#once I started I could not stop

[madbard]

Sanctity

A Killer Sans story.

Every child dreamed of the Angel.

When Sans was young, he had imagined it as a skeleton, beaming with all the radiance of the stolen sun. Each evening, he kneeled beside his father and whispered the poetic words of prophecy, voice faltering at first, then growing steady as the tale of the Angel settled firmly into his skull. Later, he would kneel with his brother while his father vanished into the lab. Each night, he dreamed of the moment when the Angel would tear down the barrier, at last letting the bright and deadly sunshine in.

Everything could be attributed to the Angel. If a monster was successful, it was because they had a place in the prophecy, an important role which would contribute to their eventual freedom. If a monster fell down, it was because they had failed, somehow. They were not the Angel’s chosen and would never be free.

(Did Sans have a place in that prophecy? If he was chosen, then why was he so fragile? Why would it be so difficult for him to make it to that future? Sans had asked his father that one night, after their prayer. Nothing would ever break that silence.)

When Gaster’s final experiment went up in flames, Sans imagined it made a light brighter than the sun. He imagined its light was like the palm of the Angel, taking his father with it – or casting him, finally, into the infinite darkness of the earth. He spread his father’s ashes on the remnants of the lab and then, as an afterthought, on his younger brother’s scarf. He laughed at the funeral, quietly. He shook the chill hands of fear and doubt from his soul. He had faith.

(Some monsters whispered that the prophecy had been interpreted incorrectly. They whispered that the Angel would indeed free them – that their dust would one day mix with the river and thus find its way to the ocean. Sans ignored them as best he could.)

When Sans was young, he had imagined the Angel as a skeleton. But lounging at his post one day in early adulthood, he was surprised to see it take the guise of a child. He was even more surprised when no one else seemed to see it for what it truly was. It turned to him, looked him in the eyes. Then raised a single finger to its lips.

Sans followed the Angel. He watched it navigate through each encounter with kindness and grace. He watched it befriend his brother, the captain of the guard, the royal scientist, and even the king. He watched it destroy the barrier and finally baptize his people in the all-destroying light of the sun. He felt its eyes upon him, and in that moment knew the gaze of something truly unlike himself. Come and see, those eyes said. He saw the prophecy come true.

He stood with his brother in the light of the Angel, the light of the long-awaited sun. For a moment, he thought himself in heaven.

Then he woke in hell.

That first time, he didn’t even see the Angel arrive in Snowdin. His eyelights flickered slowly as he wandered the icy streets in a daze. The air was still, and thick with a scent he refused to recognize. They had escaped, hadn’t they? After years of prayer and service, monsterkind was finally free. His mouth curved around a quiet, desperate prayer. This had to be a dream…

Just outside of Snowdin, he found his brother’s scarf.

Funny, how these things worked. Sans’ first impulse was to find the Angel. Something had gone wrong, certainly – something had gone terribly, terribly wrong. But he had seen the Angel treat his brother with kindness. It would have protected him… right?

Perhaps he already knew…

“Sans.”

Sans spun around, gripping Papyrus’ scarf. The Angel stood behind him, eyes almost as wide as its smile. A silver knife glinted in its grip. His whispered prayer froze as his eyes went dark. He stood still.

“what happened?”

“Nothing much. And everything.” The Angel stepped forward. “Give that to me.”

“where’s papyrus?”

“Free.” The Angel took another step forward, and Sans felt a chill creep up his spine. “You remember being free, don’t you?”

“i…”

“Don’t you want to be free again?” This time, Sans didn’t have time to respond. Its knife had already slashed through his chest.

The second time, Sans woke in the early hours of the morning. He took a shortcut into the woods, stepping onto the abandoned path which led to the hidden door. Even so, he didn’t quite understand. Even so, he didn’t quite believe. Fear made a nest in his ribcage.

This time, the Angel killed him first, separating his head from his shoulders, and Sans woke up back at home.

If a monster fell down, it was because they had failed, somehow. Sans fell again and again. Each time he died, the Angel would say something different, something new. It spoke of the sun’s rays, the way they warmed at first then burned and bleached and ruined. It spoke of the sins of the surface, the suffering of the Underground. It spoke of an endless loop, from which they would never be free. “Better to end it now,” the Angel whispered, wiping blood from its blade as Sans crumpled to the ground.

The loop continued endlessly. Bit by bit, Sans stopped praying.

The loop continued endlessly. He began to fight back.

The loop continued endlessly. The angel’s words changed.

“Do you know the difference between an angel and a god?” the Angel asked once, after Sans dodged its blade. Sweat dripped down his skull, and the air seemed to frost his ribcage as he gasped for breath.

“sorry. i god no idea.” The knife whistled past his ear, and a hushed “angel’s sake” escaped his mouth before he growled and swallowed the word.

“I’ll give you a hint.” It attacked once more, and this time it didn’t miss. It walked over to his dissolving form and whispered to him. “An angel is a servant. A god serves no one.” It stepped back. He died.

This time, the Angel approached him with an altogether different kind of smile.

“But what is a god without an angel?”

Sans said no in every way he could imagine. Loop after loop, death after death. He joked and danced around the question. He sent another attack. At his lowest, he pretended he hadn’t heard.

“Angels live forever.”

“when everyone else is dead?”

“Angels are never alone.”

“i wouldn’t be alone if it wasn’t for you.”

“Angels are powerful. They are beautiful and loved.”

“heh, that’s kind of a loaded comment, isn’t it?”

“Angels know their purpose.”

“what would a lazybones like me want with a purpose?”

“Gods are tireless. I can keep going forever, and nothing will ever change.”

“…”

“You were made to serve me.”

The funny thing about prayer? Repetition makes it meaningless. There is performance to it, certainly. There is what prayer symbolizes, there is the essential power of routine. But once the words become instinctive, the meaning can’t help but diminish. After enough repetition, prayer becomes little more than muscle memory for the weary. And when the weary recite it, how then can they hope to see God?

Sans kneeled in the hallway, bones aching, magic all but spent. Somewhere before this moment lay the memory of the sun, the way he had rested in its blinding light. Even before that, the echoes of evenings spent in prayer with his father, torn carpet barely cushioning his bones. Those memories were lost now, or buried. So many deaths – had there truly been anything before this? Could there ever be anything after? Sans didn’t know. Eventually, he no longer cared.

“and if i said yes?”

It paused and stared at him. A chuckle started low in its throat, stopped just behind its teeth. Sans wished he could feel a twinge of anger or fear at the sound. He just felt tired.

“Just for one round. Just to try something new.”

“somehow i don’t believe you.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that makes a difference.” The god stepped forward, knife glinting in its hand. Sans closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow. Instead, he felt the warm handle slide into his skeletal grip. “Go forth, my angel. Do as your god commands.”

There was a momentary darkness. He woke at the foot of his bed, hands folded. Eyes dark.

When Sans was young, he had imagined the Angel as a skeletal figure. After maturing, he discarded that image as a figment of childhood’s vivid ego. For a moment in time, doesn’t every child worship a god that looks like them?

Sans was not a god. Through the snow, the water and the flame, he became the angel of death. The flash of his knife answered prayers, scattered dust in the river that it may one day reach the ocean. He remained by his god, always. He watched, as if outside himself, as his knife found the faithful and the faithless alike. He watched his brother die.

“That prayer, in his final moments – you know, before he forgave and spared you. Didn’t you teach him that?”

“…”

“Aw, don’t be like that. It’s hypocritical when you’re the one that killed him.”

“shut up.”

“Ooh.” The god smiled and leaned forward. “But it’s new, isn’t it? Isn’t it better?”

“no. no, it isn’t.”

“Hm.” The god nodded. “Do it again.”

The funny thing about prayer? Its meaning is only found through repetition. Sans scoured through the Underground again and again, knife faltering at first, then growing steady as the path of the Angel settled firmly into his skull. He made a sacrament of death, and his god glutted itself on the dust in his path. He became something truly unlike himself – did that now make him holy?

Holy enough, he decided, waking among flowers with his soul burning bright outside his body, a strange tarry fluid dripping from his eyes. Holy enough for this.

It seemed to know what he was planning. At least, it didn’t look surprised when he brandished his weapon. Nor did it fight back. It only spoke. “You know, you were nothing before me. And you will be nothing after.”

How easy, to kill a god. In the end, how stupidly simple. The Angel laughed as he killed his god with its own gleaming knife, and it laughed too, bright blood staining its teeth.

“i killed you.” The Angel giggled. “does that make me god now?” The god lay still. Its chest had stopped moving a long time ago. The Angel finished his prayer anyway. He had to be certain. “actually, nah, not sure i like that… hey, i’ll figure it out.” The Angel rose to his feet, staggered a bit, then bowed his head. “go to hell.”

What is an angel without a god? From then on, the Angel drifted from world to world. He recited prayer as he always did, utterly divorced from meaning. His knife brought whatever his victims chose, and he learned to see the afterlife in their dimming eyes – the reflection of paradise or punishment, a final acknowledgment of the waiting dark. He laughed in the moment before a creature crumpled to dust – something about it made his soul sting, sharply. It made him feel alive.

Sometimes the Angel would glance over his shoulder, searching for his god’s approval. When he caught himself doing this, his posture would stiffen suddenly, and he would cease his prayer. In those rare moments, a victim might escape. In that way, news spread through the multiverse of his arrival – though ‘Angel’ was not the word they used.

Even to the multiverse’s darkest corners, the Angel slowly became known, and this filled certain people with a cool excitement. Gods watched on and wondered where his allegiance might fall. But this Angel had little patience for deities.

“Aren’t you just fantastic!” The Angel paused, then straightened, turning through the snow of decimated universe to face a small, skeletal figure, dressed in a stained scarf and splattered with ink. “A Sans who no longer believes in anything, but still sees himself as the Angel! A Sans for whom death has become prayer, because prayer never led to anything but death. Odd, definitely – I’d guess your creator was feeling pretty ambitious when they made you…” The skeleton tilted their head. “I’m not sure they succeeded.”

“who are you?”

“Ink! God of Creation. You see, I helped make this universe, so… whoa there, let’s not be too hasty!’ The Angel had raised his knife and taken a smooth step forward.

“god, you say?”

“Hm. Maybe I shouldn’t have said – wow, you’re quick!” Ink swung a massive brush through the air and the Angel’s knife skittered across the brushstroke’s obsidian surface. “Look, sloppy or not I think you came from a place of real excitement and love! I’d like to –”

Ink never finished his sentence. Blinking, the Angel darted around the obsidian shield and raised his knife to stab this god in the chest. He managed to spill a vial of red paint, so much like blood that he smirked, believing for a moment that he had already won. Retribution was brutal and swift.

The Angel no longer felt fear. His god had cured him of that, through the endless resets. Still, Ink’s rapid-fire attacks quickly had him on the defensive, constantly dodging and side-stepping to avoid strike after inky dark strike from the god’s strange weapon. Each time he brandished his knife, he was ambushed by a new attack from a new direction, all coinciding on his form as he struggled to fight back, struggled to survive.

Was this the true power of a god? Something cold settled in the Angel’s soul, causing it to fizzle. He began to seriously consider retreat.

But to where?

The Angel tried to step into another world, but Ink was on him the moment his portal closed, taking advantage of the snow’s blinding afterimage to dig a painted blade into his back. It was dark here, and cold – far colder than Snowdin ever had been. Another blow, and the Angel’s soul shuddered again. This time, he felt fear.

Was this it? Was this where he died?

Another blow.

Perhaps this was right. Perhaps this was what he deserved…

Another blow and sparks flew from his soul, igniting terror and pain. This time the Angel screamed. This time, his mouth shaped a word he’d sworn to never say again.

“ANGEL!!!”

Ink lunged forward, but before his final blow could land something warm and strong gripped the Angel’s ankle and dragged him into the infinite darkness of the earth.

When the Angel woke, he imagined for a moment that he was dead. His sockets could not focus because there was nothing to focus on – the world seemed to have vanished into a brilliant white expanse. He lay there, soul burning, weeping black, emotionless tears. A minute? A year? If the figure hadn’t spoken, the Angel might have lain there forever.

“Greetings, little angel. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The Angel leapt to his feet. Across from him stood a strange, dark figure. At first, he might have guessed that it was a skeleton – but a tarry black fluid not unlike the Angel’s tears covered every bit of the monster’s body, leaving only a single teal light to stare into his sockets. The Angel might not have recognized Ink’s power, but he could feel this monster’s strength – could feel it in the way the very air seemed to bristle against his presence. This was no mortal. This was beyond anything the Angel had seen.

“what have you heard?”

“In general? Ah, little one, that would require some time.” A fluid black tentacle slipped from the creature’s spine and wrapped around the Angel’s shoulders, immobilizing him. The Angel was still. “But you were asking what I had heard about you. So I will oblige. I have heard that you are a harbinger of death. Some have gone so far as to call you an angel, but I know better than that. After all, what is an angel without a god?”

“i already killed my god. i don’t need another.”

“I do not desire your worship. Besides, there is a title which suits me far better than god.”

“what do you want?”

“A fighter. Someone with little respect for the likes of Dream and Ink, who would aid me in destroying my enemies.”

“you want me to kill gods for you? i would do that anyway.”

“Well then, little god-killer. I have a place for you, if you’ll take it.”

“…and if i say no?”

“Then I shall leave you in the first universe that opens up beneath our feet. You will be free to cause whatever destruction you wish. But if you choose to follow me – oh, you will see and experience far greater things than you could ever imagine.”

“somehow i don’t believe you.”

“Very well. You may return to your dreary existence. But you are limited when you fight alone. You will be more powerful at my side.” The figure extended a tarry hand. “I am not like the other gods. I have no need for angels. But you aren’t exactly an angel anymore… are you?”

The god killer stared at the dark figure, stared at his extended, toxic hand. The dead grass beneath his knees felt like torn carpet. He remembered a different hand, a hollow palm. Prayer was simpler then. The words didn’t yet matter, not like his father’s cool hand on his skull, not like his brother’s chirping voice. The angel wasn’t present in that space. It was only them.

His soul flickered.

“no.” Killer rose to his feet, meeting those deadly teal eyelights. Viscous black fluid burned into his hand. “i’m not.”

The prophecy was fulfilled. The Angel was dead. And for the first time, a prayer was granted.

End credits music:

[gayverlyearp]

i’ve already read 43 books this year. a full 21 of those were yuri manga i checked out from the library.

[kizzer55555]

DP x DC: The Most Dangerous Card Game

Ok so Danny has essentially claimed earth as his. And he is fully aware that there are constant threats to the planet. Now he can’t stop a threat that originates on earth (that’s something he’ll leave to the Justice league) but he can do something about outside threats. Doing some research on ancient spells, rituals, and artifacts, he cast a world wide barrier on the planet to protect it from hostile threats so they cannot enter. This will prevent another Pariah Dark incident. However, barriers like this come at a price. You see, there are two ways to make a barrier. Either make one powered up by your own energy and power (which would be constantly draining) or set up a barrier with rules. The way magic works is that nothing can be absolutely indestructible. It must have a weakness. The most powerful barriers weren’t the ones reinforced with layer after layer of protective charms and buffed up with power. Those could eventually be destroyed either by being overpowered, wearing them down, or by cutting off the original power source. No, the most powerful barriers were the ones with a deliberate weakness. A barrier indestructible except for one spot. A cage that can only be opened from the outside. Or that can only be passed with a key or by solving a riddle. So Danny chooses this type of barrier and does the necessary ritual and pours in enough power to make it. And he adds his condition for anyone to enter. 

Now the Justice league? Find out about the barrier when Trigon attempts to attack, they were preparing after he threatened what he would do once he got to earth. How he would destroy them. The Justice league tried to take the fight to him first but were utterly destroyed, so they retreated home to tend to their injuries, and fortify earth for one. Last. Stand. Only when Trigon makes his big entrance…he’s stopped.

The Justice league watch in awe as this thin see-through barrier with beautiful green swirls and speckled white lights like stars apears blocking Trigon and his army’s advance. The barrier looks so thin and fragile yet no matter how hard the warlord hits, none of his attacks can get through and neither can he damage said barrier. That’s when Constantine and Zatanna recognizes what this barrier is. Something only a powerful entity could create. For a moment, the league is filled with hope that Trigon can’t get through yet Constantine also explains that it’s not impenetrable. And clearly Trigon knows this too for he calls out a challenge. 

And that’s when, in a flash of light, a tiny glowing teenager appears. He looked absolutly minuscule compared to Trigon and yet practically glowed with power (this isn’t a King Danny AU though).

And that is when the conditions for passing the barrier are revealed. And the Justice realize that the only thing stopping Trigon and his army from decimating earth. The only way he can get through….is by beating this glowing teenager in a card game. 

Not just any card game though. The most convoluted game Sam, Danny, and Tucker invented themselves. It’s like the infinite realms version of magic the gathering, combined with Pokémon, and chess. And Danny is the master. So sit down Trigon and let’s play.

(The most intense card game of the Justice league’s life).

After Danny wins, this happens a few more times with outer word beings and possibly even demons attempting to invade earth, yet none have been able to beat the mysterious teenager in a card game. Constantine might even take a crack at it and try to figure out how to play. He’s really bad though. Every time this happens, the Justice league worry that this might be the time the teenager looses. Yet every time, he wins (even if only barely). 

Meanwhile, Danny, Sam, and Tucker have gotten addicted to the game and play it almost daily. Some teachers might seem them playing the game are are like ‘awww how cute’ not realizing this game is literally saving the world. Jazz is just happy they aren’t spending as much time on their screens playing Doomed.

[33max]

58 & 18!

58: Favourite weather?

Storms! I love sitting at the window and watching a proper thunderstorm, forks of lightning etc. I think it’s the only weather that makes me feel really small and insignificant, like I’m just an observer of things more important than me! I find them really relaxing.

18: Are you scared of spiders?

Unfortunately, I am. I am very very very scared of them, to the point where it’s a little bit ridiculous. I really wish I wasn’t though, because they’re just an animal and for the most part they won’t hurt you (where I live at least). I’m one of those people that tries their best to love all animals, so I often feel like a dickhead for my thoughts on spiders! I would never ever hurt one though, my boyfriend has to catch and release them back into the wild if there is ever one in our house. One time he was out and there was a spider on the wall, and I was brave enough to put a tupperware over it and tape it to the wall so he could remove it when he got home 😅

[icewindandboringhorror]

On average, what is the total MONTHLY amount that you spend on dining out*?

*(This doesn't only count going out to restaurants, but also stuff like picking up fast food to bring home, getting a coffee on the way to work, getting a premade sandwich from a grocery store deli during lunch, buying a quick snack from a convenience store or food cart whilst walking somewhere, ordering a pizza or any other food to be delivered to your home, etc.)

*(If you often dine out in groups/as a household: calculate and divide the costs so that you get a Per Person average. This is for YOU individually, NOT the total household/group costs)

(I'm sure polls similar to this have been made before (very common topic), I just haven't personally seen one that I can remember, so, I was curious to do my own! I was discussing this with a group of people today and it was very interesting to see how widely the number varied between individuals. :0c )

(Reblog for bigger sample size if you can, and feel free to explain your answer in tags if there's anything extra to add!)

[s0fter-sin]

soap's whole deal being sniper and demolitions gets me going bc on the surface they sound so different but when you get into it, you realise it's bc soap's smart

sniping is all math; calculating distances and wind interference and bullet drop. something i think people overlook is he was listed as a sniper first so it can be implied that he's better at it than demolitions. he does more sniping in both campaigns than demolitions work; in capture or kill, ghost specifically calls on him to take down the aq snipers

and demolitions is math with a hit of chemistry; knowing what mixes with what, knowing how much to use, recognising environmental factors and adjusting accordingly. it's not just about the boom; so much work goes into contained/ planned explosions. especially when having enough power for a breacher charge and not bringing down the whole building is the difference between mission success and failure

the chemical bombs he makes in alone can't just be any old cleaners, they have to have the correct reaction to each other; he just knew off the top of his head what would mix with what to create what reaction. he would also potentially have to recognise them by sight/smell bc they would’ve been written in spanish

soap would also have to know architecture; recognising structural integrity and weak points so he knows exactly where to plant a charge to bring it down and how it'll come down

he has an incredible soldier's mind people just forget that bc he's sociable which itself is a skill

we know he tends to buck against orders he doesn't agree with like when he pushes back against ghost in capture or kill and shepherd when he tells them to release hassan

he gets closer to people and sees if he can trust them and that's when he follows them without question. really think about how he talks to alejandro and rudy; he asks about their home and alejandro's family and rudy's relationship with him. those aren't questions you ask a stranger after a few hours of knowing them. that's not even touching on his relationship with ghost

he also deliberately brings people of higher ranks down to his level; talking informally with ghost and giving him a shoulder punch, addressing alejandro (a colonel!!) by his first name and rudy by his nickname despite literally just meeting them. he personalises all of them and it’s in direct opposition to the reason most characters do that; it’s not due to insubordination or lack of respect, the more he respects and trusts someone, the more casual he is with them

he digs into people; he wants to know what makes them tick and that determines if he can one, trust them and two, follow their orders. once he decides that, he's the ultimate soldier; he bleeds loyalty which makes him vicious when that loyalty is taken for granted

he isn't naive or bubbly or insecure; he's an incredibly smart and aware soldier. he's aggressive and bloodthirsty and loyal and intuitive and i love him so much

[imnotditzy]

Imagine if Billy didn’t know Shazam died?

(This is actually apart of my AU lol)

But what if Billy didn’t know Shazam, the Wizard, was actually dead? Like maybe he did see Shazam get crushed by rocks but he just thinks a Wizard could survive that, Or he doesn’t remember meeting Shazam for whatever reason. (Like he knows it happened because his pantheon told him so, and he remembers like a tiny bit of being at the RoE, but maybe he doesn’t remember Shazam dying)

This would be kinda funny to think about, especially if the pantheon’s trying desperately not to let Billy know Shazam died. But they occasionally slip up, and each time they do Billy gets slightly more suspicious. Also, in my AU since Billy and Marvel and separate entities, I think it would be funny aswell if Marvel didn’t know either. (—which I do have an AU explanation to make it work, but I fear I may be getting too off track already.)

—

Heracles: Shazam was a good wizard.

Marvel: Was?

Heracles: IS, is. I simply misspoke—Shazam is a good wizard.

Marvel: Oh… 🧐

Billy: 🤨

—

Imagine if literally every other magic being knows Shazam’s dead, but Captain’s just none the wiser and tries to talk to them about the Wizard.

—

Zatanna: So…how’d you get your powers?

Billy (as Cap): Oh, by this Wizard, his name’s, uh…

grabs a piece of paper and scribbles the name down

Zatanna: Shazam?

Billy: Yup! Gave me my powers, have you heard of him? I think he’s very well known. I haven’t seen him in a while. Hope he’s still doing alright.

Zatanna (Going pale at the mention of a very much dead Wizard being referred to in present tense): Mhm….yeah…

—

(the league in the cafeteria, listening to one of the rare times they got Captain to talk about themself. —Billy’s just procrastinating going outside in the midwestern November cold.)

Billy: So I got my powers from this Wizard, his names…um. I think I told Zatanna? Captain looks over at her.

Zatanna (going pale): Really. I don’t remember.

Billy: Oh, okay, that’s fine! Here.

Grabs a piece of paper and scribbles down the name.

Superman: Shazam?

Every magic user in the cafeteria freezes.

Billy: Yeah! He’s the wizard who gave me my powers. I haven’t seen him since I became Captain Marvel, though. I should really go talk to him, maybe I’ll do that later.

****

Achilles: But what if we didn’t…

Hercules: How about we don’t…

Solomon: That wouldn’t be a good choice, Billy.

Zeus: I agree, you’d be just of a fool as Atlas to go.

Atlas (offended): Wow.

****

Zatanna (uncomfortable): I don’t think you should…

[lgbtlunaverse]

What kind of saber is baxia anyway?

I love my bloodthirsty princess of a cursed blade, and in my heart of hearts i am nothing but a sword nerd, so i've been extremely fascinated by Baxia and how we know frustratingly little about what she actually looks like!

I mean, look at bichen, right?

Bichen in the donghua:

Bichen in the drama:

They're clearly not exactly the same. The scabbards are different, and the guards have a different shape. But these are recognizably different iterations on one theme, right? Thin jian with a white grip silver guard, light blue tassel and silver mounting accents on the scabbard.

Now this is baxia in the donghua:

And baxia in the drama:

????????

THAT'S A COMPLTELY DIFFERENT WEAPON

it doesn't stop there either, the audio drama is kind enough to give us ANOTHER COMPLETELY DIFFERENT BAXIA

pretty! But how is that he same sword??

And when we go back to the novel, we get very little information on her appearance other than the fact that her blade is tinted red with all the blood she's absorbed. Which none of these designs incorporate.

This is not a dig on the designs itself, they're all quite gorgeous in their own right and i'm going to spend a while discussing all of them! Because isn't it fascinating how, since we know little about novel baxia beyond "saber" all of these designs ended up so different? What kinds of sabers are these, anyway?

So, a chinese aber, aka a "dao" (刀) just means a sword that has only one cutting side. As opposed to a jian, which has two.

You can see how that leaves a LOT of room for variaton.

I've actually seen some people get confused because Huaisang's saber in the untsmed is thin and quite straight, making it superficially resemble the jian more than drama!baxia, but it is still clearly a saber!

See? only one cutting blade!

This, to me looks a lot like a tang dynasty hengdao

credit to this blog for providing his image and being a great source for all this going forward.

TANGENT: during all this I found out the english wikipedia page for dao is WRONG! Ths is what they about the tang hengdao!

So that sounds like the hengdao was called that during the sui dynasty, but then, after that, started being called a peidao, right?

WRONG

I LOOKED AT THE SOURCE THEY USED AND IT SAYS THIS:

IT WAS CALLED THE PEIDOU UNTIL THE SUI DYNASTY, AT WHICH POINT IT WAS CALLED A HENGDAO. Which would carry over to the Tang dynasty. This was the source wikipedia linked! and it says something else than they say it does!

Anyone know how to edit a wikipedia article?

ANYWAY

BACK TO BAXIA

Since we're already at the drama, let's look at drama baxia: She's also straight! the general term for straight-backed saber is Zhibeidao, but that's a modern collector's term, and doesn't really say anything about which historical kind of saber baxia could be based on. Another meta i found on the drama nie sabers already went on some detail here.

I'm gonna expand on that a little: The kinds of historical straight-backed sabers we see resemble the hengdao a lot more than they do baxia. They don't go to their point as harsly as she does (she's basically a cleaver!) and they're all way skinnier.

No, my personal theory is that instead of being based on any kind of historical sword, drama!baxia is based on a Nandao.

I mean, come on, look at it!

Baxia!

The Nandao... isn't actually a historical sword. It was invented for Wushu forms. There's a really fascinating article about its conception, but that's why the swords in the images look a little thin and flimsy. Wushu swords are very flexible and light, they're dance props, not weapons to fight with. There are actual steel versions of Nandao, but they're recreations of the prop, not the other way around.

So That's one way in which Baxia differes from the Nandao: she's actually a real weapon. The other is that, as you can see above, the nandao has an S-shaped guard. Baxia doesn't. She's also much more elaborately decorated, of course. Because she's a princess.

Now: audio drama baxia!

This is much easier. with that flare at the tip?

Oh baby that's a niuweidao, all the way!

There are more sabers with that kind of curved handle, but the broad tip is really charcteristic of the niuweidao. The Niuweidao is also incredibly poplar in modern media, often portrayed as a historical sword, but it originated i nthe 19th century! And it was actually never used by the military!

That's right, the Niuweidao was pretty much exclusively a civilian weapon! That makes its use here anachronistic, but so is the nandao, and considering that the origin story of the Nie is that they use Dao intead of Jian because their ancestors were butchers, portraying them with a weapon historically reserved for rebels and common people instead of the imperial military is actually very on theme!

Finally, Donghua/Manhua baxia. These two designs are so similar I'm going to treat them as one and the same for now.

Unlike both previous baxias, The long handle makes it clear this baxia is a two-handed weapon, though Nie Mingjue is absolutely strong enough to wield her with one hand anyway. Normal rules don't count for cultivators.

Now, this is where things get tricky, because there are a lot of words for long two-handed sabers. And a lot of them are interchangable! This youtube video about the zhanmadao, one of the possible sabers this baxia could be based on, goes a little into just how confusing this can get. This kind of blade WAS actually in military use for many centuries, making it the most historically accurate of all the baxias. But because of that it also has several names and all of those names can also refer to different kinds of blades depending on what century we're in.

So here's our options: i'm going to dismiss the wodao and miandao, because these were explicitly based on japanese sword design, and as we can see manhua baxia has that very broad tip, so that won't work

(Example of a wodao. According to my sources Miaodao is really just the modern common term for the wodao, and the changdao, and certain kinds of zhanmadao... do you see how quickly this gets confusing?)

Next option: Zhanmadao.

Zhanmadao stands for "horse chopping saber" so... yeah they were anti-cavalry weapons. meant to be able to cut the legs and/or necks of horses. That definitely sounds like a weapon Nie Mingjue would wield. But if you watched that youtube video i linked above, you'll know the standardized Qing dinasty Zhanmadao looked very different from earlier versions. It was inspired by the japanese odachi, and more resembles the miandao than its ealrier heftier counteprarts.

Earlier Ming dynasty Zhanmadao on the other hand were... basically polearms. the great ming military blog spot, another wonderful source, says these are essentially a kind of podao/pudao (朴刀) which looked like this

Now that blade looks a lot like baxia, but the handle is honestly too long. Donghua!baxia straddles the line between sword an polearm a little, but while zhanmadao have been used to refer to both long-handled swords and polerarms, this was undeniably a polearm, not a sword.

If you want to know what researching this was like, I found a picture of this blade on pinterest-- labeled as a "two-handed scimitar"-- and the comment section was filled with people arguing about whether this was a Pudao, Wudao, Zhanmadao, Dadao, Guandao, or a japanese Nagita.

So... that's how it was going. This has kept me up until 2 AM multiple times.

However! Thanks to this article on the great ming military blog I found out there have historically been pudao blades with shorter handles!

Specifically, Ming dynasty military writer Cheng Ziyi created a modified version of the pudao to work with the Dan Fao Fa Xuan technixues-- aka technqiues for a two-handed saber, which would alter heavily influence Miaodao swordmanship-- thereby, as the article points out, essentially merging the cleaver-polearm type Zhanmadao with the later two-handed japanese-inspired design.

This is the illustration for the Wu Bei Yao Lue (武備要略) a Ming dynasty military manual

This blade shape in the illustration doesn't match Baxia exactly, but since it's a lengthened Pudao-like blade and we've seen above that those can match Donghua Baxia's shape, i'm gonna say that calling Baxia a Zhanmadao with a two-handed grip isn't all that innacurate!

However, because all of these terms are so intertwined, there are a dozen other things you could call her that would be about equally correct.

To show that, here's a lightning round of other potential Baxia candidates:

Dadao (大刀)

Which are generally one-handed and too short. However!

Another youtube video i found of someone training with a Zhanmadao that resembles baxia a little also calls it a "shuangshoudai dao" (雙��带 刀) shuangshou means two-handed, and while 雙手带 seems to refer to a longer handled weapon, when looking for a shuangshou dao or shuangshou dadao (双手大刀) we find a lot more baxia-resembling blades like here and here

I also found that, while the cleaver-like Dadao is strictly a product of the 20th centuy, since dadao just means big sword or big knife, it has been used to refer to loads of different weapons! Some people could've called the zhanmadao and pudao "dadao" during the Ming dynasty as well.

Another potential baxia candidate that mandarin mansion classifies as similar to the later dadao (though longer, as seen in the illustration below) is the "Kuanren Piandao"

Which piqued my interest because this diagram classifying different tpye of Dao:

Claims that a Kuanrenbiandao (diferent spelling, same sword) is the same as a modern day Zhanmadao.

(So once again, all of these terms are interchangable)

Another opton Is the Chuanmeidao/Chuanweidao (船尾刀) below you can see a diagram, based on the Qing dynasty green standard army regulation, of blades all officially classified as types of "pudao"

The top middle is the Kuanren Piandao, and bottom left is the Chuanweidao.

Both of these have a lot of baxia-like qualities.

So there you go! live action baxia is based on a Nandao, audio drama baxia is based on a Niuweidao, and Manhua/donghua baxia is some kind of two-handed Zhanmadao/Pudao/Dadao depending on how you want to look at it.

I'm honestly surprised no one has made the creative decision to portray Baxia as a Jiuhuandao, aka 9 ringed broadsword yet.

I mean look at it! Incredibly imposing. Would make for a great Baxia imo. (@ upcoming mdzs manga and mobile game: take notes!)

[makiswirl]

can i just say. and this is probably a niche hill to die on. that i am so gobsmacked every time someone vaguely hints at the idea that jotaro doesn't care meaningfully for the other crusaders, usually particularly kakyoin and joseph, when those two actually tend to be the ones he reacts to being hurt the hardest

like he cares for his loved ones!!!! that literally plays into his character motives in every single part he shows up in!!! stop lying to me!!!!!!!

[theswedishpajas]

Based on my favorite gif lately

[kaiser1ns]

You thought it was over? It's not. I'm not done yet, understood. (Imagine Endo saying this like aaaaaaaa)

i think i have a type nom nom men with tattoo sleeves. APPRECIATING ENDO'S ARMS BECAUSE HE DESERVES IT. also adding my other man jeon jungkook because why not (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

LOOK AT THOSE MUSCLES LOOK AT HIM OH MY GAWD IM IN THE OUTER SPACE SCREAMING HIS NAME UNTIL MY VOICE REACHES ANOTHER GALAXY, ANOTHER DIMENSION, ANOTHER MULTIVERSE.

[thelilylav]

We only see each other at funerals

(On Jason, Thalia, Nico, Bianca, and their parallels/connections)

The Titan's Curse (Rick Riordan), @/anxiousmaya_, Right Now (Gracie Abrams), The Battle of the Labyrinth (Rick Riordan), Joan of Arc (Mary Gordon), The Lost Hero (Rick Riordan), Episodes Toward and Elegy for Halley's Comet (Lindsey Drager), Jason Grace (Riordan Wiki), The Gods Show Up (Michael Kinnucan), The House of Hades (Rick Riordan), What the Living Do (Marie Howe), The House of Hades (Rick Riordan), Planet of Love (Richard Siken), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), Tangerine (Nolune), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), The Blood of Olympus (Rick Riordan), I Bet On Losing Dogs (Mitski), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), @/abhorarchive (Twitter), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), Seventeen (MARINA), The Burning Maze (Rick Riordan), @/rollercoasterwords, The Tyrant's Tomb (Rick Riordan), @/the-overanalyst, Where Things Come Back (John Corey Whaley), Grit (Silas Denver Martin), Softcore (The Neighbourhood), The Tower of Nero (Rick Riordan), Frost (Mitski), @/moonbends, I'm Your Man (Mitski), Sun Bleached Flies (Ethel Cain), The Tower of Nero (Rick Riordan), Three (Sleeping At Last), My Art

[kacievvbbbb]

Just one of the many great tragedies of Mishanks' relationship is that sometimes Shanks wants to feel wanted just as he is, that even beyond the strength he is worth the effort he is worth being loved and unfortunately that just isn't something Mihawk can offer him it's just not something he can do, not as he is now at least. That's a level of emotional maturity that he just does not possess to be able to disentangle the strength from the man that makes no sense to him. Strength is all there is. Shanks is a person, has a life outside of his strength, his power is just another aspect of who he is but for Mihawk strength is his whole person, if he is not strong then he is nothing. If shanks is not strong well then....he's nothing to him.

And God that's a lonely way to live.

[inthehouseoffinwe]

Aite, female character and general inclusivity rant incoming. Hate it and want to make a post? Sure. But give me the respect I gave those who inspired this and don’t tag me in it:

People immediately bringing the ‘female character’ argument into things drives me insane. Like we know she’s a female character, but trust me, that’s got very little to do with why people dislike her.

Are some people misogynistic? Absolutely!

Are most people misogynistic? No.

When we talk about Galadriel, and Luthien, and Elwing, and Aredhel, and Nimloth, and Melian, and Nerdanel, and Ahsoka, and Padme, and *insert literally any female character from any fandom here*, being female has nothing to do with it. It barely crosses our minds.

So for the love of all that is good, stop bringing ‘but she’s a female character! Anyone who sees her as anything but perfect, or thinks the male characters made better choices than her is obviously horrible and misogynistic and would never do this to a man :(‘ Into arguments.

I don’t care how few there are in the work. You can explain why you like her without blaming people for hating on the fact she’s female when 95% don’t. There are very literally hundreds of other reasons people interpret fictional events which portray the fem char negatively.

Especially in work like the Silm which is written by a canonical in-universe historian with basic backstory. We have every right to see him as unreliable and play with what that could mean. Doesn’t make it misogynistic if we want to see female characters as more shifty than they’re outwardly portrayed. Many of us often do the same with male characters, and even if we don’t, you have no right to judge someone so harshly when you barely know a thing about them outside an online persona. 99.9% of people don’t even consider male vs female when they write these things. And it’s not because of some weird subconscious misogyny either.

This is mainly aimed at those who bring this up over. And over. And over again in some weird attempt at guilt tripping people into ‘liking’ characters.

On the topic of things people do that make no sense, if characters are stated as being white, and an artist draws them all white. You have no right to say they’re being racist or whatever else you want to come up with.

Nor do you have the right to slander anyone who casually points out the character is white if others draw them as anything else. If we can call out whitewashing, we can talk about the opposite too. As long as the person isn’t being outright rude, have a conversation.

And don’t get me started on tagging pieces of fanart and fics specifically created platonic with a ship. Like the work? Great! Now respect the intentions of the person who created it.

No one in a fandom space, especially artists and writers, owes inclusivity of any kind when running off canon source material. You want to blame someone for a boring cast, blame the author! But even in general? You don’t get to force or guilt others to create content - original work included - that fits your ideal.

Yes I’m a writer and artist of original and fan content. Yes I’ve experienced all of these directly or indirectly.

Sincerely, a young brown woman tired of all the double standards.

[deep-space-lines]

can't wait til I start this stupid job so I won't have to be doing commissions all the fucking time to buy groceries, this shut sucks the joy out of art so much. I wanna be drawing ultrakill stuff & personal art & doing crafts & reading books but every time I sit down to do something for me I'm thinking about the fact that I should be doing commissions. I'm so glad I didn't go into art as an actual career, I would hate myself so much forever

[starflungwaddledee]

I'm just sayin', Starstruck and Kirby would be adorable. But also Starstruck and Meta-Knight might be the funniest thing you could possibly do. :)

hear me out: peter pan (2003) window scene

been staunchly avoiding typing too much on most of these but i have some thoughts about this one!

you know... i had actually never even considered kirby for the shipaganza. mostly because i think of him as holding such a strong and unique position in the hearts of everyone who knows him, in a way that is devout but also seems fairly romance-free. and i'm actually very interested in the complex relationships that he has with his friends! but i wonder if not considering him was maybe a disservice, because if anyone has an abundance of the capacity for love, it's him, right?

i think that kirby could eventually occupy a similar heart-space for starstruck as bandee, though it would take longer. i strongly suspect that bandee's love of kirby would rub off on her, if nothing else.

i'm not sure either of them... really understand the premise of romance or dating, so it might not be a typical sort of thing. but i think they could giggle and laugh together and shoot each other slightly smitten looks when the other one isn't paying attention, and be very invested in each others happiness.

he adds a pass by her window to his early morning flight, on the off chance she might be up to join him. she's always thinking of him when he's off saving the world, and distinguishes his star from all the others in the sky with ease. the irresistible allure of adventure vs someone who has never seen any of the wonders of your planet before. someone who finds as much unrestrained joy and delight in the mundane as you do. eating paper cups you find on the ground.

you know i could see it.