#it also means true love

[sohcean]

and forget-me-nots; a love letter

the timestamp on this one says “december 17, 2019.” it has laid in the recesses of my drafts for three years now. 

i don’t remember what it was supposed to be about. all that’s left of the original idea is the title and the first two tags, the beginning of a bleeding heart ramble. and so it sat, while i stared at it and tried to remember. tried to remember what it was for.

a little ironic. but i’m pretty sure life has a sense of humor.

forget-me-nots, the first flower i assigned to im changkyun. a small, purplish blue flower that grows at the head of tall grass. always in little patches. perennials. they return, year after year. fond of the places where shadows grow. where streams sleep.

for three years, the letter laced with scorpion grass has sat, nearly forgotten. today, i remember. it was meant to be a comfort, a balm, a palm frond to block out oppressive sunlight, a candle to light a darkened room. a reminder. 

of respect. of fidelity. of faithfulness. of remembrance. of love.

a promise.

—i will remember that all of this was beautiful.

with this, i answer the man who simply asks to be remembered. who, in murmured, deep tones, mustered the courage to plead for love. who very seriously wished to illuminate his own weakness, his own struggle. who very earnestly radiates humanity.

and—

he who will be never be forgotten.

i’ve always had some difficulty writing about changkyun. it’s like… speaking of him at length pulls this heaviness along with it. this weight to his personhood that cannot be ignored when addressing him. it’s been called many things. many names, most of which i find myself disagreeing with.

and it will never be my place to name something that is within another person, is another person. a person i don’t know face-to-face, at that.

but if i may speak as to give voice to a theory, i would name it devotion.

i know no other words to grasp at it. i know no other words that can even stand next to it.

the moon writing poetry to what he says is the sun. and, in turn, words streaming out from a bleeding heart like moonlight. even behind clouds. even when only a sliver is left in the sky.

dedicated. just like the rest of them.

like such gentle perennials blooming above wild grass near a stream, popping his head in under the cover of the stars, writing something between a ramble and a poem and a love letter, and then falling asleep. and like the petals of periwinkle flowers tickling your fingertips when you brush against them, leaving some teasing remark in order to cover such deep vulnerability (something like roots). and like beautiful blossoms upon the mind, his entire presence etched in a communal heart (the color purple and rich red roses and cats with crystal eyes and a half-drank bottle of hennessey, for whatever reason).

and following the growth, the blossom, the bloom. something like shyness becoming an owned sensitivity and pre-disposal to the quiet and reflective. and such sensitivity becoming lent to creativity, lyrics and melodies and recognizable bass, lingering impressions of emotion buried in songs, tattooed skin with poetry of its own. becoming well-read, well-spoken. voicing wants and wishes.

—can i see you forever?

still silly. still young. still strange. but unfurling like the flower on his forearm.

and within this growth, there is a devotion to the self. a refusal to be something that feels inauthentic. a devotion to his own expression in his music, in his production, in choices concerning what comes next. a devotion to his comfort and his brotherhood (“i don’t want to be on a stage by myself.”)

a devotion to the path he treads, shadowed, maybe, and difficult indeed, but one with its own light at the end.

—the cold road became beautiful at once, hands like ice let them bloom like spring…

i was able to endure a particularly long night.—

and at the center of this blossom, at the most profound depth of this delicacy, lies a devotion to preciousness. to the urge to carry someone’s heart in your palms. to the beloved mundanity of walking at someone’s side. to the meaning of nothing and everything and the absurdity of love and the intimacy of returning and—

—every little thing i do has meaning because of you.

and i think it is the most heart-wrenching devotion of all.

a recognition that happiness is precious because bad days come. saying that the very word, “fan,” carries weight between his lips because the meaning is precious. that the gaze, gentle and gorgeous, is precious. that memory is precious. that affection is precious. that the concept of eternity is precious because you only yearn for it when you have something you want to protect.

that though the heart bleeds (i earnestly pray you won’t forget me), it beats (stay.)

and words i could say no better than the one who thought of them.

—but even when [i wasn’t fine] our monbebes were there. and more than anyone else, my members were by my side every day. i really want to express my gratitude to them. we eat together. we sleep together… they really became my family. even without doing anything, in my daily life they always approach when i want to share something precious.

the preciousness of family, of having something to rely on, of having someone grasp your wrist when you fall.

—to our monbebe, who safeguard these precious moments, i also want to say thank you.

the preciousness of connection, of having the strength to approach someone with glistening eyes and shuddering shoulders, of laughter and memory and the return of joy.

and arguably the most precious of all; someone who names their mother as their favorite artist, who picks a favorite trinket and shows it off with pride, who will always step back to give the spotlight to someone else, who notices, who would rather carry the sentiment than the accolade, who shows up in odd places just to support his family, who repeats gentle assuages again and again and again just to somehow get his affections across, who is brought (as a pillow) to company functions because he deserves to be there, who promises forever because he believes in it now, who is calmed by the whispers of a crowd, who smiles in an affectionately catlike manner, who rises eternally like a perennial, who sees the soul of a person and names it precious.

im changkyun, who devoted to the belief even the smallest and most inconsequential thing having meaning when it is looked at with love.

so in the spirit of preciousness, of devotion, of night and shadow and blooms, i give this, somewhat in the same manner as the one it is dedicated to—

leaving forget-me-nots pressed between pages, simply as a reminder:

i love you. i always will.

[cthulhum]

does anyone realize how crazy it is to have the actor of a mostly headcanoned queer ship say the fans were never crazy and they were right all along after 10+ years of everyone just absolutely going nuts over the said queerbaited ship

[bacchuschucklefuck]

soon it'll be dawn again

transcript under the cut ⏬

page 01

Fig: no way? - you're still up?

Riz: Wh– yes?

Riz: Why'd I not be.

page 02

Fig: I me~~ean - that took.

Fig: whole day.

Riz: Yeah?

Fig: 'm beat.

Riz: you should sleep.

page 03

Fig: nah. my guy's still up

Fig: I wanna hang out.

page 04

Riz: That's really nice.

Fig: Hah! - Nobody ever expects an Archdevil rockstar to be nice.

Riz: … yeah. - 's just budget work tho. (the stuff I'm working on) - I've heard it's boring.

page 05

Fig: yeah, but you do it…

Riz: It keeps things going, right? - Nothing happens if nobody sits down and - does the thing.

Fig: That's right… - though. Yeah.

page 06

Fig: sometimes it's someone else who - doesn't want the same thing to happen.

Riz: … - mm.

page 07

Riz (off screen): …It took me a long time to get that not everyone likes doing what I do. - 's probably because you guys are so nice– - or. - kind.

Riz (off screen): to anyone too, not just. - the people you /love/.

page 08

Riz: that's not how it is elsewhere. - The world's– not. hostile. - but 's not like it's kind.

Riz: So I'm doing as much as I can now… 

page 09

Fig: Hey.

Riz: ?

Fig: Go dig some dirt with me.

page 10

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - oh you meant like - actual dirt. (not incriminating information)

Fig: o yea.

Fig: there's clay in the backyard soil. - sometimes when I'm sun deficient or something I go touch dirt for a bit.

page 11

Fig: here u go

page 12

Riz: uh

Fig: now we make a thing! - 'm pretty good at freehanding a bowl.

Fig: I'll show u

page 13

Fig: just– yep, flatten that out as evenly as u can, then–! - actually ur nails'd be so good at cutting out the strip. [larger than usual space] wait. - wait. wait u can carve patterns with them! we HAVE to try

Riz: uh - What. do I carve?

Fig: anything!!!

page 14

Fig: and– yep just seal the inside uh. seam?

Fig: yep that works - okay time's up! all contestant hands up

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - okay - wh. what's next?

Fig: haha - watch this.

(sound effect text): FWOO—MP

page 15

Riz: WH– DON'T JUST DO THAT???

Fig: Now it's fired!

Riz: THAT WAS NOT SAFE

Fig: (actually it's just dry. if u add water rn it'll dissolve)

Fig: ok catch!

Riz: [blank speech bubble] - careful!!

Fig: dw no need haha

page 16

Riz (thought bubble): oh - it's warm…

Fig: now I want you to throw this.

page 17

Fig: u gotta do it - c'mon

page 18

Riz: wh– - It's like 3AM right now

Fig: oh it's not /fired/ fired it's not gonna make a loud noise

Riz: And then just? leave a pile out here?

Fig: pour water over it & it'll be gone I told u

Riz: but

page 19

Fig (off screen): RIz.

page 20

Fig: I've done all this before.

Fig: Can you trust that at least?

page 21

Riz: no, I– - I do. - I trust you.

page 23

Riz: okay what happens now

(sound effect text): glob

page 24

Fig: we do it again!

page 25

Riz: wh. [larger than usual space] What do you mean. (this clay's too wet also)

Fig: see! you're already learning

Fig: [blank speech bubble] - there are flows that are futile to fight. - The world changes.

Fig: Things change.

page 26

Fig: I've learned my lessons with "forevers". - But - as an artist

Fig: I can give you one thing: - You can always do it again.

page 27

Fig: most of everything depends on the rest of the world, - but this. - making new. - that's yours as long as you want it.

page 28

Fig: So?

page 29

Riz: Yeah. - Yeah! - let's make another one.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

At your side [End of Season 2]

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[thejadecount]

To anyone who wants to talk shit about bad story/character development in Deadpool & Wolverine CAN SHUT THE FUCK UP! I CAME TO SEE 2 HOURS OF DEADPOOL MAKING META & SEX JOKES AND HAVING HOMOEROTIC TENSION WITH WOLVERINE AND MARVEL DELIVERED EXACTLY THAT

[demaparbat-hp]

Little Zuzu for an incoming project 🔥

[lbhslefttiddie]

honestly i don't think sqq (jiu) would have minded the accusations of preferential treatment from yqy if they'd felt true. like as children he guarded the title of being yue qi's Favorite with teeth and claws. why shouldn't he be given preferential treatment? everyone ought to know just who qi-ge likes and trusts over everyone else. and for good fucking reason--who else here is watching out for qi-ge? as peak lords he's literally 2nd in command and chief tactician, if yqy values his word over yours, then its both what makes most sense and also what he deserves.

the thing is that to sqq, being accused of being favoured by yqy over others now just feels like a sick joke, because obviously (to him) that's not the fucking case. if he actually gave him preferential treatment you'd think he'd listen to what he has to fucking say, instead of believing what anyone else tells him about sqq. you'd think, if he was yqy's favorite, he wouldn't have left him to rot.

so i think, in a setting where they reconcile after becoming peak lords, that sqq would very much slap yqy's love for him in everyones faces as a kind of power move. a kind of, "oh, you thought that was favouritism? you havent seen yet what it looks like when qi-ge lets himself favour someone."

[hinamie]

binding vow

[egophiliac]

still absolutely losing my mind over Lilia

[jessmalia]

Dear Bonnie, I’m a coward. I should be saying this to your face, not writing this letter, but I know if I do you’ll talk me out of running away from all my problems. You’re gonna make me face a future without Elena and you’re gonna help make me the best man I could possibly be, the same way she did. And I’m absolutely terrified of failing you both. So, I’m leaving. Because I’d rather let you down once, than let you down for the rest of your life. And I hope it’s the happiest life. Because you, Bonnie Bennett, are an amazing woman, a mediocre crossword puzzle player and my best friend. 

With great love and respect, Damon.

[mossy-aro]

i hate to be a Downer but no i don’t think making the tenth generic post abt how ‘true love’ is and always will be the most powerful force in the universe and that nothing else compares gives you a personality actually. sorry.

[gayofthefae]

Get you a ship who can do both.

Yes, the love is mutual

But so is the "really? him?"

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, “Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[citrusai]

taash said "they were doing it" and people ran with the interpretation of an npc that doesn't know solas or the history of the elvhenan even when bellara interjected and said, no, that's not right. that's not how it was for the elvhenan. they formed bonds before they had physical bodies. and people ran to doompost or create weird anti-solavellan shit even though mythal & solas refer to each other as old friends and when she releases him there is no tenderness or love in it. it is the act of unchaining a dog from his post, the stepping down of a general. but to each their own ig.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

True love is possible only in the next world. For new people. It it too late for us.

(Redraw for @pakhnokh's DTIYS post!)

[korbi-the]

dreamed the other day that Big-D wasn't Big-D but Ant-D, who was essentially the same as Big-D in every other way sans for two differences:

the name Ant-D actually stood for "Absolutely No Tangents"

which was because 90% of his inner and outer dialogue was cut down, and there was no explanation for that

i added the antennas when i woke up