#half of it probably doesn't even make sense

[kairos-polaris]

Does Harrow even love Gideon? I mean Harrow and Alecto have this weird vibe going on with them that basically shaped Harrow's being, and it definitely led to Gideon being resolute that Harrow holds deep affection for The Body.

I wanted to joke if we've read the same books because Harrow the Ninth made Harrow's priorities exceedingly clear but I do need to ask if you have read the books so I wouldn't spoiler things. But I also wanted to yap about griddlehark and Alecto anyway

I strongly believe that Harrow loves Gideon in every way she knows how to, traumatized and repressed as she is. I am not a fan of the implications that just because Harrow has affections for Alecto doesn't mean she doesn't love Gideon. They are both important to her and both are the centers of her universe in different ways.

Harrow and Gideon are extremely traumatised, the only example of healthy romantic love they had were Magnus and Abigail. But just because Gideon interpreted Harrow's love for the Body as romantic doesn't mean it actually is romantic. Gideon has very limited experience with love in general and the only person she is devoted to is Harrow herself. And she loves Harrow romantically so it makes sense she would assume that since Harrow is devoted to the Body, she is in love with her. Does it make sense?

Alecto is Harrow's idol, an unreachable ideal, something to strive for, the reason to keep going. The Body is her idol, her god, she is devoted to Alecto. She makes the Body her life's purpose. She is deeply devoted to her and she loves her but it's different from the way she loves Gideon.

No matter how much Harrow loves the Body, Gideon will forever be her priority. We see it in the way she dies with her name on her lips (“But your idiot dying mouth rounded out three totally different syllables, and they were three syllables you did not even understand.”) We see it during the fight with Cytherea when Harrow absolutely refuses to ascend despite how she worked for it just for the chance of seeing the Body awaken. Harrow carries so much guilt over the sin of her parents, committed just to continue Anastasia's line, but she is ready to discard it if it means Gideon survives. Gideon's life matters more to her than the chance of seeing the Body, than the burden of being the Tombkeeper.

And we see how dedicated Harrow is to keeping Gideon alive. She begs God for Gideon's soul, she says “How dare you ask me to live with it?”. She creates an elaborate plan to prevent herself from absorbing Gideon's soul with a method that could have left her brain dead. And she was catatonic for a while after that! She performed the lobotomy on herself knowing all the risks, because Gideon's life is that important to her. There are probably details of her plan that we don't know yet, something to actually resurrect Gideon.

There are countless moments in the books that show how obsessed Harrow is with Gideon and how much she means to her. She stays up all night burying bones just to show off in front of Gideon; she doesn't believe that Harrow would be willing to let go of her. Harrow is plainly jealous of Dulcinea/Cytherea in Canaan house and that's why she was even suspicious of her.

The entirety of the pool scene! Especially when Harrow says “Strike me down. You’ve won. I’ve lived my whole wretched life at your mercy, yours alone, and God knows I deserve to die at your hand. You are my only friend. I am undone without you.” and then they spend the whole night talking with Gideon sleeping in the cav bed as it was intended, perpendicular to Harrow. When they fight Cytherea not only does she refuse to ascend but she calls Gideon “the first flower of my house”. Harrow is half catatonic as she talks to Gideon after eating her, she says “I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it.”, she says “Don't leave me” as Gideon recites biblical wedding vows (“The Lord do so and so to me, and add more also, if aught but death part me and thee.”)

In the dream bubble, everything is influenced by Gideon despite Harrow not remembering her. She misses something, someone and doesn't understand what. When she finally has her memories back she says: “If I forget you, let my right hand be forgotten,” her mouth was saying. “Add more also, if aught but death part me and thee.” She repeats Gideon's last words, she says the wedding vows back. Magnus later says Harrow is “keeping her [Gideon's] things like a lover keeping old notes” and “You’re not waiting for her resurrection; you’ve made yourself her mausoleum.” in direct parallel to Ianthe's earlier “I have loved plenty—true love is acquisitive. You keep anything … strands of hair … an envelope they might’ve licked … a note saying, Good morning, simply because they wrote it to you. Love is a revenant, Gideon Nav.” In my eyes it pretty obviously means Harrow loves Gideon.

Whether Harrow loves Gideon or not depends on how you define love, to me that her devotion is love and I do think she loves Gideon with everything she has. Doesn't matter if it's romantic or platonic. However! I will not be convinced that her love for Alecto is romantic. Harrow loves the Body, the image of Alecto she invented in her head. Pyrrha loves Alecto, Anastasia loves Alecto. But Harrow loves the Body, she loves the idea of her. But she knows Gideon, they are each other's first friend and enemy. Gideon says the point of me is you and I believe Harrow sees it the same, the point of her is Gideon.

AND THIS IS WHY GRIDDLEHARK IS THE SHIP EVER. The only reason I don't write fics for them is because my brain is so in awe of their canonical relationship it doesn't feel the need to add anything else. Everything I love is already in there

[deathdetermineslife]

I really don't wanna say this and sound rude but why ship with Korekiyo? Like there's so many other characters in the franchise you could have picked and you picked... that one? Maybe I'm just being an asshole but you just had to pick him?

this has been sitting in my inbox since Christmas Eve but just to be That Guy here is a long, horribly comprehensive list of reasons why I am in love with this man

—————————————————————————

he's fucking pretty

look at him. he's beautiful. pretty long hair, first and foremost. I love a man with pretty long hair. he has pretty yellow eyes and also look at his (what I assume to be) eyeliner. this man is beautiful. don't even get me started when he takes his mask off. sheesh. someone get me a fan! maybe I'm just weird but I love a man who's feminine but also masculine at the same time. not androgynous but a secret other thing. I think he fits into that category.

he's also very tall (6'2") and I am short (5'6") so we have a nice height difference. also something about a man who's built like a stake olive garden bread stick I love. I could snap him in half. I won't get graphic here but he's gorgeous and that's obviously reason number one.

another thing too is I really love his design. military inspired clothing is very cunty (iirc I think his outfit was inspired by a music video? I dunno how true this is) but either way it just suits him very well. gives off this mysterious aura which fits his character. also he wears these bandages on his hands and you wonder why, because as you can see in his pregame sprite he doesn't have any scarring or anything. my personal headcanon is that he wears them to keep artifacts he handles from getting scuffed up.

I also just think that knee-high boots fuck hard. nothing to add to that. they fuck.

he has a brain

he's smart guys. why wouldn't I love a man in academia? anthropology is very interesting. he's a yapper, talks all the time about his interests, which he's very well versed in. I want a man who I can have intelligent conversations with !!!! he fits that perfectly cmon

I could talk to him for hours and never get bored... even if I don't entirely understand what the fuck he's yappin about i still love him nonetheless!!!!! I want a man who I can learn something from. and I love anthropology!!! so every conversation is something to remember.

I dunno I just like how he's the kind of individual you could talk to for forever. he always has something to say.

he's a fuckin freak

none of you are allowed to call him a freak. by the way let's get that straight but he's so fucking weird and that makes him lovable. I'm a weirdo. this is a sentence I would say. who says the shit he says. there's a scene where another character picks up a manhole cover and his response to that is "you could easily crush a child's skull with that strength". who says that. who says that. I love him.

I want a man with this sort of off-putting pazazz that none of you could begin to fathom /silly

he's just so cunty

tell me this line isn't funny. he has a sense of humor only few can understand (autistics) and I'm one of them. people think he's not funny but he's just funny in a dry way.

also yes he may have been serious in this scene but that doesn't make it any less funny. he just has such an attitude. there's this scene after u find out one of the characters is an assassin and he's like "uhm why are we including her in this activity she kills people" babe !!! babe !!! baby doll !!! guess what You Do !!! it's funny, laugh. he just has Such A Personality.

he's relatable

"Lachlan no the fuck he isn't" HE ISSS this is the line my username is based off of. it's stuck with me for like 5 years since I read it.

he's such an interesting character when it comes to the concepts of grief and loss and how one copes with the passing of someone close to you, especially when that someone hurt you. I could probably talk for hours about how he's such an interesting case study on how grief can effect ones healing from trauma, or how grief itself is a cycle that he's destined to repeat (killing over and over again to sate the desires of the dead), or how everything about his character relates to death, just generally. his favorite story in canon is Medusa, his dislikes air conditioners because they repel spirits, he's, you know, a serial killer, and so much more. I could write an essay on him.

he's relatable to me, anyways. #trauma LMAO

hes just interesting

rapid fun facts about my husband, go!!!

like I mentioned before he hates air-conditioning, he also hates holy water. you can guess why. iirc in one of his official arts it's says somewhere that a lot of women are jealous of him bc his hair is so pretty. which, yea, me too. he also wakes up at six in the morning everyday, mainly to get ready. what he spends hours doing i don't know. there's more fun facts I could share but you probably aren't very interested in hearing them

all in all though I don't think I picked him I think he just came to me at the right time. and for the last light five years I've been obsessed and he's all I think about every day and night. that's my husband!!! I love him. not much else to add there. no other fictional character I think ever at all in any way has ever been appealing to me in the way that he is. I can't explain it that well, he's just something special.

okay that's all if you read all of this ily

[hoiststowline]

tell me why

prowl x reader a/n: newly edited from my initial post on ao3, I will update it there as well!!

Sensing his deadpan before your feet even leave the stairs, you save him the scoff that was certainly headed your way and offer a middle finger instead. 

"You've got to be fragging joking." He won't open the passenger door, heaven forbid he let you sit in the driver's seat, yet his side-view mirror jerks your way in an aggravated manner. Languidly looking you up and down, and not in a way that makes you feel good about yourself, he continues with as much disgust, if not more. "Do you even care about appearances, or have you just given up entirely?"

"I'm sorry," You start, hand defiantly coming to your hip, anger seeping far too easily into your tone, now riled up. "I didn't really have a second to change when you called me at eleven-forty-eight, yelling at me to be outside in three minutes." Backpack hanging from one shoulder, the toe of your sneaker meets the pavement in an irked manner. "You're lucky I even picked up, I have you blocked from four different numbers, and yet, you've managed a way to contact me."

The police cruiser sputters, his engine growling as he argues, temper flaring alongside a familiar dramatic display. "I'm lucky?! y/n, please, I should drive off and leave you pissed that I got you out of recharge for nothing."

Your fingers curl around the door handle, tugging it twice to ignore his unkept threat. "Open the door," 

"You're the biggest pain in the aft I know, and that's saying something." The door pops open, narrowly missing your kneecaps, but you can't find an ounce of energy to start up another round of quarreling. Prowl's voice echoes from the center console as you throw your bag in the backseat, hard, bouncing off the leather before landing on the floor with an unceremonious thud. "Would you stop that?"

"You woke me up and are giving me attitude?" His rear-view mirror moves erratically now, straightening out until you're looking back at your reflection. 

"Get out." He doesn't particularly mean it, because the whole reason he called you is because he needs you, something he'd rather drop dead than admit. You're the bravest and yet the daftest individual to even offer a smidge of trust towards Prowl, but the only being that's shown him a glimmer of kindness in epochs. "I'll do it without you."

But the recently slammed door doesn't re-open, and his engine never cuts out, leaving the conversation hanging in empty air. The two of you sit in silence, the mech baiting you to erupt into an argument, but the only thing you propose is to sit in the front seat with arms crossed over your chest. 

"I hate you." The seatbelt clicks across your waist, tightening gently as a warning to behave. "I hate you so much, y/n, and I hate that I even resorted to coming here."

"You don't hate me because you wouldn't be here if you did." You jeer, sniffling before looking out the window, unimpressed by his nonchalant jab. "I'm one of the few friends you have, you bastard."

"Please," He takes off, moving down your street with purpose, hardly disclosing the actual reason for darkening your doorstep. "Let's set the record straight, we are not friends, not by any definition."

"Oh?" Your palm meets his dashboard, a half-hearted hit. "Then what are we, Prowl?"

"I'm an Autobot." Prowl snuffs, coming to a stop at a red light, yet jamming on his breaks a little too violently. "You, are annoying."

Rolling incurious eyes, you offer a swift kick the glovebox, leaving some residual dirt along the plastic. Beating him up was probably not the smartest idea you've had recently, though it was a valid response- you were on the verge of burnout. But the worst part of it all was that you could never deny Prowl, even as exhaustion threatened to claim you. He was abusing you, knowing your weakness was your compassion and ability to jump when he told you to. 

"Stuff it, you overgrown toaster." Your crankiness was leaving you with no filter, eyelids heavy as he began again down deserted roads, kicking up unsettled dirt with squeaky clean tires. 

"I have been alerted there is Decepticon activity in a secluded area where your species partakes in...street racing?" He relays it as if he's reading a transmission. "And I needed a driver."

"So you roll up, as a police car, to an area where people are doing illegal activities, with me in the passenger seat?" Elbow resting against the paneling of the door, your chin meets your hand. "Aren't you the smartest person alive."

"I-" For the first time since you've met him, he actually gives pause as if surveying his next round of words carefully. Whether that be to think of an insult or to think of a reason for how he's right, you give him thirty seconds before continuing. 

"You really woke me up on a Tuesday night for this shit, Prowl? I know you hate me but for fucks sake." He's been driving straightforwardly for a few minutes now, and taking in your surroundings, you realize he's long left city lines. "Hey, where are we going? How far away is this place?" 

"I lied." It's short as if he isn't going to provide any more information, and to nobody's surprise, he doesn't.

"You woke me up! For nothing! And you aren't even at least going to tell me why?!" Throwing your hands up in exasperation, you begin erratically pulling on the handle, even as he increases his speed. "Prowl, let me out, or so help me-" 

"You'll what?" Part of you wished the sadistic mech would open the door like you know he would, leaving you clean on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. He'd done it before, but every time except once, he'd come back to get you, much to his grumbled annoyance. Yet, at this very moment, walking home was better than being with him any longer, patience long since tried. "Tough luck."

"I'll key you. I'll run my keys over your doors and steal your sirens, kick your bumper, disconnect your voice box-" Rattling off as many empty threats you could think of before you ran out of breath, you end the rant with one final blow. "Fuck you, Prowl, this is the last time I ever do anything for you. You insufferable, bird-brained jackass-"

Prowl takes it, every single one of your denunciations, listening and waiting patiently for your incessant prattling to end. He could wait, he's waited thus long, stewing in sleepless nights and throwing any object that he picked up, berthroom walls littered with dents from his servo meeting the metal. He could take one more klik of your unendurable squabble before he transforms, moving cautiously until you're wriggling in the palm of his servo, staring up at him as he stands off the pavement.  

"I will dump an entire gallon of iced tea in your interior," You stand, dusting yourself off as the black and white mech deposits your backpack at your feet. "Pause. Aren't you supposed to be careful about this shit? I know we're in the middle of nowhere but-" 

Prowl's staring, intently so. He eerily hasn't said a single word in five minutes, which is unlike the Prowl you were just previously bickering back and forth with. A frown is permanently etched onto his face plate, cerulean optics unblinking as he observes you and your body language, vexation evident.

"You're not often correct, y/n, but I will give you credit about one thing." A retort looms on your lips, but he silences you with one look. "You are one of the few friends I have left." 

There's a brief moment where it all comes at you ridiculously hard, his unselfish words for once, not agitated or backhanded. Prowl woke you up so late because he couldn't stand to be alone with his rampaging thoughts anymore, putting it off as long as possible before it all boiled over in one fell swoop. It's why he's indignant and irate towards you, at least more than normal because he's trying to process something uncertain of how to proceed. You cock your head to the side, trying to read his well-stifled emotions, but it all comes back to one thing where you release a shaky laugh.

"You're an asshole." Your palm finds your forehead, smacking it with a guiltiness residing in your chest, but the insult this time is much less sincere. Prowl deserved it, he and you both knew he did, but you were blindsided by his vagueness and impromptu wanting to meet up. "I really do hate you."

"You say that as if I don't hear it every damn cycle," His unoccupied hand comes to your back, circling you leaving you no means to escape. "Old news, y/n."

"Are you going to say it, or are you going to make me?" You push away his digit as it smacks you, enough to say 'Cut it out'. 

"Pain in my aft." Prowl gravels, leaning forward to deposit a kiss on the crown of your head. "Don't expect a ride home, ungrateful brat."

You refuse to believe you're blushing, reduced to nothing, as Prowl just offered genuine affection and not a mean-spirited one. Feeling relief in the non-existent explanation and exchange of pitiful and disputatious words, it could only be described as the last puzzle piece finally slotting into place. 

"Kindly, shut the-" You're interrupted as he presses a benign digit over your lips, successfully silencing you, though you don't doubt that wouldn't have happened anyway, even without his assistance. Instead of fighting back, you pull away from his soft pressure to kiss the tip of his finger, letting your lips linger before a weary sigh escapes you.

"Are you wearing that petrolatum on your dermas?" Prowl spits with disgust, yanking his servo away. "You are, aren't you? You fragging gremlin."

You hate Prowl. He was selfish, infuriating, and generally unfriendly to everyone he's ever had the pleasure of meeting, but for some otherworldly reason, you found yourself attracted to his stupid face and his outwardly unlikeable personality. There was a mountain of gold buried under layers of hardened concrete and false promise, but you were up for the challenge if he would let you in. 

[bitchfitch]

Tbh this is more me bitching about once again wasting money on a game I probably won't be able to finish due to cripple-itus but we're going to pretend it's a serious discussion on game design.

So to preface: my vision is fucked. Irrevocably. Like get discounts on insurance levels of fucked. But games, even very difficult ones still Often very doable and fun.

One of my favorite genres is "white dot goes on a combat platforming adventure" Ie metroidvania/soulslikes that either Are hollow knight or heavily inspired by hollow knight

And I just want to compare a Good white dot, against an extremely irritating white dot.

This is yi. He is an edgy cat boy. he is a good white dot.

No matter the amount of bullshit on screen or the background color, you can always quickly find the white dot that is Yi or his lil robe.

This Bo. They are a bad white dot. they look like they'd be a Good white dot, what with the really clear silhouette of their ears and strong red markings

This is Bo in the game.

Bo breaks the number 1 rule of being a white dot: they end up the same color as the background because neat light effects which do look Great, were more important than the ability to find you're guy while doing minute long don't touch the ground style parkour sessions.

Like Hollowknight and Nine Sols, Path of the teal lotus uses a lot of forground and back ground layers to create a very nice sense of depth. However the foreground layers frequently completely cover the lower half of Bo's body. often making them a light colored dot on a noisy light colored back ground.

The fact background and play ground elements are often the same color does not help. Nor does the fact the camera is . Bad. it just is. It zooms in and out in the middle of a screen making it extremely difficult to keep track of an already hard to follow character in a setting where. losing track of your guy means getting sent back to the beginning of a tedious boss fight or a prolonged parkour session (which to be clear, would be good if you could track your player character. not the bosses though. They are. bad. they need to attack faster, have more than 2 attacks, or at least have a fraction of the HP they do. so you're not just standing around waiting for them to decide to start up another attack to open a vulnerability window.)

And I'm just going to say it, Someone on the team knew the game had this issue. Because they gave you a fix that doesn't work. You can adjust brightness, contrast, and saturation. None of these fix the issue of Bo disappearing. The game is so blown out that no combination of settings produce a result where bo is consistently visible, and also you can tell whats background and what's something you can stand on.

Anyways Demos are an accessibility feature, and when they're not available don't be lazy like I was and just pirate it. If the devs aren't going to give you a way to check if their shit is busted or not, you'll just have to find one yourself.

Anyways anyways tldr absolutely Gorgeous game, Should've been a silent animated movie instead because it's nearly unplayable and the translators either did a Really bad job, or the writers just didn't get why the jokes they're copying were funny

[brekitten]

The Therapist

There's a new therapist at school.

Normally this wouldn't really bother Peter at all, since he's never gone to see a shrink in his life and doesn't ever plan on it, but there's something... off about this woman.

She seems unassuming enough at first glance. Red hair, green eyes, bright red lipstick. But there is something in her eyes, something that Peter can only describe as a predator looking at its next prey, when she looks around the school at all of the teenagers milling about. Heck, even the way she walks makes her seem as if she is a predator stalking her prey.

It could always be some kind of power move, Peter reasons. He's met people like that before, who try to intimidate everyone around them into thinking that they are superior, that they are the apex predator and anyone who dares to cross them would pay for it dearly.

But his Spidey Sense went crazy around her.

He tries to brush it off as paranoia. He'd pulled an all-nighter last night in the lab with Tony because neither of them had been able to sleep, and he hadn't been sleeping well even before that. (Funny, how it had all started the night after he first bumped into the new therapist in the halls.) So his Spidey Sense is probably out of wack because he's tired. Simple as that.

But it seems like everyone in the school is depressed. Even Ned, who can't even muster up the energy and enthusiasm to talk about Legos or Star Wars or even the weather. It worries Peter.

Because it all started when that therapist came to the school.

He can't ignore it forever, he knows that. There is only so long his Spidey Sense can tell him that she is danger danger danger before he finally listens. He has to do something to help everyone.

So he researches.

And he falls into the rabbit hole of ghosts and ectoplasm and secret government organizations and the little, unassuming town of Amity Park, Illinois.

He doesn't sleep that night.

When he comes to school the next morning, Dr. Penelope Spectra looks him dead in the eyes, and smiles.

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Special angst. Featuring touch-starved Special, homemade quintessence fuckery and lore, basically Special can't touch anyone or they die, Omega and Delta try to help.

CW : Angst, like pretty heavy angst I think, Hurt/comfort, talk of death

Ghouls are social creatures. Not all to the same extend, not all in the same way, but the fact remains : ghouls thrive in eachother's company, in the knowledge that someone, somewhere, is waiting for them, ready to welcome them.

And, ghouls are physically affectionate, as a result of this need to be close and feel surrounded by loved ones. Of course, it's a generic rule, and it doesn't applie the same way to each individuals, but, most of the time, ghouls live off of casual touch, hand holding, hugs, cuddles, clasps on the shoulders, arms slung around waists, tails intertwining.

It's Satan's best joke, really, that Special can't even have that.

That he's so fucked up that not only no one bears to be in his presence, but he could also kill the poor ghoul who'd pity him enough to try and give him a hug.

Because Special's elements are all pulling him in different direction, trying to evade the too tight confine of his body, weak fire sorrowfuly begging to be smothered out, destructive quintessence furiously grasping at every bits of vital energy it can find, literaly sucking the life out of anyone stupid enough to have any kind of skin-to-skin contact with Special.

At least it's vaguely less awfull now that he managed to contain the devastating effect of his quintessence to his body - the screams of agony of the people who tried to approach him after his summoning, Omega's pained grunts as he backed away, the soft blanket he had held out for Special falling at his feet, the sheer terror on the ancient ghoul's face as he watched the humans unfortunate enough to be in Special's quintessence's range dropping like fly, oh, Special remembers it all so well.

Six Siblings died that way, simply because they were standing too close to him. Omega was, too, and is only alive because of his highly resistant nature, allowing him to stumble back in time.

It took weeks of sitting across from Omega, safe distance between them, training relentlessly to try and tame his quintessence, before Special could evolve around people without draining them. But it worked.

Provided he stays dressed head to toe, not a silver of skin showing, of course.

Special could, theoretically, be on the recieving end of ghoul's typical affection, the soft nudges, pats and caresses rythming their lives, long as no one makes contact with his skin, long as all those displays take place through a layer of clothing.

But then again, Special can't blame them for being wary, and prefering to stay away altogether. They're right, after all. You never know what might happen, if Special won't suddenly lose control and kill everyone in a three meters radius just by existing.

Special hasn't see anyone in days. Omega said he'd come by, but he hasn't yet. Special vaguely remembers something about Delta the...water ghoul, right ? Well, one of them anyway. There's a lot of those around, Special keeps forgetting who's who, doesn't see them enough to properly remember. He sticks to the dark corners, only goes out in the dead of the night, only watches the other ghouls from afar, except maybe for Omega.

But Omega's not here, hasn't been here for too long, busy taking care of Delta, whatever that means. Special wonders if he'll come back. Special wonders why he needs Omega to come to his room, why he can't bring himself to get up and go find the quint by himself. It's not like it's forbidden or anything. He just can't do it, the thought of opening his bedroom door in the middle of the day strictly unfathomable.

No, Special, at least during the day, needs someone to open it, someone to drag him outside if he really is needed, like for interviews, because apparently he's the only fucker who agreed to do them when neither Papa nor Omega are free.

A third choice, that would probably be even further down the list of candidates if it wasn't for his uncanny ability to entertain humans, with jokes and crudes, snarky remarks masking the cracks of his shattered soul.

So Special waits, sitting motionless in the middle of his bed. He hasn't seen anyone in days. He hasn't been touched since forever. No, that's not true. Omega cupped the back of his head the last time he was here, protected by the mask and balaclava Special always has to wears, and pressed a kiss to the metal covering his forehead.

It had nearly unraveld him.

Special doesn't know why Omega still bothers with him, what sick sense of responsability pushes the quint to visit Special as often as he can bear, why he insist on being so patient, so gentle, smiling with sadness in his eyes.

Special doesn't want pity. But he could never tell Omega not to come back.

His hair is getting too long. It's itchy in the back of his neck, keeps getting stuck in folds of fabric. Special shifts uncomfortably, thinking about stealing a pair of scissors and chopping it off himself. It's always a delicate task, cutting his hair : he's not good at it himself, but whenever Omega's doing it, he has to be extra cautious, avoiding any contact with Special's scalp, not even able to properly run his fingers through it. Special's hair is never perfect, always a bit messy, as a result, but now it's even worse.

He really needs Omega to come back.

It hits Special like a freight train.

He needs Omega to come back. He needs to hear his voice, to see the lines and creases on his face, the tired slope of his broad shoulders, the softness of his eyes. Special needs his tentative, fleeting touches, needs to talk to him, needs to be carefully held, even if it's all tainted with Omega's guilt, obligation and pity.

He needs to know Omega hasn't moved on, hasn't chalked him up as a lost cause, that Special hasn't lost the only comfort life ever granted him.

A knock startles him out of his thoughts, his whole being shaking with relief at the familiar pattern.

"Spesh ? Can I come in ?"

Special nearly sobs. His voice scratches in his throat.

"Yes."

Omega slips in the room. He's maskless, and Special drinks him in like a ghoul starved. He looks tired, like he hasn't slept in days, but. He's smiling. Omega is smiling, wide an bright, eyes gleaming. It makes Special's own lips pull in an unfamiliar direction, up up up, until concealed under the mask, his mouth weakly mimics Omega's.

"I have good news for you, Spesh. Really good news. Would you let me bring someone else in here ?"

Special visibly flinches, though still half frozen, cossed-legged on the bed. Omega's face softens in that way Special yearns for.

"It's okay, it'll be fine. I promise. Do you trust me ?"

Special doesn't need to think about the answer, nodding with more conviction than he ever displayed before. It gets a soft chuff out of Omega.

"Attaboy."

The quint moves with a grace Special envies, reaching for the door and opening it like it's the easiest thing in the world. Maybe, to him, it is.

The ghoul that steps in looks just as tired as Omega, if not more, but is also sporting a smile, hair an absolute mess, looking like it got chopped with absolutely no regard for the aesthetical result, as uneven as it is unruly.

"Spesh, this is Delta, remember ? Delta, this is Special."

Special blinks, unmoving as a statue, as he often is. Sometimes, he thinks that if he keeps perfectly still, the universe will forget that he is supposed to be, and simply let him stop existing.

Delta. Yes Special remembers. He doesn't smell like most water ghouls, though, it's quite disarming.

"Hello, Special," Delta breathes, barely above a whisper, "it's nice to officially meet you."

Unsure of what to do with that soft tone, with how genuine Delta apparently is, Special looks toward Omega, silently begging for guidance. The quint goes to sit next to him, one hand brushing his back ever so slightly. Special has to bite his tongue to contain a relieved whimper.

"He's here because we discovered something, and I have a theory," Omega explains.

Delta is standing straight, hands folded behind his back, withstanding Special's wary scrunity with an easy smile. Something about him is...off, Special notes. It's not necessarily bad, but it intrigues him.

Delta looks like a water ghoul. Blueish tint to his grey skin, gills, needle sharp fangs, webbed fingers, a few fish-like scales visible on his forearms. And yet...

Special doesn't realize he's leaning forward until Delta tilts his head in amusement. He leans back immediately, clasping his gloved hands tighter on his lap.

"I think," Omega goes on, "that he might be able to touch you without consequences."

It's instinctive, the way Special stiffens, shaking his head desperately at Omega, clearing his throat to find his voice again.

"No, no, no, Megs, it'll end up badly-"

"Listen- listen to me, Spesh, listen," Omega interrupts his panicked babbling, craddling his masked face between two big hands, "i'm not pulling this out of my ass, okay ? Delta here, well, we needed a new quintessence ghoul, at least for a little while, until we could summon a new one, and...Delta volunteer for an...elemental transition of some kind."

Special blinks, shaking in Omega's grip. Well, that explains the funny feeling, the strange scent.

"But...Delta's still water," Special rasps. Omega hums, nodding.

"Yes, but not exclusively. He's not...quintessence either. It's more like...he became a vessel quintessence can pass through. He can channel it from the outside, dig it from the source rather than something within him like us quintessence ghoul do, quite literaly pull it from thin air, let it flow through him, and release it."

Special frowns, trying to wrap his mind around all this.

"But...raw quintessence, the one that is everywhere, is impossible to access to unless you are a quint, because your quintessence connects you to it, opens you a door. Right ?"

It's more words than he's spoken in weeks outside of interviews, but excitement suddenly buzzes in his body, brain finally feeded something to think about, to analyse, to study. Special is a cerebral creature, no matter what people might thing, and such an incredible discovery makes him feel almost alive.

Omega laughs, a breathless, amazed little thing.

"I know. But, apparently, we managed to crack that door open for Delta. He doesn't have much control over the quintessence he releases, but it's enough for the Clergy, for now."

Special glances toward Delta from the corner of his eyes.

"That's...you wrote it down, right ? Records of this could be incredibly useful-"

The smile he gets makes Special's heart miss a beat. Omega looks so fond, so full of love, it's almost painful.

"I did. I'll hand you my notes. But, back to you. What your quintessence does, is devouring energy out of living things-"

Special hangs his head down, shame creeping up his spine, wrapping around his throat.

"Hey, none of that, Spesh," Omega soothes, pulling his head up by the metal point of the mask's chin, "let me finish. What if someone was full of an energy they can fully dispose of ? If someone could let your quintessence take without it harming them, that means they could touch you. Delta could touch you."

Special blinks.

"But...you can't touch me."

"Because your quintessence takes the one at my core - drains me dry of a source of power so entangled in my being that losing it would mean losing me. But Delta's quintessence doesn't come from him."

Slowly, Delta comes closer, kneeling by the bed, offering his bare hand to Special, smiling, and Special- can't understand why. Why anyone would willingly take such risks - first the attempted elemental transition, now this.

Omega brushes Special's shoulder.

"Please, try it. I know...how hard isolation is for you. Please, sparkle, try. If anything goes wrong i'll pull Delta away before any real damages can be done, I promise."

The coppery taste of blood hits Special's tongue, and it's the only reason he's aware he's biting his lip. Then Delta talks.

"I volunteered, Special. I know this is going to work. I trust Omega's theory, and. I think I can trust you, too."

This time Special does sob.

"If I hurt you..."

"You won't. Give me your hand, Special, it'll be okay."

And Special is terrified. Terrified that it won't work, that he'll hurt Delta, who seems the nicest ghoul you could ever wish for. Terrified that it'll work, that the one time he manages to touch someone without killing them will kill him, that all it would take would be a brush of skin against his own to destroy him.

Despite all that, Special slowly, oh so slowly takes one glove off, revealing too-pale skin and twitchy fingers. Delta' smile widens, then the air shifts a bit, starts blurring around him. One of his eyes turns purple, his skin shimering slightly.

"It's a bit like holding my breath," the water (?) ghoul explains, "i can't keep it for too long, maybe a couple of minutes, after, i have to release it. Open the valves, kind of. But, if I just keep them open, just let quintessence flow in and out freely, like this-"

Another shift in the air. The shimer on Delta's skin dims, his features relaxing.

"Then I can keep it that way as long as i like, effortlessly for the most part. That's how we can touch. I'm ready when you are."

He's going to do this. Special is going to do this. His hand is shaky when he wraps it loosely around Delta's - ready to pull away at any moment - but the second their skin makes contact, he gasps and can't help tightening it.

Delta doesn't flinch. His skin glints a bit more, but that's it. Special's quintessence is hungrily drinking in the one flowing though Delta, but he doesn't need it. He can let Special take it.

Salt. Salt on his tongue, now. Special is crying. Holding onto Delta's hand for dear life, shoulders shaking, Special is crying, the water ghoul shushing him softly, thumb drawing circles on the back of his hand.

Omega helps unclasping the mask, watching with tears of his own as Special takes it off, throws it somewhere, who cares, where the balaclava and second glove quickly follow.

Delta opens his arm, still not letting go. Special sobs so hard he's sure it's going to turn him inside out, slidding off the bed and into Delta's firm, tender embrace, burrying his face in the water ghoul's neck, finally able to touch, to feel, truly feel.

He can't see it, but Omega's crying in earnest now, Delta fighting tears as well.

Special isn't okay. Special might never be okay, Delta might be the only person he'll ever get to touch, it might stop working at some point, there might be a catch, but oh, Special doesn't care.

He'd trade his infernal eterinity for this moment in time, folded in arms that hold him like something precious.

[i-will-change-this-someday]

Saw a thing about Frankenstein where they were like “Victor’s so selfish, his family dies and he finds a way to make himself the victim.”

Am I crazy? Cause… Victor is the victim. Like I feel like that’s pretty clear, the Creature kills all of Victor’s loved ones to hurt Victor.

Obviously yes, William, Justine, Elizabeth, and Henry are all victims as well, but they’re not the target. Victor is the target, to the Creature the rest of them are just collateral damage.

[luifaro]

one thing i appreciate about the sadnesses is how they're so polite. like if i'm talking to my friends they'll just stand there and wait instead of continuing to chase me. i know this probably wasn't intentional and is just a side effect of cutscenes but it's still so funny bc today we were yapping and this sadness was behind us right. when we left the convo it just ran in the opposite direction instead of chasing so it looked like it wanted to join the conversation but got too scared and ran off instead...

anyways sadness ocs when!!!

EDIT: googled it and YEEAHH ODILE coming in clutch they're actually the remnants of people defeated by the king so yeah this idea actually makes sense (kind of)

[alichiraku]

Timeline - Iruka Umino

(I’ve just compiled information from various pre-existing timelines, so credits go to the Seelentau timeline and @keepyourpantsongohan​’s one!!)

I added events I thought relevant to Iruka’s story (whether because it impacted Konoha or Iruka personally). I calculated the ages by taking the Databook ages and correlating them with the first appearances in the manga which is why it sometimes differs from the other timelines (ex: Yugao is said to be 22 in the first Databook, but her birthday is on November 3rd, and her first apparition is during the Chūnin exams in July-August. Therefore, I consider her to have turned 22 the year before). 

I’ve checked this timeline a few times, but there may still be errors (or simplifications), so don’t hesitate to point them out and I’ll correct them!

Year 0 : Iruka is born (May 26).

Kohari and Ikkaku Umino are 34-35.

The Third Shinobi War begins. Around this year, Kushina (13-14) is kidnapped by shinobi from Kumo and rescued by Minato (13-14).

September 15 : Kakashi turns 5.

Kakashi becomes Genin.

Year 1 : 

May 26 : Iruka turns 1.

September 15 : Kakashi turns 6.

Kakashi becomes Chūnin.

Year 2 : 

May 26 : Iruka turns 2.

Sakumo Hatake (around 40) commits suicide.

Kakashi’s generation becomes Genin : Genma (10), Guy (7), Ebisu (10), Shizune (10), Asuma (9), Kurenai (9).

Year 5-6 :

Iruka Umino enters the Academy.

Sasuke enters the Academy at 5 and Itachi at 6. Given that war wages during Iruka’s childhood, I chose to make him enter around this age instead of later, but we have no way to confirm this.

Year 8 :

October 24 : Anko turns 10.

Anko becomes Genin.

Year 9 :

 The Third Shinobi World War ends on an armistice between Konoha and Iwa, Minato becomes Hokage.

Minato is 23, Kohari and Ikkaku are 43-44.

Year 9-10 : Births of the Rookie Nine. 

Year 10 : 

May 26 : Iruka turns 10.

October 10 : Naruto’s birth ; Kurama is freed by Obito and attacks Konoha ; death of Kohari (45) and Ikkaku (45), as well as Minato (24), Kushina (24), Biwako (55) and many others. 

Iruka’s experience of this night is depicted several times in both manga and anime, which explains the slight contradictions. The last version of the event in the manga is probably the most accurate.

Chapter 1 : Iruka is forcefully taken away from the battlefield by an unknown shinobi as he screams that his parents “are still fighting”, although it’s unclear whether he knows this for a fact or is simply in denial.

Rookie Instructor fillers : Kohari wears the traditional Konoha uniform instead of the later grey ANBU-like one (it may be attributed to Iruka’s faulty memory of the event). Iruka is sheltered with other children away from the battlefield but is implied to have escaped when he learns that the squad where his parents were fighting has been decimated. This is the last flashback we have of the event and the anime seems to imply Iruka didn’t get to see his parents again.

Chapter 503 : Kohari wears a grey uniform. She’s already on the brink of death as Ikkaku orders Iruka to flee the battlefield. Similarly to Chapter 1, Iruka is then forcefully taken away despite his protests.

The anime later faithfully animated this scene and its chronology.

October 24 : Anko turns 12.

Anko becomes Chūnin.

The Academy having been destroyed in the Kurama attack, the learning conditions of this year’s students are unclear

Year 11 :

During this year : death of Might Duy (35) protecting Guy (15), Genma (17) and Ebisu (17).

Flashbacks of Iruka joking around to amuse his comrades.

May 26 : Iruka turns 11.

June 9 : Itachi turns 7.

Itachi becomes Genin.

Around this time, flashback with Hiruzen in front of the tombstone. Hiruzen says “It’s been a year” in the English version (indicating this is after the anniversary of the attack) but “It will be a year soon” in the French version (putting the scene before the anniversary). 

November 2nd : Hayate turns 12.

Hayate becomes a Genin (ID 011671)

Iruka becomes a Genin (ID 011850).

November 3rd : Yūgao turns 11.

Possibly in the same promotion [ Ninja ID indicates that they graduated after Iruka ] : Yoroi Akado (11), Iwashi (11), Izumo (12), Kotetsu (13) 

Possibly in the same promotion [ No ninja ID, but same age as Iruka ] : Santa Yamanaka, Maen Nara, Iroha Hyūga

Year 12 :

November 2nd : Hayate turns 13.

Hayate becomes Chūnin.

Year 14 :

February 29 : Kabuto turns 10.

Kabuto becomes Genin (ID 012140).

Yugao (13 or 14) becomes Genin (ID 012161).

June 9 : Itachi turns 10.

Itachi becomes Chūnin.

Year 16 : 

April : Sasuke (5) enters the Academy, Itachi (10) becomes ANBU.

May 26 : Iruka turns 16.

Iruka becomes Chūnin. 

July 23rd : Sasuke turns 6.

October 10 : Naruto turns 6.

Year 16-20 :  Iruka (16-20) becomes a teacher at the Academy (in this post, I tried to pinpoint at what age Iruka might have become a teacher).

Year 18 :

 Itachi (13) and Obito (22-23) massacre the Uchiha clan.

Sasuke is 7, Mikoto is 35, Fugaku is 40.

The event happens between the 9th of June (Itachi’s 13th birthday) and the 23rd of July (Sasuke’s 8th birthday).

Academy days : Iruka teaches Naruto, Shikamaru, Chōji and Kiba the leaf exercice ; flashback of the Academy fight between Naruto and Sasuke 

Year 22 :

May 26 : Iruka turns 22. 

Year 23 :

Naruto Part I begins. 

January 1st : Guy turns 26.

January : events of the first chapters. Naruto (12) discovers he is the host of Kyūbi during the incident with Mizuki (27).

May 26 : Iruka turns 23.

June 11th : Kurenai turns 27.

June 24 : Hiruzen announces the upcoming Chūnin exams. All 3 rookie jōnin-sensei enter their students despite Iruka’s protests. 

The Chūnin exams begin on the 1st of July and end on the 1st of August. Orochimaru attacks Konoha.

August 3rd : Funeral for the Third Hokage

Following the destruction of Konoha, every shinobi (including teachers) has to get back in the field and take missions again.

Unclear for how long: in the third Databook, Iruka has completed 3 additional D-rank, 5 C-rank and 16 B-rank missions before being back at the Academy.

End of the year : Naruto and Sasuke fight at the Valley of the End, Sasuke leaves Konoha to join Orochimaru, Naruto leaves with Jiraiya.

Year 25 : The Konoha 11 become Chūnin.

Year 26 :

Naruto (15) and Jiraiya come back to Konoha.

May 26 : Iruka turns 26.

Year 27 :

Pain attack on Konoha.

October 8 : The Third Shinobi War begins ; Iruka goes to Island Turtle to try and keep Naruto out of the war. 

Morning of October 10 : The War ends, everyone awakes from the Infinite Tsukuyomi.

Naruto discovers he has to take classes for two years with Iruka’s help.

Year 28 : Kakashi (32) becomes Hokage ; Sasuke (18) leaves Konoha.

Year 29 : Events of Naruto: The Last.

Year 30 :

Some time before the wedding, Naruto asks Iruka to stand as his father at the wedding.

Naruto and Hinata’s wedding.

March 27 : Boruto is born.

Year 31-39 : At some point, Iruka (31-39) becomes Headmaster of the Academy. 

Year 32 : Himawari is born.

Year 35 : Naruto (24-25) becomes Hokage.

Year 39 :

End of the year : Chapter 700, epilogue. 

Iruka is 39.

Year 42 : Boruto’s generation (12) graduates.

At some point, Iruka takes care of Sarada while Sasuke and Sakura are on a mission ; he teaches her how to cook? I honestly have no idea when the novels happen and what’s going on in them and at this point I’m too afraid to ask. 

Don’t even ask me about Boruto. 

From left to right : 5-10 yo ; 10 yo (Kurama attack) ; 10-11 yo (Academy) ; 10-11 yo (Academy) ; 12-16 yo (before or newly Chūnin) ; 16-20 yo (young teacher) ; 22 yo (Part I) ; 26-27 yo (Pain attack) ; 27 yo (Fourth Shinobi War) ; 29-30 yo (Naruto’s wedding) ; 39 (Chapter 700)

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

For anyone annoyed by the Tumblr changes, if you're on desktop I would recommend using XKit Rewritten (and New XKit for any other odd changes you'd like to try out, including even older aspects of Tumblr). It's the older version of Rewritten but most of the extensions on it are still supported/do work). I can't guarantee they'll definitely make a fix for it/a direct fix for this particular UI change, but it's possible that they might since they usually make extensions that allow you to essentially revert changes made to the UI. Other various UI extensions (such as old ones from Tumblr's past UIs that the extensions basically just revert you to) may also help fix up your UI.

As you might expect these extensions need to be on to work/revert the appearance of the UI (so if you turn them off you'll revert to the current state of Tumblr), but while they are on you can curate your UI to look how you want it. This goes for both New XKit and XKit Rewritten. I use both and I couldn't live without them lol. You can get some big oldies of Tumblr's, like classic search on Rewritten or the Tweaks extension (full of various UI tweaks) on New XKit (including the old shade of blue Tumblr used a long time ago that I never stopped using!).

Unfortunately I don't know of any solution for mobile if it affects mobile at any point (or if it already has), but whenever you're on desktop, I would definitely recommend both these versions of XKit. I have so many extensions from them that I often don't even realize when there are UI changes (remember how Tumblr added themes for your dashboard? I didn't even notice for the longest time because I've had New XKit on the whole time) because Tumblr's default coding is overwritten by the extensions I have on.

[memento-morri-writes]

It's been well over a week now (maybe two??) but I'm still plugging away (ever-so-slowly) at this vignette about Zara and Rook. Zara's POV is a lot of fun to write, now that I have a better sense of her character. Writing this has really solidified in my mind the kind of person she is and how she acted when she was Rook's captain and mentor. She's very calm and collected in comparison to Rook, even when under a lot of stress.

Anyways, have a little snippet that I'm proud of from today, featuring the origins of the coin trick!

Pacing back and forth across her cabin floor, she rolled the coin back and forth over her knuckles again and again. The motion was easy, almost mindless, more muscle memory than real intent. The coin trick had been her favorite way to soothe her nerves for years now. She’d picked it up out of idle curiosity after watching a street performer dining in a tavern in Bon Largo, who had chatted with her for over an hour as she fretted about something mundane, never once dropping the coin from their fingers. The same performer had later tried to steal her coin purse and ended up with nothing but a new scar for their trouble, but Zara had learned two important things from the encounter: Not to trust a warm smile and a pretty face, and that keeping her hands moving kept her mind from dwelling too much on worrisome things.

one-time tagging @space-writes because they commented on my tags about Rook learning the coin trick from Zara in one of my other snippets from this piece.

[sysig]

Cool guys, measured in C° (Patreon)

[hussyknee]

Day probably-twenty-something-time-isn't real: this flare is not going the fuck away. Still shitting blood. Meds aren't helping. Getting less able to stomach anything. Pain is getting worse. Can barely stand long enough to shower. Probably time to do a blood test and go to the doctor now.

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

So you know how there's three in-game days per real-world hour in Minecraft? For fanfiction purposes, I started making some notes and doing calculations to figure out how that would translate into things like how long was each Hermitcraft season and Life series in in-game time. You know, things normal people think about at 4 am.

And my results probably aren't anywhere near exact, because trying to hold numbers and calculations in my head is ridiculously difficult and I'm sure I've done something wrong somewhere, but they're close enough for my purposes.

But anyway, when you're writing pining and perceived-unrequited love, looking at it in terms of in-game time puts a WILDLY different spin on things, yikes.

[juicydangler]

oh yeah, foreshortened future is a whole thing with PTSD, can also occur with depression and possibly as a downstream effect of time blindness in ADHD (although find me a person with ADHD who isn't traumatised, we have confounding factors here) and it's why I can get snarly about people telling me to live for today, you could die tomorrow, yolo, live like you're gonna die young, etc. bc worrying about or planning for the future is actually a positive sign that I can conceive of a future at all and I worked really hard on that. Not being able to believe that I might survive has actually had ruinous impacts on my entire life and I don't appreciate anyone trying to undermine my efforts to repair it no matter how well-meaning.

The thing that made a tangible difference for me (YMMV) is writing my tomorrow-self a note before I go to bed every night. It's not exactly leaving myself a to-do list, although it usually includes reminders of things that need doing, and it's not journaling although it often includes reflections on the day I just had, it's more like a short letter addressing myself tomorrow as someone who will in fact exist. Like, my particular case was severe enough that waking up every day was kind of a surprise (at some points severe enough that going to bed was too, like what do you mean a whole day happened and I'm still here) so that's how small I had to start, but over time making regular efforts to see the next day as a reality I will probably have to deal with has allowed the growth of a longer sense of my own existence into the future, now I can almost imagine a whole year of existing, even if it gets a bit blurry after about three to six months. As a result I can sometimes do things like preventative care, maintenance, make and keep multiple appointments, deal with things before they become a crisis, finish projects that take more than a few hours, file paperwork on time, you know, live like I might actually live.

love ppl online being like "ur literally 30" like do u think thats not gonna happen to you??

[rivilu]

Wait. Logistically speaking. Would Elluin even know how to read.