#only explanation possible

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

Hello darling, I absolutely love your fics and had a certain request in mind because I love drama: Dark!Rafe who has feelings for JJ's girlfriend 🫢 he doesn't understand why you chose a Pogue over him. He goes out of his way to make your boyfriend's life a living nightmare.

Can you believe I have this exact concept in my drafts?! 😂

I mean, this idea is so perfect and since I already have a part written down, I'm gonna try to finish it soon :)

[lunarriviera]

someone who understands sorcery please explain this bc i cannot

[egophiliac]

WAIT when did he get FANGS

[dailymanners]

Bear with me because I am about to rant about something not blog related that's been grating on me ever since this blog gained more traction

USAmericans being Americancentric vs. Europeans every single time someone says something they don't like or don't agree with or is just coming from a place of different experiences than them assuming you MUST be a USAmerican coming from a place of Americancentrism: fight

For context, I do not live in the U.S., and do not base my posts off of experiences in the U.S., and as much as I find it annoying that sometimes USAmericans reply to my posts with assumptions that their experiences are universal, for example USAmericans replying to my post about closing the lid before you flush with "but public toilets don't have lids!" when they do in my country, I find it equally annoying if not even more annoying with how much Europeans assume that every time I post something they disagree with or is a different experience than them that I must be USAmerican and coming from a place of Americancentrism

For example when I made a post saying "use excuse me if you have to get into someone else's personal space" I had a bunch of British people replying to it something along the lines of "Are you Americans so uncivilized that you're not taught basic manners like this? Good thing us civilized Brits know to use excuse me!" when, again, I do not live in the U.S., the post was based on experiences I had here in my country and again, not in the U.S.

Or when I made a post just saying "don't be rude to people who got you a present you don't like" because I've had experiences here in my country of people sneering at and tossing aside presents they didn't live or even yelling at or scolding the gift giver just because it wasn't a color that they like, I did not say that you have to pretend to like it, just don't be rude and sneer at them or yell at the gift giver, but I still had a bunch of Germans replying something like "well you Americans may think you have to pretend to like gifts you don't actually like but us Germans believe in being honest!" (even though that's not even what I was saying) when again, I am not in the U.S., I have never said that I am in the U.S., this was based on experiences in my country which is not the U.S., but Europeans had to go and assume everyone who says something they don't fully like or agree with must be USAmerican.

And I know it's not just me, I've seen a lot of posts from people here on Tumblr in South American or Asia saying that Europeans are always assuming they're USAmerican and coming from a place of Americancentrism when they talk about their experiences in South American or Asia.

I saw a quote one time that was something like "USAmericans believe the entire world is the U.S. while Europeans believe the entire world is Europe + the U.S."

but the thing is that I DO live in Europe, my country is a small northern European country, but of course my experiences are going to be different than someone who is British or German or Swedish, but it's like people from those countries so often assume their experiences are universal to everyone in their country + the rest of Europe, so if a British person experiences being taught to use excuse me that MUST be universal to Europe, and that apparently nobody outside of Europe and the U.S. is on Tumblr, so if I experience being shoved by people who don't use excuse me (in my tiny northern European country) that MUST mean I live in the U.S. and MUST be USAmerican since their British experiences MUST be universal to everyone else on this website who isn't USAmerican

[sensitiveheartless]

Written followup to the horrors comic! It got away from me lol. Most of it's under the cut, cause this part is also a bit long.

~*~

Minutes passed by on the quiet moonlit dock.

Despite the renewed serenity of the night, Chuuya’s heart continued to race sickeningly fast. It hammered away in his chest, as if unable to fully grasp that the danger had passed.

His clothes were heavy and waterlogged, so cold against his skin that he could barely keep from shivering. Icy trickles ran down the back of his neck and dripped from his hair.

Closing his eyes didn’t help. There were far too many twisted corpses engraved in the darkness whenever he blinked. So he kept his eyes open, staring at the planks beneath them as he tried to steady his breathing.

Don’t think about it, Chuuya told himself. Don’t think about them.

Instead, he forced himself to remain in the present moment. Beneath the planks, he could hear the swell of the ocean waters, each wave lapping at the posts in a quiet rhythm. Salt filled his lungs with every breath, the heavy tang of the sea-soaked wood wafting around him.

And against his chest was Dazai’s head, a steady and grounding pressure. His ear rested over Chuuya’s heart, his arms still tight around him.

In that position, Dazai must have been able to hear how hard Chuuya’s heart was pounding—but surprisingly, he didn’t remark upon it. He remained utterly silent.

In return, Chuuya didn’t say a word about the almost crushing strength of Dazai’s arms where they wrapped around his middle. Dazai’s fingers were digging into his ribs, twin rows of sharp pressure, and Chuuya could feel them shaking.

Dazai’s hair was coarse where Chuuya’s cheek rested against it. Back in the day, before Dazai’s defection, he never bothered with conditioner. It seemed some things never changed, even in the light.

For one wild moment, Chuuya wished that he wasn’t wearing a pair of gloves—then he could bury his bare fingers in Dazai’s hair and see if it was as tangled as it looked. And, perhaps, warm himself up. Dazai was like a radiator against him, heat seeping through Chuuya’s drenched layers of clothes at every point of contact, but his gloves remained cold, the sodden leather chilling him to the bone. His joints ached as he uncurled his fingers from around Dazai’s shoulders.

Perhaps it would be worth it to just…indulge for a moment, if only to have something else to needle Dazai about. Really, the man needed to learn how to groom himself properly one of these days.

As Chuuya’s hand hovered indecisively over Dazai’s head, however, he realized that his heart rate had already evened out. While he was reminiscing about Dazai’s damn mess of hair, of all things.

Ridiculous. But that meant that there was absolutely no excuse for the two of them to remain wrapped around each other any longer. Dazai’s shivering seemed to have calmed as well.

“We should—” Chuuya’s voice cracked when he tried to speak, so he paused and cleared his throat before going on. “We should make sure it’s really gone. I don’t want that thing getting the jump on me again.”

Dazai tensed, and his grip tightened so much that for a moment Chuuya could scarcely breathe.

“Oi. C’mon, you need to let me up,” Chuuya wheezed, swatting at Dazai’s shoulder. He strained his neck to look down at the head buried against his chest, a pang of something that was surely exasperation tightening his throat. “I need to be able to reach it, Dazai.”

Dazai remained still for another long moment, then abruptly loosened his grip. Instead of letting Chuuya up, however, he pushed him down to sit on the damp planks, and rose to his feet himself.

“I’ll go,” Dazai said quietly, and strode past Chuuya towards the small, oval mirror where it lay shattered on the dock.

Right. It did make sense to have Dazai touch it first, in case it was an ability that could be nullified.

…But what if it’s not? What if it’s something like Lovecraft? Dazai will be defenseless, Chuuya thought, and instinctively started to his feet as well.

“Stay back,” Dazai said sharply, without even turning to look. He was standing over the mirror, staring down at it. “Don’t move forward until I say so.”

Chuuya scowled, but remained in place. He watched as Dazai bent down and extended a careful hand towards the shards of glass.

One tap, with the tip of a finger. Then another, less cautious tap against the side of the wooden frame. Then another, and another, Dazai’s touches moving systematically across every inch of shattered glass and broken wood.

Nothing happened.

Dazai breathed out, and stepped back. “There. You are now welcome to crush it into dust,” he said lightly, waving Chuuya forward.

His head was still downturned, his eyes cast in the shadow of his bangs as Chuuya walked past him to do the deed.

It was with deep pleasure that Chuuya pressed each little bit of the mirror into nothingness, grinding it down with the overwhelming weight of gravity.

After it was done, Chuuya scattered the dust into the ocean waters below. “What the fuck was that thing, anyway?” he asked, turning back to face the other.

When he turned, however, he found Dazai had moved to sit on the edge of the dock, his legs dangling off the edge.

His back was facing Chuuya. It seemed deliberate.

At first, Dazai didn’t respond to Chuuya’s question. The silence stretched long enough that Chuuya began to shiver again, the cold wind cutting through his damp clothes.

“…A Face Like Glass,” Dazai said at last. “That’s what the ability was called.”

“So it was a gifted,” Chuuya muttered. He walked to Dazai’s side, and dropped down beside him with a heavy sigh. “That mean the user is still out there somewhere?”

“No,” Dazai said softly. “She died some time ago, I’m afraid.”

Chuuya looked at him sharply. “What?”

There wasn’t much light by which to see, but Chuuya knew Dazai’s face like the back of his own hand. Better, probably. And he could tell that the detective’s features had gone unnaturally still.

It was how Dazai looked whenever he was unsure of how much he should give away. Typically his poker faces were more natural, but when he was strongly conflicted, he would simply go blank.

“Explain,” Chuuya said, crossing his arms. “That thing almost killed me, I think I ought to know what it was.”

That got a reaction. Dazai’s lips twitched downward and he looked away, hiding his face from Chuuya once again.

After another lingering pause, however, he finally began to talk.

“A Face Like Glass was the ability of a woman named Hardinge,” Dazai said, as blandly as if he were reciting a history lesson. “She could reflect the darkest thoughts of anyone who looked into that mirror of hers, and give those thoughts physical form. Quite literally a nightmare to deal with, as one can imagine. She was the terror of England. However, after she rose to prominence, the mirror began to behave a bit oddly.

“The more renowned Hardinge became, the more people began to fear her ability. She kept the exact details of the mirror shrouded in mystery, so her enemies were always speculating what horrors it might do to them next.

“Naturally, over time, their darkest thoughts became consumed with fear of the mirror itself. And when Hardinge reflected those thoughts, manifesting them into reality…well. You can imagine what happened.”

Chuuya’s hands formed fists in his lap, so tight the leather of his gloves creaked. His fingers were somehow even colder than before. “A runaway effect,” he said. Despite his best efforts, his voice came out rough. “A singularity.”

“Quite,” Dazai said. “The heights of human imagination should never be underestimated. The more powerful anyone imagined the mirror was, the more powerful it became. When their fears manifested, their imaginations ran ever more wild with terrifying possibilities. Which it would also reflect. And so on, and so on. The only one who could control it was Hardinge herself, stopping the runaway cycle by covering the mirror. She acted as a control for the ability for many years, preventing it from going too far.

“But one day, one of her enemies had the dubiously clever idea to turn the mirror back on Hardinge herself. Which, ordinarily, would have been a mere scare tactic. I’m sure their only intent was to make her hesitate to use the mirror by making her own fears manifest.

“However, that is not what happened. Keep in mind, Hardinge had been watching this ability of hers grow with each battle she fought, gaining strength after strength, only barely containing it with her efforts. Sometimes it must have seemed so powerful that it nearly eclipsed her own self.

“Anyone would be frightened of that. It can’t be surprising that her darkest thoughts contained the fear that her mirror would one day consume her.”

Silence stretched, frigid and fragile as ice.

“…So her own ability ate her,” Chuuya said flatly.

“Yes,” Dazai said. “And without anyone left to contain it, the mirror was unleashed.”

Chuuya rubbed wearily at his temples. “Okay. Then how did it get here? To Yokohama?”

“From what I hear, Hardinge was not popular with the Order of the Clock Tower,” Dazai said. “She had gone into hiding here when her ability overtook her. The Special Operations Division then sent out operatives to contain it.”

Chuuya raised his head. “Oh. They’re involved? Wait, does that mean…was that ex-drinking buddy of yours the one who told you all this?”

Dazai nodded, and Chuuya could faintly make out a crooked smile on his lips in the darkness. “Ango called to warn me of its escape. They had done everything they could to keep it locked away so it could be studied, but all it took was one researcher fearing that the creature had the ability to get out of its cell, and it immediately had that power,” he said, leaning back on his bandaged palms. He gave Chuuya a sidelong look, heavy with significance. “Then, of course, while Ango was briefing me on A Face Like Glass, I also got word that a certain tiny mafioso had gone out to fight an unknown monster that was terrorizing the shipyards.”

Chuuya met his stare with a raised eyebrow. “Yeah, so?” he said. “It was scaring my subordinates. Someone had to do something.”

Dazai’s gaze darkened further. “Chuuya, you went alone,” he said. “You tried to face it all by yourself, without even knowing what it was. You could have —” He broke off, and looked away once more. His nails were digging into the wood of the dock, his shoulders stiff. 

Hiding again, Chuuya thought.

For a moment, Chuuya considered pointing out that there wasn’t anyone for him to call for help. Very few of the other mafia members could stand up to an otherworldly threat—and even those who could, like Akutagawa, were not anyone who Chuuya would want exposed to a fear-monster. Everyone in the mafia had far too much darkness to reflect.

Besides, Dazai had no room to scold Chuuya when he was the one who had left him without a partner in the first place.

But even as Chuuya contemplated speaking those cutting words aloud, he found himself unable to.

Because even though Chuuya hadn’t called, Dazai had come anyway.

And, if the reflections of that ability could be believed, one of Dazai’s darkest thoughts was losing Chuuya to Corruption. Right alongside Dazai’s fear of his own past self, and his fear of disappointing his old friend. That…changed some things.

Chuuya sighed, releasing a long-held weight. Then he prodded Dazai’s shoulder with a cold, gloved fingertip. “Hey,” he said. “Look at me.”

Dazai’s shoulders hitched higher, but he didn’t turn.

“What’s your deal?” Chuuya demanded, poking him again. “You don’t have to hide from me, idiot. What, you think I’m gonna make fun of you for having emotions?”

That, apparently, surprised Dazai enough to glance back at Chuuya, his brow furrowed.

“Because I won’t,” Chuuya said. “Not about this. I mean…look, before you showed up, that mirror motherfucker had already reflected a lot of people at me. The Flags, the Sheep, Murase, even N. That’s how it got close enough to me to grab me and drag me under in the first place. So if you’re embarrassed of breaking down or some shit, you shouldn’t be. I did too.”

“It’s not that,” Dazai muttered, his eyes darting away across the dark ocean waters once again.

“Then what?” Chuuya prompted impatiently, leaning closer.

“I froze,” Dazai said, his lips twisting in disgust. “Under the slightest amount of pressure, I broke. You could have died, just because I couldn’t bring myself to fire at a poor imitation of my friend.”

Chuuya blinked. “What’s wrong with that? I broke too. And you were there to pull me out of the water. I saved you, and you saved me. That’s what partners are for, right?”

That finally got Dazai to face him, whipping around so quickly it must have hurt his neck. His eyes were wide, his lips parted in surprise.

Chuuya knew why. It had been years since he had called Dazai his partner.

All too aware that his cheeks were beginning to heat, Chuuya reached out to pull the infuriating man into his arms, tucking Dazai’s head against his shoulder. “Not a word,” he growled, squeezing Dazai tightly in warning. “Make fun of me for this and I’m kicking you into the ocean.”

Dazai let out a choked noise, and suddenly he was clinging to Chuuya just as tight, his fingers practically clawing into his back.

He was shaking again. Or maybe they both were.

“It—it had been so long since I heard his voice,” Dazai cried against Chuuya’s neck, muffled and damp on his skin. “I don’t want that to be how I remember him, I don’t, I hate it…”

Chuuya closed his eyes and saw Albatross laying on the ground in pieces, staring up at him in betrayal. He let out a slow, careful breath, and held Dazai closer.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I know. I get it.”

Dazai was still so warm. And Chuuya’s hands were still so terribly cold.

Making a reckless decision, Chuuya pulled off his soaked gloves and tossed them aside, then sunk his fingers into Dazai’s mess of curls without hesitation. He felt more than heard the sharp inhale against his neck, and the quiet questioning hum that followed. Chuuya ignored it and continued to card his fingers through Dazai’s hair.

“…Chuuya?” Dazai breathed.

Chuuya tugged absently at a knot. “Tangled,” he grunted. “It was bothering me.”

“Mm,” Dazai hummed, and his hands slid up the back of Chuuya’s jacket. “Chuuya’s cold.”

“No shit,” Chuuya said grumpily. “I fell in the fucking ocean, and it’s freezing out here.”

There was a soft laugh, then a strange sensation ghosted across the side of Chuuya’s neck just above his choker, almost like a pair of lips had pressed there. Chuuya’s hands tightened in Dazai’s hair, stiffening in surprise. He could only wonder if he had imagined it, unable to comprehend any other possibility.

He certainly didn’t imagine what Dazai said next, however.

“Come home with me,” Dazai whispered, his lips brushing against Chuuya’s skin once again.

Chuuya made a very strange noise, somewhere between a shriek and a gasp, and used his grip on Dazai’s hair to haul him away just enough for their eyes to meet. “The fuck?” he spluttered, face burning. “What do you mean, where did that — hah?”

Dazai’s eyes were rimmed in red, dulled with weariness. One of his hands wandered up to Chuuya’s cheek and rested there, circling the blush with his thumb. “I don’t want you out of my sight right now,” he said quietly. “That’s all.”

Ah. Right. The reflection of Corruption.

Well. Chuuya couldn’t really deny that he wasn’t looking forward to a night spent alone in his own apartment. He might not dream, but that didn’t matter if he couldn’t even get to sleep. Having someone beside him might help.

And beyond all that—this was the first time that Dazai had ever asked Chuuya to stay with him.

So, dazed and still a little flushed, Chuuya abandoned all common sense and replied, “Okay.”

Dazai captured one of Chuuya’s hands between his own, and brought it to his lips to brush a kiss across his knuckles. “Good,” he murmured, and pulled Chuuya to his feet. A slight smile flitted across his features. “I think I spotted Chuuya’s dreadful hat further towards the shore. Shall we find it first?”

Chuuya’s knuckles were still tingling. “Okay,” he repeated, strangled and utterly bewildered. His thoughts were chasing themselves in circles like a pack of confused terriers, but he allowed Dazai to tow him away towards the lights of the city.

And if Chuuya’s fingers ended up intertwined with Dazai’s as they traversed the shadows…well.

The streets were too dark for anyone to prove it.

“…Wait, is there even room at your place? You’re still living in that shitty dorm, aren’t you?”

A familiar grin and a pair of twinkling eyes turned back to him as they passed through a dimly lit alley. “Hmm? Chuuya has been tracking where I live? How sentimental of you, slug.”

At least he’s getting back to normal, Chuuya thought. “Oh, shut up,” he grumbled aloud. “Of course I’d keep an eye on your annoying ass.”

A scandalized, yet delighted gasp. “Chuuya likes looking at my ass?”

“…?! Shut up! That is not what I said—!”

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

See, I think Charles’ annoyance and frustration with the Cat King really was just pure protectiveness and not any kind of jealousy - it’s understandable, because Edwin is not telling him what happened even though something clearly did, which is not typical for them. Edwin doesn’t usually hide things like this! Of course he’s worried!

Charles’ reaction to Monty, on the other hand, is difficult to explain in a way that isn’t jealousy. You could say he’s being protective again, but Charles shows no sign of distrust in Monty, and had no idea of who Monty was or that he might betray them - he was actually very chill with him, except in a select few specific scenes. You could say he just doesn’t like him because he got brushed off during their first meeting, but not only does that not seem like Charles at all, it also doesn’t make sense, since, again, in most instances, Charles is genuinely friendly and is happy when Monty compliments him and seems to have come around to liking him (it completely flies over his head that this is a petty jab at Edwin on Monty’s part but oh well hahaha). You could say it changes up their status quo a bit and that bothers Charles. I do think this bothers him a bit, but I think, unlike Edwin, Charles’ fear and frustration here is directed more at situations (the Cat King whisking him away for several hours, as an example) than others. He’s sociable and likes being able to talk to new people. There’s absolutely no way he’d begrudge Edwin doing the same - and he doesn’t… with Niko. Edwin and Niko hit it off and become very close and that never bothers Charles at all. He’s incredibly endeared to her, just like the rest, and for the most part, he’s chill with Monty too, and smiles pretty knowingly when Edwin confesses to him having awakened some feelings. The only exceptions, where he shows definite annoyance, are when Monty first shows up and gets really in Edwin’s personal space to show him the astrology chart he made, and when Edwin is so sucked into the book Monty gave him that he doesn’t hear that Charles is talking to him, to which he annoyedly says that they seem to have been “spending a lot of time together”.

You could say he’s unused to having anyone get in Edwin’s personal space like that, but, again, Niko. She’s very tactile with him and he doesn’t seem to mind all that much; they spend time together watching things. If it was just someone getting close with Edwin in general, not only would that be weirdly possessive for the character, but it would also mean he would show discomfort with anyone getting close, I think. Does Charles see Monty as more of a potential threat than Niko, seeing as he knows her and her personality and doesn’t know Monty? Well, maybe, but again, Charles shows no sign of distrusting Monty at all.

Monty is a boy. Okay. So something about seeing Edwin so close to a boy that is not him, getting lost in thought over something this boy gave him, really rubs Charles the wrong way. Charles appears to catch on just as quickly as anyone else that there is something (or it looks like something) between Edwin and Monty. He is not surprised when Edwin comes out to him in episode 6, and in fact, seems to have just been waiting for him to verbalize it. He smiles and is not bothered at all by Edwin showing (what he thinks is) a romantic interest in Monty - he just doesn’t like it when Monty clearly shows a romantic interest in Edwin. Um. Well. Well.

Charles is jealous. I really don’t know what else to say.

Look, when I first watched this show, I actually didn’t want them to end up together romantically - I love the idea of one having fallen in love with another who does not reciprocate and the two of them still loving each other just as much. That Edwin’s confession made them closer instead of making things awkward is such a beautiful outcome to this build up and I absolutely love it. However. On my two rewatches, I caught a lot more little details, and I think it would be very strange if the show did not follow up on this. That, plus the deliberate quality of these “jealousy” moments where the camera focuses on him, Charles’ Orpheus coding throughout the show, the fact that Edwin’s arc was far more about realizing his feelings for Charles specifically than just coming to terms with his sexuality, and that even the actors admit that Charles’ response to the confession kind of left things open, it really seems to me like the path leads to a romantic endgame for them, or at the very least, that this possibility will be explored in more depth.

**This is just my reading of it. Please do not use this post as a gotcha for anyone who loves them as a platonic duo or people who really love Crystal and Charles together (because let’s face it, they’re super cute too). I’m just doing my rambles. As per usual.

[gumm1defloor]

Vox can understand Velvette just fine. They don't necessarily need to get along all the time, but they have a mutually beneficial contract that guarantees her support in the most efficient way possible, just how they both like it, short and strict and to the point. Vox does not understand Valentino. It drives him unimaginably, disgustingly insane. He knows how to handle him, make no mistake. Valentino is a never-ending powerhouse that wrangles out content from his employees like there's no tomorrow. He's proven himself to be Vox's most lucrative investment yet. He is resourceful, well-connected and most importantly predictable enough to rein in. Because he listens to you, because he needs you.

He is also, undeniably, out of his goddamn mind. Yet you've already invested too much in the corporate empire you've built together and there is no point turning back now that you have him so close to your side. It's OK however! He couldn't possibly be stupid enough to throw away the best partnership deal he's ever had just for the sake of something petty cause -oh, wait - he genuinely might just be that stupid and you never would've guessed because he's so cocksure of his bullshit that 80% of the time it ends up working in his favor anyway.

Fuck his life indeed. The kicker for this of course is that Valentino, genuinely does believe he has struck gold with Vox. Valentino is a clingy, possessive, immature, perverted, sadistic, egotistical man-child with severe rage issues and zero impulse control. No he is not aware of this at all. No he does not know why nobody is able to tolerate him and why every single person he gets close to hates his guts with every inch of their burning rotting souls. All he knows is that hell has now given him a flat faced prince in shining liquid crystal armour, riding on a cash filled horse with promises of power and luxury, who's practically handing him success on a silver platter. Doesn't mean that Val trusts him, doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy seeing him lose his shit. But at the end of the day vox has his back, and as long as Val keeps calling for him, he'll eventually turn up and make everything better. Cause hey if Vox hasn't left him yet for this long he must be doing something right. Right?

[multiseb21]

I KNEW IT

[bluehairedspidey]

Johnshi in MKX

So at the end of the first chapter of MKX, Johnny uses his green glow to save Sonya from Shinnok

Then, 20 years later, he tells the kombat kids about it and says this

"I've never been able to re-summon that green halo. Raiden thinks it was triggered when I saw a loved one about to die."

HOWEVER, we DO see ONE instance of Johnny using his green glow BEFORE he saves Sonya

At the beginning of the first chapter, Johnny, Kenshi, and Sonya are on a helicopter when they get attacked by Scorpion

Kenshi immediately pushes Johnny out of the way to protect him

Then gets hit by a blast of fire from Scorpion

And then Johnny uses his green glow to kick Scorpion away from Kenshi

Kenshi is one of Johnny's loved ones

[salvidida]

I swear, so much of the 'plot holes' and 'out of nowhere plot developments', even the supposed 'filler' that so many people attribute to fma 2003 would instantly evaporate if even half of these people actually paid any attention to the show whatsoever. Better yet, if they gave it more than one full watch through, since it's a layered anime that absolutely rewards multiple watches.

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

i'm sure there's a ton of world building in the haitham zhongli convos but my adhd cannot. is there like a tldr even if someone else wrote it (i don't mean this like it's bad wiritinf but i just. cannot read long blocks of info)

-@bloodlust-system

no worries i gotchu

TL;DR under cut

rainya gave him access to better equipment so he could get more info from the documens he couldn't fully process last time (that he mentioned in his other convo)

he found two documents, one a coroner's report and another a report about one of the rescued victims from the BCI (black column incident). neither of the people described in the documents show the symptoms you'd have thought they'd have given everyone assumed the explosion had been radioactive bc of symptoms on those who survived from far away. also neither of the victims had inhaled smoke nor was covered in dust and debris, and both seemed to have been in incredible mental distress when the incident happened (like more than you'd think)

he points out that none of that makes sense, bc if the explosion had been radioactive, then they would have symptoms of radioactive exosure (which they don't have). also they should've been covered in dust head to toe given the boulevard sank into the earth and- i mean the explosion. and also also they should've inhaled smoke bc of the black pillar (supposedly a smoke plume)

so if neither of the victims had inhaled smoke nor showed signs of radioactive poisoning, then was there an explosion and smoke plume to begin with? and if there was neither of those, then what the fuck even happened?

also one of the victims' files states they were recovered from the place that sank completely beneath the earth, and STILL had no debris or dust and shit. so what gives? the dating and time of the file would suggest the boulevard sank after anfortas and co. got in, so if the supposed explosion didn't sink it, what did?

(↑ that is more or less what was in the long-ass starting section. since you mention the long blocks of text are what's difficult to read, i'm gonna guess the rest of the exchange is pretty legible)

tl:dr for the tl;dr:

documents from two victims on-scene suggest the boulevard sank after anfortas and co. went in, but also that there was no radioactive implosion and no smoke plume. this puts into question what the earthquake even was if not a massive explosion, and what the black pillar was if not the explosion's smoke plume. both victims also seem to have suffered from some sort of mental meltdown when the incident took place, which is Weird.

[rottentiger-art]

I'm really a fan of lawmane fics (some not even lawmane) having L's inner monologue being like "Light's definitely gay bc how tf is he not fucking Misa, she might not be the brightest but... c´mon it's Misa"

[potpourri-of-ecclecticism]

What are the odds...

That a boy with a dark and twisted heart, a wastrel, a bully and a villain got to ride THE MOST BEAUTIFUL dragon of all time?

That THE MOST BEAUTIFUL dragon of all time chose him over other so-called "pure hearts"?

It wasn't even just a choice. It was a bond, a connection so strong that it transcended mortality, spilling over into soulmate territory.

Maybe the boy wasn't so dark and twisted after all. Maybe he was just a... coconut—hard on the outside and soft on the inside.

Everything that the boy sought from his family, this beautiful little dragon gave him... and so much more.

[designernishiki]

if you beat amon in dead souls kiryu gets an orbital death laser. just so you know

[palossssssand]

Reconciliation

Old dome squadmates Trito and Kinoga get together at Trito’s place to catch up after years apart and a meeting by chance on the surface.

⚠️Warning for suggestive content below + implied chest trauma

After several weeks of chipping away at this, the comic is finally done! Very happy to have rendered a full 7 pages of oc stuff. Please give it a read!!

read the full 7 page comic on twitter! <-please do not click if you are a minor and view at your own discretion, this link contains explicit 18+ content. Thank you!

For the lore, includes stuff from splatoon Octo Expansion: Trito and Kinoga were a part of an octarian military squad living in the domes, Kinoga being their squad leader that many looked up to and admired. There were 6 of them who considered each other to be their closest friends. Upon hearing about the tests from Kamabo Co. and the allure of the Promised Land, Kinoga wished to seek it out in order to find a better life for their squadmates. A difficult decision, since it meant leaving them all behind, promising to come back and take them there.

Kinoga enters the metro trials and soon realizes that the Promised Land isn’t what they expected, their hope crumbling when they encounter one of their sanitized squadmates Agara, who followed suit to the metros soon after. Kinoga narrowly escapes, eventually making a break for the surface, carrying the shame of unwilling to return for their squadmates with them (it’s justified, of course, there might not be an easy way in, they might get caught again, Agara is gone)

Trito enters the Metro not too long after Kinoga does, wanting to catch up to them, and an accident that occurs in a test early on results in Trito’s near sanitization, giving him his scar. Terrified, and realizing what happens to his fellow octolings, Trito is unable to return to his squadmates, not wanting to break the news of their loved ones’ untimely fates. He hides away on the Metro until the events of OE happen and Agent 8 dismantles Kamabo, opening an opportunity to escape to the surface. Unwilling to face the possibilities of going back, Trito takes his chance to leave, starting a new life and feeling that it’s for the best if he doesn’t acknowledge it, though he missed his friends dearly.

Years later, Trito and Kinoga run into each other on the streets of Splatsville by chance, and the implications of them both being on the surface and alive hit them, having to carry the burden of leaving their loved ones behind and finding out the truth, knowing the other felt exactly the same, not knowing the fate of their squadmates and not wanting to think about the possibility of them being gone. They have a tearful reunion about it, and set up a meet later, to sit down and really talk, and get into a brief argument when the topic of returning to the domes comes up. Trito’s in disbelief that Kinoga never went back down to check on the rest of their squad, wanting them to have been a better person than him, who was too cowardly to do so. Eventually they do reconcile, and end up at Trito’s place to hook up, where the above comic takes place :]

[the-everqueen]

wip tag game

tagged by @two-hands-toward-the-sun. i have...more wips than i remember at any given time, and i just peck at whichever one when the spirit moves me (usually when i'm procrastinating actual work). currently there's eight active in the rotation, with another handful that are more conceptual/bits and pieces i want to come back to later.

Sandman

Lucienne takes the Corinthian for walkies: this is in response to a Valentines day prompt @two-hands-toward-the-sun sent me, "going on a platonic date and being mistaken for a couple." Dream weaponized his sad wet eyes at Luce to make her take some PTO and also provide some enrichment for his recreated masterpiece. they go to the MOMAT

As though attuned to her thoughts, the Corinthian hangs back at a respectable distance—not out of sight, but perhaps out of mind, if she wished. When Lucienne frowns at him, trying to discern whether this is some kind of trick, he makes a show of fiddling with the audio guide, head turned away as he hooks the piece over his ear.

does your husband know the way the sunlight gleams on your wedding ring: Corinthian/Calliope fic in the period between Orpheus and Calliope & Dream's divorce. once again, a woman takes Coco out for her idea of a good time and proves literally anyone else would be a better owner for the Corinthian than Dream.

He means to retreat. He doesn’t think she’s noticed him, and he wouldn’t impose on her privacy. Calliope was always nice to him. But grief smells like weakness, and a Muse’s grief smells different from that of the humans he stalks in dreams, wearing the faces of their long-departed. His mouths water at the scent, unfamiliar but delectable. For a fleeting moment, he wonders what her eyes might taste like, what he’d see if he took them in his own.

gay coworkers: words are HAPPENING in the next installment!

“Technically—" “C’mon, a memory wipe is hardly better—" “I’m not defending his actions, I’m simply pointing out—" “Stop talking about me like I’m not here,” the Corinthian snaps. Matthew and Lucienne exchange guilty glances. “You could at least wait until you’re back at the palace. Doing it in my house, that’s just fucking rude.”

la guard dog literal: Morpheus recreated the Corinthian as a (sort of, semi-eldritch) dog because surely that will fix his behavioral issues. Daniel still rehomes him with Rose Walker.

Jed twists around in his seat. The Corinthian snuffles obligingly at the hand he offers, gives the fingertips a quick swipe with his tongue. Jed’s face splits into a smile. That smile makes something warm unfurl in the Corinthian’s belly, prompts him to worm closer with a thready whimper. No threat. Which is maybe the biggest lie he’s ever told and he didn’t even speak it in human words, but in the moment he desperately wants Jed to believe it, and not just so he can sink his teeth into that vulnerable neck still soft with baby fat.

what if we made those daddy issues literal: semi-period accurate 1920s fic where the Corinthian is Dream's troublesome ward and Matthew is the tutor Dream hires to bring him in line. is this because i'm obsessed with Assad Zaman's outfits in hotel portofino? yes.

“Dream’s not my father.” “I thought—" “He’s my guardian. Keeper. Master. Whatever.” “He—" “Of course he’s benevolent. Can afford to be, I suppose. So long as I perform well.” “Does he—?” “Not how you’re thinking.” Cori barks a short, humorless laugh. “That wouldn’t be conducive to his long-term plans, would it? Breaking his toy before it can be of any real use.” “That’s—" “Good? Yeah. Sure.” Something shutters in his expression. “After all, what would become of this poor orphan child without some generous benefactor to mold him into a productive member of society? Why, then he might just be a scoundrel or, worse—an inconvenient corpse rotting in the road.” “I—" “Well. No use speculating, right?” He flashes a grin that makes Matt think of a dog baring its teeth. “I’ll see you after lunch.” Matt, dumbfounded, watches him walk away.

Logan/X-men

rehome that animal: sequel to the dog crate fic

Mendez isn’t sure what he expected to find in the Wolverine’s hideout. It certainly wasn’t this. This being his former boss, presumed dead after A-T’s last (as in latest, as in final) attempt to retcon its X-23 project several months ago. Mendez didn’t recognize him at first, but he thinks he’d be forgiven for the slight: the Donald Pierce before him looks a lot different from the Reaver commander who’d swanned around in a leather duster and tinted sunglasses, barking orders. Now he’s mostly naked and washed-out looking like maybe he hasn’t seen much sun. His once carefully groomed beard has been shaved to expose sharp cheekbones and a delicate chin. All his muscle and fat is gone, so the jut of his ribs and spine and pelvis show with every small twitch. There’s a lot of twitching, like his body can’t decide whether to prepare for fight or flight.

horse is a one-trick pony and the trick is Werewolves: if you didn't foresee me turning the Reavers into a (literal) wolf pack...well, that's on you at this point.

The pack leader is keeping an eye on him. Not quite staring: casual flickers of his attention between Donald and whatever is happening on the laptop. Mendez’s eyes shine almost green in the bluish screen light. His face looks sharper. His lip twitches and shows the barest glimpse of fang.

...tagging @evenmyhivemindisempty, @cosmictapestry, @aisalynn, @crimeronan, and @stellerssong. no pressure, i just like seeing what people are working on.