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#meant to mention
skoulsons · 7 months
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Baylan and Shin’s parting
The scene that has upset (me) or confused (also me) most people. A chunk of people, who I respectfully disagree with, have said that Baylan is “abandoning” Shin. While I agree she definitely feels abandoned, I do not believe that is or ever would be Baylan’s intention. I just don’t think it works.
There’s an obvious amount of care (love, you could say) in their relationship. They’re not your typical competitive Sith master / apprentice relationship or Jedi master / padawan where feelings like that were repressed. They’re not mercenaries who were put together for a job or purely for the selfish gain of power. Shin has been under his wing as his padawan, borderline his child, for a long time.
He’s very protective of her as we see most notably in episode 4 when he ‘kills’ Ahsoka because she threw Shin into a rock. That sort of protection that drives you to kill someone (I don’t believe his original intention was to kill her—it was that that set him off) doesn’t come from a lack of love or lack of a relationship.
Their first scene on Peridea is another to consider. They’re comfortable, open, and vulnerable. Shin’s tone when she says “I know no such stories (shoutout to the person who made that post about Baylan telling Shin stories about the Jedi when she was younger. i still think about you)” is a sarcastic tone, almost teasing. They both comfortably smile and are way more relaxed being around just each other. Shin asks him questions without fear and Baylan answers without hesitation.
So, no, I don’t believe he’s abandoning her.
Now, nothing is known for sure. What exactly does he hear? What exactly does he see? What vision does he have?
Hopefully we get that answer, but my (and maybe most of you) bigger concern is why part from Shin for a wasteland and some power (yes yes we know he wants the ‘beginning’ but that’s still kinda VAGUE)?
Again, don’t know the truth, just throwing out ideas. i cant wait to be wrong on every front and be completely humbled tuesday night lolol
For one, he’s sensed and understood her questions and doubts and is actually considering them. He’s recognizing “OK, she doesn’t see all that I do”. He isn’t saying “Nope, I’m forcing you to join me in this”. He’d be a jackass if he did that. Since he seems pretty sold on staying on Peridea for… whatever it is he believes is there, he’s letting her go so she can, in turn, find her footing and take her place in the coming empire. Yes, he doesn’t know if that’s even what she wants, but Shin hasn’t exactly told him what she would want. All she’s mentioned (I think) was about leaving Peridea since Thrawn is desperate to leave as well.
Either way, he’s considering her and letting her go her own way instead of forcing her into a future with him that she obviously isn’t interested in.
Two, Baylan actually knows a lot more than he’s letting on and sees something that is… dangerous. Something he doesn’t want Shin exposed to. Something he knows is dangerous and he’s trying to keep her from (so she doesn’t suffer the same fate as his last padawan—if it’s true, of course). This one seems more selfish than some other thoughts. It can even fit other fandoms—he’ll go into it guns blazing for himself despite its dangers, but not her.
Three, which is just a bit of a vaguer, rephrased Two, he can’t / doesn’t want to lose another padawan if he can help it.
“Oh, then why’d she even follow him to Peridea? Why’d Baylan even let her come if he was going to abandon her anyway?”
He’s her master. Of course she’s going to follow him. It’s the guy she’s known longer than anyone else in her life. Her master, her father figure. Why wouldn’t she follow him? Why wouldn’t she stick it out for him? And, again, don’t believe at all that it’s abandonment or even something that was planned. It seemed very spur of the moment—like an off screen decision being made in Baylan’s head. Parting from her wasn’t something on his bucket list he was waiting to check off.
Fourth, the “ambition” that Baylan said was driving Shin is her willingness (not the word im looking for please read my mind) to embrace the dark side compared to himself. If he truly wants to bring an end to the Jedi v Empire back-and-forth, he’ll stay more Gray. So, he parts from her to give her that freedom. It’s the thing that drives them apart.
There’s even more ways to try and understand why, im sure. These are just word vomits and nothing to be taken as truth.
While I don’t at all believe Baylan’s intention was to abandon her, leave her for dead, etc, I definitely agree that Shin does feel abandoned.
Was the decision easy for Baylan? Highly doubt it. I don’t think he would watch her go, take a deep breath in, and roll his shoulders if it was easy. I don’t think he’d look around after Ahsoka stole his howler and debate going back for her if it was an easy decision. I don’t think he’d wait on the hill to keep watch and protect from a distance if he didn’t care.
I think one thing is for sure. Baylan thinks he’s doing what’s best when it’s really not. Shin looked like a kicked dog when Ahsoka offered to help—and whether that’s because she was reminded of 30 minutes prior on the hill beside him, or 15 years prior when Baylan stood above her and offered his help that started them on their journey (yari put this thought in my noggin), it hurts all the same.
I just hope the finale clears something up
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subterra-rose · 4 months
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Honestly pokemon is the ideal universe not just because there’s cute animals that are your life companions, but because they have walkable cities and adequate biking infrastructure
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shadowtraveled · 2 months
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"mithrun is the only real monsterfucker in dungeon meshi" is objectively the funniest bit you can get out of his everything, but in all seriousness i think his attraction to his love interest is deliberately overstated—and that makes sense, because romantic jealousy is a classic and digestible motive, which is explicitly what kabru was aiming for in condensing mithrun's backstory, and also because until chapter 94, mithrun wasn't willing to admit to the true nature of his desires.
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but because romantic envy is both classic and digestible, it probably isn’t a unique enough or complicated enough desire to tempt a demon’s appetite. mithrun’s wish, as far as we can figure from kabru’s reduced retelling, was to have a life in which he had never become one of the canaries, and that carries like 3857 implications and desires within it. that’s delicious. his love interest acts as sort of a red herring to his motivation for making it, though. (side note: i'm saying "love interest" here because, keeping in mind that i barely speak japanese on a good day anymore, "想い人" is something i'd usually take as just kind of an old-fashioned and romantic way to refer to a lover, but in context i wonder if both the connotation of yearning and the vagueness are intentional, and i think this phrasing gets those aspects of it more effectively. anyway.)
mithrun considered his love interest to be untrustworthy. there was a minute where i thought that comment might be about a similar-looking elf (yugin, one of his squad members), but comparing the two…
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the "sketchy" arrow is definitely referring to the elf we know as his love interest—the bangs go toward her right, she only has the one forehead ornament, and, most notably, her ears aren't notched.
every time she’s given a full-body depiction in his dungeon, she’s drawn as a chimera, with the body of a snake from the waist down. (side note: the “what if a dungeon has chimeras before reaching level 4?”/“then the dungeon lord is unstable” exchange just being mithrun grilling his past self alive is so funny. he’s so. but anyway) there are a couple things about this.
first, the snake part of the chimera appears to be modeled after some species of coral snake mimic
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which, in the biology-for-fun manga, i… doubt is a coincidence, especially with the added context of the “untrustworthy” comment. the dungeon’s conjured illusion of mithrun’s love interest was a harmless copycat of a venomous original. for whatever reason, he felt this person was a threat and made up a "safe" version of her to be in a relationship with, and while it’s definitely possible to be attracted to or even love someone you find to be toxic and/or intimidating, when you take that into consideration alongside the configuration of her body, you get some interesting implications.
which brings us to our second point: if we assume that mithrun was not in fact fucking a snake, then sexual attraction, at least, was so far removed from his idea of a relationship with this person that he did not even bother to keep her dungeon copy human enough to maintain the illusion of the option of a sexual relationship. this is somewhat echoed in the depictions of their interactions, which also imply a frankly unexpected romantic distance. she kisses his cheek and he doesn't seem to react; she's at the edge of a narrow bed with only one set of pillows, on top of his blankets while he's underneath them.
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the kiss is particularly interesting because it seems to contrast the text. kabru's narration tells us this was everything mithrun could have asked for, but mithrun is there looking unreadable to pensive, likely because this is right before the panel that makes it clear things in the dungeon are beginning to go wrong.
walking through this backwards for a minute, we have the physical barrier of his bedding and the spatial separation inherent in a bed made for one person, the emotional barrier of his mounting anxiety getting in the way of his ability to enjoy the affection he sought, and... the snake, which historically carries the connotation of temptation, yes, but also mistrust, barring physical intimacy. okay. ok. if a dungeon reflects the mentality of its lord, all of this might suggest that mithrun was not able to have any real desire for a relationship with this person. his unwillingness to be vulnerable or let another person in was insurmountable. but in that case, why was she such a focal point that she remained to the end, after his dungeon had stopped creating iterations of his friends to come and visit him? why would he get so upset over her meeting with his brother that he became lord of a dungeon about it?
well. mithrun's brother was also interested in her, probably genuinely. and mithrun had to win.
you have an older brother who your parents completely ignore, probably in part because he is chronically ill/disabled and almost definitely in part because he received a ton of recessive traits that resulted in rumors that he was an illegitimate child. you are aware, most likely because those same parents fucking told you, that you actually are an illegitimate child. but they keep you around because you had the good fortune of looking just like your mother. what can that possibly teach you but that you, like your brother, are disposable?
it's utterly unsurprising that mithrun, under these circumstances, developed a pathological need to be better than everyone around him. people don't keep you otherwise. i'd argue this is also why he says he looked down on everyone he knew while milsiril claims his dungeon reeked of feelings of inferiority—he sought out people's worst traits and prioritized them in his mind to protect his already extremely fragile sense of self-worth, and all the while he tried to be as likable and high-performing as he possibly could be. his parents disposed of him anyway, but even then he tried to keep up the performance. he was kind to everyone. he never once lost to a dungeon.
when he saw his "love interest" meeting up with his brother, what he saw was himself being replaced by a person his parents had always treated as worthless, and if that was what they thought of the child they'd kept, what value could anyone possibly see in the bastard they'd given away to die? mithrun and kabru tell the story like he wanted to win this unnamed elf's heart, but it was never about being with her. it was about cementing his worth, proving that he didn't deserve to be thrown away.
and so it's particularly cruel that his demon discarded him, too. but maybe it's also particularly gentle that, in the end, there was someone who refused to even consider giving up on him.
kui laid it out in three panels better than i could hope to.
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yeah. it's love. you wanted to be loved, even when the only way you were able to understand it was through the desire to be wanted, and you wanted that so badly that the idea of being consumed felt like the promise of finally mattering to someone.
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stil-lindigo · 1 year
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patchwork canary.
a comic about two girls, fate, and a powerful man who felt entitled to something that wasn’t his to own.
support me on patreon (if you’d like to see more comics like this one)
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isjasz · 3 months
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Part 1- The Orphanage
IT BEGINS WOOOOOOOO this was meant to inform ppl of the lore in tpn for the sake of the au then it got out of hand helpme
Designs | Part 1 | Part 2 (End)
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onawhimsicot · 1 year
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i know not many people would want to read a 10,000 word article about the minecraft end poem and how the author, Julian Gough, was never fairly compensated for his work and has made it public domain.
But it's a very well-written and heartfelt read, and he makes it very clear that none of this is a cash-grab and despite the fact that he is essentially a starving artist in this capitalist society, he only mentions his financial struggles despite Minecraft's huge huge success at the bottom of this article and not in the tweets so as to not dilute his message.
Anyway, I just think it'd be cool if those who are able to could support him in some way whether it be subscribing to his substack or donating to his paypal (that's linked in the article, you can ctrl + F to find it easier), that's all.
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zarameraki · 4 months
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♡₊˚🔪・₊✧ 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 𝗶𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗹𝗸𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝘁. 𝟭₊˚🔪・₊✧
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 mdni 𖥔 obsessed at the first glance 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 masturbation (toji time) 𖥔 "she's mine even if she doesn't know it yet" 𖥔 age gap 𖥔 he's downright depraved for you
: ̗̀➛ word count: 3.7k
: ̗̀➛ notes: happy new year, mamas! and happy belated birthday to my baby daddy. y'all have no idea how fun it is to write toji fics. i've got a hundred already lined up. i'm going to make this a full series but for now here is part one of what's about to come (haha get it? oh god. i need help)
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The first time Toji laid his eyes on you was the morning after he’d finished yet another one of his assassination cases.
There you were, seated on a picnic mat, a serene oasis in the bustling sea of activity. The wind danced through your hair, and you were engrossed in a book, your legs tucked comfortably beneath you. The music in your headphones created a private sanctuary, shielding you from the cacophony of playful children, picnicking families, and the vibrant hum of the city's summer.
Toji found himself rooted to the spot.
Oblivious to the annoyed cyclists and the world rushing past him, he stood there, captivated. It was as though he had stumbled upon a deity crafted solely for him.
You briefly raised your gaze, taking a momentary break from the confines of the small text.
Toji couldn't believe his luck as he found himself mesmerized by the tantalizing sight before him. Despite his best efforts to maintain composure, a telltale bulge in his sweatpants betrayed the mark you had on him. There you were, blissfully unaware, sipping from a water bottle that seemed almost rehearsed.
His fixation deepened as he observed every nuance of your movements—the curve of your mouth, the delicate way your throat accommodated the liquid, and the small hands that gripped the oversized bottle. He imagined his cock instead and flinched from the way his dick twitched. The simple act of you licking your lower lip and unbuttoning the top buttons of your dress shirt to fan yourself from the heat sent shivers down his spine.
You just had to start tying your hair up. 
Taking a deep breath, Toji briskly walked towards a nearby public restroom and locked himself in one of the vacant stalls.
His back pressed against the wall as he lowered his sweatpants and pulled his thick, trembling cock out, pre-cum trickling from the tip. He lowered his eyes and visualized you on your knees, grabbing his cock and circling your small, pink tongue around his tip. His head cruised back as you swallowed his length to the back of your warm throat, gagging, gasping, choking, bobbing your head back and forth. His fingers tightly held onto your tender scalp, fucking himself into your pretty, little mouth until your nose was crushed against his pelvis. He heard you begging, pleading, scratching at his hips to give you a breather, but Toji relentlessly fed you his cock, over and over and over—
Spurts of release erupted and splattered onto the stall's wall, with droplets dripping onto the floor. Toji opened his eyes only to find the space where your apparition was supposed to linger now empty. His hand was sticky and hot, smudged in the mess he’d made envisioning you. You. It was you who had provoked this intense response, causing him to reach a climax faster than ever before.
As Toji cleaned himself up, he couldn't ignore the unabashed stares from the onlookers, men who had clearly overheard him masturbating. Ignoring the judgmental gazes, he focused on formulating a plan to claim you, even if you fought or opposed it; he was convinced that, in time, you would surrender.
In his mind, you were already his.
Toji lingered for the next few hours on that park bench, focused on you. His eyes traced every move you made, absorbed in that stupid book of yours, oblivious to the frisbees and kites dancing above you. His gaze burned into the teenage boys engaged in soccer behind you, fuming as they carelessly neared you with the ball. Especially the one you beamed at after he half-heartedly apologized to you.
Fuck, that smile of yours was irreplaceable.
As you packed your mat into the duffle bag and rose, turning to dust your ass off from any debris sticking to it, Toji's thoughts took a blunt turn. Sleep was an impossibility now.
Following discreetly as you strolled down the path, immersed in the rhythm of your ear-throbbing music, Toji couldn't help but dissect every inch of you. Your clothes, undoubtedly high-end and branded, spoke volumes. The price tag on your headphones alone easily flirted with seven hundred dollars, if not more. It was clear—you came from a life of comfort, perhaps a spoiled heir or held a proud position in some grand corporation. You were proving to be a challenging prize, a fish that refused to be easily caught.
You decided to take a pit stop at a vegan café where they charged an arm and a leg for a tiny cup of espresso.
Patiently, Toji lingered outside, cigarette dangling from his lips, the ember casting shadows on his sharp features. Peering through the glass, he caught glimpses of your animated conversation with a male barista. Though, the bastard's eyes were shamelessly speaking to your cleavage.
Toji hadn’t killed anyone for fun in a while; maybe the lanky fucker was going to start a new streak. 
As you emerged, holding your iced coffee and muffin like some divine offering, he noticed the scribbles on the napkin. Ah, the barista's number, huh? The son-of-a-bitch just signed his own death warrant.
With a flick of your wrist, you crumpled the napkin and tossed it into the trash, conveniently placed right next to him.
Your eyes locked.
The cigarette in Toji's mouth hung suspended in a moment that seemed to stretch forever. Your gaze shot up as you took in the powerful physique of the man, the scar tracing its path on his left lip, and the black, sleek strands of hair framing those perilous, obsidian-green eyes. He was more than just attractive; he was a magnetic force, and you could feel the tingling of anxiety dancing on your skin. Too bad your family had always drummed into you the importance of polished over rugged.
Despite the internal turmoil, you turned on your heel and continued walking, nonchalantly sipping on your cold coffee to ease the tension building within you. There was an undeniable urge to steal one last glance at him, an itch in your brain pushing you to do so. With feigned composure, you added an extra sway to your hips, aware that his eyes were still on you.
Toji’s eyes were glued to your ass. Was he breathing? Nope. He was sure he’d busted his cover just then. You had checked him out for thirty whole seconds, the opportunity to speak suspended in the air, only to be pulled apart and crumble at his feet. 
But he didn’t care. 
He shadowed your every move, navigating through busy intersections, seamlessly blending into the teeming masses, keeping up with only the sway of your swinging ponytail and your ass. Fuck, he loved your ass. He wanted to spank it red, bruise the flesh for teasing you. 
Finally, you stepped into the most luxurious hotel in the city.
Toji wondered if you were a local or a visitor from abroad. If he had to purchase a plane ticket to tail you back to your residence, he'd gladly do it. It was insane how unknowingly you had him trapped, wrapped around your perfectly manicured finger.
The lobby was nothing short of fucking fancy.
The place was decked out with marble floors that shone so much he could almost see his reflection. A huge chandelier hung from the ceiling, sparkling with a zillion crystals.
The furniture was all plush and comfortable, like sinking into a cloud. Big, ornate couches and chairs scattered around, all in rich, deep colors.
In the middle was a fancy concierge desk with people in sharp suits and friendly smiles ready to help out. He caught a whiff of some subtle, expensive scent in the air—not too overpowering, just enough to make him feel like he was out of place.
There was a low hum of activity—people chatting, the clinking of glasses from the bar nearby, maybe some soft piano music in the background. He couldn't help but feel a bit important just standing there like he'd stepped into a world where everything was a little more polished and refined.
He was in hell.
"Dad!" you exclaimed, striding towards your father amidst a crowd of his guards and members of the family hotel enterprise board.
"Darling!" Your father embraced you briefly, then caught a whiff of something unusual around you. "Were you smoking?"
Shit. 
That attractive stranger from before had been smoking and the scent must’ve stuck to your clothes. 
"I bumped into a friend who was," you lied, acknowledging your father's associates with a nod. Your current appearance didn't exactly match the polished image your mother presented to the press, but it was a facet appreciated by some online fans. As the heiress to the family hotel, however, you understood the importance of maintaining grace.
Even on your days-off. 
"How was your meeting?" you asked.
"Same old, same old. Nothing for you to worry about," he replied dismissively.
"I mean, shouldn't I be involved? I'm almost twenty-one. It might be time for me to learn the ropes of managing—"
"I'm still around, aren't I?" Your father pushed your arm, causing you to stagger slightly. "Why don't you go freshen up now? We have a family dinner tonight." Family dinners, in this case, were elaborate affairs with your father and mother's vast social circles, almost a societal event. Unfortunately, everything was hosted at the hotel, making you feel like you were in a gilded cage.
"Sure, Dad."
He planted a quick kiss on your cheek and walked past you.
You stared at his retreating figure and the group of men you would eventually be working with, all of them vanishing through the hotel's automatic doors until the lights surrounding you became a blur. Your fingers touched your wet eyes, the back of your shaky hand wiping at your cheeks.
Despite the hurt, your training to act classy in public kicked in. You rolled back your shoulders, attempted a smile, and walked toward the elevators leading to your personal suite.
Observing the unfolding scenario from a discreet vantage point nearby, Toji, with arms and ankles casually crossed, wore a devilish smirk at how effortlessly the situation had played into his hands.
His room was on the twelfth floor. 
It served as a temporary base for the two nights he had planned to stay. Plenty of time, in his calculation, to claim you as his own. He walked the fine line between confidence and cockiness, especially when dealing with a woman of your caliber. If he were to leave empty-handed, Toji carried a darkness within that would annihilate those you loved, a merciless flood of destruction until you had no choice but to turn to him. His sights were set on you, beginning with your pretentious father.
Yes, Toji had researched each and every single human associated with you. 
Your father was a titan in the hospitality game and built an empire that stretched across the map. His hotels sprouted like mushrooms, and his wealth skyrocketed faster than you could say "check-in." He portrayed himself as the picture-perfect family man, but lurking in the shadows were dealings that'd make you think twice about tagging him with the 'daddy dear' label. During one of his many interviews, he let slip a desire for a son. When the inevitable talk of you inheriting the hotels surfaced, he'd chuckle, saying, "We'll see about that."
Toji absentmindedly toyed with his pocket knife, thinking of ways he’d cut your father’s tongue and shove it down his throat. 
Then there's your mom, the classic trophy wife. No accomplishments to her name, just born into a world of idle gossip and social climbing. Since you were in diapers, she's been molding you into the picture-perfect daughter for the public eye. Nannies raised you, and she only paid attention when it came to playing matchmaker, setting you up with aristocratic jerks.
Toji might spare your mother only because she was an airhead being puppeteered by your father’s gimmicks. 
You, on the contrary, were as perfect as one could get. Top of your class all through elementary to high school, currently enrolled in a business Ivy program at a prestigious university, president of the student union, and an active team player in clubs as absurd as juggling.
Your carefully crafted social media presence had Toji rolling his eyes. An avid reader who probably devoured Shakespeare in between saving the world and a lover of sunsets because nothing said depth like a passion for the fading light. Your commitment to wildlife, starting a charity for animals in captivity that was funded strictly by your family's friends. He bet the lions and tigers sent you thank-you cards.
Toji forcefully closed his laptop, took a deep breath, and sank into his mattress, gripping the roots of his hair.
He knew he wanted you. He wanted to touch you, to be inside of you, to break you and put you together again. The image of you being pushed by your father played in his mind, making his heart threaten to burst from his chest.
Despite the depraved thoughts, Toji was genuinely curious about you. The real you. The person seeking love in the same way you offered it to others. He wanted to fuck you but also take great care of you. He wanted to make you cry, but only when you were underneath him, begging for more. He’d kill himself if he hurt you otherwise. He questioned if a dormant monster within you waiting to be awakened by his own.
There had to be. 
And he would be the one to root it out.
Toji pulled himself together, took a quick shower, and threw on the best outfit he had found in his cramped closet within his even more cramped apartment while packing. Living in close quarters didn't bother him; after all, his income came from a rather unconventional source—he was a professional assassin, taking out targets for clients that ranged from politicians to drug dealers. Penthouses and sports cars weren't his style, even if he could afford them; he preferred the simple life, spending most of his earnings on one thing he enjoyed the most: gambling on horse racing.
Knowing that you'd be at the bar, Toji decided to do a bit of reconnaissance. He hacked into the private security servers of the hotel, observing your movements from the corridor to the public areas. He saw you leaving your room in a stunning maroon gown, hair elegantly pinned up, and lips painted a vibrant red. His dick jerked in his trousers.
He spotted you alone at the bar, enjoying a cyan-colored drink. The smooth expanse of your back in that revealing dress nearly made him come in his pants right there and then.
Cracking his neck muscles, Toji walked up to the bartender, positioning himself about two meters away from where you sat. He pulled out a cigarette and flicked the silver lighter, flaming the end of the dart. Drawing in the first drag, he exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’ll take a whiskey.” 
Giving you a casual once-over, Toji noticed you tracing circles on the table, lips in a pout, and eyes blinking languidly.
“Rough day?” he asked, settling into the seat beside you.
“You have no idea—” You looked sideways and met the dark green eyes of the attractive stranger. Your nails were now idle on the table, and you sat up straight. A breath caught in your chest, and you greeted him with a simple "Hi."
“Hi.” He pulled out the cigarette to take a sip, lips pulling in to savor the sharp taste of his whiskey. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, sweetheart.” 
Your chest skipped a beat at the unexpected nickname. "I-I— Are you stalking me or something?"
“Stalking is a strong word, doll. I prefer 'casual observation.'”
“So you’re stalking me?” 
The stranger chuckled, and your knees quivered from the husky, rough sound. “You're a vision, sure,” he said, his voice a slight victim to the smoking, “but I’m too much of a gentleman to do such a thing.” 
You observed his clothes closely. He was dressed in a sleek black formal ensemble with impeccably shiny Oxfords. However, his hair was neatly combed down instead of styled up, and you caught the silver hoop adorning his left ear. The idea of him being sent by your mother or being the son of one of your father's friends quickly crossed your mind, but you ruled out the possibility. Maybe him being outside that café and being here was a complete coincidence.
“The name’s Toji.” He extended his hand for a shake. You glanced at the faded scars on the back of his hands. And when you hesitantly slipped your hand through his, the roughness of his palm rubbed against your softer one. “Ever washed a dish in your life, sweetheart?” 
A shake of your head was all the admission he needed.
"Yeah, figured as much." Toji turned your hand, his thumb tracing a journey along its unblemished terrain.
You quickly took back your hand and placed it on your lap. “I’m sure you know my name.” 
Toji tilted his head. “Am I supposed to?” 
You blinked. In a world where your family name echoed through the corridors of the hotel, his genuine ignorance was a rarity. "I'm Y/N.”
"Y/N," he echoed, your name a lazy caress on your skin. Above the rim of his nearly empty glass, he regarded you with a watchful gaze. “The fuck is that, anyway? Windex?” 
You raised your drink. “It’s a mocktail. I have a family dinner in an hour so I can’t drink. My father says it’ll impede my ability to talk. I can’t mess anything up.” 
He half-rolled his eyes. “You like Coke?” 
“Like, the soda?” 
"What else, sweetheart?" He swiped a finger under his nose, throwing in a wink. "Unless that's your thing."
“No.” Your cheeks heated. “I like diet Coke, I suppose.” 
Toji locked eyes with you and signaled the bartender. "Vodka diet coke for the lady."
"What?" You started to object, but Toji's hand clasped around your forearm, freezing you. “Remove your hand right now.” 
He raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin playing on his lips. If he weren't so irritatingly charming, you might have considered introducing your mocktail to his face with a quick call to security as a chaser. “Just don’t want you to die knowing you never tried vodka.” His cheeks hollowed as he inhaled, exhaling wisps of smoke that danced in captivating swirls. “Ever smoked?” 
You shook your head, a coy resistance to his vices obvious on your face. "It's detrimental to your health, you know. Consistent smoking can fast-track your journey to an early death. If you're aiming for more than thirty candles on your birthday cake, I'd advise a little moderation."
A sardonic chuckle escaped him. “Well, fuck.” He inspected the dart in his hand as if it held the secrets of the universe. “Guess I missed the invitation for my funeral five years ago.”
He’s old. 
“Too old for you, sweetheart?” He dipped his head conspiratorially, locking eyes with you. "Hope you're not collecting a set of daddy issues like souvenirs."
You shot him sidelong glances, a subtle shake of your head. "I happen to like my dad, thank you very much."
“You’re welcome.” 
You couldn’t help but let out a small puff of a laugh at his response. 
He shot you a grin, his scar stealing a moment of your attention before the vodka diet Coke presented itself. “You still in school?” 
You nodded. “University.” 
“Yeah? You like it?”
“Keeps me distracted.” 
“From?” 
Your hand swept through the ambience of the hotel's bar, and Toji followed your motion, absorbing the surroundings. “I don’t know if my name rang a bell at all, but I’m to inherit this place.” 
“Didn’t.” Toji raised his glass, gesturing his chin at the vodka diet coke in front of you. “Let’s drink to it.” 
“I told you I can’t. I’m also lightweight. Besides, I don’t want it on my tab. My father keeps a check—”
“My father this, my father that.” Toji sighed, taking your drink and snagging a straw from a nearby container. He placed it near your lips. “Your father might have set the stage, but he can't dictate the play. Take a sip. If you hate it, fuck it. That work for you, sweetheart?"
You frowned at the subtle pressure venting from him. A fleeting swipe of your tongue traced your lower lip, drawing Toji's gaze to the subtle curve. His intense scrutiny left you feeling strangely singled out, a rare occurrence in a world where every tidbit of your life laid at the fingertips of anyone with an internet connection. Your secrets were a vault locked tight, shared with no one but yourself. Indulging in personal interests took a back seat to your responsibilities, and you strictly stuck to a scripted persona to protect your family's reputation. Even something as mundane as sipping on a vodka diet Coke. 
Toji set the drink on the table, slipping a generous tip to the bartender. His financial status seemed modest, likely someone comfortably positioned enough to book a room in your hotel. “Listen, sweetheart, I don’t often give out advice ‘cuz frankly, I'm not exactly an expert on your generation.” He took a final drag of his cigarette, extinguished it under his foot, and nonchalantly dropped the remains into your drink. “But, you might want to dust off that brilliant little brain of yours sooner rather than later. Mind passing me a pen, buddy?” 
The tender handed him a sharpie instead, and Toji scribbled out something on a napkin.
“Are you leaving?” you asked, feeling somewhat disappointed in yourself. You wanted him to ask you more questions. You wanted to know more about him. 
“Afraid so, doll.” He folded the napkin, both of you surreptitiously scanning the surroundings before he handed it over. A smirk played on his lips, causing you to rethink the urgency with which you accepted it. “Your old man taught you lots of lessons, but seems like 'Stranger Danger' wasn't part of his curriculum, huh?” 
“He doesn’t completely control me.” 
Toji smirked, tapping the folded napkin. “Well, we're about to test that theory."
He left you perched on the barstool, and the moment he vanished, you unfolded the napkin, heart pounding.
ROOM 1231. 
Sooner or later.
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puppetmaster13u · 2 months
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Prompt 245
Now Danny would openly admit, if only to himself, that he had a type when it came to relationships. If they were strong, if they were a threat to him, then chances were he would develop some sort of crush. It was how he had dated Sam and Valerie (And Johnny & Kitty) when he was a bit younger, and hell, Sam had technically succeeded in killing him, even if partly. 
Attraction towards smart people who could kill him was honestly par for the course for a Fenton or Nightingale anyway. 
And he’d also admit he enjoyed a bit of time travel, learning about times and culture long before his time, to the point that he could blend in in ancient times just as easily as the time he had been born in. That it was natural to mutter in a language lost to time. 
So color him surprise when another man perks up in the bar he had paused to get a drink in, vibrant green eyes gleaming in interest and responds in turn. And not just in the language, but able to keep up when he talks about things that once existed but haven’t been rediscovered yet. 
And one thing led to the other, and there might have been some assassins and some shenanigans that end with them both laughing together in an inn and then more and- Okay he has a type alright, and he’s ticking each box! How is that fair? 
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ruporas · 1 year
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i’ll find you again in every universe. let us be a little more honest, let us have a little more time.
#vashwood#vash the stampede#nicholas d wolfwood#trigun#despite it all though badlands rumble is like. the only universe where we get wolfwood thinking vash died first... and i think that means a#lot to their relationship and how it may bloom if there was more to badlands rumble considering vash literally saw wolfwood carrying a piece#of vash after his supposed death. u know! despite the short time they were together vash still meant so much to wolfwood that he couldn't#just move on or forget him in anyway. needed to keep a piece of him for himself and the rest of his days. but ofc vash lives and wolfwood#was like ill beat ur fucking ass into tomorrow. there's just so much honesty in vash being able to see that gesture bc he wouldnt know#otherwise just how much he might mean to him. ANYWAY. trimax with with the eternal pining featuring the two chapters where imo#where the both of them really fell for each other... i wrote my thoughts about this on another comic i did before#but vash solidifying his feelings during the hospital arc -- ww solidifies his when he realizes his allegiances are permanently with vash#98 my lovelies but also to me they are so one-sided bc ww pined like no tomorrow and vash only realizes after ep 23?24? his heart did tickle#whenever ww complimented his smile though#and tristamp vw my beloveds. it really just feels like they get the  chance to be closer and closer and more honest with each other#with every version that comes about. in trimax they knew how little time they had but struggled so desperately to get closer. in 98 ww felt#more willing to forsake for vash. in badlands rumble theyre Angry but as mentioned earlier ^ more blatant truth... due to circumstances#mainly but has the chance to lead to discussions and tristamp literally. first day of knowing each other ww saves vash - 2 days later vash#saves ww like. Man. AND NOW THEY MAY POTENTIALLY GET EVEN CLOSER!!!! with s2....#ruporas art
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hum--hallelujah · 1 month
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man I mean just. the SMFS album lettering is made of clay. the cover art is an actual physical painting. there's a lot less fx on the album as a whole than Mania (which is NOT a knock on my bbg Mania btw, just pointing out the different approach) or even SRAR and ABAP. the songs sound basically the same live as they do on the record because the production is so minimal. they have a huge vinyl dog head onstage with them, that they touch and interact with and talk to (and, in Pete's case, get eaten by). the attic scene is made by lowering a piece of rigging to literally make the stage smaller. there's actually a LOT of sets especially comparatively to their previous tours, the rigging around the stage is done up almost as a physical frame for it. they only have one screen onstage and it's small, its purpose is to be the 8-ball and to add a little bit of texture to the wider design. the backdrops, even the new desert scene for 2ourdust, are physical backdrops — one of which was made by one of Pete's kids — not LED or projections. the album title is made of clay. it's about existing in the world, making things so you feel alive, making the world a little more fuckin weird! do you get it yet?
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randomnerd737 · 1 month
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I was thinking about the 5 year anniversary video and
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it is interesting to me how Patton kind of decided for Logan what his role in the "family" would be. all the other sides chose it themselves, but he didn't get to.
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even when he actively objects it's played for laughs and never addressed. this happened too when Patton revealed his name for him, and I just think it's interesting to note that after all these years, Logan still never gets to decide anything when it comes to Thomas, or even himself, to an extent. it's just kind of decided for him and he is expected to just go along with it, similar to how it was when Thomas dyed his hair.
ik it's mainly a "haha wine mom" moment, but that doesn't take away from how angsty it gets when you think about it.
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milf-harrington · 1 year
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hi i wrote a short little something inspired by this post bc it wouldn't leave my head
season 2 canon divergence, in the aftermath of Steve being taken in by Hopper (don't ask me why it's happened, bc i dont know it's just how the story took shape in my head)
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Steve was pulling a pizza out of the oven when El drifted into the kitchen, bumping hear head against his arm like one of the Henderson's cats. Her hair was starting to curl at the ends, longer than when he'd met her.
"Can you please tell Hop to go to the store? We are out of Eggo's."
She was already holding the walkie when he turned to give her a look, eyes wide and quietly expectant in that intense way of hers. He rolled his eyes, sucking pizza sauce off his knuckle as he reached for the walkie.
They had a quiet stare-off as he held the button down.
"Hey Hop, you there? Over."
Soft static buzzed through the speaker as El leaned further into him, turning her gaze away to inspect the pizza, before Hopper's voice came through with a crackle.
"I'm working." A pause, and then a reluctant: "Over."
He and Hopper shared a similar opinion on walkie-talkie etiquette, but the kids were insistent so they did their best. El looked from the walkie and back to Steve without blinking. He sighed a short laugh. Pressed the button again.
"Jane needs you to go to the store. Over." Better to use her other name if he was working.
"Eggo's?"
"Eggo's."
Satisfied that her demand request had been passed on, El slipped out of the kitchen and plopped down in front of the tv, crossing her legs underneath her as the screen flickered to life. The remote remained untouched on the bench. She wiped her nose with her sleeve.
"Well, I currently have an 18 year old in the back of my car and I'll have to run him to the station first." Another pause. "-ucks sake, over."
The words fell out of his mouth without any real thought, a years worth of comfort in himself dissolving any filter he might've had. "Is he cute?"
The walkie crackled. Steve wanted to smack himself in the head with it.
"My son wants to know if you're cute."
Oh, he was going to kill him, even if he did feel warm and fuzzy over being called Hops' son.
"Uh, I want to say yes, sir?"
There was a second of loud laughter before the walkie cut off and Steve pressed it to his forehead in silent mortification. From the living area, canned laughter from Happy Days burst out of the speakers like the universe was mocking him.
When he looked up, El was smiling at the screen in bemused wonder, colours flashing across her face.
He cleared his throat, eyes shut as he held down the button again. "Please remember the Eggo's on your way home, we're having pizza. Over and out."
He pressed the antenna down for his own dramatics, before quickly pulling it back out again so he could be reached for emergencies.
It wasn't that big a deal, it's not like he'd ever actually meet whoever had been in the car.
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sotiredmostnights · 2 months
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"why does awakening present the player with choices that don't even matter"
that's. that's the point. you're supposed to feel like your decisions don't make a difference. you're supposed to feel hopeless when emmeryn dies. you're supposed to feel like you have no real options when facing lucina's judgement. these moments are intended to make the player feel fate's inescapable grip on them, which makes it all the more rewarding when the final choice the player makes in the fight against grima lets fate loosen its grip at last: the choice was made, and it DID matter, and fate was truly bested, be it in the present or 1000 years from now
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tokenducks · 2 months
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Shoutout Percy Jackson who got amnesia from a goddess and only remembered his girlfriend’s name and that he despised Ares. That’s true love and true hatred there <3
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halfghostwriter · 1 year
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When a true baby ghost is born— a ghost not born of dying, but rather through the desire of another ghost— they are little more than a core with wispy ectoplasm emanating from them for about a month. During said month, they take on influence from their surroundings in order to figure out the form they’ll take, hence why so many young ghosts look like their parents.
Because they aren’t fully formed until a month after their birth, the parent or parents will take on a far more aggressive, primal form in order to protect their child. The parent’s form will become incredibly monstrous, and their size will increase, with triple their normal size being most common among parents. Their mental state also becomes incredibly instinctual, higher intelligence temporarily being replaced by aggression towards anyone the ghost doesn’t consider family. They stay in this state until the baby is fully formed.
Of course, Danny “don’t worry about it” Phantom forgets to add this bit of trivia to his explanation to his fellow heroes as to why he was taking paternity leave. In his defense, he didn’t expect them to visit during that month.
And he definitely didn’t expect his brooding brain to latch onto most everyone who visited as “part of his brood.”
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turtleblogatlast · 1 month
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Something I’ve been thinking about lately is that small moment in “Air Turtle” where immediately after the Daves lose yet another game, Leo says how sorry he is and how he’s doing his best as the mascot. This moment is so short but it’s honestly jam-packed with a whole heap of characterization.
His need to apologize for things clearly not his fault - especially when it feels like he messes up the job he was given despite doing the best he can (the phrase “it’s not about you” takes a new meaning when this is one of the lessons to be learned from that - that he is not always solely responsible for things going wrong), his need to save face and make a connection with an older adult man in his life (something he consistently does throughout the series - he’s got a few daddy issues, always collecting potential father figures, it’s no wonder he jumps at the bit to keep rapport), and the way he sounds and looks and the words he chooses really pushes how he is just a kid (“Mr. the Dunk, I’m so sorry”).
Like I know it’s a one off moment that doesn’t truly mean much, but when put against the rest of the series it works really well with the rest of Leo’s established character and helps in solidifying later concepts as well.
#rottmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt leo#rise leo#rottmnt headcanons#am I looking too much into things? almost assuredly yes#I actually appreciate how tim immediately goes ‘it’s not your fault’ as well? like he could’ve just blamed this 15/16 year old but he didn’t#but yeah this moment got to me a little mainly because it made me realize that Leo…DOES take responsibility for things a lot#he messes up a ton yeah but he says sorry at a pretty consistent rate#and y’know thinking about it#THIS IS TINFOIL HAT TERRITORY BE WARNED#he’s mentioned being betrayed by his brothers before - I wonder if it was something as simple as taking the fall for like#breaking something of Splinters or whatever#point is it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him to get the full blame for something only partially his fault#or not his fault at all in some cases#like in bug busters where Raph gets mad at Leo for not getting captured with them#(I understand Raph’s mindset here a ton - Raph’s the leader and he’s likely lashing out so I don’t blame the poor kid)#but this plus the moment at the beginning of the movie#where only Leo is reprimanded despite Mikey and Donnie having full autonomy to join the fun pizza stacking#make no mistake this is not at all a diss on everyone else!!! it’s just something I noticed#I think that “it’s not about you” doesn’t just pertain to being arrogant and wanting the spotlight#I think it’s also about how responsibility is meant to be shared#and like#Leo DOES mess up a lot! so he’s honestly probably used to having the blame because it is often at least somewhat warranted#he’s specifically described as being good at apologizing after all#tldr: Leo messes up a lot of the time so he is very used to blame and attention both good and bad#even when the full blame should not be solely on his shoulders
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