#i enjoy when one character is reluctant and one character is completely avoidant bc i am conflict avoidant myself lmao

[mars-ipan]

i’ve realized i have a favorite communication dynamic in my ships

characters talk about their feelings and communicate effectively from day one- 👎👎👎👎 boring bad nothing of substance here. also 99% chance they would not fucking say that

characters never talk about anything and when the miscommunication comes to a head it gets moved on from without proper resolution- 👎👎👎👎 also bad where’s my growth. where’s my closure. continuity please

characters try to talk it out and are bad at it- ok we’re getting somewhere. this is a start

character A does Not want to have the feelings conversation but also knows that if the conversation is not had it will probably end up killing one of them eventually. character B would actually rather risk death than have the conversation but A has given them no choice- PEAK. NO NOTES. GROWTH SUCKS TO DO AND IS UNCOMFORTABLE BUT WE DO IT ANYWAYS. FUCK YEAH

[the-finch-address]

Tag: Word Find

Tagged by @sharraus! Thank you!!

tHO isn’t at the stage where I can find half of these words in a comprehensible state since most of it is Draft 1 gibberish. So instead I’m using the opportunity to write something new for each prompt; some being canon from the book and others just standing as an excuse to write the characters interacting. Bc of this the length got a bit......Out Of Hand. Sorry about that. Putting it all under the read more so I don’t bombard anyone’s dashboard

> Prompt: Work [Note; This occurs years before the plot begins]

Vestiel ran his fingers through the grass and picked at early yellow blooms. The harsh clang of metal against wood echoed around him, the sounds of the forest easily lost behind it.

“Can we go home soon?” he whined, “I’m so hungry I could eat a bear.” His bottom lip is brought between his teeth, and he waits. Clang. Clang. Clang. “Please?”

The axe stills. Andi turns, wiping the sweat from his brow while fitting Vestiel with a look. Magpies trill in the wake of his silence, the flutter of fallen leaves following the breeze. Andi straightens his back. “Silas won’t have finished dinner yet, lad, the sun’s still well up the sky.” He answers, looking annoyed, “We’ve plenty of light to finish this up first. Fill the baskets if you’re so restless.”

He reaches for the axe again. The disappointment must have shown on Vestiel’s face, though, since the tool remains lodged, and Andi continues to look distracted. He knew the boy was too young to understand how important this work was, how it kept them warm and fed. He couldn’t blame a child for prioritizing an empty stomach over harsh and thankless labor. Still, that morning’s storm had downed too many trees to not take advantage of. It had to be done.

“Tell you what,” Andi resigns himself, a weary smile lifting his eyes, “I’ll let you do a few strokes, but Vestiel-”

The boy is already up and on his feet, dandelions forgotten in the sunken spots of grass where his legs had crossed, “You mean it?” He brightens, “I can do it all by myself?”

“Listen to me,” Andi lifts a hand, demanding attention, while the other remains on the hilt, “you’ll start with the axe wedged in and bring them down together-” he offers a stern look, “--and I don’t want to hear any complaints. This is your first time, I don’t want you lopping off a toe or, North forbid, a whole foot. You need a feel for the tool before you do anything else.”

Vestiel acknowledges this with a hasty nod, the muttered agreement of “Yeah, yeah, sure” crossing his lips, hand already reaching for the axe.

Andi comes between him with a harsher expression than before, eyebrows raised expectantly. Vestiel lets out a sigh.

“The axe will start in the wood. Got it.” The impatience hasn’t fully left his tone, but it’s an improvement, and Andi appears content by it.

The wood is already a narrowed size when the axe is driven through its flesh. The blade settles halfway down the block and wedges itself firmly along the grain with little resistance, just on the edge of splitting. He brings it to Vestiel, who takes the closer end of the block with his left hand and the hilt with his right.

“Now, you’ll want to bring it down towards the back of the splitting block,” Andi starts, “Make sure you do so with both hands together, or you’ll only-”

Clang. Vestiel opens his eyes, already knowing that Andi is going to ring his neck for having closed them in the first place. All is forgotten at the sight of the severed wood, though, and he can’t help but be excited with the results. It isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s his, and he’s no less proud of it despite his brother's hand-holding. He looks to Andi in hopes of praise.

“Mother’s grief, Vestiel, have some patience!” Is the chastised response he receives instead. “You couldn’t have at least waited for me to finish?”

Vestiel makes a sour face. “I did it fine, didn’t I?” He retorts, “Isn’t that good enough?”

Andi raises a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose, a long and tired breath escaping him. After a minute of patience himself he’s able to give Vestiel the reaction he was looking for. A smile, small but proud. “It’s not bad for your first time,” he says, “but you’re going to need more practice, and patience, than that if you want to hack apart whole trees in a few years.”

He extends a hand to bring Vestiel near, pulling him snug against his side. “You did well.” Andi continues, “but, lad,” his voice lowers to a stern whisper, and

Vestiel pales, “If I ever see your eyes closed with an axe in hand again, you’ll sweep the whole corridor. Twice.”

He swallows harshly and answers only with a nod. The pride blooming in his chest doesn't falter.

> Prompt: Weather

The evening sky flashes white, casting shadows across paintings framed in gold and goblets of silver. Across the room, Caprice of the North hunches over a desk painted in candlelight. He draws a finger across the map in study of its various routes and borders, frowning. Behind him, thunder crashes down. He flinches. Pitiful.

Shaking away the thought, the young deliverer refocuses. His back arches further towards the desk until braided locks of gold spill over onto the wood. Especially now, as he squints in the darkness of his shadow, does he wish this dreaded storm had chosen another night. It brought a miserable chill to his bones despite the grizzly pelt draping heavily over his shoulders and brought an ache to his bones.

Lightning comes again, its brilliant light cutting into the room with the swiftness of a sword’s blow. Capri anticipates it this time. When thunder claps against his window he’s decisively ready for it, his knuckles gone white against clenching fists. He can’t stop their trembling no matter how tightly he’s squeezing.

A knock at the door sends him out of his skin.

Like a sharp wound, the anticipation drives him into a panic. Young flesh grasps aimlessly for a new frame to stretch into, finding nothing but mortal bones. By the time the door swings open he is straightened, remembering a human form, begging the drum within his heart to settle.

Silence greets him. A form approaches from the doorway and draws towards the light, illuminating their features quick enough that Caprice’s hand stills where it rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Dove?” He relaxes and lets himself breathe, forcing air into his lungs with more effort than is needed. “I thought you were with Eivind."

“He was needed elsewhere,” Dove signs. His hands portrayed a sense of disappointment where one couldn’t be seen in his expression, brown eyes seeming indifferent.

Caprice looks away shamefully, “You didn’t have to come,” he says.

“I wanted to.”

His gaze again lifts to meet the other with only a grunt, reluctant to answer in words for fear that his voice might betray him.

Light consumes the room with blinding force and concurrently Caprice’s hand reaches blindly for the edge of the desk to ground himself. It’s silly, he thinks, ruined pride staining his cheeks red. Internally he’s counting the seconds as they go by, steeling himself.

Dove reaches for him--

Capri recoils just as thunder cracks and booms overhead. The approach was too quick, well-meaning as it may have been. Dove understands the reaction. He reads Caprice as well as the noble reads his sign.

The thrashing of rain fills the aching silence and neither of them dares interrupt it. Seconds pass by without distraction until Dove again extends his hand forward. He moves slower than he has to under the young emperor’s weary gaze as though addressing a wounded animal.

When Caprice notices it’s not without backlash. His eyes turn hard, looking fussed. His nails dig into the wood beneath them until angry lines form on the underside of the desk and pain shoots up his fingers.

Dove’s palm settles over his hand, squeezing.

He flinches but can’t bring himself to shake the man away. The silence between them stretches on unbearably after, broken only by the rain. He releases the desk and turns his palm face up, intertwining their fingers wearily. “Thank you.” He whispers.

When the thunder comes this time, he doesn’t flinch.

Prompt: Help

Vestiel’s heartbeat thuds like thunder roaring inside his ears. He stares with too much intent at the earth beneath his worn shoes, doing his best to concentrate on the hole boring over the space near his toes.

Much to his dismay, Fannar-Haise appears to notice.

She carries herself past the snow huts and politely cuts through the crowd, stepping lightly around the fire and between celebrants, their songs alight with a different kind of flame.

Vestiel can’t hear them past his own thoughts. Get out, get out, get out. He forces some semblance of greeting out as she approaches but can’t manage to look her in the eyes. It’s hard most days, but especially now.

“Enjoying the party?” She asks, making no mention of the answer being pretty obvious. The smile on her lips is pitying, judgemental at worst, he just knows it. He can’t bear to lift his chin and see. If Andi were here he could explain himself easily but, as it was, he was going into this situation alone. Completely, utterly alone.

“Yeah,” he lies, “just tired from all the traveling.”

It’s a witless excuse and she knows it. Instead of pointing it out, though, she only offers a shake of her head. There’s a lot to say about communication and Fannar-Haise considers herself an expert on the subject. She watches him fumble about; the trouble in getting his tongue to do its job sticking out to her as sorely as the restless, rhythmic tap of his hand against his hip and the blatant avoidance of eye contact. It answered her question more than his words could, and that was okay.

“You’re overwhelmed,” she nods to herself this time, having seemingly come to a conclusion all on her own, “Let me help. You don’t have to answer with words, a nod will do just fine. Can you walk?”

Vestiel squints at the sole of his shoes, looking confused, then apprehensive, “I’m-”

Silence. No matter how hard he pries, not a single word comes loose from his tongue. The thoughts are there and plentiful, excuses and apologies, maybe something more, fastened tightly like honey coating his throat and hidden away between his ribcage, leaving him breathless and useless.

His chin tilts upward, lips parting, but he can’t manage it. Instead, he allows himself the nod she had been looking for.

“Good. That’s good. We’re going to go somewhere quiet and after that you can tell me what you want to do. Can I touch your hand?”

She patiently waits for the resulting, albeit cautious nod, and takes his hand within her own.

She guides him past the bustling scene like this. As they reach a distance where the noise has muffled he finds it in himself to speak again. It’s slow, at first, allowing his mind time to find the right words. “How did you know?”

Calmly she turns her gaze from the sky, not looking directly at him but rather just past where he stands. There isn’t a soul there when Vestiel follows her gaze over his shoulder, but he’d only half expected one. Andi had learned with time not to stare too long; something told him Haise was just as quick of a learner.

“Call it a hunch,” she hums, “I’ve experienced my fair share of things, Vestiel. This isn’t new or strange, it’s just you.” She pauses to face him, eyes still averted. He returns the favor and looks at her nose like it’s his only salvation, seconded only by the sight of his snow hut in the distance and the soft murmur becoming of the crowd ever fading behind them.

“Besides,” she continues, “these celebrations aren’t a requirement by any standard. They’re here to bring happiness. If something causes you to be unhappy you have no obligation to stay. If you need to step away, I will understand. We will always understand.”

Vestiel doesn’t know what to say when they reach the entrance. Despite her words, he can’t help but feel a wave of guilt wash over him for having both left the celebration early-- a celebration of his arrival, no less--and now, leaving their leader at the door.

She picks up on this, too.

“I’m going to head back to the others for a while longer. You can join us if you’re feeling up to it, or you can stay here and get some rest. Don’t overthink it, okay?”

Her warmth is everything to him, more grounding than a hole in his shoe could ever be. He wants her to know, wants to find the right words to explain how much her actions mean to him, but there isn’t an easy way to go about it without making a greater fool of himself. He answers with a weak smile and a simple, “Okay”, the best he can offer in way of thanks.

She matches his smile and bids him goodnight.

Prompt: Hope

The scent of leather tanning above flame clings to his nostrils. It fills him with a sense of despair unlike any other, weighing different from the miserable few weeks he’d spent mourning Andi, even. Putrid, a nauseating sort of agony like snakes writhing and tearing at his stomach. Burning. Burning. Burning.

The forest was ablaze. That was all he could possibly know, here in the dark. Shadows drove past him in a stampede of bodies carving through the night, survived only by a name and footprints worn into the poaching grounds.

He scares awake. Stars wink faintly above him, hidden behind the morning sun.

“Bad dream?”

Tupelo’s voice startles him a second time from where he lay, their trek up the hill all but forgotten until that point.

Vestiel slowly drags himself into a sitting position with a grunt of effort. Sweat collects at his jaw, cold against his cheeks. He licks his lips and tastes salt.

“A fire, just to the north of here-- tonight maybe--the forest, the people-”

Tupelo tends to the campfire, looking drained. It was suddenly apparent neither of them had slept well. “The forest?” they ask with a shake of their head, “Not to the north, yet.”

“Yet?”

Vestiel draws his shirt away and uses the

bottom corner to dry his face. Goosebumps still clinging to his arms, the memory remaining like a fresh wound.

“You don’t have to believe me,” he says, “I can’t explain it to you and if I do, you’ll just think I’ve gone strange. I’m only asking that you take me north of here.”

He reaches for the map tucked inside his rucksack, spilling a few more items in the process, “It shouldn’t be too far off from where we’re going already. I’ll show you.”

Tupelo is quick to rest their hand against his wrist with a sympathetic, albeit calm look on their face. “We’ll go.” They assure him, pointing to the north. “If it’s important.”

_________________________________

It quickly becomes evident that Tupelo is just as ill-equipped for this kind of travel as Vestiel. For as nimble as they are the hill obviously called for a different kind of strength. The original path would have taken them up and around, but this new direction was a straight shot to the north, uphill for the better half of it.

Tupelo watches Vestiel out of the corner of their eye, checking up on him every now and then as though waiting for Vestiel to change his mind, or hoping he’ll get around to it if they climb for long enough.

However, Vestiel remains steadfast in the endeavor, eyes locked on the horizon. He’s certain of what he saw, having learned to trust the dreams long ago, and he had no plans to stop now. The smell of burning flesh still lingered undeniably.

“We’re almost there.” Tupelo breaks the silence.

“Finally,” he gasps, “I don’t think my legs can go on for much longer.”

He can feel it already. The weight of the earth shifting beneath his feet, a familiar pressure that seeps into his bones, pungent smoldering inside his nostrils once more. “It’s right over here,” he drags himself the last few feet to the summit, “It’s-”

Dead. Every tree, every blade of grass, the entire opposite face of the hill lie dusty and black, an empty expanse of burnt trunks where the forest should have been.

Tupelo comes up beside him.

“What happened here?” Vestiel gasps in disbelief, “I was sure-- my dreams have never lied, not once before. Were we too late?”

“Your soul tells stories, not prophecies.” Tupelo answers, “Father told me you can hear them.”

“Them?”

“The spirits,” they gesture to the barren woods, “they speak because they know you will listen. Come.”

Vestiel follows their lead. Dry grass crunches underfoot as they descend the hill. Patches of green pop up here and there, but aren't constant and don’t compare to the full weight of the forest that should have been in its stead. It’s a sight he feels the need to grieve over as though his own soul were tied to the scorched land. The thought scares him.

Tupelo steps ahead and crouches to their knees, hands smoothing over a ring of stones that would have gone unseen had they not brought attention to it. Wordlessly, they pull the canteen from its strap and let the remainder of its water drip out.

Vestiel inches closer now. He kneels beside the other, “What is it?”

Tupelo sits back on their heels, palms opening to show a young sapling, green and healthy, standing tall, small as it may be. It rests in a forgotten graveyard.

“A tree?” Vestiel reaches for it and thumbs carefully along the juvenile bark. “What is one tree to an empty field?”

Tupelo cradles the sapling fondly. “Hope.”

_________________________________

I'm tagging @faenova @squid-scribe @zmlorenz @ashen-crest @henrike-does-writing-sometimes and @sharraus (can I tag the tagger? I'm doing it anyway)

Your words are Drenched, Gather, Cradle, and Howl

[ravenpaw-93]

I have no self control. At all.

Ad Meliora started out as a cute, quick one-shot idea like 10k words at most. Thennn I fucked around and got attached to the characters and then the storyline just expanded. Long story short it has now developed into what I'm thinking will be multi chapter, at least 2 part series. I already have like 17k words and that's only like a 1/4 of the story. I already have one WIP with Don't Let Me Go so Ad Meliora will probably not go up on AO3 until Part I is completely done. I'll, of course, continue sharing little snippets here on Tumblr though.

I just thought I would share the basic idea behind the story since I've shared a couple of excerpts so far.

So this isn't quite a Muggle AU but the vast majority takes part in the Muggle World because Harry and Draco both, sort of isolated themselves from the Wizarding World. Harry is still pretty fucked up from all the trauma in his life even with 4 years of therapy. He leaves London in 1999 and spends 3.5-4 years traveling the country pretty much avoiding his problems. He decides he wants to come back to London and really try to get his shit together and figure out what he wants to do with his life. A month after his return he runs into Draco. Draco is a bit more together than Harry. He's kind of worked through the trauma already but he still craves acceptance. The Wizarding world never accepted him after the war, his father never accepted him period, and while Narcissa makes an effort she still holds onto the hope that Draco will come to his senses and be the Malfoy son he was expected to be. He wants someone to accept him for who he is, smart mouthed, blue haired, tatted and pierced, dog and music obsessed, with a serious sugar addiction, and not try to change him into who they want him to be.

So the story will follow them through the initial reconnection when Harry moves back, to this like instant friendship that's easy and fun (with lots of UST bc it's Drarry, I mean come on) to this reluctant, delicate relationship and all the personal growth and healing they go through during this. And aside from just the relationship theres like this shift where they both kind of come in to who they are and really start to figure out themselves and what they want from life. Featuring rescue dogs, lots of early 2000s Pop-Punk rock music references, snarky but sweet Tiny Gay Punk, Draco and an extremely guarded and vulnerable but still fiercely loyal Harry.

I am so excited about this story. I have honestly fallen in love with these characters. I'm enjoying writing it so much and I can't wait to share more with everyone 🖤

[codenamesailordarillium]

I just stumbled across your tumblr & saw the thing where you said you don’t mind random asks, so I hope this ones ok: I got into DW over the past year & am now hardcore RiverDoctor. Unfortunately it seems like I’ve arrived to the party about 10 years late. Which means I stumbled across the section of the fandom that hates on THoRS bc 12 wasn’t “River’s Doctor” & 11 didn’t get to take her to Darillium for the first time today... Would you have any thoughts on that whole thing?

Wow…well, first I wanna say it’s always great to have new people on board. I know it might seem like you’ve gotten into it too late in the game, but trust me, new people in our corner in the fandom are always welcome (as with any fandom, of course). Feel free to send asks gushing about it to people, I’m sure fellow shippers would be happy to welcome you with open arms. ^_^

As for the rest well…this is gonna get long and probably have the potential to piss certain ppl off bc I have Opinions™, so gonna put the rest of this under a cut.

Hoo boy…yeah, 11/River *ONLY* shippers. See, the thing was, initially, back in late 2013/early 2014, when we were fresh off of Matt’s regeneration ep and all, I could sympathize to a certain degree with ppl who were sad about him leaving and were reluctant to see River/Alex with 12/Peter because it wouldn’t be the same or whatever. I didn’t agree personally (tho initially I was p bummed about Matt leaving, Peter started winning me over real quick not long after he was announced), but I understood that people have a certain attachment to characters and specific dynamics shippy or otherwise. 

But to me, River was always the priority when regarding my interest in DW, and I wanted to see more of her in the show again, regardless of which Doctor it was with. I didn’t like how abruptly Moffat decided to end her story, just because the majority of the big reveals unfolded with Matt as the Doctor and suddenly because he and Karen and Arthur weren’t gonna be on the show anymore it meant Alex had to go as well. That didn’t really seem fair to River as a character, ‘cause it felt like we’d only been shown the bare bones of her story, her background/origin, her getting married to the Doctor, and then her dying. It didn’t feel right for her to just…not be there all of a sudden. Certain episodes (and lbr character dynamics) during series 8 and 9 would have probably benefited from her presence (off the top of my head I’d say Time Heist, how the hell did this show have a heist episode with no River using her time-traveling archaeologist sleuthing skills, like dafuq).

So…pre-THoRS, the Doctor/River fandom after Peter took over the role was a bit of a mixed bag. There were the people who only wanted River with 11 and just angsting in general because there wasn’t gonna be any more of that, but there also was a significant bunch of us who were DEEP into wanting River & 12 to happen. People were still in the fandom, writing fic, drawing fanart, what have you, probably at a slower rate than they had previously, but there was still stuff being put out there, simply because we wanted to entertain what that hot Capalston Sex Storm chemistry might look like. So when news of THoRS suddenly hit us in the face like…

…needless to say, a good number of us were suddenly stoked, new life had been breathed into the fandom and there was pretty much constant excited yelling for like the three and a half-ish months after it was announced. Once the episode finally came out and Darillium got switched from that big dreadful moment where River’s story turned tragic (well, even more tragic than it already was) to literally the most warm and fuzzy soft 24 years of domestic marital bliss for River, there were diverging opinions.

Post-TNotD the fandom had come up with all these headcanons about 11 having lost River directly after losing the Ponds, which was why he was up on that cloud for a century and the generally accepted consensus was that Darillium had to have happened with 11. Admittedly, it doesn’t really paint 11 in the best light after the fact that he seemed to have tried dying on Trenzalore without ever having taken River to Darillium like he’d promised. But, looking back, a lot of 11 & River’s relationship as it was depicted in series 5 & 6 was fraught with emotional hurt on River’s end, so for me personally (and some others), it didn’t really seem entirely out of character for 11 once we really started thinking about it. 

Really, it’s more complicated because of the nature of TV and how with a show like DW it’s really impossible to plan out these big story beats ahead of time with different Doctors. Moffat initially tried getting David to stay an extra season after RTD left, and had David said yes, that means a good chunk of River’s story would have unfolded with 10. It kinda just ends up being a case of who’s currently part of the cast and how can we mold this particular part of the story around them. By the time Steven decided on the way in which he wanted to show Darillium unfold, Matt was already gone, so it had to happen with Peter.

(And I mean, if you wanted to put a positive spin on it, you could see it as 11′s big blustery last-ditch attempt at trying to prevent River dying in the Library from happening.)

I was admittedly a vocal cuntface about how much I DIDN’T want THoRS to end on Darillium before “24 years”. I hated the idea of 12 finally seeing and being with his wife only for it to end all unnecessarily angsty again. Moffat managed to completely upend and rewrite my expectations in that regard, fortunately. 

For a lot of us, it was about River being shown to finally have some no-strings-tied happiness with a Doctor who knew her. I think a lot of people wanted that to be with older!11, but narrative-wise, I think regardless of whether it’s older!11 or 12, the point is the Doctor being at a point where he can be the husband who River needs. One whose memories don’t need to wiped after the fact like all the classic Doctors, War, 9, or pre-Library 10. Aside from the whole HELL YEAH SPACE WIVES angle, I think that’s also what fuels a lot of the desire for River to be with 13 as well, a Doctor who knows and loves her regardless of what face their wearing.

For some ppl in this fandom tho, that didn’t suffice because it didn’t happen with Matt & Alex. And I mean, if that’s how someone feels, that’s their prerogative, but I don’t see any reason to rain on everyone else’s parade when it literally brought new life and excitement and joy and FUN into our fandom after what felt like quite a long dry spell without any River content. 

And I mean, not to get mopey and sad about it (trigger warning for some potentially upsetting stuff), but the news about River being back on DW in September of 2015 couldn’t have come at a better time fore me personally, bc that was literally a time in my life where I had sudden and overwhelming/dangerous mental health issues, to the point where daily I contemplated suicide and knowing that River was finally gonna meet the Scottish version of her husband was quite literally the thing that kept me alive, because I fucking HAD to see it. So, I do tend to bristle when I come across opinions that trash that particular episode, because it means a HELL of a lot to me. 

The only thing I can say about dealing with people who stew in negativity is to just try to avoid them. I don’t follow anyone who professes THoRS-negative opinions and in some very rare cases I’ve blocked certain people. In addition to this, bc Tumblr’s blocking system is balls, I use the xkit blacklist extension and literally put people’s urls into it so I don’t have to see their stuff when others unknowingly put it on my dash. (Tho be aware that if ppl change their urls you might need to go in and change it to their current one, but it’s not that hard to do.) Because at the end of the day, you just want to be able to enjoy the ship. You are the one curating your own fandom experience, and once you know what you want to avoid (or who), you gotta just take the necessary precautions.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Well...

Zi-O episode 6. As I predicted, I spent a lot of time wondering what was a Faiz reference and what wasn’t and not being able to understand any of those references anyway.

Also, I squeed over Geiz a lot. Bc he’s my son now and I love him.

Anyway, on w/ the other thoughts!

(in no order)

Well, I’ll say this--the Faiz boys seemed to be having a good time. I don’t know anything about them or their characters, but I guess they enjoyed themselves playing them enough to pose w/ Hello Kitty and to come back for this. Takumi’s hair was fabulous. There was that one shot of the past where he was clearly wearing a wig, I’m pretty sure, but what the hey.

Also, apparently he has a very deep voice. Which is cool, I love baritone voices.

Given that the majority of my knowledge of Faiz is ‘Kusaka is a jackass’ I was a little confused w/ the whole ‘we’re friends’ thing but whatever.

Geiz is so cute I’m gonna DIE. He’s clearly very frustrated w/ Sougo being so pleasant and personable and is very embarrassed over any even slightly friendly feelings he might be having toward the kid. ^^ Seems like next ep will be focusing a little more closely on the dynamics between the trio and I am READY.

I am also SUPER READY to see my boy Nitoh again. I’m sure he’ll give an explanation as to where Haruto is, bc he would never miss a chance to talk about his ‘eternal rival.’ ... Oh god, what if the time alterations mean that they’re not eternal rivals anymore? [insert ‘one fear’ image]

Next ep it looks like Geiz takes a swing at Woz, and you know what, sure, go ahead sweetie. You two punch it out, I’ll hold your... weird collar thing.

Speaking of Geiz’s clothes, this episode’s outfit was actually quite acceptable. Next episode... Not so much. I love my fashion disaster assassin son okay???

Crow has very nice cheekbones and no I will not stop calling him Crow.

In other news it seems like the Time Jackers are effecting time using the feathers in their hair. So... I guess The Feathers Do Something Unusual. ... Sorry, bad attempt at TV Tropes humour.

So I guess you can’t go back and change the death of someone who has already died. Well, w/out doing something so colossal as murdering the future evil Overlord when he’s still a teenager. Like, they could save the boy bc he hadn’t died yet--but bc Karin’s life had already ended, her time was already up, you can’t change the past to extend it w/out causing other issues, like having to use other people’s time unnaturally. Did that makes sense?

I still stand by the theory that this is somehow a stable time loop. Given that Woz is prepared for the actions of Time Jackers and Another Riders (knowing where Sougo takes the Another Ex-Aid patient) it seems like this is the very course of events that originally created Ouma Zi-O. So it’s the time paradox of if the Time Jackers/anyone hadn’t done anything, then nothing would have needed to be done.

I’m kinda wondering if one day we’re gonna have a moment where something bad happens and Sougo wants to do something about it, but Woz turns up and is like ‘no this is how it’s supposed to go’ and then Sougo finally snaps and is like ‘You said I’m your damn Overlord, right, so why don’t you do what I say and either help me or get the hell outta my way!’ I mean I have an idea for how/why that could happen, but it seems like a kinda thing that maybe could occur eventually.

I still like the idea of the fact that Tsukuyomi and Geiz end up befriending Sougo turning out to be the thing that creates Ouma Zi-O. Like the three of them became close and then he lost them, and the grief caused him to snap--possibly initially at those responsible, and then he just kinda kept going? Or maybe future self came up w/ some sort of wild, complicated, long-term gambit to try and save them somehow. Like he tries to make everything go as it originally did so that they go back in time and maybe he does something else we haven’t seen yet. Or maybe that’s technically Woz’ mission? Like, the guy is bullshitting (sorta) and the real reason he’s there is Ouma Zi-O sent him back to try and change a certain event (like, Tsukuyomi and Geiz dying). Then there’d be the option that Woz has decided to change the past to his own interests, or that bc he wants Sougo to go Ouma  Zi-O, he’s actually secretly trying to ensure that incident occurs. But this is just me shooting smoke, and this bullet point is too long already.

Speaking of Woz, there’s a preview image of the next ep where it looks like he’s posing for a magazine cover and it’s goddamn hilarious.

My autocorrect keeps correcting ‘Ouma’ to ‘Puma’ and you know what...

Another Wizard looks awesome. I love the ‘one ring’ text on the ring band on his head. Kudos to out gaijin designers this year.

And while there’s no subs for 6.5 I’m already loving it. Geiz and Sougo doing certain poses of two certain characters played by two certain actors from a certain movie that came out recently was hilarious. Also, them complaining about those two being busy, and then apparently Takumi gets offended by the implication that he wasn't busy. Also Takumi and Kusaka both pulling an ‘already in the establishment’ by just appearing behind the trio between frames and then standing there silently w/ their scripts in front of their faces until it’s their cue.

I’m glad this cast seems to be having fun. And these little movies are adorable, bc it gives the senior actors a chance to get back into their characters and goof around a bit.

The Zi-O trio deciding to go see the Bleach movie purely bc Ryuusei and Gentaro are in it. Same, honestly. Gotta get around to doing that.

Like I was just rewatching Fourze and I was like, oh god, I really  need to go watch this movie where you two play two characters w/ a very similar dynamic (of ‘wild/reckless/boisterous one and cool/collected/sensible one’).

Also isn’t Nadeshiko in it? she’s... Orihime, I think? That’s another wild one.

Can’t believe I’m thinking about Bleach again. I never finished reading Bleach. No one finished reading Bleach. Tite Kubo didn’t finish reading Bleach.

I’m loving the reluctant friendship, and the fact that the past actors seem to be having a good time. I may not have watched Faiz, and from my understanding Kusaka was a horrible person, but honestly those two actors seem like they have some pretty good chemistry. Wonder if they’re friends in real life? I mean, I’d think they were after the Hello Kitty thing, but you never know.

Excited to see who else they get back! And to be confused by references to KR I either never watched or only watched a couple eps of. Which is... At this point... Blade and Hibiki? Agito, Kuuga, and Kabuto avoid this bc I actually watched several of their eps, so I have a slightly better sense of them. To the degree anyone can ever have a sense of Kabuto. Ofc, you can also count the seasons I’ve actually finished on one hand (okay, maybe two). But, well... I’m incurably non-committal and scared of completion.

Lastly: NIIIIIIIIITOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!