#see through the eyes of another
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1introvertedsage · 2 years ago
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dykedvonte · 1 month ago
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I think depictions of Anya being cruel to Curly or drawing out his suffering are artful and chilling but completely miss the point of the story and her character.
I'm not saying she doesn't deserve to have that "I told you so" moment with him but not in something callous or cold. Even if that is how it happened, she'd immediately feel guilty cause at that point she's not tormenting her tormenter or even the person truly at fault. She's doing something cathartic, similar to how Jimmy likely hits Curly to release rage he can't against the rest of the crew. She'd see herself as no different when she'd come back from the moment and see Curly cowering at her. She wants someone to take responsibility but how does being cruel to the defenseless help? Why would she want the power Jimmy has over her over Curly?
The idea of her extending someone else's pain is just so against the struggles she already faces and how she can't even bring herself to cause someone pain even to help them. Her very desire is to release herself from her own suffering and I doubt she'd even fine some sort of guilty release in being cruel to another.
#anya is not a character i see taking agency or indulging in cathartic behaviors#not knowingly like i see her as a character trapped in her head and maybe in the scenario she's cruel to Curly she is envisioning Jimmy#in his place but its not a story about justice or those deserving of punishment and those not like its the opposite of people projecting#their issues on the wrong people and saying things to the wrong people and doing things they shouldn't but anya uniquely falls out of it as#she is subjected to a lot of it but it is also not something she wants to subject another person to like you are doing what Jimmy does and#placing ur rage into another persons and viewing their actions through your eyes like she'd more likely yell at him than do harm or#cause him more pain like at least make it in character#but also she clearly doesn't want to see jimmy or curly in the same light and doesnt because she still repeatedly goes to Curly for comfort#and protection and god there's like concepts that need to be applied to characters individually and then the story as a whole#we can not view the game through only one themed lens less we forget to inspect the compounding factor of Anya is so much more than girl#that needs to be allowed to go off but a woman that simply wants right to be done by her and no more harm like she doesn't want to be aroun#the suffering like idk but some of yall would just benefit from like understanding that people are inherently grey with the capabilities of#black n white thinking or actions#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#anya mouthwashing#i like her the most but then again i am defensive of all women in media and hate when people change the way the character would take agency#for themselves like yes I want her to tweak out but she just wouldn't and I like seeing realistic depictions of a woman suffering the way#she is like shes not the type at the end of the movie to have a one liner but feel a shallow freedom cause she needs to realistically heal#idk but its just like there is an obbsession forming with making her character her pain and not how she handles and navigates the issue
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ricky-mortis · 7 months ago
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Mariah Rose Faith Casillas, the woman you are.
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kbsd · 7 months ago
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when a lovely flame dies, smoke gets in your eyes
OR: what were we supposed to take away from episode 4 if not ‘bucky is a war widow’
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thinwhitedoc · 4 months ago
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SHERLOCK | Martin Freeman as John Watson
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old-skyguy · 6 months ago
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Every time I see people reduce Franziska von Karma to "haha bitchy immature lady with a whip" I get viscerally angry.
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teatime-at-4 · 4 months ago
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Domestic headcanon:
MK, at some point during a Monkey Movie Night(TM) while Wukong is making the popcorn, is practicing his glamors and he mimics Macaque's appearance, who promptly mimics MK in return as a joke.
But then WuKong walks back in. There's just a moment of silence before he goes "something is wrong here" and walks back out.
Wukong couldn't place what was wrong exactly because while he could tell glamors were at play he of course could not see through them, because of how strong both MK and Macaque are.
after a few seconds of silence bth MK and Macaque lose their shit.
and now they at random unpredictable intervals, with no rhyme or reason, will just glamor themselves to look like each other and then change back after a while. They want to see how many times they can get away with it before WuKong realizes what they’re doing. He hasn't figured it out quite yet, but he now has a sneaking suspicion on what's going on after Macaque, disguised as MK, accidentally called him WuKong instead of monkey king. Mk is somewhat peeved that between the two of them, it's the master manipulator with a record of impersonating people who slipped up first. But as of now, the shtick is ongoing.
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luck-of-the-drawings · 11 months ago
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AUU FUCK I FORGOT I MADE THIS. it started out as a single little sketch and hten i woke up with glass in my arm. dont look too hard at the lighting. or the lines. or the anything. this whole fuckin episode was so fun HAHAHAH i love skin and terror.
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imerian · 3 months ago
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My (very old) loscar brooch (?) that i just now made doodles for
More pictures under cut
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#loscar#logan sargeant#ls2#oscar piastri#op81#and now starts the rant#my fave detail is probably tge eye. there few beads like this and they were laying around until my friend said that they look loscar relate#so o started making making whole thing around that bc in my opinion it's genius (also sorry this is gonna have extremely long tags bc i had#run out of them once. maximum is 30 apparently)#I'll go by lains from here so first obviously eagle. i think it's hilarious and what's even funnier is that i bought those charms before#even knowing who Logan was. just for shit and giggles#also to coala i added a bead on top to somewhat match the height#also i love mixing up their colours bc I'm insane about that. how they ideal negatives of eachother and how orange fits logan while blue-os#so i also mixed it up with those animals charms and their attachments here#next stop - oscar lane. there not a lot of black which is bas but at least last heart is actually black. beads above it represents eyes#(you can see with doodles) and next one is for his hair but i couldn't find how to show it#and round see through bead i use for his helmet bc it shines with red yellow and blue#middle part - i talked about the eye but also beads above it. i tried to match tones so they won't clash#then fish and i love that it's in form of heart bc i associate both of them with water so much i needed something here#and bead underneath that is for Logan eyes ofc. for doodles there tried to use brown so oscar would have blond/logan brown but didn't work#AND READ HEART. “-WELL IT'S NOT YELLOW” “PREMA RED THEN?���#as you can see I'm totally normal about their prema times plus i love how it stands out with everything else and can be read as#usual meaning of red hearts. also made out of corals so it fits them too#and last but not least - Logan my beloved#first and foremost STARS#I added as much as humanly possible party bc of American meme party bc i fucking love stars and associate him with them#also added all williams shades of blue and even white so it covers all that#okay no I lied a bit bc i used a button for their dark blue#another thing i would like to mention is metal ring bc it has extremely small hearts on it that you need to look for to notice#I HIT LIMIT FUCK.last thing to say is how I tried to play with circles in middle of every lane. okay goodbye
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justaz · 5 months ago
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need post magic reveal/ban repeal where magic is free and everyone grows in their knowledge of just what magic is and how it works etc, etc. merlin (isn't one for bragging about his powers) doesn't really mention much about his magic so people just assume he has enough to get by with like chores but not enough to catch the ire of uther EXCEPT for gauis, lancelot, and arthur bc gaius and lancelot have known about him for years and know what he's capable of and arthur sat merlin down and demanded all the stories so arthur knows he'd be a formidable opponent but he doesn't really get it yk? so he's like "yeah merlin has magic and he's capable of defending himself and camelot so he's probably on the more powerful end of the spectrum like every other sorcerer who is powerful"
and then i need merlin to be Different. like noticeably different. like idk a sorcerer is like trying out to be court sorcerer (bc merlin doesn't want another job dammit arthur give it morgana or someone-) and they perform this elaborate spell that captivates merlin and he starts asking all these questions and the sorcerer is like "yeah it's super difficult, it took me months to get it right and it takes years for some others-" and they cut themselves off bc merlin was just like "i wanna try" and does it perfectly first try. the sorcerer is seething.
camelot is hit with a heatwave and everyone is suffering and arthur is just like "morgana can you make it rain or something? it's too hot to breathe." and morgana is just like "no you idiot i can't just bend nature to my will. it doesn't like that." and merlin finally arrives with waterskins full of nice, cold, refreshing drink that the knights are frothing at the mouth to get. arthur complains again and morgana huffs and merlin is like "has he been like that this whole time?" and morgana nods with a groan and merlin laughs before going "i can try something" and leaves before anyone can say anything and arthur looks at morgana and is like "i thought you said nature doesn't like to be controlled?" and she's like "it doesn't" and then they all chase after merlin but he's chilling in the courtyard with his eyes closed, not even chanting, and then the sky starts to darken as black clouds roll in, the temperature plummets and then...snow begins to fall. in july. they all end up having a snowball fight.
a power hungry sorcerer comes along and is like "emrys....he's perfect....just what i need...teehee" and casts some spell over merlin and begins to siphon his magic and his power and merlin feels waves of his magic flood through the connection and into the sorcerer and like he's a mix of panic and concern bc yeah this mf is taking his magic but they're taking his magic. merlin tries to bargain or talk them down while the knights and arthur try to attack but the sorcerer keeps pushing them back and ignores merlin and is like "i want power, i want your power" blah blah blah monologue time and they swing another wave of magic out at the knights and knock many out while killing some and merlin is just like "ok no that's all folks thanks" and starts to push his own magic through the connection. the sorcerer has this wild gleam in their eyes and they feel more and more power fill them and it's like a high until it gets too much and they frantically try to sever the connection and their telling merlin to stop but merlin is just like "i thought you wanted my power? i'm giving it to you" and continues to flood the sorcerer with his magic until gold begins to trace their skin and they idk explode or smth and then all the magic flies back into merlin and he flexes his hands. unnamed knights 3, 6, 22, 53, and 55 still died so it's a tragedy.
a bunch of sorcerers are entertaining at a feast (kind of like the trickler) and they cast illusions all around the room that look real enough (unless you look too closely or touch it bc they are somewhat see through and your hand would pass right through them) and it's a fun and joyous night. later that week, the knights bring it up during their break while training and merlin is like "sure, what illusion should i cast?" and after some back and forth, he settles on the illusion of a dragon. it's around the size and age of aithusa bc that's all he has to go off of and it's gold since he took inspiration from the pendragon crest all around the area. it jumps around and flaps it's wings to get some air and it's all fine and dandy until elyan goes to poke his hand through it's ribs but meets physical scales and he jumps up into percival's arms. merlin looks closer and is like "oh. its real. whoops." and leon is like "whoops?? you make a real life dragon and all you have to say is whoops?" and merlin shrugs and is like "it was an accident" and leon about keels over from a heart attack "an accident? how do you accidentally-" the dragon is considered a gift from magic to camelot and helps further heal the wounds of uther's purge.
idk just like merlin being casually the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth and unnerving people just by how little he seems to care about his shows of power but they're all like "well he's just doing all these small things that don't harm anyone and he doesn't even seem to realize just how powerful he is so what can ya do?" and they leave it be and make peace with merlin being Like That. and then camelot/arthur is attacked or smth idk and then everyone gets to see exactly how powerful and dangerous merlin is
#merlin is taking a leisurely stroll toward the villain of the week but every step sends cracks through the earth#and every whisper from his lips is like thunder rolling across the land#power is actually crackling off his body like golden streaks of lightning and his eyes are filled with gold. not just his iris#he absorbs every spell that is cast his way. he stops every weapon that arcs towards him. and he kills every person that dared hurt arthur#arthur got hurt btw. badly. thats why merlin is raging.#god. the idea of “Emrys - Magic Incarnate. The Most Powerful Sorcerer To Walk The Earth.” isn't represented in canon or many fanfics#like we like to but barriers keeping him as just another sorcerer but he's not. he IS magic. he's different even in the magical community.#which btw treasure trove for angst - merlin is just different no matter who he's around. he's completely alone bc#no one in the world could possibly understand him. not even arthur bc while they are intertwined by destiny#arthur was born to be king and that's something other heirs can understand. but no sorcerer can understand merlin.#anywho would love to see more of this if anyone has any fic recs that would be sublime my lovelies#bbc merlin#merlin emrys#arthur pendragon#morgana pendragon#morgana le fay#knights of the round table#bamf!merlin#fanfiction#fanfic#fic ideas#prompts#like merlin is the embodiment of all magic. the source of all magic in the realm and ur gonna look me in the eye and tell me#“oh he gets tired when he casts five (5) spells”#look at me. listen to me. he is so mf powerful. i have sm beef with the show for not showing that.#which like yeah budget and 2012 cgi but GOD i wouldve loved to see it
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1introvertedsage · 2 years ago
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Opinion is really the lowest form of human knowledge. It requires no accountability, no understanding. The highest for of knowledge is empathy, for it requires us to suspend our egos and live in another's world.
~Bill Bullard~
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The Storm of Vengeance Which Consumes
Yeah. It's that scene. The swiss cheese scene. The Sushseidon scene. But it's Poseidon POV with a lot of internal emotions. This was written as part of a personal series I'm working on where one of my OCs is looking into Poseidon's history and experiences this memory.
A lot of this was inspired by the various fanarts/animatics I've seen. Such as Gwendy's use of Hermes' sandals, HAH Studios' Get In The Water (specifically Ody's hand on Horseidon's nose), sloansloan's Ody pulling Poseion's hair. So if you're reading something and are like "hmm, this seems familiar" it was probably inspired by something. The discorporation is part of the lore in my series.
Enjoy!
Words: 2300 Warnings: Torture (obviously), graphic descriptions of violence, uhh. Yeah. It's that scene, soooo Characters: Odysseus and Poseidon (with various others mentioned/referenced)
Anger consumes his heart, his mind sharp and clear on the currents of vengeance. The mortal escaped him once. But not this time. His shadow consumes the single man on a raft, his towering figure of water imposing an air of terror. At long last, it will be over. At long last, he will have his revenge. 
“We’re both hurting from loss. Why not leave this here and just go home?” the mortal offers, pain in his features as he pleads. 
The words make the god hesitate. The anger that has carved a home in his heart leaves his chest aching. The minuscule hope that he could let this pain go, that he could be free from it; it tempts him. Could it really be that simple? And yet— “I can’t,” the near broken voice of Poseidon leaves his mouth. 
The mortal dares to raise a hand in offering. A soft gesture. 
And despite himself, the god leans down towards it, ready to receive it. He’s desperate for the relief from the storm, desperate for it to finally be over with.
“Maybe you could learn to forgive,” the mortal offers a gentle smile. 
He stops short, his face a mere few feet from the mortal. What is he doing? Is he, the King of the Seas, swayed by a few silver words and a decade of chase? Is his resolve so fragile? His eyes sharpen. “No.” He pulls back, his form cracking and growing as more water rushes up to join his form. 
The seas grow rougher, almost becoming like solid glass pillars. The wind swirls around harder, creating tornadoes of water.
“Ruthlessness is mercy upon ourselves,” he declares his mantra once again as he raises his trident, spinning it before plunging it into the water. “Die!”
The water shatters into thousands of rugged pieces. The raft on top of it falls into the depths. 
He watches the mortal that has evaded and outsmarted him at every turn finally sink beneath his power, finally drowning under his wrath. A sharp sense of satisfaction stabs at his heart, adding to the burden of vengeance he carries. But he counts it as worth it. Because he finally did it. His mission is complete. His anger is satiated. 
At least it should be. Why does it feel like he’s not done? He killed the man. He enacted justice. For his son’s pain and his own pride. Why does he not feel satisfied?
The wind continues to whip around, stringing out his long wet hair. The storm rages on. Both outside and within. At long last, he turns to leave.
“Poseidon!” a voice screams in anger behind him.
He turns, his eyes widening. 
The mortal floats high in the air, windbag in hand and Hermes’ winged sandals on his feet.
Fury fills the god as the mortal has once again escaped his demise. He bares his teeth and turns fully around. He barely gets to raise his trident before he feels himself being pummeled. 
Though the mortal’s weapon can’t break his skin, the speed at which each blow is delivered leaves him dazed. Like six hundred men are beating his body. Like the souls of the mortal’s lost crew have come back for revenge of their own. Water is knocked from his form in showers of droplets from every strike. His eyes try to track the mortal, but he’s nothing more than a blur in the air.
In the span of a mere few seconds, his form has been beaten down to its smallest height. His concentration has been shattered, his vision spinning as he falls from the sky, landing on a rocky outcropping.
The first thing he notices when he opens his eyes is the storm of his design raging around them. The second is the mortal standing at the rock’s edge, looking out at the consequences of his actions. A twisted sense of irony and victory worm their way into his heart despite his aching body working to heal itself from the borderline magical onslaught. 
And he laughs. 
“You idiot,” he spits at the mortal, pushing himself up by the rock behind himself. “Can’t you see? You sealed your fate just to beat me!” he continues laughing. The pitiful thing about mortals. For how clever they think they are, their hubris will always be their doom. “You really thought you could control my storm? That it would bow to your whims, King of Ithaca? You will never get back! And it is all by your own hands. Just like the lost lives of your crew.”
The mortal’s head slowly turns towards the god drunk on power. “You’re going to call off that storm,” he growls as he stalks towards him.
A scoff leaves the god. “Or what? You can’t kill me.”
The mortal bends down towards the golden trident laying between them. “Exactly.” He picks it up.
The trident shines in the hands of the descendant of Hermes.
The god’s eyes narrow in confusion at the statement. But as he looks at the prongs coming closer to him, then the mortal’s no longer human eyes, a new sensation fills him. One he hasn’t felt in centuries. The predatory steps unlock something almost human within him.
Terror.
“Wait.” The god starts trying to get up. “Wait!”
But he isn’t fast enough. In his arrogance, he let the mortal breach his weakness. In his own hubris, his own haughtiness over his immortality, he forgot the warning of Prometheus’ fate. Immortality can be a curse.
The metal embeds itself in his chest, pinning him to the rock. For the first time in eons, the cosmos hears him scream. For the first time since Titanchomy, he feels real pain. The sting of a death he cannot have, the tearing of flesh, the warmth of ichor seeping out of his wounds like currents withdrawing from oceanside caves at low tide.
And when the barbed ends are withdrawn, it pulls his body with it until a foot on his stomach stops him. He gasps as the metal is freed, but the relief— if he can even call it that— doesn’t last long. He sees the next blow coming and raises his hand to stop it. 
But the mortal sees this and aims directly for the shoulder.
His arm goes numb, limply falling to the side as he cries out again.
“How does it feel to be helpless? How does it feel to know pain?” the mortal mocks as he dislodges the weapon with a struggle, the barbs getting stuck again and pulling more flesh with them.
His ears burn at the humiliation, his chest tight as he breathes laboredly. His mind is assaulted with the sting of pain, an overwhelming force like none he’s ever experienced before. No one dares to strike the King of the Seas, especially not in a truly hazardous way. No one… except Nobody.
The next stab plunges into his stomach, slicing through muscle and intestines. His own howls join the chorus of wind and thunder.
It is no doubt music to the mortal’s ears as he continues to lay out the god’s sins against him, as he continues to enact his justice.
The god slides further and further down the rock, his eyes and markings glowing as his body desperately tries to heal itself. He’s never been discorporated before. He’s never had his physical form stripped away from him. He’s never experienced the shame of being trapped in his own domain from his failures. But as his body is torn to shreds by the overzealous mortal, he fears for the first time that this may actually be it. This may be the first time he experiences as close to death as gods get.
His power is split between trying to heal himself and trying to start a counter attack. An earthquake, a tidal wave, anything. 
But the mortal, once champion of the Goddess of Wisdom, accounted for that too. And he strikes where he knows it will hurt. The soft flesh of the abdomen, the already broken ribs and pierced lung, the knee, the other shoulder. Every blow breaks the god’s concentration, keeping him trapped against the rock. “Look what you’ve turned me into!”
The god can’t help but comply, staring up at the monster of a man he made. A mortal pushed too far, a man immeasurably beyond his breaking point. It’s almost in slow motion as the god’s gaze fixates on a droplet of rain washing his ichor off the mortal’s face. He can only breathe laboriously, unable to attempt to stop the trident from sinking into his collarbone.
The mortal grabs his hair, pulling the god’s head back to look at him. “Look what we’ve become.” 
His eyes sting, his throat raw from his screams. He’s lost the strength to even try to turn his face away, to fight back for control of his head. The warm vengeance that kept him on the shores of Ithaca for ten years has been transferred into the mortal, leaving the god cold and broken. 
Like a forest that has been consumed by wildfire, leaving fragile dead trees in its place. Like a hurricane that levels towns, like tidal waves that wash everything that was once held dear out to sea. The god has lost everything. A new monster was birthed from his storm of vengeance. 
And even when he thought he finished it, even when he got what he wanted, it didn’t feel like enough. He was left disappointed, unsatisfied. Killing the mortal didn’t end the storm. His revenge has consumed them both, eating them alive as the god’s father had once devoured him.
Up until now he thought Zeus stripping him of his divinity and enslaving him to a mortal king was the worst blow his pride could be dealt. But another mortal king is proving him wrong.
The mortal throws the god’s head backwards into the rock, twisting the trident as he pulls it out.
The god gasps, clutching his stomach. This has to end. He has to make it stop. Before he fully experiences defeat. Before he takes on more shame. “Enough,” he orders.
But who is the king to stop? Who is wielding the trident? And so the mortal continues his assault, reopening half-healed wounds in the god’s shoulder.
The god squeezes his eyes shut, a long groan of agony leaving him, “Stooop!” He feels sick as his voice dips further and further into desperation, pleading with the mortal, begging of all things. He cries out louder, as if the mortal couldn’t hear him the first time over his ranting.
But no. The mortal did hear him. The begs were clear as day. And they were ignored. “You didn’t stop when I begged you!” The trident’s aim is true, an extension of the mortal’s emotions, plunging into the god’s throat and left eye at the same time.
The god’s body locks up, convulsing. His whole head is engulfed in pain, the sharp point that penetrated his eye having sunken into his skull. His remaining eye widens as what would have been his loudest scream is silenced by the prong piercing his vocal cords. The sweet metallic taste fills his mouth and drips off his lips. 
The scene goes black. For a moment, he feels himself slipping away. No. He can’t give the mortal that satisfaction. He can’t let him win. Even if he already has. He barely hears the distant words of the mortal, though is mouth is slowly moving, “You…”
“You told me to close my heart! You said the world was dark!” The mortal makes an upwards strike with the trident, lifting the god’s body off the ground a bit to glare at him.
The god weakly glares back with one blue eye flickering in its glow. “Monster!” he cries out, hoping that will break the man, hoping that will end this torment.
But instead, it just seems to fuel the monster in the man as he rips the trident out. His response to the accusation comes in the words the god was so fond of as he raises the trident, unknowing how close he is to finishing the job, “Didn’t you say that ruthlessness is mercy upon our—”
And the god’s resolve shatters. His own words being used against him are almost more painful than his own weapon. “Alright!” he cries out.
The mortal hesitates, trident raised overhead.
The god forces his remaining eye open, though his sight of the mortal is obscured by rain and blood. “Please,” he rasps, brought to his lowest of lows. Subjected to begging for mercy from a mere mortal.
The mortal grips the trident tighter before dropping it with a clang.
The wind and waves die down as the god’s vision flickers. His head slumps forward as the scene turns dark. He barely feels his body hit the cold rocks. Every muscle pulses in pain. He doesn’t know when the mortal flew off on Hermes’ sandals. He doesn’t know how long he laid there trying to heal. Perhaps Apollo would be gracious enough to tend to him. But as time goes on, no one shows. He’s left alone on the tiny island, laying in his own ichor. Olympus has shunned him, probably mocking him.
The god finally begins to move, though immediately crying out as a sharp pain flares in his chest, a crack sounding like something broke. He lays back down, but the pain doesn’t lessen. His head gets lighter and lighter. His body gets weaker. It feels like fluid fills his lungs. Which shouldn’t be a problem, he can breathe underwater. But apparently he can’t breathe ichor.
There’s no storms for months. The tides are the calmest anyone has ever seen. Not a single earthquake is recorded anywhere. For the God of the Sea was nowhere to be found in the mortal world.
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rcmclachlan · 2 months ago
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Trademark: Top-tier Bucktommy writer + generally Cool + getting Buck pregnant
Thank you + thank you + thank you!
#i really do keep meaning to write some actual mpreg fic but it keeps getting swept away by other ideas#like the alien invasion fic i'm dying to write#where tommy gets called to fly against them while the lafd is busy on the ground trying to save lives amid the chaos#and they get word that the entire ragtag squadron of which tommy was a part gets wiped out#buck is so devastated he just shuts down and works himself nearly to death trying to save people trying to make tommy's sacrifice worth it#in a week LA is in ruins and the 118 is barely holding on when they get word that another wave of alien ships is headed their way#they know this is it and just as the ships crest the horizon -- there's one ship that suddenly breaks formation and turns on the others#completely stunned the 118 watches as the ship guns down half of the others then leads the rest on a wild chase#and then eddie shouts 'those are american military flight maneuvers! whoever's flying that thing is on our side!'#buck thinks about the first time he visited the harbor station and he'd jokingly asked everyone for dirt on tommy#and tommy's teammate nico was like 'i don't know about dirt but i can tell you right now: that guy can fly literally anything'#buck watches this one ship attempt the impossible while bobby's on the radio telling anyone who might be listening#that one of their own has commandeered an enemy ship and is holding off the next wave and needs immediate support#eventually the ship lands clumsily on a crumbling rooftop and buck runs up a hundred flights of stairs and bursts onto the roof#just in time to see tommy come stumbling out of the ship -- obviously having been through it and like missing an eye or something#and when tommy sees buck his face just crumbles and buck's already sobbing as they limp-run at each other#crashing together crying and laughing and buck slides to the ground clutching tommy while the rest of the 118 pile onto the roof#and they watch a squadron of f-15s descend from the clouds to take out the straggler ships and it feels like the tide is turning#yeah it's basically independence day but with 2000% more angst
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averlym · 1 year ago
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"now, doesn't that look nice?" [insp]
#*chanting* skask skask skask skask-#vincent aurelius lin#adamandi#hello. let's talk about what's going on here! i've been tossing the idea about here wrt skin translucency ever since that post came out#(it's linked above fyi. but to quote it.) 'attempting to pursue this unachievable white ideal of the young academic; maybe leading to gory#representations of mimicry; replacement; taking on someone else's skin; altering the self'#this is primarily key in vincent and the skask; in the actual show iirc they used a jockey mask or smth? but i was thinking about the#delightful way skin is semi-transparent. and so a literal layer of skin alone would be unlikely to provide the whiteness pursued-#the under layer of the original tone would be there. so smth about the failure and unattainable.#additionally; at this point of the show the skin would have been likely yellowing or greying due to post-mortem development? so even more#Not white. from observations (as a kid;comparing skin tones?) white people have a pinker undertone (this might be. a generalisation but.)#here the lighting is yellowish to further push the difference + give the super harsh lighting that if you suspend disbelief has some hair#appear as blonde to further the ambrose-ness.#also the hair- messier on the non-ambrose side; a reference to the whole monologue about the haircuts they got#we bring to you also another episode of <i like drawing fabric folds> in the jacket symbolism! from bottom right to top left; it tracks#vincent throughout act two: the initial long jacket for standing out (nonchalance?) at ardess is removed; the yellow coat is put on- aided#here by ambrose's ghost which is represented by the hand! (it is very very slightly transparent- you can see the jacket pattern through it)#(if you look close) and then the satchel goes over it; this mimics the clothes in <oh ms reporter>#and then the Actual Ambrose jacket goes above along with the skask; following the outfit from the pyre scene at the end.#the spark/star thing is partially foreshadowing for the upcoming stabby eye trauma thing (@quincy) and partially just so i could highlight#the eye of the mask/ the place where vincent's eye probably is Behind the mask. because i liked the idea of merging faces; intersection.#back to the translucency of skin - you can kind of make out where the rest of his face is from the darker bit? aka it's not the same colour#as the skask. smth smth limited effectiveness...#tldr? face skin. jacket skin. altering appearance over time; unfeasibleness#when i was doing this i suddenly remembered covering my skin in talcum powder as a kid... hm. i'd forgotten about that.#anyways! when i posted my first ever adamandi thing i had the thought of 'this musical makes me want to paint' and surreally enough#that has proved to be so so true. and ngl i am really enjoying it? love it when the motivation to create is there haha#i will add as a disclaimer that i'm literally chinese and if the colours look off.. i did not mean to make a caricature. please be nice#that said because stage lighting tends to shift colours about a Lot i essentially used my own skin as a reference under yellow light?#so hopefully that checks out. <disappears>
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byemambo · 1 month ago
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KIM NU RIM AS DOHOE
Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo (2024) | 1.01
Ready to get my heart crushed by another Hwang Da Seul production </3
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youngpettyqueen · 8 months ago
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do you ever think about Garak waking up and seeing Julian in that chair, uncomfortably crammed in and slumped over asleep, and wonder how he must've felt when he realized Julian wasn't going to leave
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