making sense is overrated (excerpt):

Lya crested the last ring and stood once again encircled within the crumbling walls of the garden where she had first awoken. She saw two things at once: what had been and what was. Nesotor’s garden, groomed and shining, a carefully-kept haven where she would come sometimes to pray. Where she had met Trip for the first time, and then where she had met him for the first time again. 

She put everything else that had happened there out of her mind, and pressed forward to the center, forcing her way through the bushes that were trying to be trees, and the ferns and the dying flowers, until she came to the center, all overgrown with grasses and crawling vines.

The place still smelled of sleep, in some indescribable way, and with a little imagination she could almost see a faint depression in the ground cover marking the place where she had lain asleep. A strange longing welled up inside her to simply lie back down and let the garden claim her again, to let the leaves shield her eyes from the sun and the rain, and for stems to weave over her like a blanket.

But instead, she pulled out her lighter and set the place on fire. 

It choked and burned green and smokey, but eventually, inevitably, it burned. And Lya stood on the crumpled wall and watched. 

The flames took their merry time to fizzle out, but eventually reduced to small pockets that ate themselves out of fuel, quailing at the woodier bushes that had a better memory of yesterday’s rain. She hopped off the wall, and made her way amidst the cinder-filled air to the freshly revealed hole that yawned wide into the earth in the place that Nesotor’s door had once waited. 

The first few stairs were a bit worse for the wear, having had their stone seal traded for only the overgrowth, but once she had skidded down a ways, the place was much as she remembered. She didn’t bother with a lantern; her eyes would adjust in time. 

She felt rather than saw her feet touch water: the resistance against her step, and then, a moment later, the wet seeping into her boots. As if roused by her ripples, the water lilies, whose glow had been nearly imperceptible, brightened insistently as she sloshed past. 

Knee-deep now, and looking down as she approached the pedestal, she was neither surprised nor unsurprised to come face to face with herself. 

The Other Lya floated just below the surface of the dark water, eyes closed, hair swirling lazily round her head. She was lit by a perfect white beam from the sky crystal, and as the Awake Lya bent over her, a shadow fell across her stoic forehead. 

Had the Other Lya’s nose and mouth not been already submerged, she might have been tempted to hold her under and see if she would drown. Instead, she merely laid two fingers on her forehead to see if she was real, or that is, if she had substance. 

The Other Lya’s eyes opened. They were the same familiar true black of her eyes in every mirror, even as they seemed to glow with a fierce radiance, a very bright darkness. 

The Awake Lya stared back. The eyes did not comfort her, not exactly. If anything they made her more afraid. But all at once she understood, and she bent down and kissed herself, not because that was the trick, but because she couldn’t help it. 

Everything spun around her then, and when she had finished turning inside out, she sat up, peeling wet hair from her cheeks, and blinked in the sudden sunshine. 

youve heard of sex flowers get ready for the flower that makes you into a celestial shoujo herione complete with particle effects you cannot turn the fuck off and creates a wifebeam so powerful it can incapacitate and maim and keeps making you burst into tears and fall on your ass which makes the wifebeam More Powerful and you also cannot turn this off either. and is also still, sort of, a sex flower

from one of my favorite fanfictions, Celestial Afterglow by elanor_pam, a fic that defies description in the best possible way

whatever you do, don't think about how lana saw herself in edgeworth, ok? don't think about how she wanted to distance herself from him the moment they met because he could possibly see through the sl-9 plan and ruin everything, but she couldn't because he was kind, if not a little awkward, to her terrified sister in a case where everyone else's only concern was securing a conviction. don't think about how she brought ema to the prosecutor's office (because she damn well wasn't going to let her sister face this alone) with her hackles raised and her defences bolstered because she'd heard about the "demon prosecutor" and his ways just to realise he's nothing but a young man, trying his best to survive under the weight of his mentor's shadow and ensure justice is served by whatever means he can. don't think about how she felt later, when she was under gant's thumb and knew for a fact that all those rumours surrounding von karma's perfect record were, in fact, true and that he was using edgeworth's faith in him to fulfill his own goals. don't think about how she felt when she had to begin doing the same. or what must have gone through her head when she entered her office one morning to find a case approval form waiting for her on her desk: the state v. miles edgeworth. don't think about how she knew, once she saw the name of the prosecutor assigned to his case, that she was signing his death warrant. don't imagine what she rehearsed saying to his sister or her realisation, after his miraculous survival, why he had been so understanding of her own. don't wonder, as she did, ineffectually, if it was his competence or her fondness for him that led to his car and knife being chosen to cover goodman's murder — a second attempt at his permanent removal — and whether it was affection or guilt that made her stand by the corpse, waiting readily to be caught in his stead. don't think about how she finds out, eventually, that he is gone, in a jail cell so far from remorse, gratitude and closure that she can only sit and turn in her head distorted thoughts about luck and fortuitous third chances. don't.

i am once again wishing that reiju was written in a more interesting way in fics. i think she wld be fucked up in the way of "every day i tightrope a line of protecting my brother against a family that wld gladly revoke my favored position" and "am i my brother's keeper". contradictions in contradictions. unable to empathise/incapable of excising her sympathy. equal parts wondrous and revolted by the depth of human emotion that sanji feels. the only one in her family that takes after both her parents' will - her father's soldier and her mother's daughter. yeah sure you could write her as tepid and simply dust your hands off after damning her for her compliance in the abuse cycle but what if we made her interesting.

FUCK i could talk about how season 3's setting is so symbolic for ages. Isolated and freezing cold, perfectly reflecting arthur's mental state. Hes isolated, alone, he feels so alone. Even when hes with yellow its more like hes being haunted by the ghost of john than actual companionship. The trauma of just, everything that has happened up until that point has turned him cold, hes stuck in survival mode and it makes it much harder for him to be more compassionate when its been drilled into him that his compassion for others is dangerous, that no one is his friend and all he has is john and john is gone. Even johns return only serves to remind him how much he has changed, how utterly cold and heartless hes become. From the beginning everything is about as strange and alien in addison as it was in the dreamlands. He left the dreamlands but he never truly left, hes stuck in the prison pits, where it was every man for himself and he feels like an outsider in his own goddamn domain. Do you see my vision do you understand

Not last night's session of steinhardts having me go "what if I turn into an oyster and fling myself into the ocean never to be seen again"

I don't think words can express how I absolutely love it when Riku yells at Tenn about something but also how much pain and suffering that gives me

I thought I was the only person in the LGBTQ community that liked Bruce Springsteen lmao. The only band more hetero than the e street band is like Phish or something

my friend. in the kindest way possible. what world have you been living in

#'LATELY I'VE BEEN I'VE BEEN LOSING SLEEP'#'DREAMING ABOUT THE THINGS THAT WE COULD BE'

*busts in thru open window* ♪♫Everything that drowns me makes me wanna fly♪♪

HOPE IS A FOUR-LETTER WORD MAKE THAT MONEY; WATCH IT BURN OLD- BUT I'M NOT THAT OLD YOUNG- BUT I'M NOT THAT BOLD I DON'T THINK THE WORLD IS SOLD WE'RE JUST DOING WHAT WE'RE TOLD

I FEEL SOMETHING SO WRONG DOING THE RIGHT THING AND I FEEL SOMETHING SO RIGHT DOING THE WRONG THING

EVERYTHING THAT KILLS ME MAKES ME FEEL ALIVE

sorry for being annoying (lie) but now that we know jared and jensen are on board with the sequel I really really really need to know if alex is in on it too or if they want him back in

watching gillion progress as a character has been so fucking cool. To watch a character so set in the ways he acts and thinks, and have him to be thrown into a world that challenges those ideals constantly is such an interesting idea and it's been executed very well.

Something about him learning to love the things he was taught to hate. He loves his friends and being on the surface and helping those there, despite everything the elders taught him. He's standing up for himself and the love he's found and!!!!!!

I just think there needs to be more fanart of him. I am insane about him

STRANGLING MY BRAIN

uhhh something something 'the only time a yakuza should laugh with his teeth is when he's with family or in trouble' something something arakawa gradually doing so more and more when hanging around jo something something Uh Oh™️

fandom's meant to be fun. if it's not, hit da bricks, dude.