#i was confused while writing this

[sillypoetproject]

Heart

in their open palms is a heart

still slowly beating as blood drips down their arms

and with a gentle squeeze of their bloodied fingertips

down their arms, the blood slowly drips

and to their face, they bring this heart

so they can see it clearly in front of their eyes

and with one quick breath

the smell of death

surrounds them like some sort of prize

and oh it is you who they felled

gazing upon your pale face as they consume you whole

and oh the sight was one they beheld,

sticky red hands covering their equally red face as the room suddenly went cold

“you beast”, a quiet voice whispered,

a snakelike lilt in it’s words

“you kill and you feast while forever they’ll sleep, all because you wanted your sick comforts”

now usually their skin is thick, tough as a crocodile’s hide

but their hands shook and a whimper escaped their throat as they felt a hit to their pride

“i know they loved me most,” they said weakly after swallowing the sinew in their mouth

“and i warned them beforehand that the taste of their heart was not something i could go without”

and so the room went quiet

as they went to devour the flesh in their hands,

but before their teeth could embrace the meat

the voice pulled them out of their head

“you bring only destruction,” it hissed, “culling all those you see struggling,

and to me, it seems you are entirely unaware of the monster you are slowly becoming”

and with a frown they lowered their arms, laying their hands fisted upon their upper legs,

once more gently squeezing the heart between their fingers as they thought about their new regrets

“i am not a monster,” they said, voice cracking from disuse, “they gave me permission to disembowel them in hopes that within their body i would find use”

the voice went silent as the person spoke, their words said clearly and true

and they stood from their crouch and spun around so the disembodied voice could enjoy the view

if the voice had eyes it would see

a bloody figure with bloody hands holding a bloody heart

in front of a warm corpse

frowning in all directions as they slowly started to mourn

and with great sadness, the disheveled figure began to speak, once again raising the heart to hold it against the side of their face as the organ continued to bleed

“we are close in ways it is hard to describe”, they said,

“because while we like sharing traumatizing stories

of traumatized children

trying to live their traumatic lives

we also understand that these stories are our memories

that our traumatized brains provide”

and as they spoke they stared down at the body,

at the corpse decaying before their very eyes,

and they started to sputter as tears overflowed and their body started shaking with cries

“i didn’t really want to kill you,” they said aloud, speaking to the cadaver in front of them,

“i didn’t mean to make it permanent

but now there are maggots under your skin,

and i’ve never felt so torn

so i’ll take your heart and eat it all up until it is finally gone”

the being heard no more voice, nothing to combat them anymore

and with some sick glee, they fell to their knees beside the body once more

“you love me and i love you,” they whispered,

“and now forever we will be,

for in my stomach, your heart will lay,

right where it should be”

with that, the figure kissed the body, once on both of its cheeks

and they raised the heart, clenched in their fists, to devour the sacred meat

[gumy-shark]

writing fanfiction is the most fun awesome thing on earth. also terrible horrible awful one thousand agonies

[serpentface]

The pylidaigh, a type of vampiric snow ghost, as imagined in folklore in and around the Highlands.

This is a ghost believed to come into being when a person dies in the snow and their body is not found before their soul (still trapped without its funeral rites) 'freezes' inside of it. The body then reanimates into a pylidaigh's twisted form. It looks like someone who slowly died of starvation, just a thin layer of flesh over bones. Its skin is as white as the snow itself, so pale it can blend seamlessly into a blizzard. Most of its body appears subtly stretched and lanky, save for its exceptionally unsubtle long, skinny arms, which drag on the ground behind it when it walks. After a big meal of blood, its belly swells like the abdomen of a tick.

A pylidaigh can only tread across snow and ice, and so doorways and windows are best kept clear of snowfall during the winter in order to prevent it from reaching inside. It mostly comes out to hunt during blizzards when there is little that can prevent it from catching its victims.

In spite of its fragile appearance, a pylidaigh is supernaturally strong, and can run at great speeds when it wants to. No mortal weapons can pierce its body, nor can any bonds known to craftsmen hold it in place. It is usually said that chains forged like iron but made out of ice can bind a pylidaigh and render it immobile, but this smithing technique remains tragically elusive to the average joe.

This ghost is either cast as a wildly dangerous but tragic figure, or one that is more simply malicious. In either case, it is described as experiencing nothing but bitter cold. It shivers endlessly. It retains distant memories of what it was to be alive, and it is motivated by a futile desperation to experience the feeling of warmth again.

In more sympathetic framings, it is described as using its freaky gibbon arms to capture its victims and pull them into an embrace, rather innocently trying to warm itself against their body. This inevitably fails, and the embrace becomes a bone crushing squeeze. When that too fails to warm the ghost, it rips out the person's throat and drinks their blood until the victim is as cold and drained as the pylidaigh itself.

In other cases, this more pitiable narrative of a ghost seeking warmth with no comprehension of its actions is discarded in favor of making it purely monstrous. Here it is a type of vampire with an insatiable thirst, practically a physical manifestation of the worst of winter itself. Some tales acknowledge both variants, suggesting a pylidaigh's violent attempts to warm itself may be initially devoid of malice, but turns into an act of furious jealousy of the warmth of the living after years of suffering.

The only (more or less) surefire method to permanently kill a roaming pylidaigh involves trapping it with fire. They are attracted to any source of heat, and will attempt to warm themselves with the flames (if not tempted away by a juicy living human body). The fire itself cannot kill them (as the sheer cold of their body is more powerful even than flame) but they can be trapped if kept near the fire long enough for the snow it depends upon to melt. This does not kill the pylidaigh either. The monster will remain in stuck in place (and potentially become a threat again if it snows more) for the duration of the winter. Only when the spring comes and all the snow melts does it revert into a normal human carcass (though mysteriously invulnerable to decay), at which point it can be cremated.

Pylidaigh in the wilds also revert to a human corpse during the snowless seasons, but will roam again each following winter unless it is burnt in the interim. It is of critical importance that any human corpse found in high mountain pasture is cremated- not only out of respect for the poor soul trapped as an earthbound ghost, but to prevent the threat of the possible dormant pylidaigh emerging next winter.

[carebeardean]

Charles has always left Edwin little notes slipped between the pages of his favorite books, in his science equipment, places he knows Edwin loves. Just silly things—post its that say “hi Edwin :)”. doodles of Edwin with his nose stuck in a book. reminders to stock up on wolfsbane. but.

Then, post canon, Edwin tentatively starts dating people. And it’s ridiculous, because Edwin’s right there, all the time, but Charles..misses him a bit. And his heads a mess, and he can’t sort out what the hell he’s feeling most of the time, and whenever he tries to say any of it out loud it comes out rubbish.

So. He writes down some of the shit he can’t say right, and because he’s a coward, hides them so he doesn’t have to see Edwin’s face when he reads them.

then Edwin starts writing back.

Neat lilac blue little envelopes appear in Charles coat pockets. In his bag. Once, in his shoe? Some nights, Edwin will clear his throat and mention something from a letter, offhand, like they’re just picking up conversation, and Charles can pretend they are. That they always have talked about the basement, the belt, the nameless fear that chokes him every time Edwin walks out the door with someone else on his arm.

Sometimes he can’t. The words get stuck in his throat. Edwin’s not mad, he’s maddeningly, stubbornly kind about it, which is worse.

Some nights they trade. A secret for a secret. Charles learns about the novels Edwin used to hide under his mattress, about all the lonely years before Charles got there. About Simon.

Meanwhile, Edwin is losing his mind, because Charles has accidentally stumbled onto what was a fucking courting ritual in his time. Love letters were something engaged couples treasured for years, kept and reread over and over. (Edwin does. keep them in a special box, will take one out and trace the words, tuck it in his breast pocket for courage).

Edwin would rather have to reattach a limb again than lose Charles trust, all the dark and beautiful things he shares with Edwin only. He knows—knows Charles doesn’t mean to make him fall more in love with him.

[otome-dissection]

Idk man I just think that mizu/ena5 and its progression was really beautiful actually. I just think that the release of the ena5 song was also really beautiful and kind of the nail in the coffin for me and I haven't been able to get the event(s) out of my head all week and that I kind of want to talk about it, actually.

It's about being hurt so deeply and continuously that any kindness that could be offered to you manages to feel like a sin, that it makes you crumble and shatter but for all the wrong reasons, not because of the newfound safety, not out of relief, but something worse and more deeply ingrained in you than kindness ever was. It's about carefully measuring the distance at which you keep others away from yourself, to ensure that it never happens again ("To save yourself the trouble", if that makes it easier).

It's about realizing that the people you've been spending all this time with are drifting closer, that they just might bump up against the unsightly parts of yourself that you've tried to keep locked away, it's about turning around and sprinting at full speed and slamming the door shut and holding onto the handle behind you to stop it from turning, because you're as frightened of the possibility of another wound being inflicted on you as you are of the possibility that kinder, gentler hands will reach out and smooth over the exposed scar. It's about hating eyes that judge and silently condemn you as much as you hate eyes that simply see you and take all of you in without scrutiny, because no matter what they're looking and they're looking at you and they know that your hand's on that door handle and they know that you're hiding something because, as much as you try to keep it shut, they've seen through the crack that you foolishly left open.

(The prominence of eyes in Bake no Hana, specifically eyes looking and searching, and finally landing on you, the viewer, Mizuki, is so fucking. Visceral in my opinion. Every character in the MV stares at the viewer in a deadpan, almost judging way. Even though Mizuki knows deep down that niigo won't really hate them, won't judge them, she just can't stand their kindness either; any gaze directed at her is a loss, another prick in their skin. It screams "don't look at me" while making sure that you know, with horrific certainty, that they're looking for you, that you're being watched. You can't go outside, can't leave your room, because they're searching for you, and while that should be reassuring, to you it's anything but).

It's about not wanting to be dissected, whether it's with hands that want to pull your organs apart or stitch them back together because no matter what they're there, and they're getting frighteningly close to your heart. It's about blinding yourself and covering your eyes to it all because seeing means exposure and exposure means they're taking something from you and you can't do anything about it, much less take it all back, much less have a say in the matter. Everyone's just taking and taking and taking and you wish you could just be alone. You wish everyone would just disappear and you could live in a world all to yourself, for only yourself (but is that really what you want?).

It's about the way that, near the beginning of the Yoka ni Mitoreta MV, Mizuki and her loneliness is represented as a dark, splotchy stain in the shadows. No colors, no patterns, no way to clean it or wash it all away, just raw ugliness marring a blank canvas. It's about the way that Ena reaches out to it anyway, the way she startles when the glass shatters just when she finally starts reaching forward, the way that the rest of the MV/song represents her searching for and reaching only further out to Mizuki, even if the broken shards of glass will only cut her fingers, potentially leaving scars.

It's about how, in every way, subtly, directly, consciously, and subconsciously, Ena shows that she fucking cares.

It's about the way that Ena lets Mizuki have autonomy, despite the situation being so horribly out of their control. And it's such a delicate thing: If she really wants to, Mizuki can take the opportunity to just run away, keep running forever, repeat the cycle over and over, and maybe she'll just destroy herself with it again, but it can't be denied that it's something important to them, something she can't quite live without just yet, their means of survival. Mizuki's autonomy is their identity, it's her tailoring her own clothes and choosing her own ribbons and styling her own hair the way she does. Ena letting them have that is as much about trust as it is about understanding that Mizuki of all people should have this right, when control was something stripped from her throughout so much of her life. She couldn't control how she was born, how people look at her or why, can't control what they think of her; lacking control has only left Mizuki vulnerable to the cruelties of others, has only caused them to suffer, which is why it's so important that it's given to them now.

She had the control to make the choice to see niigo's welcoming love and run away instead of staying, and she has the control to make the choice now whether she wants to keep things the way they are or take a step forward to be at their side again. She has every right to have it, and I think the fact that Ena realizes and respects that, even if it's subconsciously, is really beautiful (there is an entire fucking Verse about this in the new song and just. God Look at this. It's so caring, unconditional, and for fucking What. I think there is something to be said about how much Ena is willing to put aside for Mizuki, and maybe deep down it isn't healthy, but for now I'm just kind of in awe)

It's about how insanely patient Ena has been this whole time. Mizuki says that she basically lied to Ena's face about telling her their secret, even after Ena said with such conviction that she would wait for Mizuki as long as it takes, and Ena is just kept waiting and waiting and worrying like this seemingly indefinitely. It's about how Mizuki danced around it, avoided it, kept the distance, straight up ran when she was finally pushed, but Ena still chased anyway when she saw that she couldn't wait anymore, kept chasing just enough to intervene and get a straight answer out of Mizuki when she really needed to, but still leaving her enough space to leave if that was truly what she wanted. It's about how relieved Ena is the moment that Mizuki finally says outright how much they want to be with her and niigo, how much she wants to try, how much more light Ena's voice sounds when she grabs her hand, relieved, the way that the relief she feels can be felt through the music, throughout the entirety of Yoka ni Mitoreta, the way that warm colors always follow her when she chases after Mizuki, just to hold onto her and stop her from running away completely.

It's about how that careful combination of Ena's directness, Ena's persistence, Ena's warmth, her patience, her bluntness about her feelings, the way she chases and holds on but not too tight and her regard for how unsafe and exposed Mizuki feels actually works and breaks it all down. It's about how she really did reach through to Mizuki, despite the thorns and broken glass shards and nearly-unfulfilled promises, the way that Mizuki did finally let her turn the door handle and step through to see what she'd been hiding all this time, the way that Mizuki's hand, limp, when Ena first grabs onto it, shifts to hold hers back as they cry in the face of Ena's gentleness.

Despite how harsh Mizu/Ena5, and even Ena herself as a character can be (or at least was in the very beginning of pjsk), everything is somehow gentle and warm in the end, blindingly so. And you know what, I think that's beautiful. And what's even more beautiful than that is how Mizuki allows themself to crumble and shatter under that kindness, that warm light, but this time, finally, out of relief.

On a final note, I just want to say that I also appreciate how all that didn't have to solve everything. The scars haven't disappeared, haven't gone away, and Mizuki knows that their desire to run hasn't gone away forever, and maybe it never truly will. But for now they've calmed it, at least a little. She's learning to allow herself to be seen, learning that when someone's fingertips brush over their scars the way Ena's did that it's only out of care, and that maybe taking in that care and allowing herself to feel kindness and safety is okay. They're safe, for now, somehow. They're learning. They're trying. And I think that's cool :)

[luckyartdrawer]

In a very spooooooooooky mood this month.

Been feeling rusty with drawing after not doing so for a few weeks, so made this simple Moon. Spooky goober <3

vvvv Alts, Yapping, AND HUH??? UHH??? vvvv

Alts

I was messing around with the line art layer and saw a blue version and just ran with it. I like the blue, and the contrast with the red makes me happy so I decided to keep em. :3

Practiced using the golden ratio too! He's spooky and perfect! <3

Oh also.

WHEN I GO TO ADD MY ART THIS IS IN MY CLIPBOARD AND IM SO CONFUSED WHY IS HE LIKE THAT-

MOON???? MOON ARE YOU OKAY??? WHY ARE YOU IN THE CORNER???? AND I DIDN'T MAKE A BLACK BG???

AM I HAUNTED NOW??????????????

I guess its fitting for spooky month at least.

[izuke-the-zombie]

This is a little head cannon/What if Macaque had more original powers, a little more Starry Night dreamlike powers leaning into the more nurturing kind, you know, the moon and sun kind of powers? 🌙☀️

 

Maybe in the past, he was like a therapy friend to Wukong, someone he could really be himself with, vent, and tell his secrets without being judged in the safety of his own dreams. Someone he can truly trust, and that was Macaque.

Skip to Redemption Ark for Mac

Now he's a therapy friend to the whole MK team! (Against his will) They cuddle, pet, and vent to him with their problems. He's like one of Sandy's therapy cats, just bigger and grumpier.😾💕✨ he just has this way with people I guess

Okay, this is how it starts: Macaque and Wukong's first encounter was in a dream.

Wukong would not shut up about the pretty demon in his crazy dreams, often to his sworn brothers; he talked about all the fun and crazy adventures he'd have, the long meaningful conversations and jokes, and the occasionally moving pictures of otherworldly strong magical humans with sparkly eyes and spiky hair who wield giant weapons that shoots Fire called anime, and that this had been going on for a few months now.

This annoyed and concerned them; they think it's a demon trying to take over the Monkey King's mind or trying to brainwash him somehow, so Azure Lion and the Sworn Brothers all brainstormed together to devise a plan to somehow confront this tricky dream demon. Wukong doesn't want the fun dreams to end or scare off this other celestial monkey, so he decides to talk to his friend in his dreams. Wukong casually brings up the idea that the macaque should visit Flower Fruit and meet his sworn brothers! Macaque of course hesitates, not sure of the idea of traveling to an unknown island and meeting The Monkey King's questionable choice of sworn brothers, but of course, Wukong, sad and a bit offended, but he doesn't give up.

He decides to bring upon the Ultimate Weapon, begging and whining until Macaque crumbles and gives in, which eventually does. Mac reluctantly agrees to travel over to FFM in disguise, just to be safe he tells Wukong he'll be there. Within a month, Wukong couldn't be more excited; he was like a little kid waiting for Christmas day!

So this is what kinds of powers I think he should have.

😴 the first pic is crossing over to other people's dreams and making their experience life-like he has illusion magic so this makes sense to me. Wukong and macaque would prank the Brotherhood or play tags and hide and seek in their brother's dreams. 🌸The second pic is the soothing ability to calm one's nerves if they pet or cuddle him like a therapy cat,🐈 Wukong would groom him for hours to calm his nerves. now come copes with food🍑🍔🍭

🌸🎶I saved the best one for last the cute/sad little head Cannon I have

At the end of every dream Mac visits they would end it by dancing to music Mac would bring from the future laughing and stumbling while wukong slowly wakes up, wukong has always gone to bed early But now he goes even earlier to bed. Wukong always thought he was the luckiest monkey in the world he gets to have two Adventure and one of them is with his prettiest best friend Macaque 😚✨the monkey of his dreams.

🌸 Wukong couldn't truly dream of a world without his bestest friend🥰✨

[astradyke]

I would adore a deep dive into your thoughts on Phil’s quiet but wonderful way of showing his love for Dan being through photos

hi, i’m sorry i’m responding so late to this, but i really appreciate you enabling me here because i do seriously think about this constantly. i don’t know if i have the words to articulate it, though, so… bear with me. i'd quite like to try.

nobody loves in just a singular way, that’s the preface to this. when i say that Dan loves through words and Phil loves through photography, i don’t mean that Dan doesn’t use photography as an act of love— because there is a polaroid, in their house, of Phil that Dan took— and i don’t mean that Phil has never said something profound about Dan, because we all remember how he talked about Dan’s book at the end of the haircut video (19:13). i, at the very least, never really left the parts at the end of what Dan and Phil Text Each Other 2 where Phil constantly amplifies the work Dan is trying to do, unmasking his own frustrations at the struggles Dan has to experience, and meets Dan's self deprecation with affection (here's that dissertation) (19:57). Dan may use words in a very abstract, artistic way, professing his love for Phil as a ‘soulmate’, an unmatched connection, but Phil still has a careful, casual way of endlessly maneuvering himself to stand by Dan’s side. etc. and of course, there are five thousand other ways to adore a person. Dan and Phil do a little bit of everything; we are lucky to see a spare few snippets.

all that said, let’s talk about photography, yeah?

there is a permanence to photography, even if it’s not always a tangible permanence. they are timestamps, living commitments; i refuse to accept the idea that photography is somehow a ‘stand in’ to ‘true human connection’, rather than a critical facet of it. ex. i know that my best friend is real even if i didn’t have a photo of him sitting beside me on a wayward bus, but it’s still important that i inscribed that memory distinctly into the fabric of my life by taking a moment to chronicle it.

Phil Lester uses photography as a way to immortalize a thousand different fragments of his forever with Dan. there’s a distinct thought process, right, to see someone you love and decide— i never want to lose this moment. that decision, in of itself, is enough of a love confession, but there’s another layer when you decide, on top of all of it, i want the entire world to see this. when Dan described his love for Phil as "more than just romantic", he opened up a piece of himself to show the world, this is how i love this person. this is how i see him. when Dan calls Phil bubby, or dear, this is him cracking a hard exterior to say this is how i see you.

the two of them, upon first meeting, took a selfie together at the Apple store— Phil was the one to press the button. when they sat at the top of the sky-bar, Phil was the one to take a photo of Dan amidst the golden hour light. maybe he didn’t know that Dan loved him back, yet, but he had a certainty in his own adoration of Dan— that regardless of whether Dan wanted him back, Phil wanted him. the image feels timid but assured, like swallowing down anxiety to look yourself in the mirror; you can feel that through the pixels of it, so transparently. Phil’s love of Dan was not conditioned on anything: it was a terrifying but beautiful thing, and he wanted to preserve it, so even if it all went wrong he could say this is how i loved you. this is how you are loved, to me. you don’t have to want me back, but know that you were wanted, here, crawling into your own head sitting across from me in a city i’d like to call home with you, someday. so let me. and when you look at this photo of heart eyes Howell, cradling a bear, it’s louder than a blood rush: i love you.

[ID: Dan Howell sitting in the sunlight, looking outside the window while holding his phone. end ID.]

[ID: Dan Howell in a fuzzy hat, holding a stuffed bear against his face and looking at the camera with a small smile. end ID]

(sorry. it was necessary to include).

every year, Phil spills this oath into his camera roll. when Dan’s birthday arrives, Phil has a thousand candids to show for it, a thousand of silly and unflattering photos— a “loving” selection (7:41). exposing my heart a little here, but when you are someone who struggles with insecurity at some level, photos of you that are unflattering circling around feels horrifying. you want to be composed, and pretty, and loved— but then, maybe, it settles in that you are loved someplace beyond conditions. Phil chronicles these casual, vulnerable moments with Dan, and he shares them, because he loves Dan to a level past the flat logic of if he is composed, if he is pretty, then he is loved. Dan may be unattractive at points, but he is never unloved. never again.

these photos also demonstrate how much Phil romanticizes the little moments with Dan. watching him play Skyrim in VR; sitting beside him while he plays Elden Ring (3:40); admiring an oddly-shaped tear in his pants (missing citation); taken aback by a large poodle jumping into his lap. there are hundreds of photos of Dan taken by Phil which have escaped. imagine how many more linger. if we can go off of this (admittedly horrifying) tweet, we can envision a camera roll overflowing with him.

when they go on vacation, Phil takes soft photographs of Dan. here’s this love in a new city, just like we did fifteen years ago in Manchester, before i knew the right way to hold your hand, the right way to counter your cynicism, the right way to systemically reject every pet name because saying your name like a promise is enough— i’m putting this love into the world because i no longer live in a world where i go a second without it. Phil saves photos of Dan looking at him like he hung the stars, and he saves photos of Dan walking in front of him— he would never save them, as an Orpheus, but thankfully he doesn’t have to anymore, not after 2019— and he saves photos of Dan happy, because he wants to save that, too. Phil will save photos from every era of Dan’s life, but he wants those photos the most.

Phil has seen Dan perform in front of thousands. he has seen Dan pass out from standing up too quickly in their living room. he has seen Dan stumble home from a unexpected solo walk, he has seen Dan try to hide his fear-to-death in Phil’s childhood bedroom, he has seen Dan try to use a laundry machine, he has seen Dan in every way a person could: i love you.

Dan knows all of this. Dan sends Phil photos of himself when he’s solo traveling for his tour; the two of them almost never call, not unless Dan’s in a cab, but they regularly facetime. Dan winces at old photos of himself, but Phil coos at them.

Phil Lester is a romantic. he likes to hold his love to his chest— sharing photographs, but careful not to share too much. i think we under-estimate the shift Phil had to make, sometimes, in 2019: coming out was a major deal to him, too, even if he had already been out to some. more than that, coming out while Dan was also out is a very different experience. still, he likes to stay private, which is why we’ve not seen what i imagine to be hundreds of photos of Dan in Phil’s arms, or Dan kissing him on the cheek, or Dan asleep beside him in his bed (because we know how often he takes photos of Dan asleep, but i can't even begin to get into that right now).

even still, from what we can see, God, it’s everything, isn’t it? i can’t imagine what it felt like, for Dan, first trying to reconcile all of this. when you go so long without experiencing a safe kind of love, your reality fundamentally shifts. everything is brittle: you have to be hard enough to survive it, but not too hard to break the little you have entirely. half of you is a secret, the other half of you feels like it should be— who you are shifts, when you are loved, so in the reverse: when you go so long without it you feel displaced internally. when you find that love, you throw yourself entirely into it, expecting nothing but wanting everything. you punch a wall only to feel the plaster cradle your touch; you tell yourself you’d never turn back and you hate that need to; you expect to hit the sea but the wax never seems to melt. impossibly, you are okay. maybe i showed too much of my own heart there, but when i look at 2009 Dan, i see all of that. eighteen years old, and for the first time since he was a tiny child, he actually felt safe.

because Phil says Dan like it’s the sweetest word in the world. because Phil has a hunger for everything Dan creates. because Phil held Dan when he dropped out of university, picked up his first radio job with him, moved in with him, and never left. because Phil never treated Dan like an experience to hide away. Phil loved parts of Dan back into life.

because Phil takes photographs of Dan, everywhere in his life, to say: this is my world, now. you can’t take a photo in the daylight without capturing the sun. you can’t take a photo in the nighttime without capturing the absence of it. Phil says Dan’s name in every video, and he takes another hundred photos, because he’s so fucking sure about this love. there’s not even a question to be asked.

this is only a fraction of what there is to say about it, some messily constructed analysis, but it's hard to capture. i'd call Dan a lucky bastard, but it's hardly luck, is it? Phil makes the decision to love Dan every single day, and it might look quiet, but it's so unfathomably loud.

[crabsnpersimmons]

Sun! Sun! MaKe mE SpRiNg RoLlS PlEaSE

‐hungry anon-

oooh springs rolls sound yum! what kind of spring rolls are your favourite?

[crickit-song]

One of the most fun and interesting things about the ace attorney games is that all of the main characters are deeply flawed.

From Edgeworth's disappearing/reappearing act in aa2, not to mention literally quoting his own SUICIDE NOTE in COURT:

And then in aai, his acting above the law honestly all the time because his special interest is the truth and he's certain he's the best detective around, which is justifiable but kind of extreme,

To the absolute ASS Phoenix was to Apollo all throughout ajaa, which i don't have receipts for but you remember, and his consistent trend of caustically lying to grown people capable of making decisions because he doesn't want to upset them in the moment (eg, the apollo-trucy-thalassa relation that is still hidden),

To the absolutely horrendous SHIT Apollo pulled during Turnabout for Tomorrow, which includes but is not limited to assisting terrorism (encouraging Aura Blackquill to continue the trial), asking for his close friend and motiveless colleague Athena to be arrested for murder, and leaving his ACTUAL SISTER AT GUNPOINT BY A RADICAL TERRORIST, all because he couldn't handle not having trust for like a day. If he had waited literally a day, the trial would have continued (bc at that point Terrans murder hadn't been solved) AND the TWELVE random people and FUCKING TRUCY could have escaped the space station!!! But nooo, polly, do egg on the murderously radicalized Blackquill sibling who spent years hating an actual child SURE GREAT IDEA.

Even the secondary characters have no concept of normal, with simon blackquill being a convicted death row inmate for most of dual destinies, Athena having enough trauma to kill a horse, trucy and maya with abandonment issues, pearly dealing with everything morgan and dahlia did, and Lana and ema's whole thing, not to mention the von karma fiasco.

Honestly the most normal person in all the games is klavier, who is a world famous pop star with an insane and violent serial poisoner as a brother.

I love all the characters in this game, nick and miles are my blorbos, and I adore nearly everybody else, but damn if this game doesn't make some extremely flawed little guys. Ask my parents or friends, they'll tell you how angry I got at points, lmao.

And i haven't even played SOJ or TGAA yet. I should probably be worried.

[sleepy-steve]

🧠🪱 Wiggly Wednesday Thursday 🧠 🪱

thank you for tagging me @stervrucht 🖤

no pressure tags: @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe @stevesbipanic and of course anyone else that would like to ♡

thinking about Steve and Eddie who, after going through rounds of physical therapy after everything, continue to work out together because Steve obviously loves it and loves having a friend to work out with. and Eddie notices the difference in his stamina when he gets back to performing on stage. (and if Eddie likes to watch Steve work out a little bit, and likes Steve coming over to help his form more than a little bit, well that’s his business.) but Steve takes a dance class and shakes up his usual warmup, leaving Eddie with some… thoughts.

***

“Okay, Munson,” Steve says, pulling his arm across his body for a shoulder stretch. “You ready?”

“Ready to be tortured? Always,” Eddie jokes. It was their thing. Eddie acts like he hates being there, but he still shows up every other day to their local gym in Indianapolis. And he won’t ever deny the benefits he’s noticed since starting their exercise regime. He's faster on stage, doesn't get winded near as easily, holding those screaming notes without feeling like his lungs will explode. Little did he know that today his joke would come to be true.

Steve liked most kinds of exercise. He was a sporty guy. He liked the pull and stretch of his muscles, the feeling of accomplishment after achieving a new goal, that delicious soreness the day after a really good workout. But mostly he loved trying new things. He’d give anything half a chance if he thought it might be fun. Which is how he ended up at a dance-aerobics class the week prior, finding himself having a lot of fun, blushing furiously when the women in the class complimented how quickly he picks up the steps.

He went back three more times that week. Part of his enjoyment came from the new warmup he was taught in the class. Steve’s usual warmup consisted of basic stretches and a light jog, covering all bases to ensure he didn’t get injured, but not very exciting.

This, however, was far more enjoyable. Steve found himself sinking deep into stretches he didn't know he had flexibility for, and moving his hips to a beat, ultimately just having way more fun with the warmup. And it was about to become a huge problem for Eddie.

Steve pops his headphones over his ears, the tape deck tucked securely in his shorts pocket. He bends over, inhaling deeply as the song starts, rising up with his hands overhead, exhaling as he rolls his wrists, hips moving side to side with the beat. His already short cropped t-shirt rises, showing off a good amount of his chest. He lets his arms come down, bending over again, feeling the pull in his hamstrings. Gripping his elbows, he lets the top half of his body hang, swinging from side to side, his hamstrings fully stretched out.

Eddie looks up from his own basic stretching, shocked to see Steve fully bent over, because hey, since when was he so flexible? With Metallica blaring through his own headphones, Eddie just stares, completely forgetting where he was at in his warmup.

Steve lets his hands drop, moving to one foot, back to the centre, then the other foot. Ass just up in the air, his shorts way too tight. Eddie swallows. He’d been denying his crush for months at this point, and good god this was not helping.

Rolling his shoulders as he stands up, Steve lets his hands travel down his bare thighs, sinking into a squat with his back arched and head tilted back. Eddie's eyes are wide as he watches those tight little shorts with the little cut-ins on the sides ride up, showing far more of Steve's glorious hairy thighs than Eddie can handle. Steve drops his head forward, hunching his shoulders as he moves back to standing. He repeats the motions, and Eddie wishes he had the strength to pull his stare away from Steve's ass.

Seeing Steve's head tilted back and his back arched is sending Eddie insane. Like, he geninely thinks he might evaporate on the spot if he keeps watching. But he just can't look away.

Turning himself sideways, Steve has one foot stepped out in front of the other, legs perfectly straightened into a triangle shape, bent over his front leg. Just when Eddie thinks he’s about to get up and end his suffering, Steve lowers himself down into a lunge. His little shorts definitely way too small and tight for the movement, Steve lunges back and forth, fingertips resting on the ground on either side of his front foot. Eddie watches as the t-shirt rides up with each lunge, the desire to get his lips and tongue all over Steve's chest overwhelming him.

Shaking himself, Eddie tries to remember which shoulder stretch he was up to. He attempts something close to a stretch, but he can’t be sure he's doing it right, because Steve has lowered himself to the ground, front leg bent and back leg perfectly straight, and is fucking thrusting into the ground. If he were to ask Steve, he’d find out this was a hip flexor stretch. But Eddie’s forgotten how to form words entirely, suddenly imagining nineteen different ways he wants to get dicked down by the man before him.

Eddie suffers in silence, heart racing in his chest, watching as Steve repeats the movements on his other side. He prays that the torture ends soon, that they can just get to the workout, and Eddie can go back to pretending he doesn't want to ride Steve until his thighs give out. But Eddie gets no such luck.

Steve has moved into some kind of triangle position, hands on the ground, legs straight, and of fucking course, his ass in the air. Eddie marvels at how straight the shape is, only for a moment, because then Steve is lifting his heels up and down in turn, and jesus christ those tiny little shorts are just riding up, and Eddie can see a hint of Steve's ass peeking out. His jaw drops. He may actually explode.

Just when Eddie's thinking he can't take much more of this, Steve lowers himself down, knees spread wide, arms stretched out in front of him and head tucked down. A wild and rushed series of thoughts fly across Eddie's mind, all centred around Steve kneeling down in front of him. Eddie needs to get it together quickly.

As Steve brings himself back up to the triangle position, walking his feet to meet his hands and rolling his spine up, shoulders and head rolling back last, he sees Eddie taking off for his warmup jog. Assuming that he probably just took too long with his new warmup, Steve shrugs it off and starts his jog shortly after.

Eddie hits his personal best in several weights that day, desperately trying to expend his excess energy in some way. He barely registers the wins, mind still stuck on Steve and his perfect ass in all those new positions. He almost dissolves on the spot when Steve claps him on the shoulder in congratuations.

At the end of their session, Eddie takes a freezing cold shower and prays for the sweet release of death.

[hellooobees]

I can't stop thinking about how the show sets up selfishness and selflessness as two sides of the same coin. How do you walk the line between making sure your loved ones can achieve their own dreams even if it means hurting yourself, and hurting your loved ones because you're hurting yourself for their sake?

It all goes back to Thame putting up his wish on the orange tree that he'll make all of the other members' dreams come true. Thame, who agrees to a shitty contract and works himself to the bone and makes it completely his burden to prove that Mars is a good investment for the company. Thame, who is made to believe that that very act of love and sacrifice is only debilitating his friends' dreams and the only way to keep his original promise is to leave.

We see Thame essentially being back at square one in this episode. He has to leave and go to Korea alone so the people he loves can achieve their dreams. But so much has changed since then. Thame had found hope, that he could simultaneously keep his promise and be selfish to want both his band and his partner. He's once again been working himself to the bone, giving up all of his time and attention between the band and Po, because his tiredness is such a small price to pay to turn that dream into reality. Why wouldn't he gladly take on all of that tiredness and more?

But despite all of the groundbreaking things he's achieved and everything he's given of himself, it doesn't work. His friends break down around him possibly reigniting the same insecurities from earlier that he worked so hard to ensure wouldn't come to pass. His boyfriend breaks up with him despite Thame promising to take on all of the burden and tiredness to make it work. He's being forced to leave everyone behind and he's being left behind too.

That flip from Thame being convinced that the best thing for him to do would be to leave for everyone else's sake, to the rest of Mars and Po being convinced that the best thing for them to do is to step back for Thame's sake is so so important to me. It's not just Thame who made making his friends' dreams come true into his own dream. The rest of Mars and Po did the same thing with Thame's dream. But how does it all work when the sacrifices you're willing to make for the dreams of your loved ones are at the cost of their happiness because they're at the cost of your own?

Thame's effort didn't go to waste. We see all of that effort manifesting in how it opens doors for the other members and Po so much more easily now. But it's also true that at the base of those new successes lie the shattered hopes of that shared dream between them.

The show sets up the question of whether the person who's leaving others behind feels hurt, and we see so many iterations of it. We see Earn leaving behind the person who was an instrumental part of his success without a second thought. We see Thame giving himself up and leaving for the band's sake. We see Jun leave twice, the first so that his friend would for once think of himself and his own success instead of letting the others drag him away from it, and the second when he's sure that his friend can be what the person that he cares for deserves. We see Pepper being completely willing to leave if the two biggest parts of his life cannot exist together and we see Gam actually leaving when it proves to be true. And we see Po leave because he cannot let himself become an obstacle in Thame's path and make all of their efforts come to waste. If that's the price to pay so that the people they love can have what they want then so be it, right? Their sacrifices are insignificant in the face of that.

But what happens when all those sacrifices still aren't enough? When the cost becomes too huge to bear?

[fuckthemforthis]

Who gave him the right? 😮‍💨

[seas-of-silver]

For the ask game: "Stop with these ridiculous lies Dupain-Cheng, I saw you detransform!"

‘Stop with these ridiculous lies, Dupain-Cheng, I saw you detransform!’

Chloé smirked when the girl finally stopped avoiding her.

‘I saw your kwami and I know you’re Ladybug, and there’s nothing-’

Her heart jumped to her throat when Dupain-Cheng whirled around and pinned her to the wall with a hand covering her mouth, no doubt smudging her designer lipstick. She would’ve complained about the outrageous offence if it wasn’t for the intense glare that struck her like lightning.

‘Can you just stop yelling that for one second?’ Dupain-Cheng hissed quietly, her voice filled with a ferocity Chloé couldn’t help but comply with. The baker girl scanned the space around her before saying, ‘Come with me.’

Chloé scoffed. ‘As if. You-’

‘Now.’

The order sent a zing up Chloé’s spine. The person in front of her wasn’t some inferior unimportant insect of a school girl, but a general, a fearless leader born by trials of fire and hardened by fighting on the frontline of countless battlefields. Chloé followed silently.

They walked out of the school and into a secluded alley where Dupain-Cheng became Ladybug before her very eyes, wrapped an arm around her and zipped her way across the city. They landed somewhere entirely unfamiliar to Chloé, some weird disgusting abandoned warehouse or something, and Chloé only had enough time to register Ladybug sending some sort of message on her Bug Phone before her back slammed into something metal.

‘Ow! What the hell, Dupain-Cheng?’ Chloe cried out, feeling the magical yo-yo wrapping around her, securing her to a metal post.

‘Do not call me that when I’m suited up, you know the rules, Chloé,’ Ladybug commanded, catching the end of her yo-yo in her free hand. Her glare hardened. ‘Though, you don’t really care for the rules, do you?’

Chloé seethed at the slight.

‘How dare you! I did care!’ Chloé bit back, pulling at the unrelenting restraints. ‘When I found Pollen, I kept her safe and tried to learn from her so I could help you! And when Hawk Moth came after me, I fought back!’

‘You sold out our entire team to Hawk Moth!’ Ladybug retorted.

‘YOU ABANDONED ME!’ Chloé screamed, hot tears streaming down her face. ‘You knew Hawk Moth was targeting me relentlessly! Day and night for weeks on end! I couldn’t let my guard down for even one second, otherwise I would be under his spell! It was like he knew me, Ladybug - like actually knew me! He targeted every weak spot he could find; it was only a matter of time before I would break! I’m only human, Ladybug!’

‘Oh? And what about after Miracle Queen?’ Ladybug asked evenly, not much more than a red blob through her tears. ‘You weren’t being attacked then.’

‘I was hurt. I was angry. How could I not be?’ Her voice warbled as she sobbed. ‘I followed you, believed in you, and you left me high and dry. I had akumas tracking my every move and attempting to possess me - I even had one latch onto me, but instead of submitting, I threw it off!’

Chloé could’ve sworn Ladybug looked shocked at that. She hoped she was.

‘I thought that after everything I did for you, that I would have proved myself worthy to you, that you could believe in me too,’ she continued, ‘but no. You dismissed me at every turn and kept telling me I would never be Queen Bee again. The least you could do was tell me why! But you didn’t! My own parents were akumatised, and you wouldn’t even let me save them! How could I be loyal to you any longer when you couldn’t even let me do that much?’

‘M’lady! I got your emergency message- uh… why is Chloé tied up and why are you both crying?’

Chloé tried to blink her tears away, to see if the newly-arrived Chat Noir was telling the truth.

‘I’m fine,’ Ladybug obviously lied, her face suspiciously wet, ‘but we have a problem. Chloé knows who I am now.’

‘What?’ Chat Noir asked, shocked. ‘How?’

‘Remember when I had to go recharge mid-fight earlier today?’ Ladybug asked and Chat Noir nodded. ‘Chloé, for some godforsaken reason-’

‘Oi!’

‘-had decided to hide in the very alley I was recharging in,’ Ladybug continued, as if she hadn’t heard Chloé. ‘I thought the alley was clear, but apparently not. Once the battle was over, Chloé hounded me about knowing my identity, and when I denied it or ignored her, she got louder to try and draw my attention, and I was concerned she was going to grab other people’s attention too, so I brought her here.’

‘Okay, but why the yo-yo?’ Chat Noir asked, and Ladybug scoffed.

‘Have you forgotten that she betrayed us and our team to Hawk Moth?’ she asked hotly. ‘Or that she’s been behind many of the recent akumatisations and attacks recently?’

‘No, I just thought it was a bit of overkill,’ that stupid cat said placatingly, which only riled Ladybug up further.

‘Overkill?’ she echoed venomously. ‘Our biggest betrayer now knows my identity! I’m compromised and she’s a massive liability! She’s been my own personal tormentor for years, and now she holds the key to our demise if she hands that information over to the magical terrorist she’s now buddy-buddies with!’

‘She bullied you too?’ Chat Noir asked, surprised, before shaking his head at Chloé with disapproval. ‘Oh, Chloé.’

Chloé hated how Chat Noir said that, especially because of how his disappointment hit her. Somehow, it felt almost as effective as Adrien talking to her like that.

‘As I said, I would never have joined Hawk Moth if you had just trusted me,’ Chloé retorted angrily.

‘Trusted you? Trusted you?’ Ladybug’s eyes were flaming with fury, her voice and posture ablaze with rage - Chloé would’ve taken cover if she could’ve. ‘Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to trust you? You, who had tormented me for years. You, who has orchestrated the traumas that have and will haunt me for the rest of my life. You, who has blatantly, unashamedly and relentlessly targeted me, my friends and my family just for your own personal satisfaction. Hell! I can’t even ask out the guy I like because of what you did to me with the last guy I liked! And you wanted me to trust you more than I already did?’

Well, when she worded it like that, Chloé found it hard to find a rebuttal.

‘You should be grateful that I even gave you the chance to be Queen Bee,’ Ladybug spat, ‘let alone trusted you enough for you to hold that title more than once. Did you know your biggest champions were Chat Noir and Adrien?’

Chat Noir looked a little abashed at the sudden mention of him, and confused by the mention of Adrien.

‘Whenever my belief that you were changing for the better was starting to wane, those two held strong in their belief in you, and helped me believe in you, too,’ Ladybug continued. ‘I even convinced the Guardian before me that you deserved another chance. It was near impossible for me to trust you, but I was getting there, slowly but surely. I’ll admit I made mistakes, some cost me and the team dearly, but even when I fail, I will continue to fight because it’s the right thing to do, and I would rather die than let Shadow Moth win.’

Chat Noir nodded solemnly in agreement, which made Chloé wonder if she was missing some understanding about the gravity of this magical war, or if these two were just wayyyy too intense about being superheroes.

‘Surely it’s not that dire, seriou-‘

‘Chlo, Shadow Moth winning means he could wipe out our current reality and rewrite it entirely,’ Chat Noir said, no trace of his trademark humour to be found (effectively cutting off her objection to him using Adrien’s nickname for her). ‘Life as we know it could cease to exist - we could cease to exist…permanently.’

Chloé gulped nervously. Were the stakes always that high?

‘This is not a game, it never has been,’ Ladybug said darkly. ‘So the question is: now that you know who I am, what do we do with you?’

[cavesalamander]

Scum Villain fic where Shen Yuan wakes up out of a coma and realizes that he just had a very, very vibrant dream about his boy and that web novel he hatereads.

When he gets back home after observation it's so... surreal. He feels so much older now. He's practically lived a lifetime in that dream, even if only a few months have passed.

His room is so... cringe is the word he wants to use, but he can't help but find his past self endearing about it all. Except that line of thought makes... no sense at all. His past self is just him from a couple months ago.

He decides to check up on the story he'd been dreaming about and finds out that, though there were a dozen more chapters, they had stopped updating completely without warning just a few weeks after his own coma.

(The comments after his coma, a few mention him, calling him out or cheering for him finally giving up on the story. Some people even speculate he might have died.)

His old comments were so embarrassing to read, but there's a part of him that... sees his love for Luo Binghe even in these.

Wait, why is he suddenly okay being gay for this protag??

He thinks he probably shouldn't be quite so chill about it.

He wonders what happened to Airplane. He stops himself from thinking too hard on the possibility it could all have been real. That was ridiculous!!

Meanwhile in the world of the system....

Luo Binghe is flipping OUT. His husband his shizun his beloved just up and went POOF. No trace of him, no clue left behind.

(Or is it worse if he dies? The original goods died that night he qi deviated and was replaced by Shen Yuan, so there's no soul there to replace him. Luo Binghe has had to deal with dead Shizun before but this time it's... different.)

Either way, after a whole lot of everyone flipping out, Shang Qinghua seems to know a little too much about... something.

The truth comes out. Luo Binghe admits he's suspected something like that for a while now, but thats not important. He needs his shizun back, so how..?

Cue dimension hopping shenanigans.

[wolvertooth]

au/fix where the sabretooth that gets sent down to the pit and does the sabretooth war stuff is uhmmm just a clone. its the clone plot again. for the 3rd time.

i mean im kinda torn on this since sabretooth 2022 + sabretooth and the exiles did have some good moments. its just the ending and everything that happened after that was. weird. and off.

so maybe before the pit, the clone was doing some Evil clone stuff, but being in the pit triggered some genuine memories for the clone, allowing for it to have a brief period of victors actual self. then, by the end of sabretooth and the exiles, that wore off, and he reverted back to normal Evil clone. that would also give a good reason for the brief moments in sabretooth war that felt ‘real’ being at the same time he was remembering things, his actual self slipping through again. fuck now im feeling kinda bad for this hypothetical sabretooth clone…..

meanwhile, the real sabretooth(inverted) is chilling at home, watching this go down from the outside. cuz like, lets be real, his friends wouldnt just leave him in that reverted state at the end of weapon x 2017. they would absolutely kick some ass in order to get him back to normal. and i bet it was weird for him to hear about the graydon thing too, seeing as hes now got a solid relationship with his own graydon.

oh. and ben percys wolverine is totally a clone too. cuz he just seems so different from the wolverine in infinity watch.

and the real ones are definitely living together.

anyway, extra -> tbh the whole percy run feels like an au to me. mostly due to the way both of their memories are handled, wolverines especially, as shown in x lives / x deaths. its a mashup of a bunch of different wolverine runs, but with the authors own spin on them.

its kinda representative how every new wolverine run is like their own au, each author taking bits and pieces of canon as needed, but also slightly rewriting them to fit their personal take. bit like a game of telephone, plot points getting forgotten over time as new authors dont bring them along, and other authors ideas getting remixed. especially in the earlier days, when runs were way longer, plot points getting abandoned in their own run.

a good example of this comes from return of wolverine and infinity watch, which are both considered ‘canon’, but due to their length are never referenced again. and even though infinity watch is an immediate sequel to return of wolverine, the concept introduced in that run where wolverine has all the different versions and variants of wolverine in his head wasnt ever mentioned.

its like the previous stories set up new plots only for the future ones to drop them. like how weapon x 2017s ending of sabretooth being reverted back to a ‘feral’ state never gets elaborated on later, despite seeming like something that would lead into a new arc.

all different stories, all somehow labeled as canon.