#to the tumblr void this goes!

[floofymeow]

after the rain episode 6: some thoughts! <3

silence in slice of life/iyashikei, friendship in a romance-prioritized world, and aquariums and oceans; perspective and priority

quick rundown! tachibana akira is a highschooler no longer being able to participate in track due to a leg injury. Koi wa Ameagari no Yō ni, aka "After the Rain", is about her falling in love with a vastly older man named Kondou Masami and navigating those feelings.

this episode is a window into akira's friendship Kyan Haruka, as well as a chance meeting in the library by akira with masami !

silence in slice of life/iyashikei !

there are many moments where the show demands a silent attention from the audience. theres a scene this episode where it simply is akira walking through the streets, eventually reaching a train station overlooking the scenery. and it just... took my breath away. she just enjoys the view... and then the moment is over when her phone pings a notif lol. and like that, it's over and we move on with the rest of the show.

it made me think about how many shows run today demanding a quick pace--actions, fights, conflict, tension. it made me think about how many people could even appreciate this show--how many people probably thought it was boring without something to fill empty space. how many people couldn't tolerate a scene thats trying to teach you slow down and wait, because you don't have to instantly find what you need. sometimes i wonder if we are losing the capacity watch slower media, when all today's media is to scroll and consume information as fast as possible.... teehee.

i honestly think the silence is the game changer for the show's emotional maturity--it's why i highkey think this show would be categorized as josei (older female audience) rather than shoujo (younger female audience). you dont need akira's thoughts for it to be spelled out. you dont need to hear her gush over masami, or say she's in love, or anything. you see it all by how she acts and how the show carries itself.

there's a trust in the audience that they will understand what's going on. the show knows its trying to draw upon common experiences of what its like to be in love/have a crush--and thus, expects the audience to follow along without having to take away from any of the immersion to explain! <333

friendship in a romance-prioritized world !

i really like how estranged haruka felt from akira. it feels very real--to have a longstanding relationship waver. and to wonder why your dynamic has now changed. like i felt my heart get stabbed when she saw akira with her coworker/new friend, and despite her not distinctly saying anything, i could so clearly hear her wonder:

'what had changed for everything to be so different now?'

i love that, despire akira attempting to gacha a specfic keychain over a love charm rumor--it was haruka who gives her the one she wants. this show has always put the question in the air--why does akira need to have a crush on masami? and an answer is that she feels lacking in her connections, especially in context her isolation from her track group.

anyway, the resolution that haruka re-affirms their friendship is super sweet. it stands outside of the interests that once brought them together (track). and most importantly, it withstands their changing circumstances and needs (no longer spending tons of time together).

it is so important that haruka is the one to give akira that keychain--like i cannot express how much it means. the moment its given to her is the moment the keychain is no longer about masami--it begins to break away this hyper-focus on everything masami. this show isnt just about romance. it never was..!!!

it begins to ground akira back into a world where connections of all kinds matter, and she has to acknowledge the one waiting for her all along.

idk about you but i live in a world where romance gets put on a pedastal. essential. necessary. required. if you dont experience it, youre being left out. its the end goal--its common. its not a bad thing at all, but it does reflect in media! romance...!! and thats why when i get to see the nuance of friendship and a one-sided romance that is explored (why akira is in love, rather than centered on the progression of the romance itself), its very exciting!

experiencing media about romance is thrilling--it always is <3 but experiencing the heartache of friendship is few and far between, which makes it a certain type of special.

romance doesnt beat friendship. and friendship doesnt beat romance. they just have different places in life~!

i do believe however, that because we are entrenched in a romantic society, we see more accurate representations of romance, and less so of friendship--just by margin of portrayal. just an observation!

aquariums and oceans; perspective and priority

when akira tries to seek a common ground by gauging out masami's interest in recommending her "books "pure literature" books, masami gently re-orients her. he calls the library a "sea", but then the entire library becomes an aquarium in akira's eyes.

it kinda kills me with how pretty it is <3 perspective, perspective, perspective!!! whenever we are with akira, its such a hopeful, bright youthfulness. the romanticization of an aquarium--the association of a date, maybe a place where she gets to observe masami as she wishes, and just overall vibrancy is so cute.

but as soon as we move to masami's inner thoughts, everything returns to as it is--he does not see her in the same way she does. whats more, she comes out with two books--one she wants to read because it interests her, and one about track.

i love this scene because it really puts out a question: right now in her life, what is akira's priority?

for her, having a new environment, new relationships, and a new crush to indulge in was necessary. she needed time. she needed a community to feel grounded in. she needed space away from the environment that she feels lost in.

but then, masami (unconsciously) poses the question again, and i really love that. right now, now that shes reconnected with haruka, what is akira's priority?

its a really big scawy question to ask. and its one everyone has to ask themselves periodically. what do i need right now? what is my priority? its cool that the show poses it--and forces the audience to reflect for themselves on that as well <3

this episode def feels like an almost-turning point for akira, especially as we begin to hint that we will soon dig into masami's past and why he is the way he is. she is beginning to acknowledge what she needs--her discomfort, her hopes, her frustrations.

i love her so much because she is relatable--it is so easy to rebound. to move on without finding resolution, and to cope with difficult things with fantasy or romance. and the show doesnt portray it as a negative thing--its very, very natural. its normal. its okay, and akira is beginning to ease her way to that conclusion as well.

ok fin~

[phonification]

ive been thinking about taco and balloon forming a little alliance post s1/ pre s2 where they'd (begrudgingly) work together planning on how to break into hotel OJ to steal stuff to take back to their makeshift camp like food, blankets, pillows, etc,,, anything that could be useful to them

[beescake]

Sorry for the spam (^o^;) I just really like your blog

no need to apologize ayy!

in this corner we welcome all forms of enjoyment, regardless of whether you're a

happy to have yall here w me,

headin into homestuck 2024 :^)

[arcane-aries]

oath of vengeance paladin to ankarna bucky applebees is real and true to me

[lurkingshan]

Following the latest spicy happenings, I just wanted to share again my own perspective on fandom etiquette and tumblr interaction for folks who follow or engage with me on here. I've been clear about my boundaries here, and people who choose not to respect that get what they get. I tend to write with a clear perspective and let my words speak for themselves, and while I love to discuss and even have friendly disagreements, I don’t bother responding to folks who are clearly not engaging in good faith. I block when it rises to the level of blatant rudeness or when someone is developing an unhealthy fixation.

That said, there’s really no need to be dramatic about getting blocked on tumblr. Blocking doesn't mean anything except that you don't want to engage with a person or their content anymore, for any number of reasons that are all perfectly fine and valid, because this is your curated space. It doesn't make us sworn enemies. We're all just internet strangers and no one owes you their time and attention.

If you couldn't tell, I am a fandom old. I've been in and around various fandoms, on tumblr and in lots of other online spaces, for multiple decades. I used to dwell in Western fandom spaces in the era when TV and book series were much, much longer and people had flame wars and knock down, drag out fights over canon interpretations that lasted for literal years. In comparison, today's version of fandom bickering is much milder, and extreme sensitivity about even the gentlest of critical analysis is just silly to me. In terms the youths will understand: some of y’all wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.

I’m not here to be popular with everyone (that’s not possible nor a healthy goal). I’m here to write about the things I care about and connect with other folks who also enjoy discussing those things in a similar or complementary fashion. If that’s not you, and you want to unfollow or block to protect your peace, that’s completely fine and I’m not holding a grudge.

So let me be clear. Once I've blocked or been blocked by someone, I am not bothered about what they're saying or doing. I'm not squatting on their blog on the web to read their posts. I'm not asking friends to keep tabs on their commentary so I can respond to it. I'm not creating side blogs or burner accounts to slyly continue following them. I'm not going on anon to send them mean asks. All of that is weirdo behavior and deeply disrespectful of a boundary that’s been set. Once I've blocked you, or you've blocked me, I am just not thinking about you at all.

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

I was torn on the song for this one but I think I gotta go with this one >:D enjoy!!

(also taggin the wonderful @doylldonmagar) (this is the soda n dallas guitar fic!!)

Who's creepin' out from under a stairway/ callin' a name that's lighter than air

Dallas pulls a face the second he swings the door open. The Association's Windy is scratchin' on the old record player Dallas had stolen from Buck's 'n swore up 'n down to Darry he'd bought. He didn't go for their lastest album but he couldn't get away from the goddamned thing. Especially since Darry had gotten real fond of it.

Dallas leans back 'n glances at the driveway- empty. Darry's work boots aren't at the door either so Dallas figures he must still be out. He kicks off his own shoes hodge podge 'n throws his jacket over one of the kitchen chairs.

Whose bendin' down to give me a rainbow?

The record player's not where it usually is, thrown open on the kitchen counter where Darry can get to it the easiest. But it was always gettin' moved from place to place. Laundry room, bathroom sink, coffee table, back porch step.

Everyone knows its Windy-

A flat A. A sharp G. An E string wound so tight it sounds like it's about to snap. Dallas cringes hard. Jesus what the hell was that.

He sticks his head through the living room 'n Soda's splayed on the couch, record player propped on the couch cushion beside him. He's got a beat-up, busted, but still fuckin' gorgeous Gibson guitar slung over his lap. Dallas watches him for a moment more to see if he'll look up 'n when he doesn't he leans one shoulder against the door frame 'n lets out a low whistle.

"Holy fuck, Soda. Where'd you get that?" Soda jumps out of his skin, nearly jars the guitar straight onto the floor 'n they both dive for it. Soda catches it by the neck 'n hoists it back onto his knees.

"Jesus, Dally. Give a guy a warnin'. I thought you were a hood or somethin'." But he's grinnin' so Dallas just rolls his eyes 'n drops down onto the sofa beside him. Soda elbows him 'n shifts the record player down to the coffee table. "Though, I guess I wasn't wrong about the hood part."

"Yeah yeah. I dunno if you've noticed lately, but you live in a house full of hoods." Soda winks at him, splits off another toothy smile, 'n sticks his bony elbow into Dallas' ribs again.

"Exactly." Dallas bats him away 'n the guitar pitches dangerously on Soda's squirmin' lap.

"So you gonna tell me what this is about?" Dallas kicks his feet up on the table, the record player skips once 'n cues up Six Man Band which he might have been able to dig if he didn't have to hear it twice a day since the record hit the stores. He groans 'n leans over to turn it off 'n Soda kicks him.

"You can't tell anyone." Dallas raises an eyebrow 'n twists to stare at Soda over his shoulder.

"What, did you steal it? I ain't gonna tell anyone. I'm no rat." He leans over to at least change the song 'n Soda kicks his leg over Dallas' wrist.

"No, I didn't steal it. I bought it. Y'know. Not all of us are hoods." Soda howls at his own joke 'n Dallas yanks his wrist out 'n grabs the neck of the Gibson, whiskin' it away so he can properly sock Soda without riskin' the guitar. Soda giggles, cryin' out indignantly at the attack like he didn't ask for it.

"So why can't I tell anyone? Assumin' you got it by the legal means." Soda wriggles back up on the couch from where he's slid down 'n takes the Gibson back from Dallas.

"I dunno. I dunno how to play yet. I'm tryin' to figure it out still." Dallas rolls his eyes, leans back beside Soda.

"Only you would buy a guitar 'n have no goddamn clue how to play it." Soda strums absently along the strings 'n Dallas flinches. B's too sharp. "Glory Soda I don't think you have a single string in tune."

Soda shoots him a dejected look 'n a little connivin' grin. "How would you know?"

Dallas makes a lil' noncommital sound 'n reaches over, tunin' down the E, up the A. He plucks on the G until it reaches some arbitrary sound Soda doesn't hear. "Try it again."

Soda runs a thumb over the strings again 'n this time they actually sound like they're meant to. He nearly drops the guitar in surprise. "How did you do that?"

Dallas shrugs a shoulder, fiddles with one of the scratches on the fretboard, tryin' to buff it out with his fingers. "Dunno. No reason." Soda narrows his eyes, gets that look on his face he gets when he's he's schemin'.

"Tell me how you knew how to do that or I'll tell Dar about that time you got pissed off at Pony 'n stranded him at the drive-in 'n he got lost 'n we had to go find him." Dallas scowls at him, thinks seriously about crackin' that stupid guitar over his head.

"You wouldn't."

"Oh, I would." Dallas glares at him.

"I seem to remember a certain someone ditchin' with me, Sodapop Curtis." There was no way he was goin' down for that alone. Soda wiggles his eyebrows, bites his tongue between his teeth.

"You really wanna bet your word against mine when it comes to Ol' Dar?" Dallas' scowl deepens 'n Soda keeps right on grinnin' with every tooth. He really didn't. Darry liked to think he was equally fair with all of them. 'N he was. Mostly. But goddamn if he had to play chips against any of them he wouldn't pick Soda.

"Fine. God Soda you're the worst of us sometimes." Soda sends him a wink 'n Dallas rolls his eyes but can't help his chuckle.

"Y'know you love me."

"Shut up. If you keep runnin' your mouth I ain't gonna tell you anythin'." Soda pouts cartoonishly 'n Dallas shoves him hard, sighs. "I lived in a goddamn bar, Soda. You gotta be useful somehow 'n I wasn't wipin' down no fuckin' tables."

Soda's jaw falls open into a gleeful whoop. "God Dallas," 'N Dallas knows exactly what he's about to say before he even opens his mouth, "you were the entertainment staff!"

"Oh that's it-" Dallas slides the guitar onto the coffee table 'n tackles Soda to the ground in one swift move. Soda hollers 'n dissolves into laughter, not even puttin' up a fight until he's rollin' around on the ground crackin' himself up. Dallas scowls at him, gives him one good kick in the side Soda hardly notices. "I'm not teachin' you anythin' then. You've pissed me off."

Soda snorts, tries to catch his breath 'n rolls up to his knees. "Wait, wait- I'm sorryyy. C'mon. Show me a lil'." He blinks his stupid big eyes 'n Dallas glares at him. He'd never admit it but he understood why Soda could get away with goddamn murder.

"Fine. Sit your ass down. 'N if I ever- ever- hear a word about this I'll cave your fuckin' skull in." Soda hoots 'n clambers back onto the couch. "First of all, you can't start with playin' bull like that." He points one accusin' finger at the record player, now still 'n silent, havin' reached the end of the record.

He pulls it off the turn table 'n shoves it back into its sleeve like it burned him. He fishes around under the coffee table where the rest of the records are 'n resurfaces with The Animals.

"Aw, Dal. Ain't you played that one enough?" Soda wrinkles up his nose 'n Dallas whacks him on the back of his head.

"Shut up. Look. One: it's a good fuckin' song. 'N two: it's easy. You can't start with shit like harmonies. You gotta start with simple riffs." He lines the record up, drops the needle down 'n the openin' notes of House of the Rising Sun hiss out the speakers. "Listen. A minor, C, D, F. A minor, C, E, E. Then the first one again." Soda stops complain' 'n furrows his brow, listenin' hard.

"How do you know that?" Dallas shrugs a shoulder again.

"Listen long enough." He pulls the guitar off the table 'n deftly plays along. "A minor, C, D, F, A minor, E, A minor, E."

The song spins to a close 'n Dallas hands the Gibson to Soda, showin' him where to place his fingers. "Look. I'll strum. Just play the chords." He leans over 'n restarts the song. Soda clumsily manages the first three before he hisses, pulls his fingers away.

"God this shit hurts." His fingertips are already red 'n he sticks them in his mouth like that'll help.

"Yeah, you'll get used to it." He holds his hand out so Soda can see the odd pattern of callouses along the tops of his fingers. Soda eyes him 'n grabs his wrist so he can see better.

"I always wondered where you got those." Dallas shoots him a look 'n pulls his hand back.

"God, Soda, you freak me out with the noticin' shit." Soda had a habit of always pickin' up on the things you thought he didn't 'n noticin' the traits you didn't even know you had.

Soda grins, readjusts the body 'n puts his fingers back on the board. "Guess you're not ready for me to reveal your poker tells?"

"Nah, man, you can tell me those any day."

"Hm, nah, I think I'll hold onto those. Poker's way more fun when I can tell you don't have shit." Dallas scowls but leans back in, shovin' Soda so he can get his arm around the body.

Soda bites his lip, refinds the chords. Loses them again. He stumbles through another verse 'n then lets out an aggravated huff. "I dunno what it's supposed to sound like."

Dallas stops strummin' but doesn't pull away. Instead, he fixes Soda with a stare that could pin him to the wall. "I'm gonna tell you somethin' 'n if I ever hear anythin' about it I will strangle your bum ass 'n throw you in the fuckin' river. Do you hear me?" Soda raises both eyebrows but nods fervently. "It helps if you sing."

For a moment Soda registers pure shock 'n then bites back his smile 'n nods again. "Ok. I swear to God I won't tell anyone, man. Can you...?"

Dallas sighs, squeezes his eyes shut 'n cannot believe he's about to fuckin' do this. "Alright, get you're goddamn fingers on the board." He snaps 'n Soda grins 'n jumps to move. "Ready?"

"Uh-huh." Dallas takes a deep breath 'n stares down at his hand as he starts strummin' again.

"There is a house in New Orleans/ They call the risin' sun-" Soda's head whips up 'n Dallas can see his jaw fall open from the corner of his eye. Dallas can feel the tips of his ears go all red 'n he nods pointedly back at the fretboard. "And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy."

They both lose track of how many times they play the song. Just over 'n over. Only movin' to lift the needle back to the start of the record 'n play it again. It's dark outside, Soda's fingers are cut up 'n marked 'n Dallas' throat aches. "And God, I know, I'm one."

A long, low whistle comes from the doorway 'n both Soda 'n Dallas whip their heads up, necks crackin', spines protestin'. Darry's leanin' against the door in a way that gives Dallas deja vu. "Holy shit. You boys are good." Dallas shoots up, jarrin' Soda so hard he nearly bounces off the couch. Darry grins, double takes the guitar. "Glory Soda, where did you get that?"

[theskullkid]

fanart of jack desmond, black kat’s toony lil oc <3

not sure if i got his eyes right but i think its okay :D

already posted it in the tumblr community, but i wanted to put it here too bc i was super proud of how it turned out and wanted to put it on my personal blog ^^

@blackkatdraws

[theshywolf-art]

(Anything Goes AU)

(Click image for better quality)

Judge trying to make the day a little easier for Hunter, they're just trying to keep living

@doggone-doggirl

Non-glowy markings ver.

It's them!! They're hanging out, trying to keep positive

Your Hunter is soo pretty and imagining them hanging out just fits so well

[tuuuuuuuua]

jade fur da jade liuvrrrs!!!(me) anyway i drew sum shmtuff in one of ym old notbeookkks. and tried to do an olf artstyle (top left corner). n ovr all ive had art block lately so i hvnt drawb anything muhc tho i am workin on stuff just not as fast as usual obvi.

guh jbhate this btw. then stupfi doodle w a fantroll i havd (ik she loosk liek vriska tahts the point most fantrills i make r lkek somewat similar to the og bcz i am unoriginal and bcz i felt like it anyway...) anansi (the djmb troll) and idk if i wna give my sona thingy my name ir sum else so uh whstevrr.(mahbe one day I'll try to shiw all my dumb fankidd and fantrils i make then nevr draw again...... maybe one day....)

[xshimaeraxx]

:grabs a megaphone:

THE CUPBROS WOULD TOTES DRESS UP AS KING DICE & THE DEVIL FOR HALLOWEEN AS A JOKE AND AS SOON AS DEVILDICE SAW IT, THEY’D 100% DRESS UP AS THE CUPBROS FOR HALLOWEEN THEMSELVES

:turns off megaphone: siri send tweet

[skooturmkdootlur]

Guys you won't believe who I doodled in-between projects

[victorygrasped]

ramyatta roleswap au extracts

Pairing: Ramattra/Zenyatta word count: 1533 Notes: some extracts from a hypothetical fic of my ramyatta roleswap au, ramblings/explanation ab it here on twitter! Takes place in a time similar to current canon. Ramattra meeting Zenyatta for the first time since the latter left Shambali

There.

Hidden within the shadows of chaos and discord he noted the lone omnic. Such a beautifully simple model. Face plates serene, original purpose lost to the tides of time forever to remain a mystery.

It may have been decades since he had lived his first life as a Ravager beneath Anubis’ command, built and taught for war, but he had never truly gotten rid of the lessons he’d been bestowed from that time. Unable, and more privately, unwilling, to part with such valuable knowledge, regardless of the pain and grief they brought. to him.

Every part of him that had once been a general hummed in approval at the sheer brilliance displayed by Null Sector. After all, who could possibly suspect the ruthless and feared leader of Null Sector to be such a passive appearing garden variant omnic? A perfect disguise. Ingenious. One of the millions, doubtlessly unremarkable and unimposing to any fool who didn’t know better.

But Ramattra knew. Knowledge irreversibly and deeply etched into his code and his chassis. For a moment, he'd forgotten he lacked the lungs required to breathe, his air stolen by the mere sight of the other omnic. Wires and circuits long frayed sparking to life in answer to his awestruck state.

He stole, needed, a second longer to collect himself. Forcing himself to tear his optics away from the omnic and towards the sounds of gunfire and explosions, the rubble and ruin, just around the corner. A pointed reminder of his task at hand. Ulterior motives had to wait, he could not afford to dally when his allies and his people were in danger.

(Even as logic dictated his moves, he could not stop the sheer ache within his chest cavity. How long had it been since he'd last seen the omnic? He knew, of course, down to the last millisecond. How long he had waited for this moment, since their promise. Because it had been a promise, hadn't it?)

"I see that you've been quite busy since last we've met, Zennyatta," his voice kept carefully light as he walked into the omnic's line of sight, closing the distance between them with easy steps, his grip on his shepherd staff hiding the faint tremor that ran through his hands and discord raging within his core. He had no doubt that the other hadn't noticed him yet, that he had chosen to wait for Ramattra to make the first move and it ached.

It felt as though an eternity passed before Zenyatta turned his head towards him, looking up at him. Their kind had no faces for expressions, and though some had chosen modifications to mimic them, that applied to neither of them. Still, they had body language. They had their energy.

The relief and sheer delight in Zenyatta's form could have had him weeping, had he chosen to give himself that ability.

"Ramattra," Zenyatta murmured, and oh. How long it had been since Ramattra had last heard that voice utter his name. How dearly he had missed it.

"I don't suppose I could simply put a cease to this destruction so that we may talk in peace, could I?" wry amusement colored his tone, otherwise kept steady. For all the discord within him, he could never forget his place and his duty. He couldn't bring himself to bear the guilt of trying, as much temptation rang at his door. Years of biting his tongue, metaphorically, engrained deep. Still, he did not look away from Zenyatta, the one indulgence he could excuse. His optics carefully drinking in every inch of the other omnic, quietly, desperately.

Zenyatta laughed at his quip, painfully familiar and causing warmth to bloom in his system. He hadn't even realized how cold he'd felt moments before.

"It is good to see you, Ramattra."

"Likewise," he replied immediately, because it was. Undeniably, truly, was. But his voice quieted, a heavy sigh falling out, "I only wish we could have met again under better circumstances."

"I had noticed you were not there when Brother Mondatta condemned me."

Ramattra huffed, shifting where he stood as he glanced away, "You will find that I have held… uncertainties over some of Master Mondatta's opinions for far longer than you have."

"And yet," Zenyatta's gaze passive yet sharp, "It is only I who has decided to act upon our doubts."

"Do not be so emboldened as to assume me a fool, brother," oh, if only he could smile. Image of humans doing the same dancing at the corners of his mind, thin lipped and weary. The thought brought him to a slight pause. He'd been surrounded by far too many humans of late in search of Zenyatta, "Of course I have considered… alternative methods. Not all of my pilgrimages and ventures out of the monastery were particularly peaceful. You, of all people know that."

"So you must forgive me for failing to see why you would wish to stop me."

"There is nothing of you to forgive, for there is nothing I haven't already forgiven," his voice was quiet. A terribly foolish thing to admit, but he could not bring himself to lie to Zenyatta on his. He could lie to others and to himself, but not Zenyatta.

A foolish thing. But then again, he'd always been a bit of a fool around the other omnic. Perhaps it ought to be of relief to find that that much had not changed between them.

"You fight for our people, you fight for our lives," Ramattra continued, emboldened, "I know you take no joy in the violence, in the destruction. I know that you subjugate yourself and those innocent to it not out of sadism, not out of some corrupted coding, but out of desperation. Out of fear and care. You act out of love. Love and deep grief," he was certain, because he felt the same. It was so horribly easy to see them side by side in another life, sowing discord in vain hopes to bring order and peace, "How could I possibly resent you for loving our people?"

“I only fear that you will only find pain and failure upon this path,” Ramattra murmured, his head tilting to the side. His hand curling around his crook and small whir of a sigh, betraying his unease, “I should know, brother."

“Failure is acceptable, giving up is not,” Zenyatta countered, words spoken far too artificially for him to take any comfort from them, “If I am to give up now, then what message could possibly be imparted? That the will of omnics is flimsy? Breakable?”

“That we are not adverse to peace,” he replied evenly. The implication of frustration shown in the terseness of his chosen tone, the stiffness of his body, if only his exhaustion wasn't made much clearer, "We have fought for it for far too long to give it up. It is not right of us to undo the progress that Master Mondatta and the Shambali had worked for-"

"Master Mondatta left us before he could succeed," Zenyatta said quietly, so surely and it was the first time Ramattra could remember feeling anger towards the other omnic.

"Do not try to imply that change can die with one being," he snapped, harsher than he'd intended, but the images that'd been haunting him ever since he'd realized just exactly who was in charge of Null Sector burned bright and vivid in his processors. His anger held naught in comparison to the paralyzing fear he felt at the mere idea of Zenyatta's demise.

“I can't lose you!” Ramattra snapped, hands spasming in place, body frozen from overwhelming emotions before suddenly moving, lunging forward and grabbing onto Zenyatta's shoulders. His height had him towering over the other omnic, yet still, he felt as though he were on his knees, “There is only so much I can do, there is only so much I can handle. I am sorry, I am sorry and I can only beg for forgiveness for such weakness but please,” his voice module distorting as his composure, usually so proudly maintained and kept, turned to ash before them.

Foolish. Idiotic. Truly weak. Was there anyone he could save? He could not save Mondatta. He could not save their people. And now, he was failing to save Zenyatta. How pathetic could he be? How low could he fall?

“I cannot bear the weight of your loss,” desperation poured from each of his words, yet even then, his touch remained gentle. Far too gentle. Restrained and controlled, as he was taught and as he had learned, “Do not ask that of me, I will not be able to."

He could force Zenyatta to stop. He could physically restrain the more fragile omnic and take him far away. For his own good, for all of their good.

But Ramattra would not. No matter how part of him ached to demand. To take. To be. He could not. It had been so long since he was allowed to want for himself, he had forgotten how.

“Please, Zenyatta,” he pleaded, words barely recognizable past the static, because begging was all he had left, “I cannot lose you too.”

[mementoasts]

i made an art vs. artist thing this year :3 i ended up using a lot of reds and pinks

[icewindandboringhorror]

reminders of the passage of time moodeboard

[whyoneartheven]

ummmmm heyyy guys…

wow! I have never made a poll before….

please note these are not necessarily their official names; just placeholders :)

[theshywolf-art]

(Anything Goes AU)

Sneak peak doodle of The Judge

Everybody's second favorite cut scug!

They do their best to see good in everyone, but they are no Saint