#✨pin worms✨

[storeecbrcod]

MWIII: Soap’s Nautilus Skin

Hear me out!

I’ve been told that Warzone is technically connected to the canon campaign, loosely, hence why everyone was really confused when Soap got his new Nautilus skin. He’s supposed to be dead, he shouldn’t be getting new legit-looking skins, at least not so soon after the campaign.

But, for the sake of my brainworm (that I know I share with others, shh), let’s assume Soap’s nautilus skin means he’s alive somehow. Let’s do some study (courtesy @ave661, doing god’s work for us ty):

Look at my pretty boy! Mask, gas tanks, and cool ass details, yeah? Just an awesome skin.

Let me put way too much detail and thought into this in the form of a ‘quick’ ficlet.

TW: canon-typical violence, medical settings, mentions of terrorism, mentions of torture/brainwashing. TLDR at the end :)

The 141 had been distracted as of late, chasing around a group of slippery but deadly terrorists that had made it their fucking mission to make the task force trip over them. Nobody was sure if they were intentional red herrings from Makarov, or just another rising force amongst disgruntled people that turned to violence to be heard. Either way, it was starting to really grate on everyone’s nerves, having to put the hunt for Makarov aside to deal with a new threat every other week, one too big and too elaborate for local defence departments to handle alone without the 141’s experience.

Because it was always the same elusive cunts fucking something up. Killing someone they shouldn’t have, intercepting deals and creating unrest amongst major crime rings around the world and sparking unrest through their deep, wide-spread roots. The team knew well how a small conflict could snowball into a wide-scale war, and it felt like they were preventing one every time there was a report of soldiers in black, glowing green tech with a hazy green tint to their eyes.

Price could see the way his team (3’s still a crowd, right?) was starting to grow restless with the near constant pull from their goal of finding Makarov, especially Ghost. He grew more distant by the day, getting more and more ruthless out field, reminding Price of his early days on the Task Force. Whether they liked it or not, Makarov had diminished forces right now, and he was not as much threat as—

“Fuck, Gaz, watch out!”

Another explosion went off, knocking Price and Gaz to the ground, their breath stolen as they tried to clamber back up to move out of range of fire. It felt like it was coming from everywhere, relentless, chaotic. The thudding of Price’s heart was the only thing that gave him rhythm, guidance on how to react and when and why. He pulled his sergeant to cover behind some stacked crates and dropping, continuing to heave through his strict chest.

This was the closest they’d gotten to the fuckers, never managing to see more than a glimpse of these skilled soldiers before. They gave them a run for their money, Price had admitted sourly many a time. They were legends on each base they travelled to now, infamous for how hard they were to catch, even for the equally infamous 141.

But now, they were close. It was eerie watching these people, almost robotic in their execution, unwavering, unafraid. They’d run into active fire if it meant they had a decent chance to advance and catch someone off guard. And somehow, they managed to get away, every damn time. They seemed to not register pain, either, if the way the one woman soldier continued to walk around despite her obviously broken leg was anything to go by.

They were like zombies, and it was deeply unsettling.

As far as Price could tell, there were two hostiles running around above them through the catwalks of the hangar they were currently pinned in. They were trying to pick shots, but they’d shoot their direction randomly as well, making it that much harder to predict when it was safe to poke their heads out to see if they even had a chance of running out.

“Ghost, where the fuck are you?” Price growled into his comms. The other man had been radio silent for almost half an hour now, ever since this stupid cat and mouse game started. They’d come in here to chase the bastards down, yet somehow his team were the ones being chased. It was beyond irritating, and it was also putting them in unreasonable danger.

“Cap!”

Gaz’s sudden yell had Price’s head on a swivel, following the man’s gaze to above them. Somehow, the third soldier of the little trio had managed to flank them, looking down at them from another isolated catwalk.

How Price neglected to watch their six, he didn’t know.

All he knew was there was a barrel of a rifle pointed straight at them from 10 metres up.

Within milliseconds, he knew three things; one, he wouldn’t be able to move Gaz and himself out of the firing line without making themselves vulnerable to the other hostiles. Two, any move they made now had them killed. And three…

Makarov was behind these soldiers.

Because who else would make their most deadly soldier, the most aggressive of the trio, the one that risked his life even more than his teammates, the one who seemed to hold easy leadership over the others—

Who else would shave their best soldier’s head into a mohawk, if not to taunt them?

Before he could even think to shield Gaz, pull him to his chest in a last-ditch effort to protect him in the hope that someone would get back home to tell their story, a dark blur slammed into the back of the soldier above, sending his rifle clattering to the floor. It was almost surreal, watching the mohawk’d soldier struggle against darkness, the occasional flash of stark white dancing around him.

Fists were exchanged. Bullets were sprayed towards them sporadically, but too out of range to hit accurately. The short barrier of the catwalk bit into the soldier’s lower back, starting to dangerously teeter further and further over it.

The rifle’s impact to the concrete hadn’t even finished echoing around the hangar when Price watched two figures tumble from the catwalk, grappling in the air. A sickening thud followed, the two bodies rolling with each other, parting and leaving one still on the ground while the other heaved on his hands and knees.

The moment of stunned silence seemed to hang forever, though it was only a second in reality. The gunfire had stopped, two sets of footsteps echoing down the corridors away from them. It left Price’s team, Gaz frozen and Ghost shaking with adrenaline, with an unconscious soldier.

Ghost crawled over to the body first, followed by Price standing over him. His veins were molten in rage, scorned again by the sight of his closest soldier posed over an unmoving soldier with a mohawk.

Fuck, they even got his eyebrow scar. I wonder what they did to create that?

Unlike last time, though, a muffled groan left the man on the ground, the body shifting slightly uncomfortably. His eyes (blue… what the fuck?) fluttered open, blinking away the confusion that likely fogged his mind. He breathed in, deep and full—

Even Price flinched at how fast the soldier’s hands came up to grasp at his mask, gasping, choking behind it, clawing desperately at a crack that spanned the left side of it. Blue eyes lit up with desperation, legs coming up to kick uselessly at the ground, back contracting as if in pain.

Reacting as a unit, Gaz moved forward to hold the soldier’s legs down, Price grabbing the man’s vest and forcing him down with all his might, Ghost grabbing his arms, forcing one to his side for Price to pin under his knees and holding the other one down. Even with three people on him, the soldier put up a good fight, even though it seemed like it was out of panic more than resistance.

Ghost grabbed the mask, struggling with the release catches that seemed to be stitched into the side of the man’s head, unable to get them loose. With a growl, he shuffled to force the soldier’s other arm down with his own leg, grabbing his throwing knife and carefully shucking it into the stuck lip of the release. He hit the butt of his knife, hearing the catch pop open before forcing the soldier’s head to the side and repeating the action.

The soldier only seemed to fight harder, turning his head away frantically as Ghost tried to yank the mask off. Despite having three people on him, he still managed to jostle them, pulling his hand out from under Ghost and earning himself a painful twist of the wrist.

“Ghost…”

“Stay still, fucker—”

With a final tug, the cracked mask is thrown from the soldier’s face, and it only makes the man thrash harder. His gasps for air are no longer muffled, the painful choking and heaves bouncing off the tall walls around them, surrounding them as they tried to hold him down.

It isn’t until his body tenses up completely, lips going blue that Price is finally able to get a proper look at the soldier’s face, and once again time stands still.

Those damn blue eyes stared up at Ghost, not breaking eye contact, and Price could swear he feels each of Ghost’s muscles tense up individually, his breathing stop alongside the body beneath them. The crude scar that dissected through the man’s chin was on full display, and he thinks he hears Gaz gasp beside him, his eyes glancing between the man’s face and Price’s own.

The soldier’s head was turned towards Ghost just enough to reveal the edge of the left side of his hairline, where a fading but ugly scar puckered right along his temple.

Price doesn’t stop Ghost from getting up and walking away once the man on the ground falls unconscious, his heart rate slow and his breaths returning even slower, but returning nonetheless.

Price doesn’t stop Gaz moving to take Ghost’s place, grabbing the body’s face so firmly yet so delicately, moving it back and forth as if to check he was real.

Price doesn’t react with anger when Laswell is silent on the other side of the radio, nor does he answer any questions except to insist on an emergency evac for their ‘prisoner’.

Price doesn’t do anything, except recite the paperwork they’d filed just two years ago, fixing it in his head over and over to come to terms.

John “Soap” MacTavish: KIA ALIVE

——————————————————————————

“This is fucking insane, even for Makarov.”

Nobody discounted Gaz’s observation, all just staring through the glass into the guarded hospital room holding John fucking MacTavish, lying still while tubes breathed for his sedated body. Well, all except Ghost.

They hadn’t seen Ghost in days.

Funnily enough, Nikolai had gone radio silent around the same time, too.

Hm.

Even Laswell had made her way over from her most recent post, vowing to lead the investigative efforts into Soap’s condition. The good thing was, he was relatively unscathed. Littered with new scars, sure. Aggressive and unforthcoming with even attempting to remember any of them, that too. Oh, yeah, and his body tries to shut down every time they take him off of the highest dose of anaesthetics, and nobody knows why, and he can’t tell them why.

Price has a headache.

“John.”

Price, Gaz, and the few medics with them all turned as Laswell approached, and their reaction was immediate. They all seemed to see the gravity in her features, sense the density of what she had to say on her tongue. Her frustration and worry was palpable, in her own stone-cold way.

Price hasn’t seen her like this since… well, ever. It didn’t invoke him with much confidence.

“We finally got the toxicology results back for the gas in the tanks,” she stated, though she didn’t offer the paperwork in her hands. Actually, she gripped the package with white knuckles. Another action that made Price even less confident this news was going to be anywhere near pleasant.

“And?”

“He’s developed a non-lethal strain of Nova gas.”

Silence. Pure silence. Disbelief? Bewilderment? Surprise? Who fucking knows. But they were silent.

“Nobody’s sure how it works just yet,” Laswell continues curtly, looking to Soap’s body through the window. “But it’s a pretty strong theory as to why Sergeant MacTavish was acting so…”

“Zombie-like?” Gaz offers, an interruption met with Laswell pursing her lips for a moment.

“I’d prefer another word, but if it fits.”

Quiet befalls them all again, Price scratching at his beard in an attempt to dispel the twisting mess of anger, worry and confusion. It’s been hard, trying to continue applying pressure to Makarov while they’re a Lieutenant down and distracted by an old teammate basically raised from the dead.

“We managed to extract some files from a hard drive found in one of Makarov’s bogus operation suites,” Laswell continued, looking back to John with more concern than before, really not helping on the confidence front. “I have people combing through them, though a lot of them are encrypted so thoroughly they’ll take days to decode. However, there are a few bits and pieces of jumbled reports, seemingly test experiments involving the new strain. The only new information we have at this point is how they acclimatise their patients to the gas.”

“Acclimatise?” John repeated, gruff with restrained emotion. Leadership and professionalism was always important, but right now, he couldn’t care less about seeming totally calm.

“Yes, acclimatise,” it sounded barbaric with the way she said it, like it was glimpse into what it meant. “They’d place the test subjects into gas chambers, restrained, and flood the chamber with the gas. Somehow the body adapts to rely on the gas as air after rigorous training.”

“Torture through suffocation more like,” Gaz grumbled, glancing between Price and Laswell, whose jaw ticked.

“Apparently, the gas is most effective when the patient is fully reliant,” she added, then shrugged. “Effective in what way, the team has no clue. Though they’re pretty confident it’s the efficacy to reduce cognition enough to lose the ability to do anything without outside influence.”

“Like a damn personal attack dog,” Price growled.

A beat of silence lingered, everyone in the room trying to comprehend how this would affect Soap’s recovery. If he could recover at all.

“So that’s why he acts like he’s suffocating when he’s conscious?” Gaz inquired. “Because he is?”

“We can only assume so.”

“This is so fucked up,” Gaz whispered, linking his hands behind his head and looking to Soap again. It was like some movie bullshit, the impossible becoming possible but without the safety of being in your living room. Watching a tornado head your way when you’re in the middle of a damn field. Absolutely impossible to comprehend, yet happening anyway, beyond your control.

“We’re going to see if keeping him sedated and letting his body recover from what could be years of exposure will reverse the effects of the chemical,” Laswell said slowly, but interrupted herself with a sigh, looking to Price earnestly.

Price thinks he sees his last sliver of confidence drift off in the breeze of the ventilation.

“We also have to consider his supposedly lethal GSW,” she slowly continues, shuffling where she stood. “We can only assume the parts of his brain responsible for memory, speech, thought processing was impaired with the injury.”

“There’s a chance nothing will change because his injury could have destroyed his ability to reason and remember before the gas,” a medic speaks up, putting the dots together quickly in her head and turning to Price, brow etched with concern. “There’s a very small possibility he will recover completely, or even to the point of independence.”

Price shared a look with Gaz, then the medics, and finally Laswell again. The words stuck in his chest, resistant to the idea of speaking something into being.

“We might not get Johnny back at all.”

——————————————————————————

…soooo :3

TLDR: Makarov has developed a new strain of gas, which he uses to suppress the cognitive reasoning in those that breathe it in, and allows him to train them into his cute lil super soldiers. The reason for the gas masks and everything? The soldier becomes reliant on it, their body adapting to rely on it fully like oxygen, otherwise they feel like they’re suffocating, hence needing to have it everywhere they go.

I know it’s very winter soldier, but to be honest it would make the most sense to me if Soap’s survival becomes canon. It rolls a few pre-MWIII theories into one; Soap ‘dies’ (canon), Soap is the traitor, and Soap is brainwashed by Makarov. It would be so interesting imo, and if they don’t take it I WILL RIOT—

Anywayyyy… I have vague explanations for things, i.e spreading his ashes that could totally work (with a little bit of narrative bending ✨) but I ain’t gonna go into it here and now. I could though…

Also, I know Nova gas isn’t what the gas is called, that it’s a similar thing from a grenade in the game. But fucking sue me, I’m not gonna make Laswell say “he’s developed a new strain of Unspecified Chemical Gas” like it’s some 13 year old’s Garage Band song they forgot about. Chill. It even says on the (totally very reliable) wiki that the closest thing is Nova gas, seeing as it’s the EXACT SAME except players who inhale it don’t cough. Stay back, Call Of Duty purists!! 🤺💨

[ultrainfinitepit]

Angelology IV: Angels of Extinction pins ✨ Backers, stay tuned for an update soon! If you missed the campaign and are waiting for leftovers, keep an eye out for an announcement when they are available.

Guest designs by @royarach @raphdoods @palossssssand @vile-worm

[verodoodles]

🌈🎪The circus is in town!!🎈✨

Hello hello! My cute clay pins are officially open for grabs!🌈🌼✨

If you see a pal you’d like, please comment below or dm me and we’ll go from there! All pins are $26 (sweaters are $30) and include free s&h / US only!✨

I only have 4 pins of each design so act fast! 💨

Here’s what’s up for grabs!

• Piero the puppy clown 🐶🎪✨

• Noodle the Party Worm 🪱🎈

• Lil Dexter Worm❤️💛💙

• Clown Cloud🌈☁️

• Little Rock Star ⭐️🌈✨

• Wizard Frogs ✨Fern & Fran✨

• Rainbow Daisy Sweater 🌈🌼

[intheticklecloset]

Ahh! Peppermint mochas✨I’d love 💚 Extra Mint lee bakugo and ler todoroki with a custom prompt ”naughty or nice” Happy holiday season to you! Can’t wait to read everything you come up with☺️

❄️ Peppermint Mocha Special Order ❄️

Warning: Some suggestive content, since the prompt was practically begging for it 😈

~~~

“Hey, Katsuki?”

“Mmm?” Bakugou mumbled sleepily, rubbing circles along his partner’s back. “What’s up?”

Todoroki very rarely brought out his more suggestive side, but it dripped with every word when he asked, “Have you been naughty or nice this year?”

Instantly Bakugou was awake again. He blinked at the icy-hot boy who was grinning at him from his position tucked into his side on the couch. The blonde swallowed. “The hell? How old do you think I am, five?”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

This could go one of two ways, Bakugou knew. If he said he’d been nice, not only would it be a lie, it might make Todoroki do something rather…well, nice for him. But if he said he’d been naughty…

Fighting the burn on his cheeks, he let out a halfhearted scoff and grumbled, “What if I have been bad? Then what?”

Within seconds the blonde was flat on his back on the couch, Todoroki pinning him by his shoulders and looming over him with a smirk. “Then I’d have to punish you.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou couldn’t help the way his voice came out, soft and growling at the same time. He swallowed again, his heart racing in his chest. His boyfriend was usually the quieter type, more prone to wanting cuddles than anything…like that. But every once in a while he turned the tables, and it worked every single goddamn time.

Todoroki chuckled, grasping his partner’s wrists and pushing them above his head, leaning in to kiss him before murmuring, “Don’t get comfortable. Like I said, if you’ve been bad, I’ll have to be a little mean to you.” Then – before Bakugou could quip that he could handle whatever ‘mean’ Todoroki had in him to be – the half-and-half hero plunged his fingers into his boyfriend’s armpits.

“SHIT FUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK!!” Bakugou screamed, slamming his arms back down protectively, but it was too late. With Todoroki straddling his waist and his unfairly cold fingers in one of his worst ticklish spots, all the blonde could do was cackle and kick helplessly. “YOU AHAHAHAHAHASSHOLE THIS ISN’T WHAHAHAHAHAHAT I THOHOHOHOHOHOUGHT YOU MEHEHEHEHEANT!!”

Todoroki merely chuckled along with him as he kept up his assault, eyes bright with excitement that he simply couldn’t hide. He loved making Bakugou lose control like this.

“It’s not a punishment if you enjoy it, now is it, Katsuki?” he teased, worming his fingers down to that death spot at the base of his armpits, just above his ribs.

Bakugou positively keened with laughter, gasping for breath even as he cursed, “YOU SOHOHOHOHOHON OF A BIHIHIHIHIHITCH!! I’LL GEHEHEHEHEHET YOU FOR THIHIHIHIHIHIHIS!!”

Todoroki pressed a quick kiss to his jaw. “Maybe this will encourage you to be a little nicer next year, baby~”

[running-tweezers]

✨Meet Harper✨

Harper is my new Official Redactedsona. A fair bit of her is based on both me now and me when I was her age. She’s the cringe theater kid that lives in my soul and I love her like a daughter now.

More About Harper Under the Cut!

- Born and raised in Dahlia to a Sonal Energetic dad and an Unempowered mom.

- Her dad was in a band that had a huge one hit wonder in the 90’s. They moved from Mont Blanc to Dahlia to try and further their career but never had the same amount of success again. He still makes music and has always encouraged Harper’s desire to perform.

- Her mom has an indie fashion brand and on occasion works as a personal stylist. She met Harper’s dad when his band did a photoshoot for the magazine where she was interning. She taught Harper to sew and instilled her with a love of DIY fashion.

- Harper has loved music and being on stage since she was a kid. Her parents tell her she was singing before she could talk. After years of staging elaborate living room performances for them, they signed her up for a children’s theater camp and she fell in love instantly.

- Because her mother was unempowered, no one was sure if she would end up inheriting her dad’s powers. But they ended up manifesting on accident when she was 13, when she sang the final riff of Defying Gravity and busted out all the windows in her room. Her dad had never been so proud.

- She has a belt that if unrestrained could blast everyone out of their seats. They actively have to NOT give her a mic.

- Some of her favorite roles she’s ever played were Princess Winnifred in Once Upon A Matress, Annie Oakley in Annie Get Your Gun, and Elle Woods in Legally Blonde

- She’s been known to push herself way too hard in pursuit of perfection. She’s camped in practice rooms for hours at a time, using her powers to silence the sound of her voice to others so no one can hear her mistakes or know how long she’s been at it.

- She loves making her own clothes and flipping old thrift store items into new fun pieces. Her pride and joy is her dad’s old leather jacket she successfully dyed purple and covered in patches and pins.

- She has a huge collection of strange earrings. Rubber ducks? Troll dolls? Worm on a string? Balloon animals? Tiny dinosaurs? They can all be found hanging from her ears.

- She often tells people that she’s no longer allowed in the Dahlia Denny’s after the quote “Shrek Cast Party Incident”. They think she’s joking. She’s not.

[diodellet]

no, i'd rather pretend: omake

(jamil viper x g/n reader, just plain comfort and shameless self-indulgence. i'm not saying that every emotional moment has to end in happiness/laughter but i like to think that it's still worth finding levity in most situations alongside trying to move forward.) link to the fic if u'd like context

When your emotions have calmed down, you spend a few more minutes together with Jamil. A comfortable silence falling over the both of you.

Until you chose to stand. No you don't ask for help, because at least standing on your own two feet, that you can do.

Cue ✨TV static✨ shooting up your legs.

"Oh...wait, wait a minute. Give me a sec."

"You're having pins and needles, aren't you?"

"...N, No I'm not...No, don't do that!" Your protests go unheard as Jamil lightly nudges the side of your leg with his foot.

You screech and brace one hand against the wall, stumbling away from Jamil with an awkward hobble.

You shoot him a (pitiful attempt at a) withering glare. "I told you to give me a sec!"

In place of his tender gaze is a mischievous grin. "I would have helped you up... if you told me," Jamil says through barely-restrained snickers.

You can only frown at him in response, which sends him further along his laughing fit. Figures, you should've expected this. There truly was no letting your guard down around this guy.

He apologizes and offers to make you a pick-me-up snack in the kitchens.

But you can't let him off the hook just yet. A half-baked revenge plan forms in your mind.

When he takes your hand once again, you feign stumbling forwards a second time, letting him catch the full weight of your body with a grunt.

"Ha! Karma!"

"I could just drop you, you know?"

"Ah, but you wouldn't! ...would you?"

Just when things lightened up, doubt always found a way to worm itself into your words. It sucked.

"Do I even need to answer that?" His finger prods against your forehead. "Come on."

(Besides, having his pinky linked with yours as you follow him to the kitchen was enough to quiet that thought.)

[morningsharksworld]

I don't know if you write platonic fanfictions or not, but I had an idea about one! I just felt like sharing it with you, in case it gave you any inspiration or brain worms for a future story!

A story of a new member who'd join the Phreaks who's older than Hazard, maybe in their 40s, that'd help them out during one of their heists then leave, but they keep meeting in the same place, and this lone wolf vigilante having no gang decides "sure I could roll with you guys, you seem like you could use my help." Then after they join, all the combat experience and abilities they have are super useful, their personality fits in pretty well, they're not judgmental, and they act like almost a chill Mom/Dad figure that everyone appreciates. I understand the Phreaks are all a found family, but I see it as a found family of brothers and sisters. This new member would be like the 'mother/father' figure of theirs. They go through some sort of dangerous gang fight, one that nearly could have got Hazard killed, and this parental gang member does something that saves him. And after Hazard goes "thank you" the member goes "no problem son," and it sticks to Hazard for the rest of the event until they get home.

Imagine that when they get home Hazard brings it up, and the member admits that they had a son who was only 14 years old when they passed away... due to this horrible system. The healthcare system, the education system, the judicial system. They hated all of it after what it all did to their son... and then they'd confess that Hazard's confidence and dreams and perseverance reminded them so much of their late son that if they lived only 10 more years, they'd probably be just like him.

Imagine that this person eventually 'adopts' Hazard as a son in this gang, and their bond goes deeper than blood. And for the first time in his life Hazard has a father figure that actually gives a shit about him, listen to his feelings and ideas, and even show up to is wedding with Susie (or enter S/O here)

Deeper Than Blood

A/N: AAHHH I had to take a moment to appreciate this because this is extremely wholesome, I wish blizzard made these type of dynamics with some of the characters in game. It took longer than expected because I wanted to make it as perfect as possible and to convey the perfect portrayal for it. I hope you like it 👹✨. Also fun fact every time that I wrote the character in question dialogue, for some reason I kept reading it in the voice of Dracula from castlevania, but when he…you know ALMOST kills Alucard and that kind of made me tear up a bit.

Summary: The phreaks along Hazard found someone to call home.

The job had gone sideways before it even began. Hazard crouched behind a rusted metal container, his heart pounding as gunfire rattled through the abandoned factory. The Phreaks were pinned down, outnumbered and outgunned. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

A shadow passed overhead, swift and deliberate. Hazard barely caught the blur of movement before he saw one of their attackers collapse, then another. It wasn’t one of the Phreaks—this figure moved with precision, like they’d done this a thousand times before.

In the chaos, Hazard felt a hand grip his arm and yank him behind better cover. “Keep your head down, kid” the voice said, calm but firm. They didn’t stay long, vanishing into the smoke as quickly as they appeared.

When the dust settled and the Phreaks regrouped, Hazard couldn’t stop thinking about the stranger who’d saved him.

=====

The next week, Hazard found himself wandering back to the same district. He told himself it was coincidence, but deep down, he was looking for them. It didn’t take long. The stranger was leaning against a food stand, chewing on a skewer, their weathered face unreadable.

“You’re a persistent one aren’t you…” they said without looking up.

Hazard froze, unsure how to respond. “Ah, uh… wanted tae say thank’s, for last time.”

They shrugged. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“Ah don’t even ken who ye are, but really thank ye.” Hazard said, more curious than accusatory.

The stranger finally looked at him, their gaze steady. “Just someone who doesn’t like seeing people getting themselves killed.” The encounters became more frequent after that. Hazard started noticing them watching the Phreaks from a distance, their presence quiet but unmistakable. During another skirmish, they stepped in again, their skills turning the tide in the Phreaks’ favor.

Afterward, Hazard confronted them. “Why dae ye keep helpin’ us?”

The stranger raised an eyebrow. “Because you need it.” They glanced at the group of young, scrappy misfits. “You’ve got heart, but no direction. You could use someone who’s been around the block.”

The Phreaks were hesitant at first, but their actions spoke louder than words. Slowly, they became part of the crew—not just as a fighter, but as a grounding presence.

They were different from the others. Where the Phreaks were loud and brash, they were quiet and deliberate. They didn’t judge, didn’t lecture. Instead, they listened, offering advice when it was asked for and stepping back when it wasn’t.

For Hazard, they quickly became someone he trusted. Someone who didn’t dismiss his ideas or mock his dreams.

=====

It wasn’t until a particularly brutal confrontation with a rival gang that Hazard truly understood what they meant to him.

The Phreaks had been ambushed, their plan falling apart under the weight of sheer numbers. Hazard saw an opening and took it, charging forward to create a distraction. But he underestimated the enemy. A grenade landed near him, and he froze, realizing he didn’t have time to get away.

Before he could react, the stranger was there, shoving him aside and taking the brunt of the blast on their reinforced armor.

Hazard scrambled to their side as they pushed themselves up, wincing. "Ye awright?" he asked, his voice shaky.

“Fine” they grunted, brushing off debris.

“Thank ye mate” Hazard said softly, the weight of what just happened sinking in.

They gave him a faint smile. “No problem, son.”

The word lingered in Hazard’s mind long after the fight was over. They had called him kid before sure, but this was something new.

Later that night, back at the hideout, Hazard found them sitting alone in their room, quietly cleaning their gear. He hesitated before approaching. "Can ah ask ye somethin’?"

They looked up, their expression unreadable. “Sure.”

"Why’d ye call me ‘son’?"

For the first time, their composure seemed to falter. They set down their gear and took a deep breath. “Because you remind me of mine.”

Hazard blinked, caught off guard.

They continued, their voice heavy with emotion. “He died when he was fourteen. This city… it chews people up and spits them out. The healthcare system, the schools, the courts—they all failed him. Failed us. I hated it all after that. Walked away from everything.”

They paused, their hands trembling slightly. “When I see you fighting for something better, refusing to give up… I see what he could’ve been. What he should’ve been.”

Hazard didn’t know what to say. He sat down beside them, the silence stretching between them until he finally spoke hurriedly. "Ah'm sorry—Ah didnae mean tae pry intae it, it just caught me off guard and Ah—"

“Don’t be Son” they interrupt him while chuckling softly. “You’ve giving me a chance to make things right. To protect someone again. And if you’ll let me… I’d like to be the family you didn’t get.”

Hazard felt a lump in his throat but managed to nod. “Aye. Ah’d like that too, actually. Everyone would.”

From that moment on, their bond deepened. They weren’t just another member of the Phreaks—they were the calm in the storm, the steady presence that held the group together.

And to Hazard, they became more than a mentor, more than a protector. They were family.

In a world that had taken so much from both of them, they found something neither had expected: hope.

EXTRA:

The Phreaks were winding down after a job when the parental figure noticed Hazard, flushed, typing away on his comm-link.

"What’s this?" they teased, walking over. "Your head has been all in the clouds these past few days. Who’s on your mind, my boy?"

Hazard groaned, trying to his subtitle glances at her. "Nothin’… just Susie."

The tall figure could only grin. "Oh? You and Susie seem to be gettin’ real cozy with each other." They leaned in. "Tell me, are you asking her to marry you anytime soon? You do know that I’m not getting any younger”

Hazard’s eyes widened. "Whit?! Nae way! It’s no like that!"

"Oh, but I bet it could be." They chuckled. "I’d love to see it. You in your best suit, Susie by your side. Beautiful."

"Stop it!" Hazard said, trying to hide his face.

They could only ruffled his hair, still grinning. "Don’t worry, Son. I’m just havin’ some fun. But when you do, I’ll be there. Front row."

Hazard muttered under his breath "You’re impossible."

"And I’ll be proud to see it. Just don’t wait too long, eh?"

Hazard just nodded, half-flustered, half-grateful for the teasing that felt more like family than anything else.

[clownmoontoon]

⭐️ LAST UPDATED 10/16/24 !! ALL SALES CLOSED!! THANK U SO MUCH!!!!

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[rainbyte]

in your AU, is wally evil-evil or doomed by the narrative evil? what’s the dynamic between him and all the others?

Doomed by a Narrative that is very much so alive and wanting to keep everyone in their roles.

I love!! Stories where the Narrator is an active participant and wants everything to go just so. It's their story and we're in it! And what's storyteller's a perfect fairy tale without a grand villain?

Also something something - the eternal horrors of HAVING to maintain this role of 'evil' but tiptoeing the line to try and be good. Because you want to, but you know it's for the best to keep the status quo. Because at least if you are willingly the bad guy, then you can control what's going to happen. You won't have to face the unknown. You've stared it in the eyes before and the emptiness that looked back was sickening

And eventually maybe you even think that being a villain is all that you can be.

{ Also doublely doomed just by his reputation. Rumors can go wild when you live in a living abandoned castle in the creepiest corner of Hearthstone. ✨ }

~~~~~~~~~~

Dynamic wise!! It's, complicated?

I think he quite likes everyone fairly well enough and even looks forward to their fights. But also he knows he can't ever be their friend. And they rightfully think he's a formidable foe! A rascally rascal - but they can't ever really pin his motives down. They don't know what he wants.

I think Julie would be very insistent on trying to befriend him despite everything. Meanwhile Sally believes that they're both extreme WIZARD RIVALS ™️

Poppy is very afraid of him :(

And Howdy is the only one who he's like. Semi good terms? Since he's the only merchant in the lands who'd let him buy from him. ( Also from Howdy's Pov: gold is gold and it's not as if Wally's schemes ever hurt anyone in the long run )

Him and Barnaby though? HOOH. That's- a can of worms for another time

[foli-vora]

hi foli! today is my birthday (i’m feelin 22!!!) and i was wondering if perhaps i could get a rty sneak peek as a gift?? 🙏🤞 i’m literally counting down the days until the next update

OH HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEET ANGEL ❤️ HOPE YOU HAVE THE MOST MAGICAL DAY!! ✨ and yes, yes you can. It's just a little slither of a sneak peek, but only a few days to go!

“Back when you were undercover, did you have to wear one of these?”

There’s no anger in your voice, no betrayal or tone of accusation, just simple curiosity. You just want to know, and not to dwell on the past or overwhelm your mind with what his agents may have potentially heard, because god knows that’s a can of worms you don’t want to open. You feel genuine interest, because surely there would’ve been rules and safety precautions for undercover agents. What were his?

“I did,” he answers, guarded brown eyes briefly meeting yours before falling back to where his fingers pin the wire discreetly to your t-shirt, “but I only wore it for the first few meetings. I stopped when we—when we got closer.”

That was unexpected.

[youwouldntlietopapa]

"one more kiss please"+"good morning kisses"+"smiling" for secondo ✨

See? I AM still working on these. I am just slow as hell and also the new Assassin's Creed is out.

By way of apology, here is some straight up Secondo fluff with some mild Adult Activities.

+18 only, MDNI

________________________________________________________

Why, for the love of Lucifer, does this man’s alarm need to go off at such an absurdly early hour? It was a thought you’d had before and one you would have again. Hundreds of times, you’re sure. For, once again, the jarring sound of the electronic beeping wakes you up with all the subtlety of a smack in the face. The only part of this morning ritual that makes it worth while is waking up to him.

This morning, you wake up more on top of him than not. Curled up against his chest, arms still wrapped around him. The low rumble in his chest only makes you cling to him a little tighter and his warm hands on your back destroy the very small amount of resolve you might have had to let him go.

“Buongiorno, amore mio.” Secondo’s voice rasps a little more than usual, still thick with sleep. He brushes your hair off your face, carefully tucking it behind your ear, and kisses the top of your head. “It is time for getting up.”

“Only if you are a bird,” you protest. “Trying to get the worm. And what would you even do with a worm?”

Looking up at him, he smirks at you. Trailing his fingers teasingly down your sides and making you squirm. “You ask me if I still love you if you are a worm. So maybe I practice, eh?”

How anyone can look that smug this early in the day is beyond you. But you still retaliate by attacking his own ticklish spots. The noise he makes is extremely undignified and the speed with which he has you flipped onto your back so he can pin your hands is impressive. Even knowing it will lead to a punishment later, you can’t help laughing.

“Cosa malvagia! Attaccandomi, senza provocazione!” He scolds, though there’s mischief in his eyes. Not yet settled into his Very Serious Papa look for the day. His voice lowers to a soft growl next to your ear. “You know what this means, no? I will teach manners to you. Una lezione molto approfondita, credo.”

Still without the use of your hands thanks to his iron grip, you settle for wrapping your legs around his waist. Your hips rolling teasingly against his. “Does that mean you’re actually going to stay in bed late today?”

Even as you fix him with your biggest, saddest puppy dog eyes, you already know the answer. The shake of his head is only confirmation. “What is it I say to you, tesoro? Every time? Duty before pleasure.” Secondo releases his grip and cups your cheeks in his hands instead. Kissing you deeply in a way that that has your hips rocking against him more desperately and dragging a soft moan from you. “And I say it again. Time for getting up and duties. Pleasure will wait until later.”

You whine pitifully as he starts to pull away, catching his wrist and nuzzling against the palm of his hand. “Secondo, ti prego, ti supplico. Altri cinque minuti. Non baciarmi così e poi lasciarmi disperato. È crudele.”

He raises a brow and moves back to pin you to the bed. A wicked smile playing on his lips should have been enough of a warning. But you’re too occupied by his hand sneaking down to slip between your legs. Secondo’s smile widens when you gasp, his finger running through your slick.

“Mmmm…” His deep voice reverberates right through to your core. “So eager for me…”

A needy sort of sound escapes you and you don’t even bother trying to stop yourself. Your nails scratching softly over his back. “Please, Secondo…”

Secondo leans down closer, whispering next to your ear. “Then we consider this the first lesson. Patience.”

He sits up, grinning like a demon. His hands leaving you, even when you plead for more. But it’s too late, he’s already into the bathroom and you can hear the sound of the shower. When he comes back, you’re still on the bed, curled up in a huff and glaring daggers at him. Secondo’s smile twists oddly under his freshly applied paints and he walks over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“Sono un insegnante severo, mia cara, ma giusto.” He catches your chin and looks you in the eye. “I think, if you can be la mia brava ragazza this morning, I find time just for you at lunch. Si?”

Your eyes widen eagerly at the offer and you nod quickly. “I can. I know I can.” Even the desperateness in your voice can’t stop you.

He leans closer and the smell of his cologne mingles with the lingering smell of his soap and the faint, familiar smell of his paints. His finger runs softly along your jaw sending a shiver rushing down your spine. “One more kiss, please amore.” A game with rules and roles is one thing, but he needs the signal, at very least, to know that your anger is only for show and that there’s not a discussion to be had.

You let your pout drop entirely, for his sake. Leaning in and kissing him once more. Careful to not completely destroy his face before he’s even gotten to his office. Secondo smiles, content in knowing that you’re both on the same page. However, it doesn’t stop him from leaning in close and whispering in your ear.

“Don’t think this means we don’t teach you manners tonight, tesoro. I have plans for you.”

___________________________________________________________

Buongiorno, amore mio = Good morning, my love

Cosa malvagia! Attaccandomi, senza provocazione! = Wicked thing! Attacking me, without provocation!

Una lezione molto approfondita, credo. = A very thorough lesson, I think.

Secondo, ti prego, ti supplico. Altri cinque minuti. Non baciarmi così e poi lasciarmi disperato. È crudele. = Secondo, please, I'm begging you. Five more minutes. Don't kiss me like that and then leave me desperate. It's cruel.

Sono un insegnante severo, mia cara, ma giusto. = I'm a strict teacher, my dear, but a fair one.

la mia brava ragazza = my good girl

[eirinstiva]

Speedrun

In the second letter from Wooster about "Jeeves and the Unbidden guest" Motty continued with the speedrun of the gay life of New York™: he got drunk, he danced on a table, he was throw out from some places, he won a dog on a raffle and punched a policeman in the eye in... -sees notes- less than a month! Poor Bertie had to deal with everything until Motty ended in prison, and Jeeves didn't help him because Jeeves was mad about a pink tie. Sadly in that year GTA wasn't an option to distract Motty.

About the pink tie: maybe the problem wasn't the pattern, maybe what Jeeves found atrocious was the shade of pink. If it was a very bright pink I wouldn't like it too.

(Sorry not sorry, Phoenix Wright)

There really is nobody like Jeeves. He walked straight into the sitting room, the biggest feat since Daniel and the lions’ den, without a quiver. What’s more, his magnetism or whatever they call it was such that the dashed animal, instead of pinning him by the leg, calmed down as if he had had a bromide, and rolled over on his back with all his paws in the air. If Jeeves had been his rich uncle he couldn’t have been more chummy. Yet directly he caught sight of me again, he got all worked up and seemed to have only one idea in life⁠—to start chewing me where he had left off.

Maybe Lord Pershore won Rollo on the lottery, but Jeeves won Rollo's heart. That's why the dog bit Motty and Bertie. Good boy, Rollo!

Because the cold war about the pink tie and hat wasn't over yet, Wooster took the chance to visit his friend Rocky Todd to watch some worms. ✨

There was no doubt in the world that prison was just what the doctor ordered for Motty. It was the only thing that could have pulled him up. 

Maybe? At least Jeeves has a cover story. Boston is a good place to visit (maybe?).

The only flaw in the scheme of things was that Jeeves was still pained and distant. It wasn’t anything he said or did, mind you, but there was a rummy something about him all the time. Once when I was tying the pink tie I caught sight of him in the looking-glass. There was a kind of grieved look in his eye.

The infamous pink tie strikes back! But that's nothing compared to the Lady Malvers finding his son in prison. (⊙_⊙;)

I felt most awfully braced. I felt as if the clouds had rolled away and all was as it used to be. I felt like one of those chappies in the novels who calls off the fight with his wife in the last chapter and decides to forget and forgive. I felt I wanted to do all sorts of other things to show Jeeves that I appreciated him.

Bertie won the lottery with Jeeves

In the end and thanks to Jeeves:

Motty went to prison (Jeeves had the idea of the bet).

Lady Malvers now sees her son has a man with a "pure, fine spirit".

The pink tie and hat are now ashes.

That was fun!

[ultrainfinitepit]

Pride Angels is coming soon 👀 This will be my final campaign to feature guest artist pins, to end things on a high note we will have seven guest designs to fund! I'll be posting in more detail about these pins soon but in the meantime please enjoy all of them together. Artists tagged below ✨

@royarach @vile-worm @gavalaa Erujayy @raphdoods @wyrmzier @dreamvalestudios

[build-a-bear-altershop]

hi!!!!! we love your packs so so much. can we have a dealers choice alter? just totally whatever you'd like to do? if that's too broad, a cat-themed webcore alter who uses neoprns and has a bunch of transids is an alternative. thank you so much!!

This has absolutely nothing to do with a cat themed website alter, but you did say dealers choice so I hope it’s alright ^^’

2 for 1 Special!

Buggirl

Name: Buzz, Beetle, Ant, Adalia, Adrena, Danuria

Age: 14

Gender: Bugthing, buggender (specifically beetlegender)

Pronouns: shx/hxr, wriggle/writhe, bzz/bzz, inch/worm, ant/ants, 🪲/🪲’s, 🪨/🪨’s, 🍃/🍂’s

Orientation: Questioning (But likes girls and has a crush on the aliengirl if you introject her ^^)

Species: Buggirl

Role: Pin cushion, vault, therapia

Cis-Ids: Bug, green skin, chitin covered, can fly, wings, sarcastic, funny, ADHD, braces

Trans-Ids: TransNerd, transBloodcolor (red), transBraceUser, permateen, transBPD,

Likes: Other bugs, playing outside, making ‘potions’, long baths, fronting with aliengirl

Dislikes: Loud noises

Pos. Triggers: Bugs and insects

Sign off: ;🪲

Aliengirl

Name: Nova, Astra, Cassiopeia, Amalthea, Selena, Elara

Age: 14

Gender: Girlishian, spacegender, spacejunkfeminine, spacecoric, alienic, psygender, gender hoarder

Pronouns: shee/heer, sol/star, sun/suns, voi/void, uni/verse, glow/glow, orb/orbit, second/minute/hour, 🌝/🌚’s, 🌒/🌘’s, ⭐/🌟’s, ☄️/☄️’s,🌙/✨’s,🔋/🔋’s, 🛰️/🛰️’s, 🛸/🛸’s

Orientation: Questioning

Species: Alien

Role: Peacemaker, perceptionalist, optimist, receptionist

Cis-Ids: Autism, alien, green skin, loud, outgoing

Trans-Ids: transADHD, transStarPupil, permaFronting, transTall, transOCD

Likes: Space (of course), stim boards, makeup, psychedelic music, buggirl <3

Dislikes: Any rude or annoying people

Pos. Triggers: Aliens and talk of space, other systems splitting new members

Sign off: ;🪐

picrew

- mod 🐠

[moonliched]

Which scene from the fic is your favorite so far? Which was the most difficult to write? Any playlists you like to listen to when writing or a program/video game? Were you inspired by anything when creating the fic?

ooh, i'm not sure! it has to be a toss-up between the scene in Chapter 2 where Moon lured Y/N close so he could grab them, the part where Y/N gave him the knife to cut himself free, or maybe the tunnels scene in Chapter 6 where Moon was hunting them down. i vividly remember having very clear mental images for how these scenes should go, and feeling giddy that it was all coming out how i wanted☺️✨

as for most difficult, it would definitely have to be in Chapter 10 where the Glamrock team arrives, and the following meeting where Y/N debriefs them on the mermaid situation. i had to rewrite that several times, and i find the Glamrocks so difficult to pin down😭😭😭

i'm actually so distractible that i can't listen to anything while i write😅 but some songs i'd listen to if i could would be: Never Go Back or Swimming Home by Evanescence, or Longing For the Sea by Snow White Blood

i had a dream years ago where i had to free a trapped mermaid in a submerged cave, culminating in me giving them the knife so i could flee before they had enough movement to eat me. i also have dreams where i'm escaping through maze-like tunnels that resemble those cramped, cylindrical slides in child's play areas. sometimes they're completely submerged in murky water, and a massive serpent is hunting me down. on occasion, it's a giant blind worm. other than my dreams i'm also inspired by The Murderbot Diaries book series by Martha Wells!

[translationandbetrayals]

Kimi ni Todoke, age-gap relationships and shoujo sins

Kimi ni Todoke is probably one of the most popular shoujo romances of the late 2000s/2010s. The story follows Kuronuma Sawako, a 15 year old girl who cannot seem to connect with people around her due to her gloomy appearance and her name being similar to the character in The Ring—Sadako. As the series progresses, we see her being able to form deep bonds with those around her, including her crush, Kazehaya Shouta.

Personally, I love it. I think Sawako is a very special character who loves deeply and sincerely cares about the people around her, and it’s great to see how she starts to develop her communication skills to the point everyone can see her as the genuinely kind person she is by the end of the story. However, Sawako (and her relationship with Shouta) is not what I would like to discuss today.

There are other characters to Kimi ni Todoke, and each is enticing in their own way. You have Kurumizawa Ume, Sawako’s love rival; Yoshido Chuzuru and Yano Ayane, Sawako’s first and closest friends; Miura Kento, a hard-to-describe-but-eventually-kind classmate; Sanada Ryuu, Chizuru’s best friend (and eventually, a love interest) and close friend to Shouta; Arai Kuzuichi, the homeroom teacher also known as Pin; among others. Today, I want to focus on Chizuru and Ayane.

Ayane (left) and Chizuru (right)

Chizuru, a somewhat dense but loyal girl, has known Ryuu all her life, due to them living in the same neighborhood and spending their childhoods and teenhods together. Ryuu explicitly tells Sawako that he has feelings for Chizuru when they find themselves alone—however, he knows it’s pointless, because she has feelings for his older brother by eight years, Tohru.

When Chizuru reveals her crush on Tohru to Ayane and Sawako, they support her, without putting into question the fact that she is just a 15 year old girl and he is a 23 year old grown-ass man with a job, a driver’s license and a mortgage to pay. And I don’t blame them, honestly; at that age, we don’t tend to question the power imbalances in romantic relationships between teenagers and adults (especially between teenage girls and grown men, the most common example of this phenomenon), let alone in the 2010s, as it’s very normalized in both Japanese society and here. It’s a whole can of worms.

When Tohru comes back home for a quick family visit, Chizuru stumbles upon him at the Sanada residence, and she’s excited to show her how much she’s grown and her ✨womanly✨ side that she’s been working on. However, he walks in with his fiancée: a woman his age who he’s fallen in love with and expects to spend the rest of his life with.

Chizuru is, of course, devastated—she had been living with that crush ever since she was a little girl, slowly fueling it as she grew older, hoping that eventually the years that separated them wouldn’t be a problem when she eventually proved hershelf to be a woman and not just his little brother’s friend. But Tohru had seen her grow up, hadn’t he, next to his little brother as they caught bugs and played in the grass.

Next is Ayane, a very feminine girl who isn’t afraid to speak what’s on her mind and is also incredibly loyal. At the beginning of the show, it’s revealed that she has a boyfriend: an older guy, specifically a university student, that we don’t get to see the face of.

This relationship ends in disaster, because the guy grows jealous of the time Ayane spends without him—he’s jealous of her friends, of the fact that she’s still a high school student, and hates that she can’t devote every second of her life to him. When she tries to break up with him due to this behavior, he hits her in the face. She doesn’t let herself be intimidated and breaks up with him, though.

When the rest of the gang finds out, I personally believe there wasn’t too much outrage for what was done to Ayane, but I digress. That’s neither here nor there.

She then tries to date guys her age—you know, other teenage boys and not adult men—as she admits she’s never dated anyone who isn’t older than her, and she attempts it twice. It was futile, sadly, as she couldn’t actually manage to catch romantic feelings for either of them, despite how badly she wanted that to be the case with the second boy.

However, she starts developing a crush on no one other than her nemesis: their homeroom teacher, Pin, who is a bit of a gym-bro, incredibly hyper and also nosy as hell. The two spent a considerable amount of time butting heads in a myriad of situations, but Ayane was also aware that Pin genuinely cared about all his students and tried to help them as much as he could.

Ayane really curses herself for catching feelings for Pin, as she knows it would never be possible, and she believes it’s karma for dating the second guy without actually having feelings for him and giving it a shot knowing she could never reciprocate.

Pin, despite his odd behavior, is very aware of the fact that he’s a teacher and that he’s responsible for the students, so he never even slightly entertains the idea of dating any of them. In fact, he directly and consistently opposes the idea. There’s a misunderstanding earlier in the story, where Pin, being overconfident and conceited, believes that Ume’s feelings are directed at him and not Shouta. He doesn’t give her time to explain if that is or not the case, because he immediately starts to shut her down. Pin flatters himself, saying that it’s only natural for people to fall for him, but Ume is a ‘brat’ and she should be worried about dating ‘other brats’, not older guys like him. A consistent character trait of Pin is that he will never, ever, look at a student that way.

There are three different age-gap relationships* in Kimi ni Todoke, involving two different characters, and I think it’s there to explicitly state that, when it comes to teens and adults, things don’t work out.

Shoujo catches a lot of smoke in animanga circles, and one of the criticisms I see is the normalization and romantization of age-gap relationships. And, as a shoujo enjoyer myself, I can absolutely see that! One of my all-time favorite series is Fruits Basket, and my biggest beef with it is how they really go out of their way to portray age-gap relationships between literal kids and grown ass adult men as something good. Like, these dudes can literally buy a house and the girls can’t even vote at that age. You see it twice: first, with Katsuya and Kyouko, the protagonist’s parents, who were a teacher and high school student respectively, with an eleven-year gap that met when the girl was just 15; the second time, with one of the protagonist’s best friends, who falls in love with and starts to date a 26 year old man as a 17 year old. I have another guy in there under surveillance as well—Kazuma, you ain’t slick!

Hell, I can even see it a little bit in Lovely Complex, when Risa was feeling defeated after being rejected by Atsushi for the gazillionth time. She starts to force herself to like their new English teacher, Maity, solely because he looks like the main character of an otome game—which I can respect, by the way, because it’s girl math. Anyway, she isn’t the only student with a crush on him, and at one point, to help Atsushi realize his feelings, he even plays along with the whole liking Risa thing. And no one thinks it’s weird that a teacher is involving himself like that in teenagers’ business. And I am perfectly aware it isn’t serious, honestly, but I can still see this problem present in one way or the other even if it’s not actually being seriously considered as an actual plot point.

I’m someone who went to an all-girls school, and I saw first-hand how my friends got into relationships with guys who were way too old for them (hell, 8th grade girls dating 12th grade guys who were a couple of months away from being 18), and I can assure you that all of them ended in disaster. Now that we’re in our early 20s, wiser due to our prefrontal cortexes being closer to finishing their development, they can see how messed up their relationships were because they were at a disadvantage from the start.

I think Kimi ni Todoke does put in the effort to denounce these situations, and it’s something I appreciate from the bottom of my heart. Tohru loves Chizuru deeply, but he can only see her as a little sister and he makes it clear that she’s family to him. Ayane’s first (shown) relationship is with an older guy and it ends in disaster because they’re in completely different stages in life and want different things. And he’s also, like, a major asshole. And Ayane knows Pin would never look at her that way because he’s made it indisputable that that’s his position.

And, eventually, things work out for these girls. For the most part. All well that ends well.

Francisca Salgado. ☆