#so much to learn in this beautiful world

[aaron-is-comatose]

i can't stop thinking about that one clip of ii screaming WHATTTTTTTT !!!!!!!

[bacchuschucklefuck]

prayer of the day:

[blizardstar]

Me when Ashton Greymoore is denied honorable and meaningful self-sacrifice, and now must face the reality that they MUST keep living after it’s All Over

[lesbianherald]

I was thinking... It seems to me that you mostly like the post-canon character states of Jayce and Viktor? I think you like the more confident and self-aware post-trauma Jayce (when he is present) and the more insecure Viktor, or... As if he has an enormous guilt to overcome.

Will there ever be something more naive from you with their more naive, hopeful and yearning versions?

Coming home (but not to you)

(also, i do have something planned for after my medieval au if the hyperfixation is strong enough and the fandom doesn't tire me out)

update im adding to this because i cant stop thinking about it do people find my coming home jayce... confident? i was very much going for an 'i'm sorry for my migraines' and 'when I'm in the airport in the security I think I magically have a gun' kind of vibe KDLFJHSDkl

also said this in the tags but season 2 didn't even start coming out until chapter 11 the full thing wasn't out until chapter 12 so if they came off post canon inspired that is very unintentional DKJFHSLDFj

[idon-twannabeperceived]

Every day i wake up and cry because i am reminded that school, movies, shows and the internet made me learn the MOST FLAVORLESS AND BORING ENGLISH ACCENT MOTHER WHY.

Every time i hear nigerian/jamaican/scotish English accents it makes me want to scream until my insides bleed bc WHY DID EVERYTHING HAVE TO SOUND USAMERICAN BACK IN SCHOOL GOD KILL ME🙏

[evelynpr]

FINISHED WATCHING MHA MOVIE 2: HEROES RISING!!! SPOILERS AHEAD IF YOU HAVENT WATCHED IT

OH MY FUCKING GOD THIS WAS SO GOOD YO HOLY FUCK I LOVE IT AAAAAAAAAAAAA

This was truly My Bakudeku Academia. Watching that final battle felt like a religious experience- as if I was watching the birth of Christ. Holy fuck if that really was the original ending, with Deku passing OFA to Kacchan, and the whole "Oh it actually stayed with Deku and Bkg got amnesia" didn't happen, this would have been a dramatically different story moving forward.

Horikoshi really loves Bakugou- like absolutely no question. The story following this kind of ending would be about him continuing OFA's legacy with the guilt of a thousand suns on his shoulders for "taking away" Izuku's dream. Izuku would have continued the hero course as an actual quirkless student. I would love to see aus of this being canon and continuing their story from there.

I'm guessing Nine here was supposed to be AFO, and he would basically be gone too. Katsuma is perfectly set up to be the next protagonist (I can already imagine him using Cell Regeneration as Super Regeneration- he could become invincible while also healing others. Incredibly amazing quirk).

NUMBER ONE COMPLAINT I HAD WAS ADDRESSED. THE REST OF THE CLASS ACTUALLY DO FEEL STRONG AND USEFUL AND EVERYTHING AS SHIT I LOVE IT AAAAAAAA

YES MY GIRL OCHAKO FINALLY HAS HER BIG MOMENT FLOATING SO MUCH DEBRIS!!! I'M SO HAPPY- EVEN JIRO, AOYAMA, SHOJI, TOKOYAMI AND MORE HAD LEGIT GOOD SCENES AND FIGHTS I'M SO FUCKING HAPPY YEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHH THEY ARE SOOO COOLLLLL THEY GENUINELY GAVE IT THEIR ALL FUCK YEAHHHHH

(note. THAT WOLF GUY CALLED SHOJI UGLY- A FELLOW HETEROMORPH, CUS HE WAS PROJECTING HIS "MONSTER" ISSUES ON HIM HOW FUCKING DARE YOUUUUU)

THEY ALSO MAKE IT ACTUALLY MAKE MORE SENSE HOW THE WHOLE CLASS IS SEPARATED ON AN ISLAND TOGETHER AS A WHOLE CLASS THIS TIME TOO (and not just half like last movie). They even managed to tie it in to AFO, the LoV, and Hero Society. Like it actually feels more grounded and reasonable why the class would be here alone with supervision.

They even add hints of Touya Todoroki with him having a short battle with Endeavor, Hawks spying in the LoV, the HSPC head cameo, and other little things too. Man I loved this fucking movie I would watch it 10 more times right now.

[thatblucat]

when true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown, who would inhabit this bleak world alone?

[channie-binnie]

I swear every time I see anything relating to ATEEZ my eyes would always go to this man

BYE OMG WHY IS HE SO BEAUTIFUL????

This is a different type of ethereal beauty because wtf

He is a fairy 🧚

[sulky-cabbage]

The sukugo fight can't get animated any sooner I'm craving sukugo tiktok edits

[gummi-ships]

Kingdom Hearts Birth by Sleep - The Land of Departure

[parspicle]

i think an underappreciated part of Being A “Functional Adult” is learning to appreciate something You Do Not Like, but a Loved One Does. it’s a skill you do need to work on, to listen to something You Do Not Care About, But They Do, but it is so, so worth it

[risingsunresistance]

only problem with this design rn is that i can no longer choose to go forwards or backwards, so i cant link up multiple of them. just goes back and forth

but tbh it goes so fast i dont really see that being a problem kjfhg

[softquietsteadylove]

I just spent the last 5 hours painting and it gave me an idea. Canon movie universe, Thena using art as therapy (like we see in the film), and some cute romantic fluff

Gilgamesh snorted as he woke from his nap. He'd been perfecting his ale recipe, adapting it from the brew he had developed with Odin. Between that, and a lunch of roast ostrich leftover from Thena's last hunt, he had fallen right asleep.

He could tell she was there, but he blinked up at the ceiling. She was always telling him not to doze on the couch. He turned his head.

"Back."

He smiled reflexively, hearing the siren song of his darling Thena's voice. He moved just his eyes, but instead of seeing her in his chair, all he saw was an easel and the back of a canvas. "Can I-"

"Still."

He sighed, although he was nothing if not amused. She usually took her art therapy outside, drew with charcoal on paper weighted down by stones. When she did paint, she still preferred to set up under that old and dried tree that was hers.

He called it her tree from the moment he saw it, pale and stately against the rest of the desert.

Thena would lean every once in a while, just to check on her reference before disappearing again. He could hear the sounds of the stool under her, the swish of her dress as she moved. Her legs were crossed and he could see her bare toes bent against the rug.

Seeing Thena at feeling at home always put his heart at ease.

It seemed simple, but they had come a long way from bare stone and clay slip and a piece of driftwood as a door. They could eat together at the table, nap together in the hammock; he'd built them a water tower with his bare hands so they could have a running tap.

He would have built her a mansion if she'd asked. A temple to rival that of Babylon.

"Stop smiling."

"Wouldn't it be nicer if I was smiling?" he chuckled, letting his eyes remain closed.

"Unnatural."

He did his best not to, but smiling came naturally to him where Thena was involved. He loved that she had found an outlet for her mind in art. And he loved that she didn't need to over-explain herself to him. One or two words were all she needed, and he treasured even those.

"You were dreaming."

He tried to recall it. In the moment he woke up, he knew he had, but it was already beyond him what had been happening. Must have been pleasant enough that he felt good waking up, but not so pleasant that he wanted to go back to sleep.

He adjusted his head on the couch's throw pillow, despite the artist's strict instruction. "Aren't you supposed to angle it, or something?"

She leaned just to frown at him for moving.

"So you can see me and the canvas without having to lean?"

"Hm," she remarked, in her own way. She looked at her work in progress in question, and then at him again. "Then it wouldn't look right."

"Yeah?" he asked with a smile, going back to his previous position of facing the ceiling. He inhaled deeply. He would be in this position for a while; maybe going back to sleep wouldn't be so bad.

"I want exactly this image," the Warrior Eternal clarified with sudden firmness. "Forever."

There were plenty of images of her he wanted forever. But he wasn't the artist. He had tried here and there, but everything he did always just ended up making her laugh. And he didn't mind; if anything, he liked her laugh more than he liked whatever he had drawn or painted or sculpted. But he just wasn't meant to be the creative one.

He had managed to embroider his apron! Well, after she had drawn the little flowers on with her fingers covered in paint remnants. That was an effort of his to preserve something forever.

He heard her put her brush down. She truly was moved if she had gone to the trouble of bringing the easel and her brushes and all her jars and everything inside with her. "Done?"

"For now."

He opened his eyes again, "can I move?"

"Fine."

He grinned, turning and reaching a hand out for her. He made a grabby hand, flexing his fingers to ask her to come over to him. "Hey."

His Thena emerged from behind the canvas. She dusted the skirt of her dress off. She had gotten better, too; in the beginning she would occasionally emerge covered in charcoal or chalky dust or sometimes even paint. But now, she was as spotless as always.

"Hey," Thena purred as she laid down on the sofa with him, tucking herself into his side. She nestled her head under his chin, happily melting into him after all her hard work. "You look at peace."

"I am," he assured her, relishing in the feeling of just being near her. Their breathing fell into the same rhythm, like two trees swaying in the same wind. Thena was the artist but he thought he could be decently poetic, at times.

"And me."

He smiled against her forehead, pressing his lips there. Sometimes moments like these would make him think of the days when they would be fighting. Dodging and throwing punches and weapons. He would throw her up in the air at the enemies and catch her before she could fall.

Now they liked to cuddle on the couch in the afternoons before he started dinner.

He blinked as Thena nudged his jaw. "Your thoughts are loud."

He chuckled, which bounced her against his chest. "Sorry, just thinking this is nice."

"Hm?" she prompted him, still needing no more than a syllable.

"This," he summarized poorly. "Being at home, no Deviants, no mission. Just my wife and a couch and the sun."

Thena pulled herself to be able to look at him. There was no white in her eyes, at least not now. They were green and sparkling, as always. "Forever."

He smiled. It was hard not to take that word lightly, given the nature of their very existence. The word 'eternity' borderline meant nothing to them.

But days out here were different. Each was faced with a new set of eyes and he was grateful for every single one of them. Even the days when his Thena was far, far away from him. Even when she turned around and started swinging a spear to fight against nothing, railing about the destruction of the world and how they were all going to burn.

Forever had a different definition than it did before. He had no thoughts of missions, or Arishem, or far away galaxies. He didn't even think of Olympia. He had better things to think about, like the herb garden, and eggs, and expanding the clay oven outside the house so maybe he could bake two pies at once.

He could think of things like fixing the drip the kitchen tap had, and making sure to sweep the floor so his barefooted Goddess of War wouldn't step on any errant rocks. There was garden tending and roof checking and homemaking to be done.

"Gilgamesh."

"Huh?" he blinked. He must have been closer to sleep than he had thought, finding himself on the other end of one of Thena's more inquisitive looks.

"Sleep," she whispered, her hands touching his cheeks the way rain lovingly ran down a flower stem. "If you're so close to it."

He chuckled again; he liked it when she teased him. "Okay, okay, I'm up. You know what you want for dinner?"

Then pursed her lips in thought as he brought her hand up to kiss her palm. She smelled like paint, and summer air. "Is the ostrich gone?"

He nodded, continuing his mission to kiss more of her. He made it to her shoulder and finally past the collar of her dress before she came up with anything.

"Stew?" she asked, as if he would ever - in a million years - say no. Her hands toyed with his shirt as well. "It goes so well with pie."

He grinned, leaving a kiss on her cheek. "Is this your way of asking for pie for dessert?"

She just stared at him. "Were you not thinking of expanding the oven for just that purpose?"

She knew him a little too well. But she was right, because of course she was. And he was happy to oblige her wishes. "I guess I could whip something up. What kind?"

"Any."

One word, and it was so heavy, soaked through with love and devotion. He kissed her.

And she kissed him back. Her hand found his cheek again and her eyes took on a new light. "Strawberry?"

He should have known; she did mean any, but if it was going to be any, why not her favourite? He inhaled, preparing to rise from their little nest of luxury. "Will you go and pick some?"

Of course she would. That was how things worked for them, now. There were no Deviants, no missions. There was a garden, and she would go out with a little basket and pick the berries they were growing in what shade they could provide. And she would bring them in to him, and then sit and watch him cook.

Gil didn't know what was romantic for humans, but he was pretty sure this would be considered the height of it.

Thena also inhaled, revealing her reluctance to move as well. But she left him with one last kiss before rolling off the couch. "Of course."

He followed, although he took a peek at her work in progress. It really was a perfect angle, looking exactly like what was in front of the canvas. He was sleeping. And whatever made her want to paint that so badly, it looked pretty accurate to him. He was no thing of beauty like she was, but if she wanted to paint him, then so be it.

"Dinner, Gilgamesh."

He laughed. "Coming, dear."

[bigevildoeeyes]

(x)

so obsessed with how for all the possibilities of authentic selfhood immortality captures, it is itself still just an opportunity. time may buy you the capacity to reflect but personal realization is a difficult chosen effort, and what is time but a currency you must learn how to spend for it means little as is? what is armand but a child who never learned how, and 500 years later still abides by the values he internalized as a mortal

armand's entire identity and self worth is founded on being useful and desirable, so young and beautiful he was. then he aged out of his youth and his desirability became less innate, became created in identifying desire and molding to it.

when he says "I'm the quiet you've been longing for" he identifies himself As Death because if he himself is not whats desired, then he'll manipulate into existence a desire which he can become. malik and luke, people who want to live! will be made to seek death, seek armand, and they are going to make the decision that they want this. because when they beg for death it's armand they will reach to

and in the end its essentially the same, sex, submission, domination, death, all of these wanted roles armand can step into which in turn make him wanted. who cares about the validity of the desire, because in the end armand is needed and able to provide. armand who learned himself as a vessel to satisfy others and spends 500 years recreating instead of questioning because time is just a series of choices offered and armand lives to serve, he's the very best and its what he's good for.

[loverboybrightsideghost]

it must be sad to be someone who can't find and doesn't want to look for the meaning in anything. thinking art is boring, thinking the long, drawn-out semi-abstract explanations musicians and artists give before they show their work is meaningless fake bullshit. it must be such a dull world to live in where one doesn't obsessively examine every word, every note from a work you love to find the beauty and the message and meaning and purpose in every grain of sand that gives it form. how sad.

[sukugo]

Gojo gives a note to sukuna like : "I wanted to write

A cute hikyu for you

Do you wanna smash?"

He does not, in fact, end up smashing he gets a long winded passionate lecture about the art of poetry and tries hollow purple-ing himself halfway through

GDJDHDJDJFFHFDJF worst part is, gojo IS capable of good poetry. and sukuna know this. but he likes lecturing (and poetry), even though satoru spends 90% of the time talking back and finishing sukuna's sentences, giving supposed correcting comments (that get debated. and then debated back. and so on and so forth)

but sukuna keeps at it, and satoru does learn quite a few things. technicalities that instantly improve his verse. or at least align it more towards heian era style poetry. sukuna is proud.

and THEN they fuck. obviously