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#i teared up writing this
swirlymarimo · 10 months
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Windower at the Bar: Part 2
Bartender: Is everything alright with you? You seem more bummed out than our usual guests.
Zoro: Tomorrow was supposed to be our anniversary.
Bartender: Your partner left huh?
Zoro: He's not with us anymore.
Bartender: Sorry to hear that, my condolences.
Zoro: I'd like another bottle of that wine. It reminds me of him.
Bartender: Sure thing pal, he like wine alot?
Zoro: He was a chef. He always smoked after dinner.
Bartender: Ah, I see. Here, go ahead and take it on the house.
Zoro: Are you sure?
Bartender: Yeah, consider it a favor to someone having a real rough day. You can find this particular wine on almost any island, it's a little pricey though.
Zoro: Thanks. I appreciate it.
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darlinhutchence · 2 months
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Happy birthday to a gorgeous soul and beautiful human. Pure charisma on stage and kindness off. A ray of sunshine and sweet man taken way too soon. You are missed and SO loved, Michael Hutchence. Gone but never forgotten. Rest easy, angel. <3
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kawaiilizzie · 2 months
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Finding My True Strength
I wanted touch upon Shion's inner feelings during her training to become a swordswoman in Unsheathe the Inner Thunder for a while and recently found the motivation to write this following Noel Hayase's recent illness which she has since recovered from. So have some Shion angst with some KaeShi fluff at the end.
Warnings: Spoilers for Saber up to episode 26, angst, and self-doubt issues.
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"That's not right."
Daishinji grabbed Shion's arm and adjusted her position again. "From one." He said.
Shion swallowed hard, feeling the pressure starting to build. She swung the wooden blade forward for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "One."
The swordsmith didn't say anything. She swung again. "Two." And again. "Three."
Daishinji-san hasn't stopped me yet. I must be doing better. I could do this… She thought to herself before she swung again. "Four."
"No." Daishinji knocked her blade with his own. "You didn't swing far enough. Start again from one."
Tears welded up in Shion's eyes and she blinked them away. She was exhausted, it felt like every movement she made was criticized. Daishinji had taken forever just forcing her to hold a good stance, reprimanding her every time she fidgeted or adjusted which even Naoto thought was a little harsh.
Now the goal was to get to ten basic strikes without a mistake. Shion got back into position and steeled herself.
She did four successful swings like before. Her hands shook, but Daishinji didn't say anything. Naoto noticed and gave Shion a soft smile of encouragement.
The room they were in was cold. There was a small window and Shion could see the snow blowing around outside.
"Don't shift your grip." Daishinji said as he grabbed her wrist. He adjusted her fingers until he was satisfied. "From the beginning."
Naoto could tell Shion wanted a break. She wasn't even moving around that much, but she felt physically drained.
"Don't you think you're being a little hard on her, Tetsuo?" She asked her chosen warrior. "Why don't we switch to another exercise?"
"I know, but this is what all new swordsmen go through." He sighed. "We'll move on as soon as she finishes this. Every lesson builds on the last. The next move is a variation on this. If she doesn't have the base down, she'll only get worse not better."
"I can still hear you two you know." Shion said through gritted teeth as she swung. She needed to focus. Don't let my grip slip. Keep my feet planted firm. Eyes forward. Look at the target.
She had gotten in six successful swings when the clock in the corner chimed loudly. She turned to look at it and Daishinji's sword bounced off her forehead lightly.
"Don't let yourself get distracted." He said.
"What time is it?" Shion asked as she squinted at the clock while rubbing her forehead. "How long have we've been training for?"
"It's eight. We've been training for an hour."
"Only an hour? It felt like it was longer that." Shion checked her watch, its hands on eight and twelve. "I'm starting to get why only one in hundred who can hear the swords make through training."
Daishinji decided to give her a break from the technical training by letting her read some important manuals that can help her with the training. It wasn't going to be fun, but it would be a nice break from repeating the same move over and over again.
Despite knowing that the books she had to read weren't going to be as engaging as the romantic stories she's read, Shion found herself stuck on the first chapter. The point was processing the information, but she'd lost her place on the page she was on. She scanned down the page again finding where she'd left off.
The farther she read, the more obvious it became that Daishinji had been quoting the book. But she quickly realized that she can't afford to skip over anything even as she flipped back to the previous page to figure out something about stance.
"How many chapters did you get through?"
She jumped as Daishinji appeared behind her without warning. She wished she could lie, but he was already leaning over to check for himself.
"I got to page ten." She said quietly. The first chapter was twenty pages. She knew because she'd checked several times as she slogged through the first couple pages.
"I'd hoped you'd have gotten farther." Daishinji sighed. "I don't see much purpose in moving forward if you haven't gotten to chapter two yet. There's a lot of important information there."
Shion looked down as tears built in her eyes again. I can't do anything right, can I? She thought to herself. I'd expected the training to be physically difficult, but I can't even get to the strenuous part. Maybe everyone was right, and I should give up…
"I'm heading home, I'll prove myself by tomorrow." She said, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I have to go to work too."
"That's fine." Daishinji assured. "Juggling your regular obligations with training is important. Take the book and get through the first three chapters before tomorrow morning. Ryo will do his trials then."
She looked up at him. "So, you do want me to come back?"
"If you're willing to put in the work, you can continue." The swordsmith responded before turning and exiting the room.
Shion stood and reached for the heavy tome, but Naoto picked it up for her. "Don't worry, I'll help you carry this."
"Thanks, Naoto." Shion sighed in relief.
Later at her and Kaede's apartment that night, Shion focused on reading the book, clearing up the confusion she had earlier and carefully reading the first chapter. As she began reading the second chapter, she noticed Kaede turning on the music box that was on the nightstand by her bed. The soft music it played touched her heart.
"Do you think I can become a swordswoman?" She asked.
Kaede turned to look at her. "Of course I do. You have the potential, I know it."
Shion looked down at the floor, feeling her tears begin to fall. "But no one else seems to think I can. Even Daishinji-san has doubts since I couldn't live up to his expectations during training today."
She sobbed softly as her tears plopped onto her hands. Kaede looked at her with a sympathetic smile as she walked up to her and sat down next to her on the couch. She held her roommate's hand gently, brushing tears off of it as she did.
"I believe in you though, Shion-chan." She said with a soft tone. "As long as you keep a strong wish in your heart, you can do it."
Shion gazed into her soft brown eyes. "Even if I can't transform like you did?"
"Aw, don't say that… I'm sure you'll be able to one day." Kaede gently brushed her hand across her face, wiping away her tears. "Then we can fight together, wouldn't that be amazing?"
Shion nodded as she smiled. "Yeah, it would. You're right about all of this, Kae-chan. I shouldn't be doubting myself like this."
Her roommate simply returned the smile before the two of them embraced each other in a soft, warm hug. Outside the window of their apartment, a shooting star soared by. Shion watched it from her spot on the couch, her smile growing brighter.
"I wish I can always be by your side forever." She whispered.
Kaede hugged her tighter yet gently. "Me too. We'll make that wish come true together."
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zorkaya · 4 months
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“  don’t you understand? i love you. and nothing you’ve done, no matter how much of a monster you think you are, is gonna change that.  ” from :) kaveh :)
@avaere
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It feels like this is something that happened before, but there is dissatisfaction with his words. She does not deny her logical viewpoint of herself from the point of view of a normal citizen of Teyvat, but it’s not something she thought Kaveh would speak of. He is acutely aware of her hidden sides, but she is doing her best to open up because she promised to him to be more honest. He asked to be let in and she does so, bit by bit by trying to open up, expose sides others will never be privy to. He does not see the faux happiness and sunshine she represents before the scholars and citizens of Sumeru or the public of Teyvat. She is known as a sunflower, as a woman with a stubborn streak, bright mind and even brighter potential to help others without asking much in return. Sumeru knows her as the light, as the guiding star, as someone who keeps their happiness and their future bright. A reputation built over more than ten years, hearts won over by lives saved and help offered when it was needed so much as if she knew where issues would start. Beloved silver flower of Sumeru who may show her thorns if someone disturbs or insults her experiments, her job, and the passions she clearly showcases in public. 
But Kaveh is allowed to see what happens behind closed doors. He is allowed to step into the house that is her internal world, he is allowed to catch glimpses of reality that is not so bright and sunshine-like. He now sees the sharpness of her tongue, the subtle cold and analytical looks, he knows of her ability to read people and her ability to turn the conversation favorably for herself. The architect is allowed to hear more honest words about those they are surrounded by, the way she may rationally explain why the present rule of Sumeru is not exactly beneficial for the current generation and how she denies being a Sage solely because it will limit her opportunities as a scholar. Kaveh is allowed to see past comedy, he is allowed to learn and know the truth behind Zarina Sokolova. 
And yet, as much as he is allowed and let in, slowly studying everything that she is… The words spoken by Kaveh suddenly strike her as odd. The internal denial of her natural skills in reading people makes the metaphorical cup of concern spill, exposing the growing concerns that continue to be ignored to ensure that Kaveh himself will open up. As love meant trusting the other person with everything you are, the learning slope was supposed to be tough, but Sokolova slowly started to notice more and more about her beloved that started to concern her. The switch of topics, the denial of care, the mentions of injuries she hasn’t heard of from Kaveh himself, and more instances that caused her to start thinking on how to properly approach this topic with her beloved as to not push him into anything. 
However, the gentleness she usually would attempt to use to approach certain sensitive subjects would be gone for this very moment. Perhaps, the word ‘monster’ caught her attention or perhaps her speaking with several people prior to their meeting today caused her to finally allow herself just a tinge of analysis. Not like she never analyzed Kaveh before, on the contrary: she learned his behavior, she studied his expressions, she memorized his body language, and she knew exactly when he’d wish to be left alone or when he’d need her by his side. Reading him now wasn’t hard, but solely because of that she did not allow herself anything more… breaching. As she did not have the same emotional output as the architect did, she approached his mental and emotional state with more caution because of care. Not that he was fragile, but certain topics may be fragile to him while not being to her. It was a natural deduction, but sadly… Her straightforwardness won today. 
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“I am well-aware but I’m having doubts you understand that it’s a two-way street, Kaveh,” she tilts her head to the side, not hiding away her confusion. There is no gentleness in her gaze nor is there the tenderness she usually gazes upon him when she tries to gently offer him a listening ear. Zarina doesn’t enjoy arguments with the architect, knowing full well that he sees the world differently from her and vice versa. It does take time to understand his point of view, but when she lacks information, it becomes harder to comprehend. Manipulation is easy because there is no care, but genuine attempts to understand his point of view clashes too hard with her survival of the fittest mindset. “It’s not all about one person, it’s about us learning more about each other, relying on each other, and supporting each other. However, it seems you…”
Suddenly, she snaps out of her deductive state, signing out and closing her eyes to massage her temple for a second. The silverette understands he must have his reasons, but she hopes to at least hear about his well-being in an honest manner. At least, that. Ranting, venting, screaming, crying. It doesn’t matter how negative, but he does and should and must not always show her the positive, he must let her see the negatives as well. Just as she tries, step by step. It’s not something she ever wishes to push him into or force him into, which is why Zarina finds herself letting out a soft groan while trying to word what she means in a better way instead of coldly analytical. 
Kaveh said it to be supportive, but that is very much the issue as she comes to a crashing understanding. He doesn’t seem to care enough about himself as he cares about her, and it makes her think she does the same without yet knowing just how indulgent and selfish she is. He gets glimpses, the richness of alcohol, the outfits, the people who speak with her, the accessories, the parties, the attention she obviously basks in now that he had the time to learn of her extravagant behavior for the sake of entertainment. He learns, but will she ever learn more about him? What will he let her see?
Another sigh, Sokolova opens her eyes to study her lover’s face. It makes her wonder if he worries he’ll burden her. Such kind-hearted souls like him always worry about that. But the difference is that others do not matter, but he does. She’s always been told that love is a two-way street where love persists despite, but there is a flicker of concern in those golden orbs while looking at the architect. So now, Zarina reaches out to take his hand in hers. A physical contact to prove she is here and she is not going away, but also to keep him here. (Don’t run away from me.)
“Do you understand that I, too, will love you no matter what, Kaveh?” Her voice adapts that gentle note as well, gaze returning to soften the molten gold and cool it off so it won’t be so brightly shining. “Do you think I expect you to be perfect? I do not, you can't be perfect. There is no perfect human in Teyvat. Anyone who seems perfect is simply good at hiding their negative traits, but we all possess them because we are humans.”
Kaveh seems to never listen to others when they show worry. Not only that, she rarely hears from him where he got his bruises or cuts until she points it out. Why not tell something so important she so obviously can assist with, monitor and check in? His girlfriend is a doctor, but she also does not wish to pressure him which now starts to make her relook at her approach. Perhaps, she was incorrect in ignoring her own deductions and studies. The architect is the only one who knows how he feels and what his pain points are. Maybe being too cautious might actually harm them in the long run, but she still approaches with clear concern and love for him. 
“I think you are good at hiding what truly hurts you or worries you,” she confesses, not looking away from his face to see what subtle expression changes will appear. “I think you have things you fear telling me because there is worry that my perception of you will change in a negative way.”
Another silence to linger, to study, to wait out a moment to let those words sit there and become another weight to her attempts at showing him it’s alright… to someday open up. Not even today, but someday. To try. At least, to try. Nothing more. He doesn’t need to do more. An attempt, a try, a wish to try.
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“If you will love me even if I might see myself as a monster, why do you act like I will not love you if you do the same to yourself? Perhaps, not a monster, but still something negative,” she does not continue her train of thought, thinking it’s not needed and it’s better left unsaid. Her hands keep his in her tight hold, but also can be easily broken if he pulls away. “I’ve seen the worst in people, Kaveh. And there is nothing you feel, experience, or have gone through that will make me see you in a different light. I only wish to learn more about you, to understand you better, to hopefully offer a listening ear, to be there for you. Because I love you.”
Because I want to be your support where others will never be. “You don’t need to keep this honeymoon phase going, Kaveh. I’m not here to only love your good sides, I won’t leave you no matter what,” her thumb caresses the back of his hand. Does he understand she means every single word? “I want to love you for everything you are. As you are willing to do for me. Can I ask you… to try? To try and trust that I will never, ever see you differently or love you less when you let me in?” It’s simply impossible, it’s impossible to not love him for her. “Not today, not tomorrow. Maybe not this week or this month, but… someday. Because... No matter, I’ll wait for you. I'll wait until you're ready. Because nothing can make me love you less, nothing can make me see you differently.”
There is nothing more she wishes than to give him anything he wishes for. She just wishes for him to show some selfishness, something he wants only for himself. The only time she heard that he said he wanted something was on his birthday when he said he wanted her, out of all things he could ask for, he asked for her. Thus, he'll have her and she'll wait while loving him eternally.
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axgmented · 7 months
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[ 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 ] ― sender cooks receiver their favourite meal .
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@meteodrives
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"And then, the kid tried to push another girl off the swings and I wasn't about to have that."
Rem lifts an eyebrow at Denzel, the underside of her jaw cradled in an upturned palm. she likes this kid, how his face lights up when he tells the stories from his memory and the facial expressions match the tone. He'd be a good storyteller when he gets older. Obviously, he wouldn't stand for that injustice, just as Tifa taught him. She hums, encouraging him to continue and he does, with animated movements as he reinacts what happened. She entertains him, leaning back slightly to take a sip of her cider and her eyebrows lift at the correct times to show her surprise, adjusting her emotions in order to convey the right reactions at the right time.
"two fer flinchin' right?" she grins a little around the edge of the bottle, a breath escaping out of her nose as he nods his head. She sits up a bit straighter, head lifting from her hand before that very one reaches out and knocks her knuckles against his cheek softly, ever so softly because he's innocent and while Rem has an aversion to things that are pure, she finds herself wanting to protect this kid -- him and Marlene. She wasn't part of the family, but the little rag-tag group had somehow wormed its way into her heart.
"dinner!"
there's a chipper tweet from the little birdie in braids, running from the back of the kitchen towards the bar. Each slap of her feet, her braids bounce against those bony shoulders and Rem looks confused. Oh, it must be their dinner time; crimson eyes steal a glance at the clock and sure as the sun sets, it reads its nearly half past six. She goes to stand up, knocking back the rest of her alcohol before dropping the bottle in the sink basin behind the bar. She never throws it away because she isn't sure exactly what Tifa does with the bottles-- surely, there was a place around here that would take the bottles, paying a little gil for the treasure.
"wait, where are you going?"
Marlene stares at her, the edges of those little lips pulled down in a frown as she stands at the swing door of the bar. She pouts, lower lip pushing out and those big brown eyes widen with hurt. Oh, shit. She pauses, sliding her arm through the designated hole in her blazer, and fixing the collar before glancing at the door. Surely, she didn't expect Rem to stay? This was their time; she didn't want to intrude, to disrupt whatever routine they had going for them.
"uhh.. fer a smoke, princess. yer ma dont allow smokin' indoors."
"because its nasty and itll kill you."
"yer right; an' if i ever catch ya with one in yer mouth m'tell'n yer daddy."
Marlene makes a face, grabbing at her throat and making a god-awful gagging noise that makes Rem steel her stomach. Jesus, that was convincing and her lips curl into a vicious smirk. That's right; Barrett would kill them both. Marlene for accepting the cigarette and Rem because he'd think she offered it.
"But.. Tifa made dinner for us.. she made your favourite!"
Marlene smiles back at the brunette, excited little hops take over her feet as she scrambles to sit up at the bar, climbing into the stool and turning the seat to face Rem.
"I asked Cloud what you liked and he wasn't really any help. He said he remembered you buying all this stuff at the market and.. Tifa did some digging and found out that you liked this stuff."
Marlene motioned towards the bowl that Tifa sat in her abandoned spot, shyly glancing up at the Turk. Something stirs in her chest, barbed wire and chains begin to move, slithering like a snake and Rem tightens her jaw. The muscle twitches beneath her skin and for a moment, Tifa fears she's angered the Turk but then notices the way those pretty red eyes well up with tears. Her face softens, with that motherly kindness that Rem's never known; she shouldn't be cooking for her. Rem can cook-- barely, but it takes her three hours to complete a meal that's supposed to be ready in twenty minutes. She's scared of messing things up, wasting the ingredients and having to throw away what she's messed up.
She doesn't know when her feet started moving, but she's back at her seat and her blazer is being shucked off to dangle off the back of the stool. Its kindness, she realises, that stirs in her chest. The reaction to kindness, the thought of being included in something. Her throat feels tight, staring at the beef bulgogi bowl and it smells ten times better than Rem could ever make it. Her eyes go from the food, to Tifa's face and Rem feels like a trapped, wild animal. This was a trick-- it had to be, no one feeds a Turk without wanting something in return. Protection? she had it. No questions asked, mainly because no other bar particularly liked having Turks milling about. Did.. she need money? Rem would finance whatever she needed, the girl was a cheapskate and held onto every ounce of money for no reason.
"whats wrong? don't you like it?"
Denzel was already digging into his own, sauce on the corner of his mouth. Oh-- they were all eating it. Of course, they would; "it could turn out to be your favourite too". Her chest aches, heart picking up speed as she tries desperately to control herself; she's only known a Mothers obsession, never a mother's kindness, or tenderness-- things that Tifa offered, Rem felt wrong to accept. Her hands are shaking and she swallows past the lump of conflicting emotions in her throat.
"n-no. it's perfect, kid. don't talk wit'cher mouth full."
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her voice is tight, strangled and Marlene catches on but Tifa gives her that silent look, one of patience and understanding because even if the kid doesn't know it, Tifa does. She gets it because of course she does. A Mother always knows. Rem mixes the beef and rice around, adding the carrots and the zucchini in to get the flavours all distributed. Her first bite has her eyes closed like she's in pain, but it's the best thing Rem's ever tasted. After she swallows, Rem sniffles faintly, blinking rapidly and lifting her head towards the ceiling, as if she had something in her eyes; tears, but she wouldn't cry in front of the kids.
"..thanks, Ma."
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eightmakar · 2 years
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lounging around the pool with erik johnson after all the partying. just you and him floating in the pool, enjoying each other’s company after all the partying. maybe he’s feeling sentimental and tells you how much he loves you and means to him. feel like he can have those moments a lot. just something sweet and soft.
"EJ out," erik said, ending his latest live video from the pool. you gazed over at him in your own floating pool chair, the most expensive one EJ could find, of course, and smiled softly at him.
"you sound so happy when you do those," you said.
"i am happy," he replied, "happier than I've ever been before. I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else."
"are you still drunk?"
ej scoffed, "no, i'm serious. i'm just so glad to get to share this with you. i love you more than anything, you know that, right?"
you felt your eyes prickle with tears. "I do, Erik."
"Cause it's the truth. I love you so much. You're the best thing to ever happen to me, and I just," he paused, looking at you, "i just am so happy you're in my life."
"erik," you breathed, "i love you more than life."
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dawnsiren · 2 years
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What is a soul, really?
 The easy definitions are... emotion. personality. memories. morality. But really, all of that is just... biology. Emotions are chemical responses to stimuli. Memories are stored information in the brain that informs all other conscious processes and allows learning. Morality and personality is a programmed set of responses based on past stimuli and experience, as well as learned behaviors from other individuals and our interactions with them. 
What is a soul. It’s a... a concept. Based in religion, in the belief that we were created by something bigger. Some might say it’s the thing that keeps us alive. But really, what keeps us alive is just... more biology. Signals in the brain instructing our lungs to breathe, our heart to beat, blood to pump oxygen that allows the brain to function and permits all other mental processes. 
Most would agree that it lives on after death. It’s a ghost, a spirit, it’s the thing that goes to whatever afterlife someone might believe in. Fundamentally, outside of science and biology and logic, the soul is the part of us that lives on after everything else that makes us human, makes us alive, is gone.
Our soul is personality. And it is memories. And it is emotion. But not our personality. Not our memories and emotions. What’s left behind once we’re gone is other people’s memory of us. The way we made them feel, the things we taught them. A soul is the legacy we leave behind, our effect on the people that knew us, and even people we’ve never met, people that might live centuries away from the time we had a physical presence here. Our soul is the pieces of us we pour into art, and music, and writing, the pieces of us that people miles and years away can reach out and touch and experience and feel like, as far apart as we might be from them, they knew us. Even for a moment, across time and space and culture, they knew us and we knew them.
That, I think, is what a soul is.
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fatestricken · 2 years
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@thenightmareofyourdrems​   asked    :    ❛   ‘cause   who   the   fuck   would   choose   this   ?   ❜    ~    Max
halsey’s   if   i   can;t   have   love   ,   i   want   power . status    :    accepting .
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                    ❛   NO   ONE   WOULD .   ❜    JAMIE   utters   as   she   sits   down   at   max’s   bedside   ,   flowers   and   mixtape   in   hand .     she   sets   both   on   the   bedside   table   of   the   hospital   room   before   taking   max’s   hands   in   her   own   with   the   gentleness   of   a   mother .     tries   not   to   jostle   her   too   much   ,   lest   the   bandages   and   casts   be   disturbed .     the   last   thing   she   wants   is   to   cause   max   anymore   pain   ...   ,    ❛   no   one   would   choose   this .     you’re   a   hero   ,   max .     we   wouldn’t   have   been   able   t’   do   this   without   you   ...   and   ,   i’m   so   sorry   this   happened   t’   you .     but   ,   it   doesn’t   make   ya   any   less   of   a   hero .     heroes   get   hurt .     they   fall   ,   they   bleed .     but   ,   they   always   get   back   up   kickin’ .     and   ,   i   think   that’s   what   you’re   gonna   do    [   ...   ]    you   just   need   time .   ❜
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puissantveil · 8 months
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Kitana avatar is back. (CW: discussion of pet death and the afterlife)
Too sad looking at Nena. I have my doubts about whether we'll ever meet again, but if there's any justice in this world she's in beagle heaven, eating pumpkin bread and carrots and chilling on the nicest leather couch imaginable.
*ahem* Anyway...
I returned to using MK11 Kitana as my avatar. I don't care how much of a total bitch worst sister ever she is, this expression is hilarious. She's conducting diplomacy but she looks like she's suggesting some very drunk hijinks.
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anneapocalypse · 1 year
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So, just curious how many writers and creators will have to be forcibly outed by relentless harassment before we acknowledge that "This queer characters was written by a cishet person and that's why they're bad" is not good criticism.
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somnimagus · 4 months
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My page for @sheikahzine; about Impaz's duty to her village, empty of people and full of memories.
[id in alt text]
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blueskittlesart · 5 months
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Now that you're gone
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shower-phantom-ideas · 5 months
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Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him
Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.
How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.
Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.
Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.
Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.
“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.
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comradekatara · 2 months
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katara’s role as the show’s narrator is so underrated because no one really seems to understand just how deeply katara is impacted by the nature of stories, with regards to their craft, their promulgation, and their cultural significance, so they don’t truly register the sheer metatextual brilliance of having her be the resident storyteller of the narrative itself.
the first thing atla establishes about katara is that she is someone who is fueled by dreams and fantasies, and believes in a return to a world where “all four nations lived together in harmony” (which is obviously an illusory ideal, as there was always geopolitical strife even if it wasn’t as overt as the devastating imperialist project they are now subject to), described to her by kanna’s stories about the old days.
katara is someone who indulges in fantasies of adventure and heroism, projecting these ideals onto both herself and others. she is an idealist in the truest, purest sense of the word, and what is an idealist if not someone who tells themselves stories about a more beautiful world to survive?
it’s no coincidence that the episode where katara successfully scares everyone with a very compellingly narrated campfire story is the same episode that she must contend with her heritage, the ominous lacunae in her stories, the pitfalls of her own naive idealization. it’s also not a coincidence that the story she tells was first told to her by her mother.
katara grew up hearing stories passed down to her from kanna and kya, and those stories gave her hope and brought her the possibility of happiness in a bleak, cruel world where she was ultimately alone. there used to be people like her, said the stories, and they were brave, and they fought til their final breaths to hold onto their culture, their love for their people, their humanity.
well that’s who i’m going to be, says katara. someone who fights, someone who cannot be knocked down (because there is no one else left to take her place), someone who will never cease to have faith in the capacity of others for good, for truth, and for justice.
stories are her heritage, they are her culture, they are how she defines herself and how she understands the world around her. stories are how she copes, how she survives; they are all she has left to cling to. and sometimes they are reductive, and sometimes they are outright false, but that’s okay too. she grows, she adjusts her narratives, she learns to leave room for more grey in her neat tapestries of black and white. stories can define a tragic past, but they can also pave the way for a better future. she keeps telling stories.
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stinglesswasp · 5 months
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Fanart of all that's said in the low light by headlocket
This fic will make you cry the most cathartic tears ever. Be sure to also check out the epilogue, in lieu of the bells 🥹🧡🧡
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