#im learning characters i never even knew existed

[dovewingkinnie]

deliver the cake for that fnaf minigame au i talked about!! the idea is that all the sprites r separate from who they really are (except for a few others) which means william is a critter now dont worry hes the same william just without the murder the story is only based on fnaf 1-3 to keep things simple and focused

[stararise]

today's mood is: wanting to play ghost trick for the first time again

[lovenonymously]

the importance of well-written stories

watching Lovely Runner was like watching 4 K-dramas at once lol

well-written stories are so rare, you only understand that when you watch something exceptional. something unique. a once in a lifetime experience of watching it for the very first time.

this show gave me so many feelings. in truth, it was an experience. I'm glad I put aside my fear of sad endings and watched as it aired. for once, I took the leap and discovered that's exactly what this drama wanted me to learn.

usually, after finishing really good K-dramas or stories in general, I hit a slump where I cannot function. everything feels dull and boring. a different kind of grief at realising this was just fictional.

but not this time.

all I feel is light and happy. like I'm floating. I want to carry this feeling and runaway. I want to remember how this felt and hold onto it when I get down or get bad days.

lifetimes lived.

Sol was sunlight. bright and unwavering and unforgettable. 💛

living vicariously through Im Sol, from feeling her pain in the beginning to her sunny hope that Sun Jae gave her. all her struggles as she jumped through various lifetimes, loved and lived and loved again. crying with her, laughing with her, rooting for her despite all odds. it was a journey.

beyond her love for Sun Jae, Sol's choices changed her family's life too. they were less hurt and much happier in the future she helped them create. even giving her grandmother a chance to return to the past and relive her fondest memories.

Sun Jae was midnight rain. the comfort of a sudden shower in the middle of summer. 💙

apart from being a complete loser in love, Sun Jae was in love with Sol for a total accumulated time of 45 years.

yep. my reaction exactly ^

I won't lie, when they pulled the "he fell first" trope in Episode 2, I was wary. one, because if the writers were willing to pull such a twist in just the second episode, then who knew what else was in store for us? my guess was pretty spot on, the twists that followed had me gasping and yelling out loud. this show was unpredictable from beginning to end.

and two, because I was worried that Sun Jae's character might get reduced to just him being in love with Im Sol.

in that case, I'm glad to say,

I was completely wrong.

despite Sun Jae's love for Im Sol, he had a grounded personality of his own. whether it was OG Sun Jae (ep 1), who lived in the guilt of what happened to the girl he loved, or Timeline 3 Sun Jae (ep 15), who never fell in love at all, he was positive, kind, decisive and striving to live.

and i love that about him.

for two characters whose stories are so deeply interwoven together, having shaped aspects of each other's lives, Sol and Sun Jae displayed their unique traits exceptionally well as individuals.

I cannot emphasize how happy this makes me. Sun Jae is his own person, Sol is her own person, and they are destined to be together. beyond their desperation for each other's safety and well-being, Sol and Sun Jae are genuinely good people who deserved to be together. even fate and time bent to their will to make it happen.

"As you wait for the rain to stop, live another day."

when a story makes you feel happy, hold onto that feeling. bottle it up. write it down. come back to it on the days the world feels against you and when the times feel too bleak.

fictional though it is, for what it's worth, at least the story exists. it means there are still people out there writing and bringing such stories to life. it means artists and creators like you and I haven't yet forgotten what it's supposed to be like to live. it means there are still people who connect to such stories and learn good things from it.

and as you wait for more such great stories, live another day. perhaps, if you get bored, write the story you want to read.

in the end, it's quite simple.

as for me, I'll be here. crying, laughing, screaming, giggling and kicking my feet while being up to my eyes in second-hand embarrassment (because goodness, these two idiots are COMPLETE LOSERS IN LOVE) throughout these past 8 weeks was the highlight of my year ✨ I will always remember that I watched a beautiful modern fairytale romance in the summer of '24 that reminded me that I was young and full of love to give.

good stories truly do make a difference 🤍

[cephalon-celaeno]

update i REALLY didn’t like this quest. it’s just that usually i consider warframe to be a game with extremely competent writing and this is… hmm. not.

huh! I already knew I wouldn’t like this quest so my opinion doesn’t count but I don’t like this quest!

[brucewaynehater101]

I miss the feeling I had when I first joined this fandom, I knew virtually nothing so everything was correct and I loved everything, even if that stuff just isn’t true, i was like

Bruce is a bit emotionally constipated but loves his kids? Hell yeah sounds legit

dick is a silly happy flippy man who is a bit promiscuous? Love that for him

Jason is a mega feminist literature nerd who is also buff and takes care of the street kids? Perfect man honest

Tim is a nerd who never sleeps and is queer and has never known the touch of a man nor woman? Sweet

Steph is waffle obsessed goofball? Well I prefer pancakes but right on

Cass is a mute badass who loves her fam? I love her

Duke is a normal dude? Well someone has to be and he seems neat

Alfred can do no wrong? Aight, I love old perfect tea men

Damian is a little prick? So are all middle schoolers give him time

But then I had to go learn about the characters and now I have complex opinions about them, and can see the inherent racism and sexism in how they are portrayed

You know before I joined the bat fandom I did not use the exclude tag in ao3? Like tmnt and dp have some bad stuff but usually I could just scroll past.

but now I am having to avoid fics where whole ass adults are bullying and/or oversexulizing a child

Im constantly on the look out for untagged batcwst

I struggle to find fics that don’t describe dicks ass

I have been in this fandom for probably about two years now and y’all I swear

sorry for ranting, and don’t worry I love all your stuff and I know the just back click don’t leave mean comments rule

I’m just tried bc most of the stuff I thought was true turned out to be false

Mm. I do find it a little exhausting trying to navigate the lines of what's canon, what shouldn't be canon (but is due to racism/sexism/homophobia/etc.), and just having fun.

I'm also trying to cultivate the mindset of what I've seen on Tumblr about not policing other people's ships/ideas. I am highly uncomfortable with some (particularly underaged people and adults dating), but I'm also not leaving hate comments. Like you said, the backspace exists for a reason.

Idk. There's a toooon of takes/ideas about the batfam that are inherently false, but as long as they aren't racist/sexist/etc takes, I don't see the harm in them. So what if someone wants a coffee obsessed Tim? So what if Jason's kill code is very strict? As long as they don't claim it's canon, let them be

But yeah. I have a mile long exclude list for fics on AO3. I used to use it only for triggers (I can not do stockhold syndrome, my lords), but now it's got other weird ass shit I've stumbled upon (I saw a fic where the batkids were spanked as punishment??? Like I said, not gonna leave hate comments or single anyone out. Just not my cup of tea).

I also am usually not a fan of romance/sex. It's why the batfam intrigued me so much (found families usually don't have that in it). I like exploring dynamics outside of romance and thus love the batfam. They've got so much going on that romance/sex is not needed. They are such a mess without that dynamic being added (talking about the Bats getting with a third party, but, again, trying not to yuck anyone's yum).

However, I agree. There's a ton of misinformation within fandom. I like how complex canon gets with the characters, but there's also widely different takes with them (mostly talking about Bruce here. He can either be trying or just a straight up horrible dad).

[mononijikayu]

bu wang — ryomen sukuna.

In the quiet sanctuary of his domain, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the shadows of the future, Ryomen Sukuna found a semblance of solace. Your memory lived on, tender of light in the darkness of his immortal existence. He was determined for it to last. He was determined to tie your destiny together, no matter what. And as long as he drew breath, he would ensure that you were revered, loved, and remembered by all who served him. He will live forever, to be with you like this.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Miscarriage, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Miscarriage, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Pseudo-Incest, Adoptive Cousins, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language, Smut, Detailed Depiction of Sex, Depiction of Sexual Foreplay, Sexual Penetration, Consensual Sex;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: bu wang by wang yibo

ko-fi

note: i was going to write this two days ago, but i ended up cleaning and sleeping my room after the mess of exams. please pray that my exams and my grades end up well, thank you~ anyway im on my vacation this time around, so ill be around more than you probably would like. i might start updating ko-fi too~ i might write an extra chapter about you (hiromi) and sukuna's short but blissful married life!!! anyway, enjoy this chapter, much love my darlings <3

IT HAD BEEN A SOLITARY EXISTENCE.  But he supposed that hardly mattered to anyone. Perhaps not even to himself. Ryomen Sukuna had learnt that nothing was ever worth keeping around for that long, nor getting that close to someone for that long. He had learned that too easily, as a human. But it was useless for him to pretend that he was a human being. He was not. He was all but a god that long forgot he wasn’t human.

Eighty years have drifted away like autumn leaves since your death, yet the memories remain vivid, haunting Sukuna's every waking moment. He had watched life blossom and life rot into flames. Over and over, generation after generation, he was the only one that had yet changed.  And perhaps never will. He knew that too well. It has been more than a century now. A century where he had burned off all that came with humanity and left only what could be that blank space that will never be full again.

In the secluded echoes of Hida, where the mountains whispered secrets to the wind, Ryomen Sukuna had chosen his solitude. It is not to say that Sukuna does not open his doors to worshippers, to people who long for his aid, to people who long to leave those offerings.

But that isolation keeps Sukuna aware that he is above all those around him. And there above, looking down through the mountain passes, how small those were above him — he realized how truly solitary the throne he sat at. The same throne he never thought he would ever seat in a hundred years or so of this wretched life.

Still, even with that isolation, he still had companions. He had servants full to the brim in these halls, who one after the other took to his every need. Though, it was Uraume who served him most faithfully. And at times, he was given women to pleasure him, as either sacrifices to keep their villages safe or as war prizes for each sorcerer village was pillaged. Sukuna however had little interest in such pleasures. He supposed that too died with his humanity. But perhaps that was a relief on the part of the women around his harem. 

In all that time, he found himself preoccupied. With their fleeting bravado, Jujutsu sorcerers came and went, defeated one after another, like moths drawn to a flame that inevitably consumed them. One after another, they came, at the behest of one of their lords or those wretched senile cunts. They all died the same.

He thinks that sparked quite the ire in Mikoto Masaomi, who kept sending his best sorcerer one after another. Each one failed their master and disaster led to Sukuna laughing at the fact that he was still alive, unchanged, unbothered by the man he had once known all too well.

He supposed that the same could be said about all the curses that had come his way. In these years, Ryomen Sukuna had nearly subjugated all the curses that plagued Japan, bending them to his indomitable will. Each and every one watched as one of their own died by his hands and more fell to their knees bowing with tears in their eyes, begging for mercy. He supposed that Masaomi was correct about one thing — the name King of Curses suited him better than the Fallen. 

But he supposed that Masaomi could no longer entertain Sukuna with such names. He had long died in his sleep and his only child, Masuyo, replaced him. Just like her mother, the girl ascended her seat as clan head. But Sukuna remembers that she was barely a girl of ten and five then.

The girl was younger than her siblings by years. He had only seen that girl once, and it was as if those eyes from a hundred years ago haunted him. The same eyes before the gods claimed you as their champion. Hazel glares like a tree bark under the summer burn. Tender features that were as pale as crystal snow. Sukuna wonders if she can wonder if ghosts do exist. Perhaps then he would have asked her. Yet he could not ask her.

And he did not ever. He let them do as they pleased, as they had let him do — and in the end, he never saw her again. She succumbed to that one winter illness, twenty years ago. Her children followed suit and left a lordling in the chair, barely aged five. And once again, a weak link is shown in the blood of majesty.

Sukuna had always known that the moment you had dulled the blood with that man, the name would falter and so would follow everything else. Everything that had been sacrificed perhaps was for nothing. In the same inch of stone his father died in, were pitiful hungry lesser men arguing over who should be the boy’s regent.

But that was not his to give any care about.

Ryomen Sukuna supposed that he can only watch.

Mortal beings and their squabbles were not his own.

Time had no dominion over Sukuna like it did for everyone else; he remained untouched by its relentless passage. While everything around him withered and succumbed to decay, he stood unchanged, an eternal monolith. The world cowered before him, acknowledging his unrivaled power, yet with all that power — he could not explain how none of it could fill the emptiness gnawing at his soul.

He had long forgotten the essence of human emotion, the tender intricacies of joy, sorrow, and love. After all, he was immortal. What use are the squabbles of humankind to a godly king like him?

Still, each day, a ritual of remembrance unfolded in the depths of his mind. Somehow, that was all that could make humanity echo in a god’s heart.  Since that fateful day they had parted, only you could linger in his thoughts, a ghost of the past refusing to fade. Near hundred years had passed and he could not forget how you both parted. How the snow fell like frozen tears, how the red of childbirth scattered the pavement, how your lilac eyes lost life ever so fast.

Sukuna did not know how to feel about it. But he knew, as he had been human, that your memory was a bittersweet refrain, an echo of a life that once brimmed with meaning. At this time, he could remember every detail, every moment. Yet, he could not remember the sound of your voice or your sighs of relief. The harmony of your tears, the battle cry to bring life. 

Nor could he remember the warmth of your touch or the drum of your laughter. But perhaps, he thinks, it was for the best. It was for the best to little by little forget what remained. You were no longer here. You weren’t here for him to have anymore — and yet….why have you stayed ever so constant? Why have you stayed so near and yet so far? He could not understand it. And perhaps he never will. But it was best he did not ask, nor think about asking. The was never going to be a point in it.

He doesn’t sleep much, he doesn’t need it.

But at times, Ryomen Sukuna likes to pretend.

And think about those days when you were there.

IT WAS ALWAYS QUITE A UNIQUE OPPORTUNITY. One that not even Ryomen Sukuna had thought would ever happen. This day of peace, rare and fragile, had dawned upon the Jujutsu world, granting Sukuna a brief respite from the ceaseless and dull conflict. Not that Sukuna thought it helped much. He could easily turn the table upon these people. But he thinks that they’ll bore him and it would not even be worth it. 

There was not a thought to him that he would ever agree to this day. But nearly four decades ago, it was what had become the common ground. The emperor and Fujiwara did not like it. Nor did Sukuna, if he was being honest. Yet it has. And he was here, a spectacle to those he passed by who cowered and lowered their eyes. Some had knelt and mumbling prayers. 

The imperial soldiers immediately sprung to bring them to their feet once more. The whole trail to the capital was full of them. He could only snicker. What could human beings do to a god? Not even sorcerers were enough. Sukuna though could admire the strength in the mortals before him. Many who had bowed,  they would not dare stand, not even when kicked and slapped. Some merely stood their ground, defiant as they stared at him down. Sukuna would have snickered, but he didn’t think he could bring himself to care about such trivial humanity. And so he just left them be.

On this sacred day was the only day he had the freedom to take leave of movement without the need to start a fight. Master Tengen had advised it, the old man Gojo and the lordling Mikoto approved it — what little choice did the emperor truly had? Ryomen Sukuna doubts that the Fujiwara would say anything about it. Not even forty years ago, their power too was easily crumbling, especially the powerful branch he had annihilated completely. Besides, it was one day, nothing more. 

But in that one day, the imperial capital was secured. He could not remember who these people were – but their clan badges informed him of who these nameless faces were. Mikoto, Gojo, Inumaki, Azuma, Kamo, Zenin ��� the latter two were ever so reluctant, he was certain. The others he was certain were around the emperor and the non-sorcerer branch of the political Fujiwara. 

All these folks were not truly as free as their counterparts from a hundred years ago. All these pampered brats are now from a generation which had led lives within the imperial capital’s walls. Experienced as they may, Ryomen Sukuna thinks that they would never be able to achieve what their ancestors have. Ever since the emperor had demanded them to move to the capital after the wars that had taken much, they had all become the system’s lackeys. 

In these many years, Ryomen Sukuna too had made himself an enemy of the emperor. Such conflicts that had brewed over the century had been worrisome to the crown and more so – the main branch of the Fujiwara, who held the throat of the emperor. But he could hardly care. And they knew that he would not care. Not once in his life could he. 

Uraume walked silently beside him, a shadowy presence that never wavered. They do not talk as much as Sukuna thought they would. His little servant had been an interesting one, always have been. But he supposed he had gotten used to that in all these many years. In the loudness of the world, Sukuna appreciated a space where there is silence. Years ago, it was in your arms, underneath the tree by that koi pond. But times have changed. And those moments would never repeat ever again. Uraume provides what they could. And perhaps it was enough.

As they traveled even further, bypassing Mikoto land, Ryomen Sukuna's thoughts meandered through almost a century of existence. The forest loomed ahead closer and closer and for a moment, a brief echo of memory pondered in his head. As though such memory mattered. You both had once sought refuge, fleeing the wrath of the Fujiwara. The trees whispered secrets of the past, their leaves rustling with tales that will never be known to anyone but to him and you.

“This place…..I recognize it.” Sukuna murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you, Sukuna–sama?”

“But it’s from a long time ago….I shan’t speak of it.”

Uraume nodded, a silent sentinel, understanding the weight of those memories. “Of course, Sukuna–sama.”

Sukuna wonders why he even spoke. But perhaps it was a forced habit, one that he had still yet perfected in abandoning. As they moved on and on, he could see the grassy plains that made up the Ryomen hunting grounds. It was the bane of his existence; how he could remember the way you would complain about the mud during the monsoon. How he remembered that night you both stayed long enough to see the bountiful firefly blossom in the fields. How he remembered how close you were in embrace. He could feel his mouth dry.

But it was the sight of Ryomen Manor that struck the deepest chord. The once grand estate had diminished, its former glory a shadow of what it had been. The Mikoto clan now occupied it, attempting to emulate the past magnificence of the Ryomen, but failing to capture its true essence. Ryomen Sukuna could barely allow himself to look at it. To even think that it was something that he could think of as home. It was nothing that it should be,  that was for certain. And now that the MIkoto have resided in the imperial capital — this shall be left in shambles now. And soon forgotten, a relic of a past that most people will question.

“This was my home,” Sukuna thinks to himself, his inner voice laced with a rare bitterness. “They have taken everything, even our name. Mikoto... they usurped what was rightfully ours.”

He does not know what sears inside him as he looks at it. It was as though it was never truly what it was. Ryomen Sukuna could feel every echo of his face turn into what could be taken as anger. Is this what he had sacrificed his whole life for? For the home that gave him something, to be left by all that it had sheltered, with nothing? Had it all been for nothing? After all this time? 

Uraume looked at him, as though trying to judge their master’s feelings. “Sukuna–sama?”

“We shall occupy that space, sooner or later.” Sukuna retorted to his servant. “It shan’t fall into disrepair.”

Those red eyes burned with anger. Uraume pursed their lips into a flat line and bowed. “Of course, my lord.”

In that sudden stillness, an echo from the past reached him. Somehow, he doesn’t remember whose voice it was. But as tender as it was, as warm as it was, as human as it was — he could only think that it was yours. He could only ask himself, if your voice ever sounded this soft and this haunting. He could not understand the words that were being said. It was as if it was another language, a long forgotten one that he would never be able to understand in his whole lifetime. 

But you were smiling at him, telling him something that would have made his heart flutter all those years ago. Has your smile truly ever been this pure? Has such truth in your person ever been this wondrous? He does not know. And perhaps, he will never know ever again. But he doesn’t know if he had it in him to wish that he never could. Not even who he is now understands what he wants. So, all he could do was let you haunt him. Let you haunt him in ways not even he could understand. And even then, he has to keep moving forward, as he always has.

The living always has to move forward.

There must always be life lived even unwanted.

That’s what he must always strive to do.

“Are you sure that you need nothing of me, Sukuna–sama?”

“Yes.” He answers in a flat tone, his feet facing forward. “Walk, Uraume. Follow.”

“Of course, Sukuna–sama.”

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, HE HATED THE IMPERIAL CAPITAL. Ryomen Sukuna detested venturing into enemy territory. Even back then, when he had been a regular man, the thought of going to the imperial capital, even to do his duty as a sorcerer, was unpleasant. The crown hated sorcerers. They had to tolerate them because their lives, their destinies, were tied to the world of sorcery. Prosecutions had been done a thousand times over and over again. But each time, the futile idea of unity offered by one side or the other was what happens. And even then, the cycle of animosity continues.

Each step he took into the heart of the imperial capital felt like a betrayal to his own spirit, a reminder that you had died because of these people, for these people. The closer he got to the imperial capital’s center, the more he realized how vapid these foolish little humans are. Over and over again, they gawk, and they complain, they ask if they could go home already. They roll their eyes or shake their heads at the importance of what occurs on this day each year.

The thought of it gnawed at him, fueling a rage that simmered just below the surface. None of them knew the true cost of their peace, the blood that had been spilled for their sake. It was as if sorcerers died for nothing, it was as if what he had lived through all this time mattered little. What you had died for mattered, fought and died for mattered little. The peace you died for, to prevent any more animosity that could kill any of these pathetic beings — and they take it for granted. And every time, each year, he saw their oblivious faces, he wanted to kill them all.

Uraume, ever perceptive, noticed the darkening storm within him. "Is there anything you need, my lord?" they asked quietly.

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent as they continued on. He could not put himself in a position where he could cause an issue. Of all days, he thinks he shouldn’t. And so, he keeps his mouth shut. The red eyed towered everyone as he entered the widened gates. They had widened it to fit him, he was certain. The strident guards lowered their heads, refusing to acknowledge him. But he could hardly care. 

Uraume followed suit as he approached the inner courtyard of the  newly established Gojo Manor. The grand building loomed ahead, a symbol of the power and influence of the Gojo clan. Entering its gates, Sukuna's gaze fell upon an old man standing before him, eyes covered with Ryomen bandages. Despite his frail appearance, the old man before him could only exude a calm strength, standing with the aid of a cane but without a trace of fear.

"My six eyes see that you are still young, Sukuna-dono," the old man greeted, his voice steady.

"Your brain has yet to rot, I see… old man." Sukuna replied, a cold edge to his tone. “Have you no intention to die already?”

The gasp and whispers that echo that came from the vassals, members of court and the members of the Gojo household could not be any louder. Each year, they seem to be shocked by the audacity of the King of Curses. He had no crass no desire to abide by rules which do not apply to him. All were silenced by the rumbling of the old man’s chest into bumbling laughter. Sukuna sighed as he looked at the old man, the Gojo crest proudly wrinkled by such laughter.

The old man snickers soon after, releasing a raspy sound. "The gods keep their servant on the earth for a little more time, I suppose. And one should honor that! Besides, one must keep a sharp wit, even if the brain is too wrinkled.”

“I do not understand why the gods keep you with us this long.” The red eyed curse user sighed. “Are you not tired at all, old man? A hundred and so, and still parading like this, Gojo.”

“Why not? Retirement is too dull.” The old man retorted back to the curse user. “Besides, I must keep my sons and grandsons on their toes. They wouldn’t leave long enough if they covet only.”

He snorts at the old man’s words. “The tongue of a pompous soul.”

“Of course, there must be one that remains.”

“I doubt we need one that remains.”

The old man laughs, shaking his head at Sukuna. From what he had heard, the old man had not been in the best of health this past spring and autumn. But perhaps Sukuna should expect that. Gojo Seiryuu was well the age expected of any mortal that could even come close. And even more so for someone who wields the power of the six-eyes and limitless, living this long was a miracle. Sukuna was not stupid to assume that he had any years left, he was not going to last any longer. 

With some luck, there will be a year or two, maybe if there is something like a miracle, there will be a couple more. But peace will shatter once he dies. With the way the Gojo clan looked at him, no one else would be happy to curry any friendships with him. Fragile as it was, it was the best he and Sukuna had managed to stand upon. If his time comes, Sukuna cannot promise anything.

"I hope the journey wasn’t too tiresome, Sukuna–dono." the old man continued, his smile unwavering. “The roads are not of good import as of late. The ministers have been wasting good money, you see!”

“They’re corrupt as they come, I wouldn’t expect anything else.” Sukuna retorts, earning another round of gasp and whispers. “I would have thought you would have already unseated the bastards.”

“Now, now, don’t make it seem like I’m planning something bad or anything.” The old man says, causing Sukuna to roll her eyes. “But we shall talk about that sometime. I ask again, if the trip went well?”

"It was what must be done." Sukuna responded, his voice devoid of warmth. “It is part of our agreement, after all.”

"As always, you aren’t expressive." the old man observed, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. "And if that was the case? I do not think that my expressiveness ought to be welcomed by a crowd who holds no kindness towards me.”

The old man's smile faded slightly, but he held Sukuna's gaze steadily. "I merely wished to welcome you and offer my respects—”

Sukuna's jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides. "Your fellow human’s respect is of little value to me, old man. Remember, it is not what I hear for.”

The old man sighed and nodded his head. "Very well, Sukuna–dono. I shall lead you with me to the crypt, as I always have.”

Old lord Gojo nodded to everyone, making his way to the front. Sukuna followed as the old man’s cane led the path forward. Uraume bowed his head along with the others, before following suit. The others whispered over and over, muttering those same pathetic gossip over and over. Ryomen Sukuna wondered when their palms would sweat, when they realized that such peace was over.

Ryomen Sukuna pitied humanity for a moment.

He pitied what would become of them soon enough.

But once again, he could care less what happens to them.

IN THAT TIME, THERE HAD BEEN SOMETHING OF A FRAGILE PEACE.In the fleeting expanse of time, enduring peace was an anomaly, a delicate thread stretched taut across the centuries. For Ryomen Sukuna, the longevity of such tranquility was a marvel in itself. How had this fragile peace between the Gojo clan and the Mikoto clan persisted over eight decades? It was an uneasy truce, teetering on the edge of mutual distrust yet holding firm, a precarious balance that upheld a semblance of stability in the nation.

It was not born of desire but of necessity, forged by the relentless currents of power and obligation that bound them all. Sukuna, too, found himself caught in its web, his existence intertwined with the legacy of his beloved Hiromi and the intricate web of alliances and enmities that shaped their world.

Their children, heirs to both the burdens and hopes of their lineage, were bound by this accord, their destinies entwined with the echoes of past conflicts and the uncertain future that lay ahead. Each day, they walked the tightrope of peace, knowing that any misstep could unravel the fragile tapestry that held their world together.

In this precarious dance of diplomacy and duty, Sukuna pondered the fragility of their existence, the weight of history pressing down upon them like an unseen hand. How long could this peace endure? Would their children inherit a world of harmony or one torn asunder by the ghosts of the past?

As Sukuna looked out over the tranquil landscape, he knew that despite the uncertainties, they must endure. For in the delicate balance between war and peace, between love and duty, lay the essence of their existence—a legacy forged in the crucible of time, bound by the unyielding resolve of those who dared to dream of a future where peace could prevail.

For nearly fifty years, Ryomen Sukuna had cradled you, entrusting your body to the icy embrace of Uraume's cursed technique. Encased in an intricate ice coffin, your form remained untouched by the passage of time, suspended in a state of ethereal beauty.

The ice coffin, a masterpiece of Uraume's craftsmanship, rested at the heart of the grand audience hall. Above it, the ceiling soared high, adorned with intricate tiles blooming with gold and pearls. Rays of sunlight filtered through stained glass windows, casting shimmering reflections upon the smooth surface of the ice. It was a scene that seemed crafted for you alone, as if the very heavens conspired to honor your presence.

The hall itself echoed with a hushed reverence, the air heavy with the scent of ancient wood and the distant whisper of wind through tall, slender pillars. Shadows danced upon the walls, playing out a silent homage to your silent repose. Around you, the world moved in slow, measured steps, as though holding its breath in deference to your stillness.

Sukuna stood at the threshold, his gaze lingering upon your serene countenance. The flickering light painted your features in shades of silver and blue, accentuating the delicate lines of your face and the graceful curve of your hands folded over your chest. Time seemed to stand still in this sacred space, where beauty and sorrow intertwined in a poignant testament to love and loss.

As Sukuna looked upon you, he felt a pang of longing and remorse, his heart heavy with memories that stretched across decades. Here, amidst the opulence of the hall and the quiet majesty of your presence, he found solace and sorrow entwined. At least that was left true to what remained in his humanity for you.

Each day, Sukuna gazed upon you, venerating you as if you were a goddess. To him, you were a deity, a symbol of his defiance against the world that had taken you from him. In his dominion, Sukuna decreed that everyone must bow to you as they bowed to him. They must make prayers for your immortality, as they do with his own. 

Your presence commanded reverence, your memory immortalized in the rituals of his followers. Offerings were left at your shrine, tokens of respect and devotion, as though you were a living deity among them. It was the respect he thinks you were owed in your lifetime. If you would not get it in your life, then he would make sure he would give it to you now.

Sukuna stood before the ice coffin, his eyes tracing the delicate features of the wonder of your face. You looked as serene as you had in life, untouched by the ravages of time. You didn’t age and he does not want you to. He does not want to see you as anything else as what he had fallen in love with. You cannot be ash, not when you were still with him. Not when he still needed you.

"You are still with me," he whispered, his voice a blend of sorrow and reverence. "They will remember you, as they remember me. You are not forgotten."

Uraume, standing nearby, watched their master with quiet understanding. They had seen the pain etched into Sukuna's soul, the unending ache of loss. "Sukuna–sama," Uraume said softly, "Hiromi–samaremains as you wished. We have tended to Hiromi–sama well, Sukuna–sama. Please be rest assured—”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze never leaving you. "It is not enough, Uraume." he murmured. "It will never be enough. But….I must endure this. Being all I have.”

In the quiet sanctuary of his domain, surrounded by the echoes of the past and the shadows of the future, Ryomen Sukuna found a semblance of solace. Your memory lived on, tender of light in the darkness of his immortal existence. He was determined for it to last. He was determined to tie your destiny together, no matter what. And as long as he drew breath, he would ensure that you were  revered, loved, and remembered by all who served him. He will live forever, to be with you like this. 

After fifty years of solemn reverence, a fragile peace shattered in an instant. Those vexing, arrogant, thieves, those sons of Gojo Seiryuu, driven by ambition or folly, dared to steal the ice coffin that had cradled you for decades, spiriting it away to their clan. Ryomen Sukuna could never believe that such thieves would ever have the intention of care. 

Sukuna's fury erupted like a tempest unleashed, his heartache and rage merging into a torrential storm of wrath. In his grief-stricken fury, he embarked on a relentless rampage that tore through days and weeks. His presence was a whirlwind of destruction, leaving scorched earth and shattered remnants of lives in his wake.

Every step reverberated with the weight of betrayal and loss. Each strike echoed the anguish of fifty years of vigilance, shattered in a single act of defiance. In his wake, silence mingled with the cries of those who dared oppose him, their defiance crushed beneath the relentless tide of his fury.

The land trembled beneath his wrath, the skies darkened with his anguish. Sukuna's grief fueled a merciless onslaught, a testament to the depths of his despair and the ferocity of his love. For in that stolen moment, he lost more than an artifact—he lost a tether to his past, a relic of solace in a world fraught with turmoil.

As the rampage subsided and the echoes of his fury faded into the ether, Sukuna stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving with exhaustion and sorrow. It was then that Gojo Seiryuu had made himself known and came to confront the King of Curses. He stood below the throne Sukuna occupied, the elder man with dark red eyes gleaming as the man who had his cover.  The tension between them was palpable, a volatile mix of anger and determination. One could feel heat release from the echoes of his nostrils. 

"Sukuna-dono," Seiryuu began, his tone steady despite the danger he faced, "We must talk."

Sukuna's eyes blazed with fury. "Talk? You dare speak, talk of some ridiculous peace after what you've done? I will kill you, Seiryuu. You useless, impotent brat!”

A deadly silence followed, then Ryomen Sukuna released a barrage of the world-cutting slash aimed directly at Seiryuu. But a shimmering barrier materialized around him, absorbing the attack with ease. Gojo Seiryuu stepped forward, undeterred by Sukuna's rage. Sukuna’s eyes raged as it narrowed darkly against the Gojo clan leader. 

"You have to understand, Sukuna–dono." Seiryuu said, his voice calm yet resolute, "This is not where my mother belongs."

Sukuna's expression twisted with anger and pain. "Hiromi was my person first."

Seiryuu's gaze softened, a rare glimpse of vulnerability. "Your Hiromi was my only mother. And I was robbed of her. That bond you claim cannot surpass a son’s love.”

The words hung heavily in the air. Sukuna's breath came in ragged gasps, his mind a maelstrom of emotions. He wanted to tear Seiryuu apart, to reclaim what had been stolen from him. But beneath the fury, a sliver of understanding pierced his heart.

"Hiromi was everything to me." Sukuna said, his voice breaking.

"And my mother was everything to us," Seiryuu replied gently. "We need my mother as much as you do."

Sukuna's hands clenched into fists, knuckling white with the intensity of his emotions. His chest heaved with each breath, the weight of grief and anger pressing down upon him like a suffocating shroud. For a long, agonizing moment, he stood amidst the ruins of his sanctuary, caught between the overwhelming urge to unleash his fury and the desperate need to hold onto the memories that bound him.

Every fiber of his being screamed with anguish, a primal roar of betrayal echoing through his soul. The theft of the ice coffin, the violation of her sacred resting place, tore at him with a visceral pain that threatened to consume him whole. Images of you, serene and ethereal in your icy repose, haunted his thoughts, your presence now torn from him like a cruel jest of fate.

Memories flooded his mind—moments shared, promises made, and a love that transcended time itself. He remembered the tender touch of your hand, the warmth of your smile, and the unspoken vows that bound them together. And now, to see your resting place desecrated, stolen away by those who sought to defy his authority, ignited a fury within him that burned hotter than any flame.

His surroundings blurred as tears of rage and sorrow welled in his eyes, the lines between reality and memory blurring in a haze of anguish. The air crackled with unseen energy, the very atmosphere vibrating with the intensity of his emotions. Each heartbeat echoed like a thunderclap in the stillness of the aftermath, a testament to the tempest raging within him.

Slowly, Sukuna lowered his head, his fists unclenching as he fought to regain control over the tumultuous storm raging within. His gaze hardened with resolve, determination flickering in the depths of his crimson eyes. He turns to look at the younger man. 

"Very well." Sukuna finally said, his voice raw with emotion. "But know this: if you ever dishonor all of your mother’s memory, I will end you and everything you hold dear. This I swear, on a binding vow.”

Seiryuu nodded, understanding the gravity of the promise. "I swear on my life, we will honor my mother as what fits a clan leader of such rank."

“No.” He contests the clan leader, his eyes full of hurt. “Your mother….,my…..your mother is a goddess. Do not lessen such importance.”

“I shan’t.” He whispers back to him. “I am my mother’s son too. I hold too much devotion to not treat my mother a goddess.”

“....Very well.”

Silence engulfs them both as the words reverberated.

Sukuna turns his head away, his shoulders slumped.

Seiryuu purses his lips in a line as he tries to talk once more.

“You may see my mother, if you would like.” Seiryuu whispers to the curse user. “I shall have it arranged. You have my word.”

Ryomen Sukuna could not say anything else. As Seiryuu departed, The King of Curses watched him go, a storm of emotions raging within him. You were gone, taken to where you were also cherished, but the pain of your absence was a wound that would never heal. In the silence that followed, the King of Curses was left with his grief, his memories, and the bitter taste of a love that transcended even death.

Years later, Sukuna once more entered the crypt, his presence commanding attention and evoking a mixture of anger and disgust from those who watched him. He paid them no mind, his focus solely on the figure before him. Your body lay as perfectly preserved as the day he had last seen you, a testament to Uraume’s cursed technique. For a moment, he felt a glimmer of humanity, a faint light piercing through his demonic nature. Seiryuu, noticing the intensity of the moment, dismissed everyone from the crypt. Once they were alone, the tension between them grew palpable.

"Is it true, what I’ve been hearing?" Sukuna’s voice was low, barely masking the simmering rage beneath. "That your mother’s body is to be burned once and for all?"

Seiryuu met Sukuna’s gaze, his expression somber. "Yes, it’s true. It was an agreement between siblings over the years. We believe it’s time to finally put our mother to rest."

A heavy silence settled over the crypt, suffocating in its weight. Sukuna stood before you, his gaze fixed upon your form encased in the ice coffin. Memories, once cherished and now tinged with sorrow, flooded back with a force that threatened to overwhelm him. 

The sight of you, serene and preserved in timeless beauty, stirred a maelstrom of emotions within him. The thought of your inevitable fate—ashes scattered to the winds—gnawed at his soul like a relentless tide eroding the shore. 

Each moment spent by your side, each shared heartbeat and whispered promise, replayed in his mind with agonizing clarity. The echo of your laughter, the warmth of your touch, the scent of your hair—all now locked in a sepulchral embrace that mocked his inability to protect you from the ravages of time and fate.

The world outside the crypt seemed distant and inconsequential, blurred by tears unshed and words unspoken. In this sacred chamber, where time stood still and memories loomed large, Sukuna grappled with the weight of his helplessness and grief.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft whisper of his breath and the faint rustle of fabric as he clenched his fists in anguish. Each passing moment etched deeper lines of sorrow upon his face, shadows dancing in the flickering light of candles that bore witness to his silent vigil.

He reached out, fingers trembling as if to touch the icy barrier that separated him from you. His hand hovered, suspended in the air, as if unsure whether to breach the sacred sanctum that held your essence captive.

And in that moment of vulnerability, Sukuna whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the crypt, "I cannot bear to see you reduced to ashes, my love. Not after all we've endured."

“I am sorry…..if that is not what you wished to hear.”

“I do not wish to see it, I do not wish to hear it. None of it.”

Seiryuu nodded. "My mother deserves peace, Sukuna-dono. We all do. Keeping my mother preserved like this, it’s... it’s not right. It’s time to let go. It’s…it’s time to let my mother go, Sukuna–dono.”

Sukuna’s hands clenched at his sides, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. He had held onto you for so long, unable to accept your death, unable to move on. Now, faced with the finality of your cremation, your erasure from this earth, from your wholeness,  he felt a profound sense of loss. For a moment, he felt human again. But perhaps, he will always be like that – when it comes to you. Only you.

For a long moment, he said nothing, his gaze locked on your serene face. Then, with a heavy heart, he spoke. “I cannot accept it. Not like this.”

Seiryuu nodded, understanding the depth of Sukuna’s pain. “I know, Sukuna–dono.”

Sukuna turned away, the weight of his grief almost too much to bear. “Do what you must. As long as I….As long as there is a way….”

Silence settled between Seiryuu and Sukuna, thick and palpable, like the frosty stillness of a winter's night. It draped over them, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved emotions, casting a chill over the atmosphere that matched the solemnity of their surroundings.

For Seiryuu, the silence held a weight of regret and sorrow, a recognition of the rift that had widened between them despite their shared history and familial ties. It was a moment of introspection, where the consequences of past actions and decisions hung in the air like frozen breath.

Sukuna, too, felt the silence keenly. It wrapped around him, a stark reminder of his own tumultuous emotions—anger, grief, and a longing that he struggled to reconcile. In this frozen moment, he grappled with the realization that their paths diverged irreversibly, bound by duty and destiny yet separated by divergent ideals.

Between them, the silence became a canvas upon which their unspoken thoughts and regrets painted themselves in muted shades. It was a moment pregnant with the weight of their shared history, their intertwined fates now strained by the passage of time and the choices they had made.

As they stood in the stillness, each lost in their own contemplation, the silence spoke volumes. It echoed with the echoes of unspoken apologies, of wounds too deep to heal, and of a future uncertain yet inexorably linked. In this frozen tableau, Seiryuu and Sukuna are bound together by bonds of grief for the one they loved the most, frozen in the deathly echoes in front of them.

Seiryuu broke the heavy silence with a gentle voice. "I understand why you want to keep the body whole, Sukuna–dono. But you must know, it was never my mother’s wish to be brought back to life."

Sukuna’s eyes flashed with anger, and he cut him off sharply. "Hiromi did not say that. Hiromi never did—"

Seiryuu sighed, his expression weary but resolute. "Regardless, my mother wanted to be free from all of this pain. What you would do, in trying to revive this body, would only bring my mother more suffering. I don’t want that for my mother, Sukuna–dono. I ask of you, as a son. Please.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, his mind racing with the conflict of his desires and the harsh truth Seiryuu presented. The silence that followed was thick with unspoken emotions, a chasm between their understandings of love and loss.

"Do you really think I wish for Hiromi to suffer?" Sukuna finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, laced with a raw vulnerability.

Seiryuu met his gaze, unwavering. "I know you loved my mother, Sukuna–dono. Mayhaps, you still do.  But sometimes, love means letting go. Letting go of ties that don’t let our loved ones rest in peace.”

The words hung in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications that weighed heavily on Sukuna's heart. Rage and sorrow churned within him like a tempest, battling for dominance over his thoughts and emotions. 

Sukuna stood at a crossroads, torn between conflicting desires that tugged at his very soul. On one hand, there was an unyielding urge to preserve you, to shield you from the inexorable march of time and the fate that threatened to extinguish your essence. The thought of losing you, of seeing your existence reduced to mere ashes scattered in the wind, clawed at his heart with a visceral ache.

Yet, intertwined with this desperate longing was a stark realization—a haunting awareness that his actions, driven by love and anguish, might inadvertently condemn you to a fate far worse than death. The weight of his power, the consequences of his choices, loomed large in his mind, casting a shadow over his every thought.

In the stillness that followed, Sukuna grappled with the cruel irony of his predicament. To keep you close meant defying the natural order, challenging the very fabric of existence itself. And yet, to let go—to surrender to the inevitability of your passing—felt like a betrayal of the love that had defined his existence for decades.

As he stood there, surrounded by the echoes of his turmoil, the silence bore witness to the tumult raging within him. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms, as if seeking to anchor himself against the storm of emotions threatening to consume him whole.

The room, once filled with the quiet reverence of your presence, now crackled with an intensity born of uncertainty and fear. Each passing moment stretched into eternity, the weight of his decision pressing down upon him like a leaden cloak.

And amidst the turmoil of his heart, Sukuna knew that whatever choice he made would shape not only his own destiny but yours as well. For in the delicate balance between love and duty, between defiance and acceptance, lay the essence of his eternal struggle—an agonizing quest for redemption and a yearning for solace in a world where nothing was certain but the inevitability of change.

"Hiromi was everything to me, boy." Sukuna said, his voice breaking. “There was nothing else but Hiromi.”

"And to us too. My mother was everything to us," Seiryuu replied softly. "We all want my mother to be at peace.”

Another silence descended, denser and more profound than before, wrapping Sukuna in a suffocating embrace of solitude. His gaze remained fixed upon Hiromi's serene visage, preserved in eternal repose within the icy coffin. 

In the depths of his crimson eyes, a tempest of emotions raged unchecked. Anguish and longing mingled with a raw, gnawing grief that clawed at his heart like a relentless beast. The weight of loss pressed upon him, each breath a struggle beneath the burden of Seiryuu's words—words that resonated with painful clarity, cutting deeper than any physical wound ever could.

Sukuna knew, deep down, that Seiryuu's admonitions held truth. The inevitability of letting go, of releasing your spirit from the confines of earthly ties, bore down upon him with crushing force. Yet, accepting this truth was a wound unto itself—a wound that pierced through the very fabric of his being, leaving behind scars that no battle could ever erase.

The room around him seemed to constrict, suffused with a palpable stillness that mirrored the turmoil within his soul. Shadows danced upon the walls, casting elongated figures that whispered of past regrets and future uncertainties. Each moment stretched into eternity, time itself bending to accommodate the weight of his indecision and sorrow.

As he stood there, a solitary figure amidst the silent tableau of memories and regrets, Sukuna's hands trembled with the urge to reach out—to touch, to hold, to defy the relentless march of time. Yet, even as he yearned for solace in the familiarity of her presence, the truth remained a bitter pill to swallow—a truth that threatened to unravel the fragile threads of his resolve.

And in the hush that enveloped them both, Sukuna grappled with the agonizing truth that love, in its purest form, sometimes meant letting go. For in the depths of his heart, amidst the ache of separation and the anguish of acceptance, lay the essence of his eternal struggle—a struggle that would surely blossom from what he had left of you.

Seiryuu broke the silence with a question that pierced Sukuna's brooding thoughts. "Are you still asking, Sukuna–dono?”

Sukuna turned his head, a flicker of confusion crossing his features. "What are you talking about?"

Seiryuu's eyes held a depth of understanding as he clarified. "Are you still trying to find mother’s soul?"

Sukuna paused, the weight of the question settling heavily upon him. Your soul had vanished shortly after your death. Sukuna had felt it leave you. Sorcerers could always feel the energy of life leave. In all that time, Ryomen Sukuna had spent countless years searching for a way to retrieve it, to reunite your truest essence with your preserved body. He had worked all this time, trying to find a way to have you again.

Seiryuu shook his head slowly. "It’s no use. You should stop chasing the same madness that consumed the ancients. You will never find the answers you seek, nor the closure you crave. Neither will I. We will never find closure, only grief. And what better way to love than to grieve, until our dying day?"

Sukuna’s voice was low, almost resigned. "I don’t know if I can even die. Nor do I remember what it was to love."

Seiryuu chuckled softly, a sad yet knowing sound. "That's a pretense, Sukuna. All you have to do is look at my mother and you’ll remember."

A heavy silence enveloped them once more, each man lost in his own reflections. Finally, Sukuna broke the silence with a question of his own. "Where will Hiromi be buried?"

Seiryuu's gaze softened, filled with a mixture of sorrow and determination. "Mother’s ashes will be scattered between the Mikoto and the Gojo, but my mother’s heart will remain in Hida."

Sukuna's nod was solemn, his gaze lingering upon your serene countenance for what felt like an eternity. In the delicate lines of your face, he traced the echoes of a life once vibrant with purpose—a life intimately entwined with his own, now frozen in eternal repose.

Turning away felt like tearing himself from the essence of his existence, a painful severance from the one who had anchored his tumultuous soul. Yet, he knew that lingering would only prolong the agony, prolong the inevitable parting that fate had cruelly decreed.

As he stood at the threshold of the crypt, a profound sense of loss washed over him like a tidal wave. The weight of your absence bore down upon him with suffocating force, threatening to engulf him in a sea of despair. Each step away from your side felt like a betrayal of the love that had sustained him through decades of turmoil and strife.

But in that agonizing moment of departure, Sukuna found himself paralyzed by indecision. His hand hovered uncertainty in the air, fingertips brushing against the cold stone of the crypt. The room seemed to constrict around him, the walls closing in with the weight of unspoken regrets and unfulfilled promises.

Time stood still, suspended in the fragile balance between past and present, love and duty. His breath caught in his throat, chest tight with the ache of longing and the bitter taste of acceptance. The air crackled with unseen energy, the atmosphere heavy with the echoes of their shared history and the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

For a fleeting moment, Sukuna dared to imagine a future where your spirit could find peace, where the echoes of your presence would linger as a gentle whisper in the winds. But reality intruded with merciless clarity, reminding him that some wounds could never fully heal, some losses could never be reconciled.

And as he finally tore himself away, each step echoing like a tolling bell in the silence of the crypt, Sukuna carried with him the weight of a love that transcended time and a sorrow that echoed through the corridors of his soul.As the meeting drew to a close, Seiryuu turned to Sukuna with a probing look.

"Before you go, tell me about the little girl you sent to me.”

Sukuna's expression remained unreadable. "The girl is important to me."

Seiryuu raised an eyebrow, curiosity evident in his eyes. "She looks exactly like my mother, Sukuna–dono.”

"It’s better to ask little to no questions," Sukuna replied, his tone cold. "The more questions you ask, the more trouble it will bring."

Seiryuu sighed, shaking his head. "You must have been such a bore if your words always echoed like this."

Sukuna made no response, his gaze steely. "I hope I never see you again, Seiryuu, because next time, I will kill you."

Seiryuu laughed, a genuine sound that filled the crypt. "You say that every time, Sukuna, and yet you never follow through. Do you have respect for your elders after all?"

Sukuna snickered, a dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "I have none."

With a graceful bow, Seiryuu offered a final word. "Thank you for making the time to see off my mother."

Sukuna remained silent, his stoic demeanor a stark and powerful response in itself. With a heavy heart, he turned away from the stairwell, leaving behind the crypt and the haunting memories that clung to its walls like shadows. The weight of his grief, a burden he carried with the weight of centuries, hung heavy upon his shoulders, echoing the pain of a past that refused to be forgotten.

Stepping into the fading light outside, the world seemed to darken around him, the encroaching shadows a tangible reminder of the darkness that still gripped his heart. Each footfall echoed with a hollow emptiness, the void that now consumed him—a void that no victory in battle or conquest could ever hope to fill.

Returning to Hida, his sanctuary amidst the mountains, offered him no solace this time. The familiar quiet that had once been a refuge now felt suffocating, a relentless reminder of the emptiness that gnawed at his immortal soul. Decades of relentless striving, of conquering foes and amassing power, had left him adrift in a sea of purposelessness.

The once-glorious halls of his domain now echoed with the whispers of lost ambitions and unfulfilled desires. His immortal existence stretched out before him, devoid of meaning or direction. What had once driven him—the promise of power, the pursuit of vengeance, the longing for a love lost to time—now felt hollow and meaningless.

As Sukuna stood amidst the silent mountains, their peaks piercing the heavens like jagged scars, he wrestled with the bitter realization that even immortality offered no escape from the agony of longing and loss. Each passing moment only deepened the chasm within him, a gaping wound that no amount of conquest could heal.

And so, in the fading light of day, Sukuna stood alone—a titan brought low by the weight of his own immortality, haunted by the echoes of a past that refused to be buried. And it bored him. It pained him. It turned him bitter, too bitter to even understand why.

Sukuna called upon Uraume, who appeared before him with a respectful bow. "Sukuna–sama," Uraume greeted, their voice tinged with concern. “You asked to see me?”

Sukuna met their gaze, his eyes reflecting a restless determination. "I’ve heard tales of a cursed user, who introduces themself as a sorcerer traveling the lands, granting wishes," he began, surprising Uraume with the unexpected topic of conversation.

Uraume tilted their head, curious. "Why would you be interested in such a thing, Sukuna–sama?"

Sukuna’s expression darkened with a hint of anticipation. "There’s something I want to do," he said slowly, his voice carrying an edge of urgency. "And I need your assistance."

Uraume nodded solemnly, sensing the gravity of Sukuna’s request. "Whatever it is, Sukuna–sama, I am here to serve."

Sukuna's mind churned with tumultuous thoughts, each thought of a turbulent wave crashing against the shores of his consciousness. For centuries, he had roamed the earth with purpose, driven by a relentless hunger for power and a burning desire for vengeance. Yet, amidst the eons of battles fought and victories claimed, there remained a desire—a yearning that whispered to him in quiet moments, a longing that stirred the depths of his immortal soul.

The prospect of fulfilling this desire now loomed before him, tantalizing yet elusive. It was a pursuit that had consumed him in quiet moments of reflection, a quest that promised to satiate a hunger deeper than any he had known. The flickering flame of possibility danced on the horizon of his mind, casting shadows of doubt and determination in equal measure.

In the labyrinth of his thoughts, Sukuna weighed the consequences of his next move. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, veiled in the mists of destiny and obscured by the echoes of past decisions. To grasp this desire meant unraveling the fabric of his existence, risking everything he had fought to build and protect.

Yet, the allure was undeniable—a magnetic pull that drew him inexorably forward, defying reason and logic. It whispered promises of fulfillment, of reclaiming what had been lost, and of forging a future where his immortal existence could find purpose once more.

As he stood at the crossroads of destiny, Ryomen Sukuna's resolve hardened like steel. With each passing heartbeat, he embraced the uncertainty that lay ahead, knowing that the journey to fulfill his desire would test not only his strength but also the depths of his resolve.

He cannot face this world like this any longer.

There must be another way to live with excitement.

There must be another way to be with you again.

“Seek out that man they call Kenjaku.”

IT WAS A CONFUSING THING. You stood amidst the rugged terrain, surrounded by towering mountains that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. The air was crisp and tinged with the scent of pine, a stark contrast to the bustling wind that swept through the valleys below. Your long hair danced in the breeze, lilac eyes scanning the unfamiliar landscape with uncertainty.

You looked left and right, Your gaze tracing the jagged outlines of the peaks that framed your surroundings. The silence of the mountains enveloped you, broken only by the distant call of an eagle and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze. Each direction seemed equally daunting, equally unknown.

You didn’t know this place, but you truly wish you did. Its contours were foreign, its secrets hidden within the folds of its ancient rocks and whispering forests. Yet, despite the uncertainty that gripped your heart, something stirred deep within the depths of your soul. A faint whisper, a subtle urging, compelled you to move forward. To find that way somewhere.

Your brow furrowed in concentration as you tried to make sense of the inner voice guiding you. It was elusive, a fleeting sensation like the touch of a distant memory. It urged you to move, to seek out something you couldn’t yet define. But you could feel it, in your gut, in your mind, in your heart, in your whole soul — that you need to be somewhere, that something is calling to you.

You could only close your eyes briefly, inhaling deeply as if to draw strength from the untamed wilderness around you. The soul dragons, ethereal creatures of legend, fluttered around you, their presence both mystical and comforting. These soul dragons, they were ephemeral and ancient. And yet they were kind to you as they soothed you and your edges. Souls were pure, they always had to be. They were protecting you with their ethereal forms shimmering with hints of iridescent colors as they circled in a dance.

You were sure that they came here to rescue you. Wandering souls are often ones that come by here, you were sure. And somehow, they seemed to sense how overwhelmed you were and in their shimmering forms weaving through the air as if to point the way, as if to guide you to a safe zone. And you were grateful, that there was at least something that could help you feel like you weren’t alone.

Uncertainty lingered in your heart, but so did determination. You knew you had to go somewhere, even if you couldn’t articulate why. With a final glance at the vast expanse before you, you took a deep sigh and put your trust in your new found companions. You took a hesitant step forward, trusting in the unseen currents that guided your path.

"Where do I belong?" you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the gentle rustling of leaves. “Do you know where I should be?”

The soul dragons continued their mesmerizing dance, their movements synchronized as if in response to your question. You furrowed your brows, focusing. You looked around the two, trying to decipher their silent language, searching for clues in the patterns they traced against the clear blue sky. But you could only sigh. You don’t know what they were saying.

A voice, soft yet commanding, echoed in your mind, urging you to look at their dances harder. To understand what they were saying to you. You turned again, trying not to give up. Before you heard a sound. You yelped as you hid behind the dragons, who formed a wall around you. You looked to the side as you gulped. You peered for a small moment and  saw a figure approaching through the rocky terrain—a dark-haired man with an enigmatic smile on his lips.

"Are you lost, traveler?" the man asked, his voice carrying a warmth that belied the remote wilderness surrounding them. “I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

“N–not too much.” The dragons seemed unmoving as you moved to the side, but they followed you. You purse your lips. “I’m sorry….my friends here seem overprotective of me.”

He smiles back at you, shaking his head. “Not at all. Please don’t be concerned.”

You hesitated, uncertain whether to trust this stranger who seemed to appear out of nowhere. "I... I don't know…" you admitted, your gaze flickering between him and the soul dragons that hovered nearby. “I don’t know what to say.”

The man's smile widened, as if he understood the turmoil within her. "You're searching for something, aren't you?" he asked softly, his eyes holding a glimmer of knowing.

You could not help but nod slowly, a sense of relief mingling with trepidation. "I feel like I have to go somewhere," you confessed, your voice tinged with both hope and apprehension. “But I don’t know where or how to get there….I’m very….”

“Confused?”

You nodded at him. “I am…”

The man's expression softened, and he extended a hand towards you. "Then let me help you," he offered gently. "Tell me your wish, and I will guide you."

You looked into his eyes, eyes widened. “Do you… do you know who I am?”

“I do, I do know you.”

"Then…then….I… I long to remember who I am! And…and where I'm meant to go," you replied earnestly, your heart yearning for clarity. “Please tell me. Everything!”

The man's smile remained kind and reassuring. "I can help you with that," he said, his voice resonating with quiet assurance. “Don’t worry.”

You felt a surge of gratitude towards this stranger who offered to illuminate the path she sought. "What's your name?" you asked, curiosity sparking in your lilac eyes.

His smile widened as he responded, "My name is Kenjaku."

“And…..and what is my name?”

“I’ll tell you, on the way.” He takes his haori off and places it on top of your shoulder. “Do you trust me?”

You blinked at him. “I….I do.”

“Then trust me, wholeheartedly.”

Your eyes warmed as you nodded.

And so began, a thousand years of hell.

facts about the chapter

the chapter is 10k words long and it was just me trying to fit everything in one chapter knowing it would be rough if i split it into two.

i took out some stuff because the draft was not drafting the way i wanted. maybe like 2k words?

the entire chapter echoes a lot about sukuna's hypocrisy. he believes that he is a god, belittles humans and ends up being more human than most. seiryuu sees it the most in sukuna, and perhaps its why he keeps him around the most.

seiryuu is the only remaining child of hiromi still alive. he is in his 100s, which is a very rare feat in that time and being a six-eyes and limitless user, he is in fact very strained. no one knows how he lived that long.

the ode that mikoto masuyo wrote only lasted up until the death of hiromi. so only seiryuu knows about things that happened 80 years later.

the first to die was masako. she died in childbirth just ten years after her mother passed away. her last wish was to be with her mother, but she never got her wish.

the way the gojo clan stole hiromi's body back was to come when no one was around. sukuna at the time was called to the festival where he meets yorozu, whom he hates. it was put into the gojo clan manor in the capital, until the siblings could decide what to do.

sukuna talked about stealing ryomen manor and he does, for the next few years before the genpei war starts and begins. this is the time sukuna ended up dying and cutting himself into different pieces to be revived.

he renovated ryomen manor and made the entire thing have frescos of hiromi's life from beginning to end. its one of the marvels of ryomen manor, but we'll see this in us and them, but sukuna is displeased that they took out the part where he and hiromi fell and love and married - the mikoto do not in fact subscribe to the reality that they were ever married.

hiromi's soul wandered a long time, but gained form only that year because the soul could not find anyway to be whole as the way hiromi died nearly ruined the essence remaining in the soul.

the girl that was living with seiryuu was someone that sukuna holds dear. sukuna sent her away because he doesn't want her to be stuck with him. this will be elaborated on in the next chapter and in us and them!!!

kenjaku in fact was the person that trapped hiromi for one thousand years and in fact helped sukuna afterwards. the whole reason he trapped hiromi was because of her powers.

we'll only find out next chapter how hiromi was trapped and how she appears in shibuya.

the gif quotes is hiromi and her descendant genmei talking. this happens post shibuya.

[erabu-san]

Hello!!I want to start off with the fact that i ABSOLUTELY LOVE your art!!The way you draw characters is amazing,you draw them nearly the same as i hc them

I was scrolling through your blog (the art is beautiful please dont ever stop) and i saw some anons complaining and insulting you for drawing some characters (mainly characters from natlan and sumeru) with different shades of skin.While i dont know much about this topic i just wanted to share my opinion.

Sumeru is based off of middle east,the majority of which has tanned skin (but its very mixed from what i know!).Natlan is based off of a lot of places (which is honestly another sign of racism in my opinion)I myself am from Turkey which can count as both middle east AND Europe (even turkish people dont know what we count as).I have a lot of middle eastern friends as well (Iran,Iraq,Sauda Arabia,Syria…) and they are brown or tanned and one of them is white!

i saw a lot of people say that “not every character needs to be black/brown” and i answer this with not every character has to be white.White,brown,black,asian,native american and every other race exists and every race deserves to be respected.No race should be insulted for wanting representation.No race should be seen as outcasts either.Wether that be white or black,no one deserves to feel like they are not fine the way they are.

I myself hc Zhongli as pale as a ghost to indicate that he is a god (as being pale is associated with being a superior being in chinese culture).I hc Xiao as tanned due to him spending all his time,day and night,fighting monsters.I hc Neuvilette has slightly blue-ish skin bc hes the hydro sovereign.I hc as black bc i like him that way.I hc Alhaitham as brown and so many more characters.Nobody would want to play a game in which there is no diversity.Diversity helpes the characters feel more real and gives them character depth.Diversity helps make Teyvat feel more real,like Earth itself.

But anyways this is just my opinion,i would love to learn more and hear everyone’s opinions.And if someone doesnt like your art they should just block you if they dont want to see it🤷‍♀️ Your art is amazing though so please dont mind those buffoons 🙏

Sorry it this got too long or complicated.English isnt my first language and im still learning

And dont even get me started on the body shapes of the characters

Hii !! Thank you so much ! 😭😭🙏

Yesss I completely agree with you !

And if I can be honest, I wasn't aware of this question of representation and diversity before Genshin Impact. Once, I saw a fanart with someone making a white character black, and in all of my ignorance, I was wondering why (a genuine question). So I asked my friend her thought (because I love hearing her opinions) and she makes me aware about representation in media, and issues they are facing to. And, wow, I learnt a lot ! Maybe it is a bit silly but, I always tend to focus on canon content, and all my HC was around interactions or their behaviour, and I never thought about their body appearance HC. And since I learnt that, my creativity developed a new skill ! So it is only recently I put HC on their physical appearance (like Sethos with dimples KKGEKDJS it ain't that much but it is fun, I guess HC on physical appearance is not my domain)

But it is thanks to Genshin, a game about exploring a whole world with diversity lore in each region, and what representation Hoyoverse used for making their game that I started to be into it. So yes, there is a lot of problem in genshin, making some rep worst. But without this, I wouldn't be able to learn more about SWANA culture with a thread I read on Dehya Nilou Tighnari Faruzan, Japan with Wanderer, Chinese with Yun Jin or recently on Hawai'i with Mualani and even on France United Kingdom with Emilie (i think I also read a thread about GaMing too...?). And what a surprise, I am close to France and UK but I never knew about Emilie's inspiration. Not only on character but also lore, and how some desert name in genshin is also part of culture (I don't remember where I read it tho !! Gosh i wish to reread it again).

I love genshin for its diversity whatever on region or lore but even on gameplay it offers us in our adventure. But I also agree on those who complain about character design ! Not only about representation, but about storytelling in character design (for example, you can't guess Xilonen is someone who forges ; her nails, accessories and hair would be on her way). And it happens that I receive some hate message (on tumblr and twitter. Mostly twitter) saying "this game is not for you, just leave" with some insults that I prefer to not share lol

I agree and also disagree. What do you mean this game is NOT for me ?? Searching our lost sibling, tragic lore, wholesome encounter, satisfying gameplay, vivid color landscape, with great characters, ALBEDO ??? Not for me ?! 🤨 My love for genshin is immense. But, I agree on the fact that.. yes. Indeed, I am not the target for genshin character design. I played a lot of gacha game, and it is mostly based on collectioning waifu with big boobs and big ass (you were a great game, Epic Seven...). When I look at hater's account on twitter, there is a pattern : throwaway account, account full of problematic opinion, or full of porn 2d woman with the basic hourglasses morphology big boobs big butt even on characters who are flat. It is undeniable that most of genshin characters are sexualised, and this, for sell them better. And, making them white is one of criteria to sell them better to those type of client 🙂‍↕️

I study sociology (i am a newbie tho, nothing deep) and I can extend this light analyse on what I learn : the success of Genshin, why there is such a contrast between Genshin players and their different profiles, the benefits Hoyoverse do and how difficult it is to satisfy all players (and so sacrifices are made, like characters design). It is all supposition tho BGKEJGJS but maybe if I do my last year of sociology and still into genshin, why not making my essay on it bahahaha

BACK TO THE TOPIC !!! (SORRY I HAD A LOT TO SAY) don't worry, since this anon hate, I tend to block everyone who try to argue or insult 😭 and just mostly shock how people are openly racist when they are behind a screen WOW lucky me I am not affected by those words ☠️ and all of this just because I draw Kinich black skin or Xilonen with a bit more textured hair...? That's so crazy ! Anywaaaay diversity is great and it works also on creativity too !! World is boring if everything looks the same, and it is also the same in Genshin ! Imagine in 4 years, genshin only released mondstadt 1, mondstadt 2, mondstadt 3.... I believe the game would be dead sooner if it was the case bahaha

And thank you again for all your compliments about my art anon !! I love drawing so much, and it is my source of fun and happinness <3 There is in some drawings I thought "wow !!! I improve !!" And i am so happy when people notice it too! 😭🙏

Don't worry abt your english, mine isn't the best neither BAHTVZJHGJZGAA

[team7-headquarter]

There's no way I can analyze the Team 7 dynamic before saying a bunch of stuff about Sakura.

Most vital parts of her character in relation to the theme of the story get completely overlooked in favor of #GirlPower, making her just part of a ship or hating her without taking a moment to really dive in how she exists on the Naruto world.

What do you mean you can't remember Haku's speech on how in the shinobi system people want to become tools for the people they love and how it connects to Sakura later becoming a medic nin?

What do you mean you can't see how she was not given proper continuation to her Naruto classic breakthrough in the Chunning Exams + after the Sasuke Retrieval mission? And before someone can say her only realization was has been useless all that time, it's even more important!! She knew she had been unfair to Naruto for treating him so bad and expecting him to shoulder all her burdens like nothing, that she did a disservice to Sasuke too by not acting as her teammate but basically asking him to rescue himself and Naruto it failed. She makes a promise to herself to grow for her and not someone else, to become a kunoichi and focus on her career instead of letting times drag her around, she makes herself a promise that she won't be powerless anymore, because her friends deserve it and she deserves it.

Naruto Classic even makes a point of letting her go back into her old ways out of stress and the minute she notices what she has done, what she did to Sasuke and Naruto, she apologizes to him (Naruto) and promises to burden the weight of the promise he made with him— that's why, back then, Shikamaru and Tsunade were able to smile to both Sakura and Naruto, seeing their courage in the face of Sasuke leaving.

Shippuden just repeats and exploits those scenes in new ways, bringing Sakura back at the start for the sake of drama or ship baiting. What Sai told Sakura and how it leads to Sakura fake confession makes no sense given the hospital room scene!!!! She knows she hurt him, she saw it back then!!!! She knows he suffers for her and that's why she promised to go after Sasuke with him next time! She apologized for her behavior and she worried about Naruto's wellbeing and she ran to ask to be Tsunade's apprentice because she knew!!!!

It makes no sense!!!

Her arc in the Classic is supposed to be about how she doesn't have a definition of herself that she feels belong in the world, so she hides behind pretences. During their presentation, you learned more about Sasuke than Sakura. She was on the same level of Kakashi revealing nothing about her life. The Chunning Exams start with Kakashi all worried that her lack of confidence/independence would force her into the exams. She realizes how little she has truly work on her own self during the Sound shinobis attack and cuts her hair, swearing she'll do better. It's her sense of self HIDDEN SO DEEP WITHIN HER, what break a technique that is not supposed to be capable of being broken.

The Classics portraits Sakura as being annoying and naive and causing damage through ignorance but it always Sakura to grow. She learns and she's able to keep that knowledge. She's neglected by Kakashi in her training, but she's able to seek a sensei for herself —and that's an important thing for her! She's not waiting for someone to teach her or recommend her! She has agency now! She has gone so far, evolved so much!

Sakura offering herself as a puppet to Chiyo is not about lack of independence, it's Sakura showing that she acknowledged and accepted the Shinobi philosophy of being a weapon. She's still Sakura, too sentimental, too willing to jump to shield the life of another, but now it gives Tsunade's energy. Those women turn weakness into power, love and fear into determination. Sasori allows them to kill him because the battle was never about the knifes and always about the dispute on points of views.

It's a battle of philosophies: Chiyo and Sakura won

But after that? There are moments of importance and coherence, but the story starts regressing her progress in favor of some angst with Naruto or Sasuke and it kills their dynamics. The storytelling is messy —not cohesive enough. Contradictions start to appear everywhere. It's not even a form to being depth into her characterization, it's clear it's nothing but indecision, confusion, too many lines to take so you take several and end up mixing it.

The Sakura from the Classic was unknowable for her teammates. Naruto couldn't see her struggles because he was too young. Sasuke could see it, but he didn't want to engage with it 'cause he had his own agenda. They had their dreams and they were her dream. They were far more developed and on a different stage of their storylines, while Sakura was far behind, a late bloomer.

Her whole story is about her trying to catch up with them not in power, not in importance, but merely on the idea of having work on herself enough that she can't stand on her own and do something on her own and mean something of her own, without them, outside of them, so their dynamics can mature too.

Must mention that I'm not talking about romance at all, but you can't avoid it a lot because romance is one of the obstacles in their relationships. The love triangle and later the nostalgia encourages them all to see the others through the lenses of idealization or through memories. It's not until the end of the Classic that the masks fall, with Sasuke forcing it. He forces Naruto and Sakura to grow, the same way the violent reality of the Waves arc forced them to face the nature of the shinobi life.

The main conflict of part 1 is that they were kids.

Then Shippuden (with all the love in the world, I love Shippuden so much but wait a minute) goes the coward route. It pretends to be all mature and political and then avoids the real problems, never continuating that personality traits presented in the Classic that would lead Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke to take different decisions that what they took later on the manga.

Naruto wanted to semanticsize the word shinobi after Zabuza! Sakura questioned the system right then and Kakashi had to give a speech about it!!!! The real context of Sasuke leaving is not "oh no, Sasuke you can't be a rebel!!", it's the knowledge that Orochimaru wants to experiment on him and he already has without Sasuke's consent and he (Sasuke) was in real danger by going forward with the cursed mark! The other kids only knew about Orochimaru through the tell of how he killed the Hokage, but Sakura and Naruto fought with him on the Forest of Death!!

Sakura says all she says to try and stop Sasuke for leaving because it is a director callback to their conversation after Naruto transformed in Sasuke and tried to kiss her. Sasuke said Sakura made him sick because she didn't know what how lonely was horrible and dared to talk about it without knowing and saying stuff like she would be better without her parents. So Sakura tries to tell him on that night, look! I'm feeling it now! If this is how you were feeling then stay! Or take me with you! She plays with the fact he must remember that conversation. This time she's not thinking "I want to overwhelm him with sex appeal", mouth full of words she doesn't comprehend. She's saying "I love you!" because she still doesn't comprend how Sasuke feels, but she knows how she feels now.

She's gone a long way, but she still has further to go and Sasuke would never mess with her own development. He would never do that to her. He can't talk to Sakura, she won't get it, she still has to learn about the world, so he won't waste more words. So he thanks her. Who knows what for, but he thanks her. Her ignorance's annoying to no end but he appreciates how she, despite the barriers, tries to reach him anyway. She lacks the words or the method or the strength, but she tries anyway.

For him.

It's very much the same with Naruto. She turns herself into a weapon for them both and she even internalizes the cruelty of the shinobi world, that she had to treat Sasuke like the enemy and fight him like the enemy and stop him for commiting more crimes (view from the Konoha perspective), but she fails. She can't. She does the same thing Tsunade did to poison the people she loved and tried to solve it on her own, but in both cases they were lying to themselves. They wanted an easy way out. I kill you, it's over, I don't have to deal anymore with the pain your own decisions bring me because I can't stop you, you're your own person. They KNOW it and the fold under the knowledge of it, okay?

Naruto is a jinchuriki and they are hunting him to kill him and she can't do nothing, because going on with those missions is Naruto's decisions and not hers. She's selfish in wanting them save and sound! It is bad and it is human! She is erasing them as their own persons! She loves them so so much! She acts several times on her desire to go back and pretend everything is okay and then her friends have to correct her, sometimes gentle or sometimes reprimanding her. As tempting as it is to close your eyes and pretend, it can't be. That's the only reason why she didn't fell for the lure of the Eternal Tsukuyomi: her whole life has been about learning why that living of illusions won't bring happiness to anyone.

Shippuden somehow traps her in that realization like a personal hell. I love you both. You are willing to sacrifice your wellbeing for your dreams. I can't do nothing. I can only cry and ask you to stop and do something reckless and try to use myself as a living shield. But I can't do nothing. You are your own beings and you will destroy yourselves if you want to. I can only sit, wait and see if I can mend you later. I can only deal with the afterwards. I can only control my reactions to your actions.

Making her a medic is amazing because she has to wait for one of them to start bleeding to come in the scene. They will never allow her to fight for them in the way they did for her in the Classic, for multiple reasons —including just how important is agency and free will for both Naruto and Sasuke.

When people say she's useless? Or have no place in the narrative? Or bring nothing to the table? Or speaks in no way about the failures and cruelty if the shinobi system? When people don't get that she's Naruto and Sasuke narrative foil in terms of her arc being narrated in a completely different way with different aspects? That's she's all they're not or can't be or can't have or weren't allowed to be? When people erase her from the dynamics of Team 7 and don't see the gaping hole they left in her absence?

It makes me utterly insane. All members of Team 7, the original and all the Shippuden versions, are relevant to the themes. All of them.

[thecluelessdoctor]

a review of Gravity falls from someone who had never seen it before.

Alright so I've meant to make this post for a while but then I got... sidetracked *glances at my fucking au* ANYWAY

I'm basically unbias to the show, due to the fact I have no nostalgia for it. Ill only be talking about the show it's self for the main review.

Anyway, now that that's out of the way, let's talk about Gravity Falls.

Oh yeah, and spoilers for gravity falls. Im sure most of you have seen it but- yk just in case.

I watched the show 2 times in a row. One time mostly just for me, and the other time with my little sisters. Somehow both times made me cry it's fine.

Let's get my praises out of the way first before I begin to criticize the show (yes, I do have things to say)

Number one, the actual mystery. Genuinely so fucking good. Like going in I already knew Ford existed, and I knew Bill existed, but that was it. And I thought the mystery wouldn't be a mystery to me due to this but I was WRONG. BRO WHEN STAN FUCKING PULLED UP WITH THE PORTAL I WAS F L A B B E R G A S T E D. I WAS BAFFLED. OR OR- FIDDLEFORD NOT JUST BEING A CRAZY OLD GUY BUT INFACT A ONCE GREAT SCIENCIST THAT TRIED TO DESTROY HIS MIND- it was insane.. I only had the parts, but I didn't know how they fell into place, and it was BEAUTIFUL. Hell the mystery even had my little sister theorizing.

Stan, Dipper, and Mabel's arcs. Say what you will but I think they were done perfectly. Especially Stan's. You don't even realize how he has grown as a character until the end and it's AMAZING. Dippers arc of learning how to not grow up so fast (relatable ...) and Mabel's arc of accepting that she will grow up (ALSO RELATABLE?)

The character designs. We all know, I eat up a good design. And these guys are no exception. I love how Mabel has a different sweater at least every episode, very fun. Dippers design screams nerdy kid I would bully or be friends with in 6th grade, and Stan is.. yeah I really like Stan okay. He's perfect. His design reflects his eccentric nature really well. Also Shriner fez. We need more characters with a Shriner fez. (Fun fact: I didn't know what those hats were called until watching this show.) bill is a very simple design but I love it.

Also, I love alot of the foreshadowing the show does, even if at times unintentionally. Such as with Stan and how he sadly goes out. Every representation ends up being destroyed in some way.

I also really like Ford as a character. Idk if it was intentional, but he portrays a lot of narcissists rather accurately. I live in a family of narcissist, and a lot of them act directly like Ford (especially my dad and my ex-step- grandpa) but Ford I feel like is a good representation of how a lot of people, especially narcissists, actually change. Yes, shockingly, they can. Usually being the one to pull the trigger on something they love tends to do something. Not all the time but it happens. Idk.

Also I feel like I need to talk about Mabel and Dipper more. Starting with Mabel. Mabel is fun. She reminds me of my sister, both good and bad. Though I don't understand the amount of Mabel hate there is. Like seriously she's just a 12 year old kid. I was the same way when I was 12. I was a trashy kid. Hell, I'm a trashy teen!!! And Dipper? Yeah he's dipper. Shockingly I don't have much to say about him other than the fact he reminds me way to much of the guy friends I've had since 3rd grade lmfao.

Next is the animation. The animation is pretty consistently good, I like it. Especially in some of the more dramatic scenes. All of not what he seems, a tale of two Stan's, and weirdmeddon (I can't spell) are especially well animated.

There's a lot more i wanna say, but those are the major things.

From now until when I say, it's gonna me my personal criticisms of the show. Course I am no professional, I'm literally [AGE REDACTED] minor. So yeah.

Number one: the timeline. Oh my god the timeline. As a fun thing to do on the side, I tried to sort out the timeline- IT TURNED INTO 2 HOURS OF ME SITTING THERE, PIECING THIS SHIT TOGETHER. it's not as back as some fandoms (looking at your FNaF) but STILL

The lack of Ford. I wish Ford has been introduced earlier in season two, or they had a few more filler episodes involving him as a center (similar to the episode D, D, and more D.)

The ignoring of the fact that Pacifica is borderline abused??? She's AFRAID of her parents??? She flinches at the bell??? Like what the fuck-

The lack of in show development between Bill and ford. I kinda wish it showed a bit more of their relationship in show.

Those are all my major criticisms. I don't have anything other than those that aren't more personal tastes than anything.

But ultimately, I fell in love with this show from the get go. It was the weirdest thing I'd watched in a while, and I loved it, hated it, and cried because of it. Truly on of my favorite shows I've ever watched, and I really wish I knew what it was when it was in its hay day, because truly that would have been great. However in 2012 I was only like- 3-6 so- yeah

Very much a ten outta ten show, and if you somehow haven't watched it, please do.

[lackablazeical]

Happy Birthday, Addams Family! ROTTMNT TMNT AU!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉

This animatic covers three main parts of the Miyamoto family lore. The way back past, regular past, and present day of the AU. Not every scene is linear, good luck lol. You get to meet a mysterious new character, though :)))

This is like. My second ever 'full' animatic, the longest I've ever done, and the first animatic I've ever done to a song. I'm proud of myself for actually committing and allowing myself the leeway to let it not be perfect. To let some frames be weird and to let it be just so slightly off beat (it'll tear me up inside shhhh)

Sappiness under the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️ and some of my favorite frames

When I started this AU last year, I never knew it would get to the place it is today.

With almost 800 art pieces from me alone, and at minimum 250k words written, it has become a project me and my friends have poured our hearts into, and I love it to death. This year has been rough, I've fucked up, I've learned, I've improved, and I'm still improving.

I've met amazing people, gotten amazing mutuals, and created great things for this AU. It's changed my life in a really positive way, and I can't imagine where I'd be without it, or without the friends I've made through it.

Funny how such an edgy, nerdy AU can make such an impact, but it has. And I'm excited for what the next year brings, for me, and for my AU. Even if I'm still too nervous to interact with people half the time, or get a bit too wrapped up in pointless things, I'm getting better, and I'm excited to see where I can take this, and where I can go with it.

I'm happy this AU exists, and im happy my friends exist along with it.

With that, my top 3 frames.

Have a good day, if you've made it this far :] here's to another one, fuckers 🎉🎉🍾🍾🍾

[joshusten]

love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown. 

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered. 

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society. 

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing. 

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!" 

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.  

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion.  He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain. 

“Faithful, what are you—” 

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot. 

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?” 

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!” 

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?” 

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!” 

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard. 

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again. 

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone. 

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

[zundely]

One thing that annoys me to no end about how Aveline's involvement and inaction im "Prime suspect" questline pans out is that they basically took the worst of both worlds.

Like you could want Aveline's inaction to be part of her development and a character flaw- which is very consisten with how she usually prioritizes the guards safety and overall image over literally anything else including their duty to protect the people. Like the investigation wasn't going anywhere and it made the guard look bad so she is dropping it because to her the smallest chance that Emeric is in fact right and people are in danger isn't worth the damage to the guard in case he is wrong. This is also good foreshadowing for when this worst trait of Aveline results in Qunari invasion. The only thing that makes me doubt this was the intention is that Aveline never gets the "Oh shit, I am not meant to protect the guard- I am meant to make sure the guard protects everyone else" moment, which was dierly needed if that's what they were going for. It was direly needed in Aveline's case in general because considering all the characters get their "Questioning beliefs" moments... Aveline's questioned beliefs are the most vague.

So lets imagine this is not what they were going for for a moment which honestly I find plausible considering the game tends to frame Aveline as mostly reasonable and how the talk afterwards goes if you do point out it was her fault. Lets imagine that Aveline wasn't supposed to be the one to blame here, the game just needed a reason for why Hawke got mixed up with the investigation- I still to this day do not get why they didn't use the perfect reason we later learned they had.

The investigation was constantly being poisoned by Orsino. Since we learn in the end that Orsino was aware of Quentins existance but keeping it under wraps to not justify Meredith's methods, he could also do what he can to make sure he was untraceable. And obviously he wouldn't know exactly what Quentin was involved with, he wouldn't believe the rumors that were cirrculating- they make every other apostate sound like a bloodthirsty killer after all.

Aveline would notice something is off and official ways of investigating are being stopped in their tracks. So she goes to Hawke with "listen this may be nothing but I feel someone really doesn't want us to find out anything in this case, and I have a bad feeling."

This way you kill two birds with one stone- you absolve Aveline of all the responsibility for what happens and you give a hint Quentin had some powerful friends.

Now I know this would put Orsino in a worse light were in the game he just turns the blind eye, but at least to me it doesn't make him necessarily a bad person? Just a man under immense amount of pressure who is very aware of how one bad thing a out one mage puts all of them in danger. I think this would also potentially make his relationship with Hawke absolutely heartbreaking especially if Hawke supports the mages. Like how do you tell the one most powerfull ally you have that you are indirectly responsible for the worst thing that happened to them.

While I personally think having Aveline be responsible for what happened and take some time to think on it would be better for the story and for her character growth I think the second option also had a good narrative potential- but instead they sort of took both of those but not really. Aveline's inaction hurts the one she swore to protect... but not really. Orsino knew about Quentin and is therefore to some extent responsible for what happened... but not really. Hawke's mother is dead and we didn't even get a churro out of it.

[fanofthelamb]

So I went dumpster diving in my tablet for the first lamb I ever drew and WOW... I found a lot of sketches I really don't plan on revisiting. I am jsut gonna dump them below the cut for people to see!! Some of it is lore related, some of it is shit I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING HATE, but IDC!!! I will post it anyway for the tumblr users who I keep an eye on my notifs for. (yes, i see you guys. even if i dont always interact I see you and love you guys)

Anyway, here is the earliest drawin I have of me drawing the lamb!! I am going to write a comment under a lot of these to add context to them.

A cute little baby <3333 but I struggled a LOT of figuring out what the lamb was wearing, I eventually figured it out though. (I hope)

if you know, you know. (RIP VAL)

for my BTG AU. I decided I no longer wanted chemach to make the [spoiler] for the lamb, though, so I scrapped this

vaaaal,,,,,, i was still learning how to draw him, i wish i put pants on him but do those even exist in COTL? (yes)

I haven't been able to do much with them because I'm putting other stuff first, but Brear has two kids, Notre and Brejul who Narinder absolutely ADORES. he is the one who babysits.

fun fact but the lamb being touch repulsed is a projection LOL. i hate it when people touch me it feels so tickly and makes me want to bite their faces off. (but i am touch starved and i LOVE to show affection to other ppl, esp thru back rubs)

yes, they have a hoop for personal space. no, ill never use it.

drum corcl,,,, i love the little dancing guy that comes from the drums

more narinder and brear. they're not romantically interested in each other, but he is absolutely head over heels for brear, their brother, and the kids. they even call him dad sometimes.

[no context]

kallamar and leshy before their crowns. the scene i have related to this isn't happening anymore, but it was leshy begging to be taught to swim.

another "the one who baby sits" doodle. the bishops all came into the cult with a very good repuation thanks to narinder. he likes to tell the kids of the cult stories about how amazing his siblings were. at first, it was just to nobre and brejul with stories about leshy(he missed leshy a lot even though he was still mad at him, and the two reminded narinder of his time with leshy), but then it escalated into him hosting storytimes with larger groups after they started repeating some of the stories he'd tell them.

unfinsihed stuff about with the lamb and thier mom. their mom wasn't afraid of the bishops at all, but knew that they were a still a threat to her and her child's life. the lamb did NOT care for anyone thier mom didn't approve of/enthusiastically liked. they were much more afraid of the bishops than their mother.

i do not actually know if i posted this.i dont think so, but i giggle every time i scroll past it

brear and nobre <333

im still workong on BTG shit, and i post a little bit of the characters on here even tho the comics are going to be posted elsewhere. they have a "crownlike" beak, but a body part. there's different creatures who became gods through different ways; crowns are one way but their power is stuck with the crown and they are considered extremely weak compared to other gods. i wont blabber on about it tho.

so many sketches has random lines through em because i work with a tablet,,, i hate it. anyway, narinder and kallamar everybody!

sketches i made but didn't bother to finish of me and merbre,,,,,,,,, my husband #1 <3 them w/ narinder + merbre arent gonna be considered "canon" but damn it ill self-ship with them until i get a follower i can WORK with

i come back to this every few weeks and im never happy with it, i dont know if ill finish this but i think about them........ before the divorce </3

unused from an ask

heartstealer. menace. you can rip my heart out anytime, leshy <3

dreshy. he LOVES dresses and being pretty and cute and pretty. he sucks narinder into a lot and heket will sometimes join in if he demands asks her to <3

another unused drawing from an ask i'll eventually answer. (mildly offended at being called a mutton cube.)

.... aaand WOW! I think that's everything guys!! things are still kinda wild but they're calming down a little bit. idk how much longer it's gonna last like this but I have some energy so I made a way-too-long post showing off art I wasn't supposed to post! Awesome. :D

[umbreoncomplex]

can i be honest? im really happy about buck being bisexual. yada yada oh but he didnt kiss eddie. whatever. okay? ive been with this show since that fateful night in january 2018. id seen the previews and ads for the show for a while and so i awaited the night eagerly and watched the premiere episode with my mom. this was 6 years ago, and i was young, and still new to being queer, and to me that was something you kept secret in online chatrooms and fanfiction read in the dead of night. i was young, and maybe trans maybe lesbian. and you weren't supposed to be those things in the "real world". and this is a truth i keep in my mind for a while. and then, i dont remember when, but we are introduced to karen. hens wife. these two become the first queer people ive seen on screen outside of online circles. away from fanfiction and cartoons. and they feel so real. so tangible. and i feel seen. because maybe ive met queer people before. but we were always tucked away into the digital world. this was cable tv. this is what everyone could see. and this meant there were dozens and dozens of people behind the scenes letting this be real. and in that moment i felt everything could be okay. and i found lonestar, i found paul, and by now i was familiar with queer people in media and in real life but paul was a trans man on tv and this was so new to me and once again i felt comforted. felt seen. i smiled when owen helped paul with skincare in that one bathroom scene and it was normal and okay. but heres the thing. these were queer people established from the beginning. and they have always been queer. and i love them for that. i love hen and i love paul and i love carlos and i love tk and i love nancy. but we have never gotten to see discovery yet. and ive been with this franchise 6 years. ive had all these queer headcanons in my head, some big ones i knew could never be true, but that's okay, because i could still imagine them and discuss them with friends and make them real to myself. and while buck being bi was plausible, maybe far more likely to happen than any other headcanon i had, i was familiar with this show. queer identities had been established from the beginning. you knew from the get go if a character would be queer or not. and so i expected this status quo to stay. and yet it didnt. because on the 100th episode of this show thats carried me through these psst few years, buck kissed a man. or more accurately, was kissed by a man. and he wasnt disgusted. wasnt appalled. didnt pull away. he reciprocated. and this wasnt like with tk. this isnt oh haha some guy thinks buck has a crush on him and buck is bewildered because oh! he's obviously straight. this is a kiss. and he kissed back. and when he lets go hes shocked. surprised. but not bothered. this is bucks "oh" moment, even described as such by oliver stark. this is a beginning. this isnt a scene they're going to throw away, but a story theyre starting. and it's going to be something entirely brand new for 911. because now we can see someone grow into their identity. accept it. learn to be themselves proudly. ive loved buck since day 1 of this series, and i cant help but feel proud. and i know he's just a fictional character yada yada who cares. but i care. because ive watched his story for 6 years. his struggle to love himself. to accept he can be desired and cared for. and hes been getting better. but now hes been introduced to something new. and now he must love himself in a new light, learn to love himself through change, and not just as a static personality. and im happy. and i wont stop being happy. and oliver stark said "you were right". and i was. and i cant believe i am. that this story can exist outside of my head. outside of online chatrooms. outside of fanfic. and it feels poetic, to watch buck come into himself in real time like this

[macklemorrigan]

initial veilguard thoughts under cut

biiiiiig momma SPOILERS

it's complicated!!!!

the thing is, i enjoyed myself playing it, ya know? i had fun discovering the world of northern thedas. seeing tevinter, rivain, antiva. i enjoyed getting to experience a different side of thedas than we have the last three games.

ill need another playthrough to fully get it, i feel like i need to make different choices to see just how much choice matters in this game. i feel like i got the "good" ending with relative ease.

this game felt like it was holding my hand through it, trying to warn me that i'm about to have to make a choice. a choice? in a dragon age game? well will there be consequences?? will you tell me explicitly what those consequences will be so i don't accidentally make the wrong choice in this role playing game where i'm roleplaying a character? like i get it... but running in blind and discovering the outcomes is half the fun.

i like rook. voiced protags always have a sort of "them"-ness that has to underlie everything regardless of dialogue choices. i think rook suffers that more than other protags in the series, but like i said, i like them, so that was fine for me.

hated the varric twist. hated it. hated it down. varric was mostly nothing the whole game anyway. unless i missed something major, he only had like a couple cut scenes. he felt ornery anyway, so idon't feel like the twist is justified by some big role he played in rook's story. very clearly they were relying on the players already existing love for the character. which works on me a little!!!!!!!! in the moment!!!!!!! but ill cry to almost anything with a moving musical motif transfixed behind it. might have been an interesting twist if he turned out to be a spirit that watched varric and took his shape or something. i don't know, man... just - anything - other than the "and he was dead the whole time" dead horse.

combat in a dragon age game fun confirmed????? that being said, it got boring after a while and as usual some fights overstay their welcome. also a two companion party???? when so much approval is dependent on bringing them with you, and with party composition being as important as it is in higher level difficulties, that was a bummer. i enjoyed the difficulty of combat but i felt like i couldn't keep it high or else i would lose out on content with companions.

speaking of companions, i liked them for the most part! unfortunately a lot of them felt 1 note as did a lot of their content. i didn't feel like i learned very much about them outside of what the moral of their story was supposed to be.

character quests... i liked hardings, i liked davrins, i liked emmerichs and that's it. i wanted to like bellara's, i felt like there was so much potential. how is a storyline about a forgotten one boring???

i saved minrathous so lucanis was hardened. ill have to do another playthrough, but i feel like i missed out on a lot of lucanis' character because of that, which i don't like. i don't mind if it affects the characters relationship to me (ability limitations, character approval penalty, cuts off romance option), but i got no bonding scenes with him, no interactions with spite. i had to drag his speeding ass along every adventure just to keep his approval up, and even then, at the end of the game i still feel like i barely knew the guy. i never got the chance!

i have more thoughts but this actually got more negative than i wanted so im gonna stop. like i said, i had fun. i hope if anything it breathes new life into the fandom and franchise. i will enjoy making rook and co content soooo much i know it im just waiting for my tablet to charge so i can share her with you. okay thanks if you read this far bye

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Delta anon here and I have returned to do the ask thingy!

I'm gonna be real, I have only a vague memory of entirely why I started following you. It was probably after I had SCOURED all of Tumblr for Delta-related things, and then I found a post you had made. I remember that it was the post you made about Delta being plural, and that i immediately sent it to one of my friends out of excitement. And out of the sheer joy of finally finding someone who even as much as knew of his existence, I followed you immediately (this is also how I started following the majority of the people I do now lmao).

I also began sending asks relating to Delta somewhere around that time, too. It was all on anon obviously, but sending anon asks to you about Delta helped me actually learn a lot more about Tumblr and interactions through it. And when I got a positive/respectful response (I say this in the fact that I didnt think you would be mean, but rather in the fact that I'd never previously interacted with anyone that i could directly send asks to and remain secret so I was incredibly nervous), it encouraged me to keep going. Which is why I said in a previous anon that I was probably at least a solid half of the contributions about the asks involving Delta.

So, in this, thank you for making me feel more confident and comfortable with both interacting with people and also contributing to things I enjoy. I really enjoy getting to send asks and receive responses, which is why I'm around so much lmao. I don't have to worry about being seen as annoying, which is a massive weight off my shoulders - especially knowing that I can remain anonymous and not have the fear of being judged publicly where everyone can see.

In truth, I've always been afraid of directly contributing to content, especially on a platform that's known for judgement sometimes. I've always been afraid of being judged in sharing my own personal headcanons about my favorite characters, but being able to go anon made me feel much more comfortable just sending an ask.

So, all in all, thank you. However I will continue to stay on anon because I like the idea of people not knowing who I am lmao. The mystery entertains me /silly

(And btw, same as crow, we are also secretly mutuals lmao)

ahhhh i love my mysterious secret mutuals!! Im so glad i was able to help you feel more comfortable and confident engaging and contributing to content about your favorite characters! It took me a long time to manage to get there on my own and im glad i was at least able to do that for someone else, even if unknowingly.

And as goes for anyone sending any asks to me on anonymous, I will always try to keep yalls identities/users secret.

including if you accidentally send something without turning on anonymous (which i can tell if the end message is still signed [nickname] anon near the top or end of a message), in which case id probably just screenshot the ask and crop out any usernames before I answer the ask and post it.

And I completely understand the worry about being judged Del, I’ve been on and off Tumblr as a quiet lurker for years before I begin posting at all. But I’m honestly glad I managed to find the courage to do so, it gave me the chance to meet and talk to some pretty amazing people and it’s just so nice to have fun with everyone.

And i honestly enjoy reading everything you have to say about Delta, Beta, the Epic Sanses, etc. You have such cool ideas and I can tell how much you really seem to love this AU and this character and all his potential. And I love talking about him, he’s such a goober. I could never be annoyed by seeing an ask from you, im always overjoyed see one or even sixty lmao.