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#i think this month is spending on myself month
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after your post about malleus i finally said to myself “yeah i can’t force myself to pretend like i like any of the dormheads”. not like i hate them, but after their blots were over i felt like nothing in particular has ever changed about them. the only person who made me think yeah he’s a changed guy is vil. i was really surprised when in chapter 6(if it wasn’t the end of 5th? can’t remember) he apologised to the boys, his acceptance of his own mistakes and awful doings made him skyrocket in my mental tier list
[Referencing this post!]
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Mmmm, I'm in a similar boat when it comes to the dorm leaders but for my own reasons; I like the vice dorm leaders a lot better simply because I tend to enjoy characters who play "supportive" roles (butler, bodyguard, knight, older sibling, etc.).
I don't know if I agree with the idea that the dorm leaders (well, + Jamil instead of Kalim) didn't change after their OBs. I believe that we miss out on seeing a lot of their development because it happens off-screen and we the players don't spend every waking moment checking up on the OB boys--but they definitely do change. More specifically, right after their OBs and sometimes upon their returns in the subsequent books. Just because we do not personally witness every step of their development doesn't mean it didn't happen.
Let's look at one example with the first dorm leader. After his defeat, Riddle cries and confesses he doesn't care about the silly rules, he just wants to enjoy his time with everyone. During the unbirthday party that follows his OB, Riddle sees some roses that are not entirely red and his peers expect him to lose his temper again. Instead, he laughs and says he can overlook it, then invites everyone to help him paint them properly. Riddle expresses similar restraint with his anger in book 2; he adopts a policy of strictly chastising and then trying to fix the problem instead of immediately collaring rule transgressors. (The exceptions being with, of course, the wrongdoers of book 2, like Leona.) Then, in book 6, we see Riddle struggling with his character change, as he is shown to still heavily rely on absolute rules and laws to govern his actions, and relies on himself to be the judge of them while shunting out others. It's only when he butts heads with Azul that he's able to be a little more flexible and recognize his peers' strengths. This makes sense, because the time period between book 1 and book 6 is only about 6 months; a complete shift in one's character and worldview won't happen that quickly, nor completely. Riddle must have been working on himself a lot and consciously trying to repress his anger--and he's imperfect at it. This is fine!! Character growth can be messy, slow, and non-linear--and this is true of how the dorm leaders change over time.
As for Vil (since he was specifically cited in your ask!), I'm of the opinion that his early book 6 apology was not the result of a character change. Vil was already very mature and self-aware prior to OBing; I think he would have still apologized if he thought something going wrong was genuinely his fault, as he holds himself to high standards and would acknowledge when he has fallen short of them (even in regards to morals). This is implied in his behavior before he overblotted too; in book 5, Vil repeatedly claims he will defeat Neige using his own power, fair and square. When he falls into despair and resorts to dirty methods to take his rival out, VIl is appalled by the "ugliness" of his actions and begs his classmates to "not look at [him]" because "[he's] so ugly" (referring to his ugly character/morals). This means he was aware of the cruelty of his actions and how they poorly reflect on him (ie he would have felt guilty and apologized afterwards about it anyway). Vil typically comes off as harsh, but he's truly noble when it comes to accepting when he has fucked up. I feel the real change in Vil is something that Rook highlights: the importance of loving oneself, regardless of what others may think of you. This development is made more apparent in book 6, which is the follow-up book to Vil's and allows him a time to shine. Whereas in book 5 Vil was obsessed with being a "hero" and public opinion, book 6 Vil declares to Idia "there are no heroes or villains" and that he is still "fairest of them all" (echoing a line Rook says in book 5), even as a withered old man.
I don’t want to ramble on for too long!! If you’re interested in reading about how the dorm leaders (+ Jamil) are grappling with their character arcs following their books, I’d recommend this post. It only goes up to Vil since the analysis is very book 6 heavy. I’d recommend this one for Idia, but be warned it does not take into account book 7 events since it was not out at the time of writing.
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notbecauseofvictories · 10 hours
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Longtime follower and I love seeing your insights, so wondered if you had thoughts or advice on this:
I live alone and I'm not in a relationship, though I do date. I'd say ninety percent of the time I really enjoy my life, seven percent I'm a bit sad or annoyed about not having a partner yet, and three percent I get tossed into the Pit of Despair. That three percent can be tied into hormonal cycles, bad timing, etc - even when I know the cause, it still needs to be lived through. Has that happened with you? If so, how do you manage it? I do okay, but it feels like I could do better.
Ah, but the Pit of Despair and I are best friends now. I've sent pictures from the Pit, all featuring me with an absolutely humorless, rictus grin, which does make me wonder why no one else has noticed yet. I have a timeshare in the Pit of Despair. I spend some time there every six months or so, standing in the middle of my impossibly overgrown, dingy garden, and thinking to myself, how did I get here? how do I get out?
And then, as though endurance isn't enough...then your timeshare in the Pit ends. You emerge in the daylight and immediately forget how grey and hopeless that garden was, the weirdly stained, collapsing furniture in the corner and the crooked yellowing plants and that mean laughter you could sometimes hear over the sounds of waving grass. You think to yourself: that will never happen again! I am free! I am cured!
(This will feel so much worse, the next time you're shoved back into the stupid garden.)
That said, I don't think you're going to like my answer to your next question. This is because I don't like my answer; unfortunately, it remains the only answer I have to this question.
I think having some unsettled sorrow, just a touch of existential despair, is the best we can hope to do in this life.
I think that with both rueful humor and deep, deep disgust, which is typically the combo I bring to musings about being a person. Of course it's a little funny---look at the monkey, it's got anxiety!---and of course it's also frustrating, unspeakable outside of bitter cursing, a problem that will not be fixed because quite frankly it's built too deeply into us to be cut out cleanly and thrown away.
(Look at the fucking monkey, you can tell yourself through gritted teeth, standing in that horrible garden with weeks of dirty dishes in the sink and an inbox of emails and friends blowing up your phone with plans you hate to even think about. It's got anxiety.)
I do not have a cure for this. I manage it with the same sort of humor and ruefulness and bitterness that I mentioned above---I don't beat myself up anymore, when I realize I'm standing in the horrible garden again. I know it too well. Sometimes it has an okay wifi connection? I watch some movies. I get done what I can, and forgive myself the rest. I have been here before; I will get out again. I just need to be patient.
Once I'm out, there will be a whole world, I know there will---full of music I haven't heard before and stories that won't make me cringe and emails I will respond to with ease and conversations where I can be light, amusing even. There is a world beyond the Pit. There is always a world beyond the Pit, I just can't find my way back sometimes.
In the meantime, I take another terrible picture in front of the stained furniture, and caption it "Hello from the Pit!!!" with a bunch of exclamation points to indicate that it's a joke, even though it isn't.
I wait.
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b0r3dtod3ath · 7 hours
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LITERALLY anything for Art PLEASE I need him so desperately. Maybe something with an argument that leads to fluff? idk
Thanks for the request!
The living room is illuminated by the soft glow of lamplight, casting shadows across the walls. You pace back and forth, your frustration reaching its peak. Art, your boyfriend and a professional tennis player, sits on the couch, his tennis racket leaning against the armrest, his expression tense. 
“I just don't get it, Arthur! Why do you always let your coach push you around? You never stand up for yourself!”
"It's not that simple," Art says defensively. "She knows what's best for my game."
You stop pacing, almost speechless. "Your game? You have been losing for the past months! What about you? And don’t lie, you don’t even enjoy it anymore! When was the last time you did something for yourself without worrying about what your coach or your sponsors might think?"
"You know it's not that easy," he responds, frustrated. "Tennis is my career. I have to do what Tashi says to succeed."
Your voice softens. "I understand that, Artie. But at what cost? You're constantly sacrificing your own happiness and well-being just to please others."
He sighs. "It's not just about pleasing others. It's about fulfilling my dreams, about making something of myself."
"It’s her dream and not yours! You know it. She just uses you to achieve what she’s not able to! Remember when we used to talk about having a family, about living together? You always wanted to be a dad! And now, you don’t even spend half a day at home."
Art looks at his hands. "Maybe I sometimes forget that there’s life beyond the court. Tennis has been my life for so long."
You take a step closer, standing between his legs, you stroke his hair as he wraps his arms around you. "I know. And I admire your dedication, I really do. But you have to remember that you're more than just a tennis player. You're a person with feelings and desires that matter too. And I don’t want you to quit because of what I said. I know it's hard, Art. But you don't have to do it alone. I'm here for you, always. I just want you to be happy and not devote your life to someone else’s dream."
He smiles weakly, bullying you even closer. "I'm lucky to have you. I'll try to find a balance, I promise. I will call Tashi, tell her I want to retire soon. I have been thinking about it but I guess I didn't have the guts. I just want to spend time with you. Well, maybe still occasionally play tennis."
"Whatever you want to do we'll figure it out together."
You don’t move from this position, in comfortable silence, the tension slowly melts away as you hold onto each other. In the warmth of each other's presence, Art finds peace and stability.
May 1, 2024
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dramaism · 3 days
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Sorry for not being here for a very very long time. I've been having panic attacks every single day for the last 3 months and even now I'm feeling pretty down all the time, not knowing how to help myself. I tried a lot of different meds and nothing seems to work for 100%
Well, this place still brings me joy, so I'll be making occasional sets from time to time. As for my tag, I'll check it soon, but I think I won't be able to reblog all the sets, I apologize in advance for that.
I hope all of you are feeling well, please don't stress as much as me, do some exercises, meditate and spend some time with your loved ones. Don't stress about the job, it's fine, you'll find even a better one if you need. Please, be healthy, my friends
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entropys · 8 months
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:-) things are getting better september truly is a month of new beginnings
#yesterday i went out to the grocery store late at night and bought so much yogurt i think that was my turning point i am forever changed#and today i went to the mall with my mom and bought myself a pair of sunglasses that i really wanted for so long#and the guy that works there recognized me 😭😭😭😭#i went there before to buy my cousin a graduation gift and honestly i came back bc i wanted the same ones i got for her they’re so cool#anyway the staff recognized me and gave me a special discount bc im a ‘regular’ even tho this is only my second time buying from them 🥹🥹#that was so nice of him bc if it wasnt for that dicount i probably wouldnt have bought the sunglasses bc theyre a bit pricey for my budget#anyway i got them 🥹 so im feeling a bit better#also! i bought myself a little rice cooker for one serving so i don’t starve and stop ordering so much food that i don’t have money for#i think this month is spending on myself month#and tomorrow im going out to celebrate my friend’s birthday 🥰🥰 we’re going to a bakery then to a museum and im bringing my camera with me <3#recently i’ve fixed my 10 year old camera and its so perfect i love it so much i found a manual online and im gonna learn how to properly#use all the effects and settings it has#i bought it with my mom in 2013 and honestly we picked the best design ever it looks so coooool god i love my little camera im taking it#everywhere with me 🥹💛💛#anyway .. the last episode of uncanny counter 2 aired today 🥲🥲🥲 im gonna make myself some rice in my new rice cooker and watch it 🫶#then i’ll take a warm shower and finish off my friends bday gift#im making them a crochet cat keychain i hope it comes out well#alsoooo LETTERS WITH NOTES OUT TOMORROW im soooo excited i love you september#anyway i came here to talk about my week bc it was nice :-) i hope everyone’s september is going well too <3
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 4 months
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Thank you all for voting in the poll to decide who was going to be the leader of the band! It turned out to be such a close race!
#poorly drawn mdzs#better drawn mdzs#mdzs#madam lan#A-qing#Band AU#(Reminder that Madam Lan's design inspiration goes to Qourmet!)#Madam Lan may have been the winner per vote count but there were so many strong advocates for A-Qing!#I played around with a few versions of what the 'poll winner' art was going to be and ultimately decided I wanted them both.#As any good theater love knows though - The battle for leadership was a ruse. They *all* get a chance to be featured.#Cooperation was the real end goal! However I do think these two have the best frontman energy of the group.#Or at least 'crowd favourite' energy. I also really loved hearing what people thought their vocal styles would be like!#This was probably one of my favourite polls to do and I love drawing these characters a lot B*)#I'd love to spend a bit more time in this AU so count on me bringing it back.#One thing I keep feeling like I need to redeem myself on is Madam Lan's Translucent skirt. I have *not* done the concept justice yet.#It is such a crack-platonic ship but I want to think Madam Lan and A-Qing would enjoy each other's company.#Possibly also with JYL as well. They can be like mutually beneficial therapy dogs to each other.#Madam Lan never got to see her kids grow up into teenagers after all. She only had sons. Never daughters.#Even if she saw her kids once a month we do know she treated them with so much love and kindness.#She would bite the shit out of YZY for yelling at JYL. What a sight to see. A-Qing would also start biting (for fun).
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sheepalmighty · 10 months
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Some more of that Chai joins Vandelay for half a day AU. Or just a picture of a kinda OOC Kale chilling if you wanna gloss over those comics. I'm still not sure if the colours are too garish or not.
These were mostly done with the premise of treating Kale's office like the hideout. I also really like how mundane, or familiar, the interactions between Chai and Kale can be in the game so I wanted to draw some stuff exploring more like that. But also, there's the ulterior motive of shipping so I included an out of context scene because I can't bother drawing the rest of it (though it seems like a huge jump in their relationship as a result. I think they're so big headed that they get stuck in a feedback loop of stroking the other's ego if an excuse comes up to do so)
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camgoloud · 21 days
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you ever just. become overwhelmed by a sudden out-of-nowhere wave of tenderness and affection and longing for reconnection directed towards someone to whom you no longer speak for Very Good Reasons
#‘out of nowhere’ she says like she hasn’t been doing a lot of reading/thinking recently about various tragic messy breakups#and the later regrets of the parties involved#anyway. tell me not to text her#it’s been over two years since the last time we talked… absolutely no reason to break that streak now. lord give me strength#she was really fucking mean to me! like objectively intentionally unwarrantedly cruel! it ruined an entire year of my life#and fundamentally changed me as a person on a deep level! there’s a lot of things i used to like about myself that i don’t think i’m ever#going to get back#and yet every once in a while we have to do the whole ‘maybe i could make things right’ song and dance 😔#the thing is most of the time i’m not even really angry with her anymore like enough time has passed since all the shit went down that#really i just sort of look at her behavior and feel sad. both because of the impact on me but also because of the ‘that’s really how you#felt you needed to act towards someone who cared about you? you couldn’t have just expressed your feelings in an honest and productive way#instead of just lashing out in the cruelest possible way and ruining the entire relationship beyond hope of repair?’#and i feel bad and sorry that it went that way and honestly i kind of pity her and hope she’s gotten some of her shit worked out#so i’m not like. actively pissed off at her anymore. but also i can’t think about her without thinking about the worst year of my life so 🙃#i don’t actually feel that trying to reopen that door would be very healthy for me at least#we did try a Reconciliation of sorts a couple of months after the initial falling-out and while it was kind of helpful for me in that she#like. apologized lmao. and affirmed that i wasn’t crazy and she did in fact On Purpose say the most hurtful things she possibly could have#said to me given the information she had at her disposal. and that i really had not done anything to her that could warrant that. etc.#it also left a sour enough taste in my mouth that i just don’t see a future where the two of us spending time together is enjoyable for me#and yet… the regret will always live inside me i think. maybe if i were a stronger person…#caseyposting
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hargrove-mayfields · 10 months
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Heather and Billy snuck into graduation to see their friends Eddie and Chrissy graduate. Of course they also had a parking lot photoshoot before going inside.
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computerhugs · 1 year
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Hello and hi! I made a post about a month ago discussing the idea of making a mod for Pizza Tower which gives Peppino a crop top and I'm happy to say that that mod is a quarter finished! I've edited a bit over 800 sprites so far and as my schedule has recently freed up progress will be speeding up by a TON. I'm feeling optimistic and energized, so expect a finished mod in a little over a month perhaps. Here's a little look at what's been finished so far.
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I probably won't be making a lot of progress update posts after this point, but if you want to know how much of the mod is complete then I'll be updating my blog theme's HP bar to show how much is done.
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Thanks for reading :], I hope once this is finished you'll get to enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed working on it hehe
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timelessbian · 5 months
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this year i've decided to participate in 'do not think december' it's where i have no thoughts in my head for the entire month of december
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scionshtola · 4 months
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reaching in the dark
summary: After Corisande wakes from a nightmare, they must confront a lingering worry with Y'shtola before they can fall back sleep. pairing: Corisande Ymir/Y'shtola Rhul word count: 2248 | rated: G | read on ao3 notes: set directly after the end of 6.0 with very big plot spoilers. [divider credit]
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A gentle snow falls over Foundation. It piles on the windowsills of Corisande’s apartment, shifting white hills against the gray stretch of sky. A fire crackles in the hearth, keeping the cold at bay as they lie intertwined with Y’shtola on their plush red sofa. Y’shtola’s head is tucked under their chin while they each read their own books in quiet contentment, broken only by her occasional contemplative hum that echoes in their chest—and the high-pitched whistle of the kettle on the stove.
Y’shtola shifts, closing her book and making to stand, but Corisande pulls her closer, smiling into her hair when she laughs. “It will only take a moment,” she says, and kisses their jaw before rising to her feet. 
Coridande catches her hand and pulls her back. “Pray, hurry back,” she says, and presses a soft kiss to Y'shtola's knuckles, content with the smile she gets in return. "’Tis far too cold without you.”
Y’shtola glances at her over her shoulder, a smirk building at the corner of her lips. She opens her mouth to speak, but her words are drowned out by a gale of wind that sweeps through the apartment.
Darkness roils in the air around her. Corisande leaps to their feet and their hair comes loose from its braid in the swirling wind, strands whipping across their face. Y’shtola stretches her arm toward them, reaching, and they lunge forward, their heart seizing as they grasp her fingers. 
Not again, they think desperately, clutching tightly at Y’shtola’s hand as the wind picks up, a veritable storm raging through their apartment. If only they can will her aether back into place, push and pull at the dynamis until they force the storm to calm. Something, anything, to keep her here—
“Shtola!” Corisande cries out as Y’shtola’s fingers dissipate in her grip. She tries to stay calm, to keep the dynamis from overwhelming her, but panic courses through her and her heartbeat races in a frenzied rhythm. The wind whips faster and faster, darkness swirling around Y’shtola, and Corisande can barely hear her own voice. “Shtola, please—”
“I am here,” Y’shtola says quietly, her calm voice at odds with the fear that consumes Corisande. “I am right here, love.”
The darkness rises, encompassing Y’shtola entirely. Corisande surges forward and thrusts their hand into the dark, swirling mass where Y’shtola stood, intent on pulling her back into the light, but their grasping fingers come up empty. The wind roars, tearing at their hair, their clothes, their face, until they have to close their eyes against it.
Silence falls. There is no comfort in it, so harsh is it in its suddenness. Their stomach twists, nausea threatening to overwhelm them as they struggle to quell their dread. When they open their eyes, there is only darkness.
It’s disorienting—they cannot tell up from down, left from right, cannot hear anything but their own harsh and erratic breaths. They try to call out, but the words catch thick in their throat. 
A cool touch on the back of her hand startles her. She jerks back but the touch is persistent, if light—fingers sliding over her skin to grip her own, thumb stroking her knuckles in slow, soothing circles. 
“Shtola?” they breathe, closing their fingers over her soft, familiar ones. Their breathing begins to slow as the adrenaline fades, and their eyes adjust to the dark as they calm. The shape of Y’shtola leans toward them, and they make out the concerned droop of her ears, the worried flick of her tail over her shoulder. “You’re alright?”
“I am perfectly fine,” Y’shtola answers, her even tone a balm to Corisande’s racing heart. “‘Tis your well-being that worries me at the moment.”
Their surroundings come back to them when she speaks—the slightly uncomfortable infirmary bed they have been lying in for days, the too thin sheets beneath them, the blanket tangled around their legs. The window beside their bed, dark curtains drawn to keep out the light from the lamps that line Old Sharlayan’s stone paths. Their ears, sensitive to sound even in their most relaxed state, pick up the wind that rolls through the city outside, and they stifle an instinctual shiver. 
“Fine, now.” Guilt and embarrassment curl together in their stomach. They must have thrashed in their sleep, worrying her over nothing but a bad dream. They hear Y’shtola’s book snap closed and the fabric of her dress shift as she moves, and then the darkness recedes, replaced by the yellow glow of the lamp beside their bed. Though it had been calming to hear her voice, the sight of Y’shtola carries away their lingering worry in a wash of relief. 
“Are you sure?” Y’shtola asks. In the dark, her even tone had masked the extent of her concern. Now, though the light is low, Corisande can see the worry in her expression. Her lips press together in a tight line as she looks them over for any sign of disturbance to their aether—the only type of harm to them she is capable of seeing, something they know frustrates her and eases her mind in equal parts. “You seemed upset, before I woke you.”
“‘Twas nothing, love,” Corisande answers. They push themself up, sore arms aching with the effort. It is hardly the first time Y’shtola has borne witness to one of their nightmares, but shame heats their cheeks anyway to know just how much she had seen. 
Y’shtola starts to speak but stops, jaw clenched. They can tell by the way she looks at them that she is thinking over her words. Finally, she says, pointedly, “You were calling my name.”
“‘Twas only a dream,” Corisande murmurs, her embarrassment growing yet again. Her nightmares have clearly upset Y’shtola already, and there is no use in continuing to worry her now that Corisande is awake. It would be better for them both if she kept the contents to herself. 
Y’shtola leans forward in her chair, as if to reach for them, but pauses, her fists clenched tightly in her lap. She lets out a small, soft sigh, and says, “Please, Corisande. Tell me what it is you need.”
It borders on reproach, the way she says their name, yet it strikes their heart as if it were a desperate plea. They know how difficult it is for her to have turned their care over to the healers in Old Sharlayan, how much must it grate on her to have so little to do for them while they recover. She has sat by their side for days, even while they slept, only ever wanting to help. They reach for her hand, ignoring the sharp twinge in their protesting ribs. “Will you sit with me?”
Y’shtola squeezes their hand, relief flashing across her features. She releases them to unlace her boots, pulling them off and switching the lamp off before settling herself against the headboard. Corisande lays her head in Y’shtola’s lap, her eyes fluttering closed when Y’shtola begins gently stroking her ears.
The last of their lingering tension fades under Y’shtola’s soft, calming touch, their limbs growing pleasantly loose and heavy as she lulls them to sleep. The dream returns unbidden to their mind—Y’shtola’s head on her chest, a line of warmth along her side, the picture of perfect bliss. A mirror image of this moment, until the darkness had set in. 
Corisande pushes the dream aside. This—Y’shtola soft and warm and whole underneath them—was real, and the dream was not. They were no longer under threat of the Final Days. They had defeated The Endsinger—
What were you thinking, fighting alone? Never do that again. My poor heart couldn’t bear it.
The memory comes barrelling to the forefront of her mind, pulling her sharply back from the edge of sleep. Y’shtola leaning over her on The Ragnarok, some combination of worry and frustration openly scrawled across her face, speaking to her in that same reproachful tone she had used moments ago, underlined with something like anger. 
They take a deep breath and tuck themself closer to Y’shtola, willing themself to fall back asleep. But it is no use—this memory will not be brushed off as easily as the dream, and it brings with it a new worry that pricks at them as sharply as any of their injuries. But there is no healing to be had until they discover just how deep this particular wound goes. 
“Shtola,” they say, barely above a whisper. Y’shtola responds with the quiet, inquiring sound she uses when Corisande interrupts her reading with a question, and the familiarity of it eases the pressure in their chest. “Are you angry with me?"
She does not answer right away, but now that the question is asked, Corisande has faith she will answer honestly. They wait in silence, patient under the soothing motion of Y’shtola’s hand over their ears. 
“I am. And I have every reason to be,” Y’shtola says, that chiding anger seeping into her even tone. “You should not have fought The Endsinger alone. What were you thinking?”
The amalgamation of despair that was The Endsinger looms in their memory, the way it had loomed over them at the edge of the universe. The Scions had given their lives so that Corisande could make her way to its nest, and The Endsinger had cast them into the vast abyss of space for their efforts. Their sacrifices had been far too great for Corisande to disregard when she found herself standing alone. It was a simple choice, after everything they had done for her, to save them and stay behind to see the job done.
“I had to stop it,” Corisande answers, with the same certainty she’d felt when she’d made the decision. “I knew you would be safe on The Ragnarok—”
“‘Twas not my safety that concerned me,” Y’shtola interrupts sharply. “Staying behind to face The Endsinger alone was reckless. ‘Twas dangerous. ‘Twas…” 
Y’shtola trails off, an uncharacteristic tremble in her voice that tugs at Corisande’s heart. They shift in her lap until they can wrap their arms around her waist, pulling her even closer, and wait for her to continue.
“I have always chosen to stand by your side,” Y’shtola says after a moment. “To be so forcefully parted by The Endsinger, to watch you stay behind while I was whisked to safety—’twas all I could do not to add my own despair to her endless reserves.” 
They had known Y’shtola would be unhappy with their decision the moment they made it, but they thought they could bear it, so long as she was safe. So long as all of their friends were safe. But the hurt in Y’shtola’s voice as she speaks wraps itself like vines around Corisande, thorns pressing into all their softest parts, tempered only by the relief that Y’shtola is still here to be angry with them. 
“If you had died alone at the edge of the universe while I was stuck safely on The Ragnarok, able to do naught but hope and pray for your safety…” Y’shtola tightens her arms around their shoulders with a shuddering breath they feel beneath their cheek. “I do not know if I could have borne it.”
Y’shtola’s loosened grip on her composure at the mere thought of losing Corisande is enough to crack her heart wide open. Love and affection spring forth like a river freed from a dam, washing away everything in its path. Overwhelmed, she buries her face in Y’shtola’s shoulder, all but nuzzling closer.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Corisande says. Though there is nothing she would have done differently, she cannot deny the pain that she caused, nor that she is sorry for having caused it. She asks, as quietly as the question that had started this conversation, “Can you forgive me?”
“Tis not as if I can ask you to promise not to risk yourself again, can I?” Y’shtola says after a moment of silence. All her earlier anger has leaked from her tone, leaving behind only calm acceptance. 
“No more than I could ask it of you,” they reply honestly. The image of Y’shtola disappearing in a whirlwind of aether while they stood helplessly by lingers in their mind, not the dream that had woken them more than once but the very real memory of her sacrifice on Ultima Thule. 
Y’shtola leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of their head before resting her cheek there. “Of course I can forgive you, love. I know you always do what you believe to be right. I only ask that you allow me to help, when I can. You need not take on everything alone.”
“You are helping,” Corisande murmurs. Y’shtola’s presence was always a comfort, even more so now that they so often dreamed of losing her. “Being here when I wake—that helps.”
“Should you ever need anything more, you only have to ask,” Y’shtola says softly. Corisande nods in quiet acquiescence, and for a moment they hold each other in silence, Corisande taking comfort in their synced breaths, until Y’shtola adds, dryly, “But please, allow me my righteous indignation over your well-being until you are able to leave your hospital bed.”
Corisande’s laughter bubbles forth, as soft and warm as they feel. Y’shtola runs her fingers gently through the long waves of their hair, and, safe in Y’shtola’s arms, they finally let themself drift into sleep, one from which they hope not to wake until the morning. 
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jellyboy-arts · 1 year
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[dont repost my art w.o asking!]
ais's theme FUCKS. ais also fucks. hes bisexual which means he likes sex and sex (awful guitar hero noises)
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jakeperalta · 28 days
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...how dare taylor make the songs about her life...about her life?
I don't see why her making songs she already has in her discography and putting them in a new light is so controversial to you...
years later she sees them in a new perspective with nuance and hindsight, is she not allowed to change that?
it's a weird hill to die on, but sure. sure.
you guys are so annoying lmfao I've literally briefly shared my opinion (which is not in fact whatever you seem to be mad at here) and spent the rest of the evening focusing on more positive and exciting other fandom stuff. I'm not dying on any hill. I'm not even on the hill.
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ventismacchiato · 1 year
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guess who got txt tickets 🔥
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goldensunset · 1 year
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rindo for @mister-e-muss! thanks for the request!
y’know, i’ve always found something interesting about rindo. while it’s true that he only wears his mask up at the very beginning of the game and never again, even though it’s supposed to be symbolic of his anxiety when it comes to voicing his mind, i think what he really uses as his symbolic mask is his phone. he’s ALWAYS holding it, and in several sprites he actually does hold it up in front of his face like this. and at the very end of the game, while neku takes off his headphones, rindo puts away his phone. neat, right?
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