Empire’s plans. “The good news?”

“They’ve tasked me with hunting down this ‘pathetic rebel spy,’” Skywalker says, humor in his voice. “That should buy me some time.”

Leia can’t quite stop the snort she lets out. “Seriously?”

“Yep. You’re speaking to a professional mole-hunter, here.”

“Well congratulations on the promotion, Skywalker.”

“Thank you,” he says grandly. Then, quieter, “It won’t last, Princess. They’ll find out eventually.”

“I know. Just hang in there, it will be over soon.”

“Will it?” He asks, suddenly sounding very young. She realizes that she has no idea how old he is. She doesn’t know anything about the man who has saved them more times than she cared to admit, and the idea rattles her until they sign off.

Later, she looks up the name Skywalker in their archives. There are a few results, but only one sticks out.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and hero of the Clone Wars. Killed at the hands of Darth Vader. There are gossip articles too, speculations on his relationship with the pregnant Senator Padmé Amidala, who died around the same time Skywalker did. The baby, it seems, died with her.

Unless he didn’t.

It’s ridiculous. It’s impossible. The idea is so ludicrous that Leia almost rejects it entirely.

But it makes sense. By the Maker, it makes sense.

The child of Anakin Skywalker, it seems, would be a powerful Force user indeed. Powerful enough for Kenobi to take the baby and run. Powerful enough for the Emperor to want him for his own gain. Powerful enough to send Vader after Kenobi and take the boy himself.

Maybe even powerful enough to shield his mind from Vader and Palpatine’s intrusions.

Powerful enough to hide the fact that he’s a spy.

Leia sinks into her chair, covering her face as she laughs.

Maybe Luke isn’t so bad after all.

“No, no, no,” she mutters, digging through the smoking wreckage of the TIE fighter. “Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead.”

“Princess…” Han lays a hand on her shoulder that she immediately shrugs off.

“No, he’s not dead. He’s not. Luke!”

A faint cough answers her, and she’s so relieved to hear it she could cry. Behind her, Han starts bellowing for a medic and, “Some damn help here, do you expect us to move all this ourselves?”

“Luke, it’s me,” she sobs. “It’s Leia. You’re at the Rebel Base. You’re safe.”

More coughing, and there’s a worrying rasp to his voice when he says, “You know…my name?”

“I figured it out.”

“Smart.” This time, the coughing is so bad Leia and Han both wince.

“Shit, kid,” Han says, moving another piece of rubble. “Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you out of here, all right?”

“Stand back,” Luke chokes out.

“What?”

“Stand back. Please.”

Han protests, but something in Leia knows they should listen to him. She drags him back, and motions everyone else to fall back with them. They do, albeit reluctantly.

“Clear,” she calls, hoping Luke can hear her.

The TIE explodes.

“Fuck!” Han goes back in, Leia on his heels with the terrifying feeling that she’d just allowed Luke to die, before they both stop in their tracks. Around them, the broken pieces of the TIE are floating.

And curled up in the middle is a man dressed all in white.

“Luke!” She pushes past Han to start dragging him out, and after another moment of staring around them, he helps her.

As soon as they get clear, the pieces fall to the ground with a clatter. Luke falls limp with them.

Han is still looking at the TIE. “Can you do that?” He asks quietly.

Leia pauses her examination of the unconscious man in front of her to glare at him. “Is that what you’re most concerned with right now? Really?”

“Excuse me for asking, Princess!”

“It’s white,” Luke grumbles, pulling at his hospital gown bitterly. “I hate wearing white.”

“Should I be offended?”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t even. You look great and you know it. I just feel like I never left.”

“Well,” she says gingerly. “I guess it’s a good thing you got sick of it. If we went around in matching outfits all the time, people might think we’re twins.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right.”

[royaltea000]

Pose practice! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ

[peteytheparrot]

God these guys have just lost so much charm like 😭😭 the old designs had problems but LIKE AUGGHHHHH WHAT HAPPENED

[stuckinapril]

I genuinely love not having a crush like I’m not over here feeling physically sick over some mid guy being dry to me I’m literally chilling

[turtleblogatlast]

[ cw: assumed death / assumed sibling death / assumed child death / solitude ]

Thinking about Leo being trapped in the Prison Dimension and keeping himself warm through the power of his own ninpo - this ability is shown to us as a flame, after all, so imagine if, when he lets his mystic energy run through him, it warms him up, just a little.

In this desolate place, all cold and alone, he focuses on that flame and leans into its warmth.

He relies on it, and he realizes it that he’d relied on it too much when it goes out, and he’s once again cold.

(In another dimension, the Hamatos believe they lost one of their own.)

[septembersung]

In real life, the traddest men I know: change diapers; do chores; are present and playful with their kids; take good care of their wives; work 50+ hours a week to provide for their families; literally never think about the 1950s.

[cowboylikeyouu]

i made the mistake of reading 0.5-1.5 star letterboxd reviews for deadpool & wolverine again and honestly??? at this point i only feel sorry for these people lmao like all of us tumblr fangirls and comic nerds are having the time of our lives with this movie while you guys have to be whiny bitches on letterboxd to somehow feed into your superiority complex😭 we are having fun, you are not, who is superior now?

[aceofvase]

been thinking about it lately so here’s every original scooby-doo villain organized by how close they come to killing someone on-screen