#understand that now if you didn't before

[delusionaltoma]

[egophiliac]

lostinthebookwithstitch.jpg

this is all I can muster right now, too busy having my brain absolutely melted by the September schedule, what is happening

[silusvesuius]

nnnnnnnnnnnnno maa'am

[ineed-to-sleep]

*me immediately after going through a terrifying and traumatic experience* haha yeah I guess it was rough but I'm fine now like I'm totally chill. It was kinda funny actually if you think about it

[demigod-of-the-agni]

A DEVIL REBORN

Happy Halloween!!! A detailed ID will be placed under the cut (it's close to being 1K i could literally post this to Ao3)

p1. ड्याम्म (dyamma) - Nepali for "(feeling) full", "hitting something"

p3. Chutiya - Hindi for "idiot", "moron" and other related insults

p5. க்ரீச் (kreech) - Tamil onomatopoeia describing scraping/screeching sounds

[Extended Image ID: DYAMMA! Slamming his hands on a table, Achanba Okram finds himself in the darkness of his laboratory. He is wearing black clothes and a white lab coat on top, and has a bowl cut with rectangular glasses.

His thoughts whirl within boxes that are coloured gold and are outlined with red; they put a voice to the uneasy feelings Okram knows are stirring inside of him. The thought boxes read:

With Pavitr gone, I finally have time to string my thoughts together. Half-drowned answers bleed out of my pores. Coalescing like some great, abysmal creature of unknown origin.

Bracing his hands against the table, Okram is acutely aware of his body, of the gaping holes in his back that bubble with demonic energy. His thoughts narrate, My body quakes when I begin to question, wracked with paranoia. With dread, as if the idea of what I had to face was unbearable.

The holes in back — four of them, spaced evenly from each other — begin to ooze golden liquid, hot like fire and viscous like tar.

And yet, Okram thinks, I felt it all the same: that crawling, scintillating horror of my reality. Of my tainted flesh and blood. My being here is the work of demonic forces.

Golden arms, fluid yet bony, powered by some otherworldly thing, unravel from the void in his back. They flounder and expand around him, filling the lab with a cold glow. The fingers are tipped with talons, and, if he looked hard enough, Okram swears they are edged with blood.

I died years ago, Okram thinks. I lost my humanity to the fire of the devil's madness. Thus, the question remains: what is the future of Achanba Okram, a DEVIL REBORN?

The lights of the lab suddenly brighten, and Okram hears him before he sees him. His arms register the presence of the other person, immediately unraveling and slipping out of reality. Just outside, Pavitr Prabhakar's voice calls, "HEY, DOCTOR OKRAM! Sorry I'm late! Traffic was abysmal today."

Pavitr's entrance catches Okram by surprise, and he stutters out, "PAVITR?! You- ah- you have one of your shifts today?"

His thoughts reprimand him, You CHUTIYA! Pavitr always has his shifts on Tuesdays!

Pavitr is unaware of Okram's turmoil, sauntering into the laboratory while hefting up a white plastic bag. He's wearing a black and white flannel shirt, and he has circular earrings. Pavitr's eyes are trained on the bag in his hand. He answers Okram's question with, "Yeah, I do. I, uh, got a little hungry along the way (I'm always so hungry)." Pavitr whispers the last part as he lifts the bag up. He continues, "so I went and bought some vada pav, and—"

He suddenly pauses, his eyes locking onto Okram. He can't tell what is going beyond Pavitr's eyes, but the other man's analysing gaze unnerves Okram to a degree beyond description.

(In Pavitr's POV: his Spider-Sense was just triggered. Red and gold squiggly lines emanate from and surround his head in a halo.)

Pavitr lowers the bag slightly in concern. "Uhm," Pavitr says "are you okay, Doctor?"

Dread and fear floods Okram's system. Suddenly he is hyperaware of everything in the room, including the golden arm that has sprouted from his back and was lying on the workbench behind him, right in Pavitr's line of sight.

Play dumb! Okram's mind screams at him. Accordingly, Okram replies, a tad too tightly, "Of course I am, Pavitr! Why wouldn't I be?"

KREECH. The golden arm scrapes its taloned fingers across the table, no doubt giving away its location.

Okram chuckles nervously, sweating almost immediately, at which his mind howls, Not that dumb!

Pavitr narrows his eyes at Okram and at the golden arm on the workbench. "Are those...demonic arms?" he asks Okram, a shadow crossing his face.

(In Pavitr's POV: In the back of his mind, Pavitr sees a vague and faded image forming in response to seeing the arms. He remembers Doctor Octopus, the man with two extra sets of arms who had attacked him many years ago; he was one of the first villains Pavitr fought as Spider-Man. But... Doctor Octopus died a long time ago. Perhaps...?)

"Oh, Doctor..."

Pavitr's gaze softens as he asks, "Are you being haunted by demons? Have you been attacked by them? Why didn't you tell me? I'm so sorry this has been happening to you. I can't imagine how stressful this is for you." A moment, and then, "Do you want to talk about?"

Okram hides his face in his hands, quickly responding, "No, I'm alright, Pavitr."

Pavitr walks forward, placing his bag down and reaching down to place a reassuring hand on Okram's shoulder. "But, Doctor, men of your generation have ignored their mental health for too long."

"Yes, I know," Okram sighs.

"It'll be okay, Doctor," Pavitr promises, "we can figure something out!"

"And what?" Okram asks somewhat sarcastically. "You will be here with me 'every step of the way'?"

"One hundred percent!" Pavitr says.

Behind them, one of Okram's demonic arms reaches out to peer at Pavitr and Okram; if an arm could be happy, it certainly was. The arm is seemingly pleased with Pavitr's helpful and understanding nature. /.End ID]

[lightningidle]

Fig's line "I don't think I'm an artist, I think I'm just a good friend" has not left my head at all. Just...

You're Fig Faeth and your horns came in over the summer and you pick up the bard class as a form of adolescent rock 'n' roll rebellion, and it works! It's exactly the outlet you need! You give a guy you just met drumsticks and you start a band and it's good enough that within a year and a half you're touring. You are, in every sense, good at being a bard.

And then, finally, your junior year, you start to take it seriously. Your art goes from an outlet and a form of rebellion to a practice. A discipline. (Can rebellion exist within a discipline?) Your classmates know what they want to do with their work. They all have a thesis statement. And yeah, there's cohesion in the music you make, but you've never had to think about why you make it. You've never sat down and dissected what it is about bass that speaks to you. You've never poured over your lyrics to pick at any deeper meaning. Why should you? You don't play music for a grand design, you do it to... huh, why do you do it?

(Your art is the one form of self-expression that feels as safe as Disguise Self does, because even if you're pouring your heart onto the page and then screaming it in front of thousands of people, it's not like you're really making yourself known. You can sing I'm lonely, I'm scared, I'm furious, and your fans will sing it right back, and there will still be the distance between performer and audience to keep your heart safe.)

Now you're being asked to look inward to explain the artistic choices you're making, and you can't help but recoil at that, because you'd rather do anything than look inward. Meanwhile, your classmates have no problem with it, so you start to wonder if you're a real artist at all. Can your art be authentic if it only exists to bolster a thesis statement? Has your art been unauthentic this whole time because you've never really thought about a thesis statement before? Is that what makes it art, and not just the next track on somebody's teen angst playlist?

You can't think about yourself— acknowledging your own existence makes you want to puke. So if your music is an extension of yourself, (and it is, even if it's just because the spotlight reveals only what you want it to,) you can't think about your music. You can't. You have to. Your grade depends on it.

You're Fig Faeth, and you keep multiclassing because you'd rather be a good friend than a great artist. If introspection is what great art demands, then fuck it. You must not be a bard at all.

[goldentigerfestival]

So. I love this. The way Yuri snickers at Flynn showing his real self. The way he, without hesitation, says "yeah" to the idea that he would die in Flynn's place.

But the most important part of this entire thing, which was changed in the dub, is how Yuri specifically jokes that Flynn is trying to abandon him, and Flynn returns and tells Don he had no intention of abandoning Yuri.

Yuri does not hear this. Flynn knows that. But Flynn uses the exact same term Yuri used earlier, as if it's his answer to Yuri and saying no, I would never abandon you.

For reference:

Personally I just... love the weight of it. How Flynn will say something about Yuri that Yuri won't hear, but he still speaks it out into existence because it's how he really feels.

Just because Yuri won't hear it doesn't mean he won't say it, and in a way that's even more powerful. He's not looking for the credit of saying it. He's not looking to be recognized for saying it. He's not only expressing how he feels about Yuri somewhere that Yuri himself will hear him.

They're just his real, honest feelings, and he'll admit them even if Yuri's not within earshot.

[mayasaura]

I just want to talk about the nursery being painted and the purpose of the Tomb to be without a door. Anastasia had a family - and putting to the side the pact with Alecto there's some implicit symbolism to John asking for the workers of the Ninth to die constructing the Tomb with that image of new life. (Still can't articulate my disbelief that he went and didn't think that asking Anastasia of all people, The one who lost her cavalier to him, would have problems)

Yeah. Especially finding this out about the Ninth, where nurseries becoming tombs is a thing we're sensitive about.

On one level we've always known Anastasia had a family. Like, we know she's Harrow's direct ancestor. You can't be heir to the line of someone who never had children. But the nursery.... Yeah. It really hammers it in. Her friends painted a nursery mint green for her children.

And now it's a tomb.

[gayofthefae]

Found a new, concise way of putting it that I'm gonna try and remember so I can reuse it:

To say, as a straight person, that a queer character's queerness is out of the blue or unrealistic is to claim that they understand the queer experience to be able to identify inaccurate representation of it.

To call a character's queerness out of the blue as a straight person is to claim full understanding of the queer experience.

[slurpyboii]

People blaming the leakers for all the misinfo going around about the last chapter but A: their translation wasn't even that off, some bitches just can't read things and comprehend them at the same time and B: obv they're gonna have slight mistranslations did you see the bs that happened with last chapters leaks lmao??? Also it's literally one guy translating everything on the spot the moment he sees it, bro is not a professional and is just doing this because he wants to; some of you people act like you could do better as if the most japanese you speak isn't "kawaii" and "baka"

[wutheringmights]

also i really shouldn't have written stp because now i have a million ideas for spirit's adventures in new hyrule that I will never have time to actually write :((

[iguessitsjustme]

Ter stop talking over and making decisions for Dee challenge 2k24. Y'all ain't even friends at this point you're just the annoying coworker go away

[ccbatman]

actually so evil how much of hal's internal world gets obliterated with the rewriting of his relationships with jessica and martin.

[svtskneecaps]

yknow what with the strife building between forever and bad and the ripple effect that might have on the server at large i think now is the perfect time to fridge bad. go touch grass, mr boyhalo, it's time to see people either fall apart or come together without you. bc listen. listen. when the dms are bumpin with 'bad can you ___' every thirty seconds. sometimes you just gotta steal badboyhalo and see what the fuck happens. i just want to know.

and i also want bad to slEEP GODDAMNIT

[froggymagician]

I understand lea went through complete hell at qstudios and a lot of other admins were pushed to the brink of insanity and they did not deserve that and I applaud all ex-admins including lea who have been brave enough to share their experiences of the toxic working environment there, but there has to be a point where you have think about how much you want to say and take a breather to think , AND MAYBE NOT ACCIDENTLY DOXX SOMEONE

[flufflecat]

Got to stolen century in my relisten and started tearing up at work because of magnus carving the duck. Just me in the back room, crying over the dish sink for normal reasons.