"Still trying to intimidate me? Cute."
(ID: Kirby series fanart of Meta Knight and Galacta Knight based off of a couple dynamics template by @/ReddsMess on Twitter. Original template and source below the cut, as well as a HAL language variant. Top-left panel - high-angle shot of MK lit from above, standing firm and glaring up through his mask, his wings curled out and breaching the panel in places, subtitled "Well well..." Top-right panel - low-angle shot of GK lit from below, looming in the air and leering down through his mask, his wings curled out and his hands spread wide in challenge, both of which breach the panel in places, subtitled "Look who came to see me..." Bottom panel - MK & GK stand next to each other, the latter leaning towards the former and gently caressing the side of his mask with the back of one hand, grinning smugly and wrapping a wing around the knight, subtitled "My Knightmare." MK stands stiffly with his fists clenched at his sides, blushing vividly and glaring away from the warrior. A little flurry of white hearts emanate from GK, while one small one hovers above MK. END ID.)
Started 03/30/24, finished 04/02/24.
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HAL language variant:
Original by ReddsMess (template link) NOTE: The artist has marked 16-18+ in their bio, so browse at your own risk!
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the tragedy of fukuzawa and ranpo's canon relationship is that i genuinely think that ranpo believes he loves fukuzawa more than fukuzawa loves him.
that's why he's so cranky when fukuzawa wants to find atsushi, even though it's illogical and atsushi is a liability. it's only fukuzawa saying that ranpo's reward will be his praise (read: appreciation) that makes him act.
it's why ranpo pictures fukuzawa like THIS when he thinks of his complicated relationship with his friends--that they need him, but as skill users, will always be better than him--during his confrontation with mushi.
note that this is right after fukuzawa tried to sacrifice himself for the greater good during the cannibalism arc, and that he's currently punishing ranpo for going against orders and trying to save him. (also of note is the fact that ranpo thinks that fukuzawa will be angry with him for trying to get kunikida out of jail.)
it's no coincidence that during this same confrontation, one where mushi is forced to admit that he did the unspeakable for a loved one, ranpo also admits that he would also do terrible things for the sake of his loved ones.
it's part of why he's so furious that fukuzawa won't listen to him at the start of the hunting dogs arc, which happens immediately after the above.
it's why he's so jealous of fukuchi, to the point where fukuchi can get ranpo to act in a way that atsushi has never seen before. fukuchi's taunting has ranpo literally trembling with rage during this scene in the anime.
AND! STILL! after all of this--after fukuzawa repeatedly puts his desire for justice above his love and respect for ranpo, after ranpo's dealt with years of fukuzawa sticking up for fukuchi--someone ranpo REALLY doesn't like for both obvious and less obvious reasons--he still trusts fukuzawa and lets fukuzawa's desires guide him.
even when he knows fukuzawa is wrong.
how couldn't this shake ranpo's faith that he matters as much to fukuzawa as fukuzawa means to him? that fukuzawa's desire for justice and upholding the greater good--his need to forever atone for his past--will always mean more than his relationship with ranpo?
that maybe, one day, fukuzawa won't choose him in a way that takes him out of ranpo's life for good?
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☆ from gold, i am undone
{☆} characters tsaritsa
{☆} notes cult au, yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader
{☆} warnings blood, implied self harm, implied suicide attempts
{☆} word count 0.9k
You weren't meant to be here.
You can feel it in the marrow of your bones– it weighs you down like heavy shackles, gold bleeding from your pores until it is all you know. The taste of ichor on your tongue, the warmth of its invasion beneath your skin, that gleam of gold that lingers in the color of your eyes like specks of dust.
You are changed, and you are whole.
But you are so unbearably broken.
A shattered piece of porcelain hastily put back together with gold to fill the cracks.
Decoration, in the end, for you are not fit to walk as "mortals" do. This gold had filled every empty crevice of your body, spilled the red into your frantic hands and made you bleed so it's callous gold could make room inside your body. It has taken from you many things, given many more, but you scratch and bite and tear until it drips onto the floor and even then it never leaves. It stains the floor no matter how hard you scrub– a permanent reminder of the sickening gold that molds you into something that used to look like you– that does look like you. Desecrated, yet so horribly divine.
All you see is a monster.
Something new, something old.
A hollowed out shell, wounds left to rot and fester until you suited the image of the Creator they bore upon statues and murals, the Creator worshiped in prayers spoken in hushed whispers and joyous chants praising your magnificence.
But what magnificence is there in detachment? What joy is there to be found in carving a God out of a human? They kneel like lambs before the shepherd, but the flock has made you– and you want to unmake them. Unweave the tapestry of their being stitch by stitch until it all falls apart and the world knows the cost of casting molten gold into the shape of a human, knows the price that has been left unpaid.
You want to take it from them. Watch them squabble and pray, blind sheep stepping into the wolf's open maw– to tear the seams of their being until the world is unwound by your heavy hands.
But you know it will not satisfy you.
Nothing does anymore.
You are no wolf. Only the shepherd who guides.
And with every drop of blood spilled, they ripped the humanity from your very bones until your body was the cast in which they made something anew– something gold, something horrific. A monster as much a God, a beast as much a man.
There is nothing left but absolute authority.
You try again and again to mend this act of desecration, to peel back the outer shell and rend the gold from your marrow– but your body cannot, will not, die. It mends itself back into place no matter how damaged, and all you feel is the uncomfortable tug of your body forcing itself to live. You cannot die, but were you ever truly alive at all?
Yet with every cycle, you know only one constant besides the thrum of golden ichor in your veins– cold.
Ice that burns, ice that spreads and festers and devours. Claws that pull you apart until the gold runs thick, teeth that burrow into your bones and rip it out from the source..eyes that witness the fall of a God with reverence– hungering, all consuming reverence.
You welcome it.
It is the first time you felt pain since you were cast into an image of a being you were not meant to be. The sting of cold upon your skin makes you shiver, your body tries to reject it, but you want to welcome it– for a brief moment that lasts only as long as it takes for you to blink, you see the glint of something familiar in the reflection of her empty eyes. Something achingly, horribly familiar– something human, all the more terrifying for it.
Even when Teyvat itself crumples like paper beneath the weight of her sins – of this desecration anew, this wretched heresy – you allow her hands to do it again. You grasp her hands in yours like chains, willing her to shackle you, willing her to pull you apart and make you whole again. To break you until the gold cannot put you back together again.
You long, each time, for those eyes like spears that lodge into your skin– burrow deep and sting deeper, making gold flow like water. You long for the biting tongue, the cutting words and those teeth like weapons– long to see the spite and anger and impure disgust aimed at the woman of silver who leads you down a hall that ends only in damnation. You follow each time like the lamb led astray by the wolf, but you do not wail in betrayal when she sinks her teeth into your throat and devours you whole.
For is it a sin if you welcome it? Has their God sinned, in the eyes of the flock, for welcoming such heresy with open arms? For allowing the wolf into their home?
Is it a sin to be broken beneath the only hands that have loved you?
Is it a sin to want to love, too, those hands and teeth stained in gold?
Then you shall be damned, you swear it. Damned, but gold no more.
For death is the closest you have ever felt to being human.
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jonathan's college of choice isn't even the one nancy is going to, he sacrificed his dream college to be with her, then sacrificed being with her to be able to provide for his family and didn't tell her so she wouldn't have to sacrifice anything for him. and he didn't tell his family either so they wouldn't worry about him.
will's used his confession to help mike and el's relationship, sacrificing his own happiness so the two of them could be happy. Then Jonathan tells will he will always be there for him and will tells him he will be there for him too, he doesn't even let the moment of comfort that should be reserved for him be only for him.
I'm losing my mind over these brothers, they really think priorizing everyone's happiness over their own is the right thing to do, that the one acceptable outcome is to make everyone they love happy and that their own happiness isn't even on the table if they can make their loved ones happy, that their own happiness is the first thing to go if needed. and the thing is, Will won't be happy anyway, because Jonathan will be unhappy because of his choices, and Jonathan won't be happy anyway because Will won't be happy. Their self sacrifice will only make the people who love them unhappy and they don't even realize it! They don't even realize it!!!!!!
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I think people genuinely over estimate how well Gideon understands Harrow as a person, and vice versa.
Like, that's the whole point!! That's the tragedy!!!! Despite having spent their whole lives around each other as the only two children of the Ninth, despite being literally the only other people in the world they could relate to up until Canaan House, they still don't get each other!!
That's why even after the pool scene and acknowledging how both she and the Ninth house treated Gideon like shit, Harrow asks Gideon to go back to the Ninth house, which is an incredibly cruel thing to do!
At the end of GTN, Gideon fully acknowledges that killing herself would be the cruelest thing she could do to Harrow. She still does it anyways, and then in HTN acts so surprised and upset that Harrow rejects her sacrifice!! Like babygirl!! what did you expect to happen!!!!
Despite everything they've been through they legitimately do not understand each other on a fundamental level, and that's why their whole situation is just so fucking sad.
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not to upset anyone but i actually think Wei Wuxian was even more Jiang Cheng’s Greatest Mistake than Lan Wangji’s. Like I know the core transfer discourse tends to rotate pretty narrowly around consent and the (unwinnable and pointless) argument of Who Sacrificed More, but. In the rules of that world as I understand them from text, your body belongs to your sect. Hand, core, labor, life-- all of it. Jiang Cheng’s willingness to lay down his life in Yiling to prevent Wei Wuxian’s capture was noble, loving, generous-- but it was not proper for him to do because, as sect leader with no heir, his survival was more important than Wei Wuxian’s. His act of love was personal and therefore indulgent. It was not in service of Yunmeng Jiang; it was not honorable by any definition of the world he lived in or the sect he owed absolute allegiance to. Your body belongs to your sect.
Jiang Fengmian and Madam Yu got this. Wei Wuxian got this. It’s one of many, many ways he was a better Jiang than Jiang Cheng could ever be. It also weights their respective sacrifices differently. Wei Wuxian’s sacrifice of his core was brotherly, loving, and virtuous, but it was also what most of his life had geared him for. Jiang Cheng was going against not only his own survival instinct when he threw himself at the Wen soldiers in Yiling, but also against the established rules of a world he was actively fighting to get back.
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