#ACT 2 BABEY

[creatureffeature]

THINGS TO DO IN REITHWIN TOWN

1: LEAVE

[fizzytoo]

☀️

[shinikamo]

Fuck all them holidays I'm celebrating what's really important and that's the 2nd anniversary of when I started playing A3

...though this Sumi was just for fun and actually has no relation to that other than the fact that he was my first oshi and the first one I drew

I found this outfit in the lil photo thingy, thought it was cute and then used it as a testing ground 4 Even More Colorful Shading and Lineart Practice

Also the shoes look cool. big fan of those chonky boys!

I'll keep the sap to a minimum but it's honestly still crazy to me that I've had something that makes me want to draw so much that I've been drawing the silly little boys from it for two years now, let's see how the third year goes!

[villainanders]

I keep forgetting that I’m technically romancing astarion rn and getting jumpscared by him flirting with me

[darkgifted]

unfortunately for everyone, another act 2 meta on the way

[suitetarts]

haha gale is in danger

[rosykims]

love thinking about ocs-as-companions its gotta be one of my favourite genres of thought <3

[lecliss]

You know. Remembering that Nomura once said he envisioned Red being voiced by. Uh.... Matthew Mchonnhie....? Whoever the fuck, whatever the fuck, idc who it really was. Anyway, that's probably the reason why Red has always been given a deeper voice, but with the revelation that his normal voice is actually very childlike, I have to wonder, if it weren't for Nomura envisioning him sounding that way, might Red have always had a childish voice from the start then? Is this Square's way of correcting what they think might have actually been best for Red's character? 🤔🤔🤔

[yumenosakiacademy]

mom doesnt kno im solo nowadays so shes like "ur friends hav their lives put 2gethr n u dont! >:(" girlie theres no1 2 compare me 2 anymore. i won the game.

[phyrestartr]

My World Ends With You (1/2) | Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

Miguel x Husband!Reader W/C: 4.7k

#SFW, hurt/comfort, infidelity, toxic relationships, brief verbal abuse, mending relationships, difficult/complex feelings and emotions, things work out in the end, nobody dies, the zombies aren't that important, old men just really going through it, ZOMBIES BABEY

Note: Tis a continuation of Till Death Do Us Part . Would rec reading that first lest you get mad confused

--

“Did Miguel cheat on you?” 

The question caught you off guard. As far as you knew, only a handful of people got the gist of what happened, and even fewer knew the exact reason why everything systematically fell apart. 

“How'd you–who told you?” You asked Gwen, surprise and trepidation creasing your brow. 

The young lady shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest tighter as she leaned toward the fire you'd made–the one you made out of pure restlessness from staying inside for too long. You decided to pretend you were out in the great outdoors like the old days, and set up a ring of rocks and chairs on the roof to escape the fluorescent lights and white walls. Evidently, Gwen needed a break from it all, too.

“Gabi.” She fiddled with her toque and cleared her throat. “She, uh--y'know. She mentioned it.” 

“Huh.” Your gaze wandered away from Gwen, and back to the fire. “I didn't think she'd remember.” 

“How old was she? When it happened, I mean.” 

“Must've been 11. We split when she was 13, I'm pretty sure.” You sighed and leaned back in your shitty old soccer mom chair. “Guess we were bad at hiding it.”

“Pretty hard to hide that kinda thing from your kid,” Gwen mumbled, dwelling on something ancient and sore in the depths of her memories. “They're more perceptive than you think.” 

You nodded. The stars caught your attention and you stared up, gazing upon the winking lights and shooting comets flying by. Most of those celestial bodies were there when everything happened. Did they remember, too? Were they haunted, too?

“Yeah. My parents thought I didn't know nothin’ either. They didn't know how wrong that was,” you agreed. 

“So he did cheat on you?” Gwen asked. You nodded. She scoffed. “But--why? He always acts so lovey-dovey and gross around you. Why would he–?”

“Good people do bad things,” you said, and continued before she could cut in, “‘n bad people do good things, sometimes.” 

“So which camp is he in?” She asked.

“Pretty sure he's mostly good.” 

“Pretty sure?” 

You chuckled. “I've met ‘bad guys,’ believe me.” You took a breath and nudged some logs around in the fire with a stick. “Miguel ain't like them. He's full of himself, arrogant, stubborn ‘n all that, but he's helped people. He's helping people, even if he's got a crap attitude about it.” 

“Right,” Gwen breathed. Her voice carried something heavy with it. Something uncertain and unwavering, like the teeter of winter into spring, or thunder that wondered if it might rain. Her restless energy mirrored the fire as it roiled and spat brilliant sprays of embers into the cold, night sky; only, the fire would eventually die down, calm itself into blackened coals. Gwen’s torch would not fade as such. 

“You think he’s a bad guy?” You asked. 

“Never really thought he was a good guy.” She rubbed the back of her neck before sighing. “But. Yeah.  Never thought he was a bad guy, either. Kinda feels like a vigilante, or something. But less cool.”

You smiled when you peered over at her. “Maybe like an antihero?” 

“Way less cool than that, but yeah. Sure. An antihero,” she huffed. “But you’re a blue-blood. I don’t think those types are supposed to get along.” 

That made you laugh. “I think they get along pretty well. They do in the comics, even if they don’t see eye-to-eye on everything.” 

Gwen rolled her eyes. “You mean most things?”

You nodded. “Yeah, most things.” You tucked your hands into your pockets and gazed up again, this time losing your thoughts to the endless void of grey sweeping in and devouring all light in the sky. “You don't need to worry about me, Gwen. There’re more–”

“More important things to worry about?” She finished, not sounding too impressed. “Feels like you're using the end of the world as an excuse.” 

You frowned, and wiped the dew of melted snowflakes from your cheek. “Maybe you got yourself a point, there.” 

–

You were the new kid in year 12. Normally, no one gave a shit–it was New York, after all–but you had a tendency to catch everyone's attention when you never sought to try. 

You were a country boy. A fella with a strange tendency to be kind and hold doors open for ladies or help some sorry idiot pick up their dropped assignment. That gentle lilt in your voice, the only evidence that you weren't from the city, always had people staring your way. Boys would mock you, especially when their girls flushed soft colours and whispered while they glanced your way. It didn't help that you were handsome as all hell, too. 

And one day, like a fucking fairytale, Miguel finally ran into you and got hit with the triple threat that was your accent, face, and genuinity–what he didn't expect, however, was to meet you at the Kwan's ranch.

You were clad in boots and jeans and a stupid cliche cowboy hat hung around your neck, hiding the impressive display of shoulder blades flexing and rippling with strong muscle as you shoveled and cleaned out the old hay and debris from the stables. Something warm and melodious trilled under your breath as you worked, and it beckoned like a siren's song--so captivating Miguel couldn't help himself. 

“Hey,” he said. 

You looked over your broad shoulder and blinked a few times, like you were showing off the brilliant hue of your eyes on purpose. A kindly smile made you shine brighter, too, like the sun somehow lit you up from within. 

“Howdy,” you said. 

“Howdy?” Miguel snorted and tucked his hands into the pockets of his shorts as he wandered in. “That's a little too country, isn't it?” 

“Is it now?” The twang in your voice must’ve been fake. No normal person sounded like they were ripped straight from a Western. “Maybe you're just too city.” 

���Hm.” Miguel crossed his arms and leaned against a beam as he watched you continue to work. “Maybe.” 

“Come on, now,” you laughed, “I can smell the city on you. Could probably taste it, too, if I could.” 

Miguel's face burned. His heart pitter-pattered just a little bit faster, soon going a lot faster when he registered the wink you threw his way. Were you flirting? Was it working? Was Miguel swooning? 

Yes, yes and yes. 

–

“Y'know, you don't have to be such a busy body,” Miguel said, wandering into the lab-turned-greenhouse. He had to admit, it looked good. Peaceful. And it certainly helped with keeping everyone fed and happy. So did your presence at Alchemax; you and Gabriella felt like a fresh coat of paint on a beat-up old car. A nice change. Good additions. 

And Miguel felt complete now that you were with him, too. There were still issues, still things to work out and problems to talk about, but it felt nice to work towards something selfish and meaningful. Something that was wholly and unabashedly for him and him alone.

But you were such a restless man. All day, every day, Miguel found you working; clearing snow, repotting, sowing seeds, cleaning, teaching, handyman-ing were all on your resume of husband material and so clearly those skills ruled your mind every waking hour of every day. It didn't help that the other folks In the colony realized just how much of a do-gooder sweetheart you were. Miguel was one more flirty comment away from nuking the building. 

But the way you smiled in the face of adversity let him keep a reasonable cool. Whether it was your awkward attempt to be cordial with someone who so clearly thirsted for you and your attention, or in a sheepish and innocently guilty way whenever Miguel called you out for working too much, you had a way of melting his frigid heart into something cool and light like an autumnal spring.

“I’m just puttering,” you hummed, pausing what you were doing to lean in and give him a kiss, careful to keep your dirt-crusted hands away from him and his neatness. “Just movin’ some of these into bigger pots. Don’t want them to go dying on us.” 

“I think they’d live.” Miguel hummed as he looked over the array of little plants sprouting with flourishes of brilliant emerald. His hand slipped to the small of your back before his arms looped around your waist, and he pulled you flush against his chest. “I need you more than they do.”

You laughed, soft and smoky. “That right?”

“Yeah.” Miguel left a sweet kiss on your neck, right on the odd, heart-shaped-ish scar he used to leave hickeys over back in the day. “They’re not the only ones that need fertilizing.”

“Christ. Did Pete teach you that one?” You laughed, but didn’t crumble and fertilize Miguel. Damn. 

Your partner huffed. “Come on, just–can’t you take a break, viejo?” He kissed your neck another handful of times and buried his face into the strong curve of your shoulder with a most petulant sigh. “Feels like I only get to see you when we go to bed.” 

“Not much different from how it used to be,” you said. “I worked nights, you worked days. Hardly got to see each other.” 

“I hated it,” Miguel mumbled. And you actually paused, your busy hands halting with the rest of your body. “I wanted you home with me. I didn’t want you to work nights.” 

He felt you shift again, the sound of your hands under running water sparking hope in his chest. But he snuffed it out himself–he knew you too well. You weren’t the type to stop when something needed to be done. Miguel couldn’t fault you for it, though, not when he was the exact same way. 

“Miggs.” You turned in his arms and held the sides of his face. “I’m not going anywhere. No night shifts, no driving after gun-toutin’ idiots on the highway, no overtime. You can always find me if you need me.” 

“Would you've come for me and Dana–” he stopped, a bout of regret punching the words back down his throat. The sudden distance in your eyes and the stiffness of your touch haunted him. Why did he have to talk? Why was he still chasing you away like this? 

“Don't,” Miguel pleaded, his hands flying up to your arms, holding you still. 

An overcast of something chased away the far look. Miguel wished he could read you as easily as you read him. He didn't know what you were thinking. Did he ever?

“I still have some things I'm working on getting past, Miggs,” you managed. “I don't--I'm trying.” 

Miguel nodded. What could he say, really? Try harder? Love me more? Get over it already? Your marriage reached a difficult point before the apocalypse; now, it'd climbed to new heights, but problems erased themselves thanks to the simple fact that the world had ended. There were more deadly things to worry about in the present.

“Just let me know if I can help,” your partner offered. And you smiled, tired and weary, unknowingly soothing the frigid panic freezing Miguel's veins. 

“Promise I will.” You gently stroked the arch of his cheekbone with the back of your knuckles. “Just don't worry too much. I'm alright.” 

And he believed you. 

– 

“Who's your friend?” 

The question drove Miguel insane, like a chisel tapping away at marble. Because everyone asked when they saw you, a stupidly handsome, ridiculously tall, polite southern gentleman dressed to the nines in a custom suit Miguel picked out himself–garments he picked out for his fiancé. His betrothed. His to-be husband. 

Miguel's coworkers knew he was taken. He thought it'd be obvious by whom since, well, he rolled up to the event with you and had complimentary outfits with you and you were wearing a fucking ring on the finger.

Still, countless folks introduced themselves to you, sweeping you up into conversations and leaning in too close for comfort. Miguel’s ego swelled, sure; he had the most impeccable, handsome, perfect man in the world, but his jealousy chomped away at his temper. He didn't like people thinking they had a chance with you. It was funny at first, but you were too nice to snap at them, to put them in their places. And, quite frankly, Miguel had had more than enough of watching his damn coworkers throw themselves at you the second they heard that stupid, endearing drawl or saw your charming, lopsided smile. 

He floated to your side, anchoring an arm around your waist while his other hand held a crystalline glass of something golden and fancy. 

“Hey,” Miguel hummed as your eyes met, and he leaned in, planting a soft, sweet peck onto your lips. “Havin’ fun?” The energy around the bystanders shifted dramatically. Miguel felt more pleased than a lion catching its prey. 

“Better now that you’re here,” you hummed, eyes creasing with a gentle tilt of your lips. He loved that look on you. It was the same one you wore every morning when you cooed your sweet good morning-s. 

“I make everything better,” Miguel agreed. He finished his drink and handed it off to whatever poor sod stood beside him. “Guess they haven’t heard the good news.” 

Your head tilted as whispers spread around you both. “Thought you would’ve told ‘em by now, honey.” 

“Well,” Miguel said, sing-songy and so obviously annoyed and bitter with how annoying this event had been for him. He took your hand and brought it up, feigning examination while purposefully catching the light on the band of gold hugging your finger. “I didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to not put two and two together.” 

With that, the vibe died. Soft scoffs and muttered words were left in the wake of party-goers as they abandoned the two of you. Some offered anxious goodbyes to you before shuffling off, but many who’d been burned and shit on by Miguel in the past were not pleasant enough to separate you from your man. Which Miguel preferred. 

Miguel smirked to himself, satisfied with his work. Though, when he met your eyes, you looked anything but impressed. Oops. He probably should’ve considered the aftermath.

“Look, they should know who they're messing with,” he testified.

You quirked a brow. “You mean who they're talkin’ to?” 

Miguel huffed, the smallest of pouts forming. “Don't give me that. They were all over you.” 

“Honey, no one's ever gonna replace you, alright? You've got nothin’ to worry about.” Still exasperated, you smiled, and fixed his tie for him, giving it a light tug and tucking it back against his breast neatly. “You think I'd ever fool around behind your back?” 

“What? No.” Why wouldn’t you? You were handsome, a gentleman, a man who could have anything and anyone you wanted with looks and charm alone. So maybe–maybe that's why Miguel did what he did. Maybe he was trying to show you just how wrong you were. 

“Exactly. Now, you stop worrying and try to enjoy the event, alright? Promise I'll stay by your side for peace of mind,” you said with a wink. Miguel melted. You were too good for him. 

“Por dios–yeah, alright, okay. Fine.” He huffed and pulled you in close to him again and gave you a sweet kiss to seal the deal. 

And of course, it was in that moment Dana passed him by with a smile full of secrets and damning evidence–a vault that he wanted to break open and force you to face.  

–

Miles fucked up. 

He yanked open that fucking car door–specifically when told not to–and set off the dinner bell for whatever undeads still wandered the streets of New York. 

The race through the city streets wasn't so easy, not after years of the military, militia and more trying to block off streets, take a stance against the unending hordes threatening human existence–tanks, trucks, barricades and more littered and cluttered the streets like the puddles after a storm. Every vault and jump was uncertain despite determined, never really knowing if the next car the group jumped onto would throw one of you to the ground with a broken leg or twisted ankle. Miguel almost wished Miles shattered his knee. 

Especially when you nearly didn't make it inside. 

Miguel pulled you through just as they got the shitty garage door down, and he pulled you up, eyes wide and jaw set as pain jolted your features. 

“Hey, hey, what's–you're fine. You're fine,” he whispered. His hand frantically touched where they could before settling on either side of your face as you both fought to catch your breath. “You're fine.” 

But you shook your head. “I, uh--need you to back away from me, baby.” 

“No.” 

“I gotta make sure, be careful–” 

“No.” 

You pulled his hands away from your face, and Miguel saw liquid ruby stain his skin, too. 

“Listen,” you rasped as you limped toward a rundown car with your cuffs unlatched from your belt. “We gotta–gotta clear the shop. Miggs, you take care of the doors.” 

But he didn’t. He stood still, shoulders rolling with the heavy breaths he sucked in while you and Gwen puttered around the small, homely garage to the tune of the undead hissing and snarling just beyond the metal door. Miguel took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the–

“I–uh, what should I do?” Miles asked. 

Miguel whirled around and stalked to him, explosive rage fuelling his steps across the room. He grabbed Miles’ shirt and slammed him into the wall, looming over him like a titan. 

“You are not going to do anything,” Miguel growled. Miles’ eyes widened as he shrunk. “This is your fucking fault in the first place.”

“Hey, he’s just a kid–” Gwen tried, but Miguel’s quick glance her way stalled her. “He didn’t mean to–”

“That’s the problem. He doesn’t know how to survive out here and he’s not willing to use his fucking brain to fill in the gaps.” 

“Dude, let go of me!” Miles snapped, panic lancing through the quiver in his voice. “You can’t–” Miguel slammed him into the wall again. The undead shrieked and howled a mere half a foot away beyond the stone walls barring them out. 

Miguel basked in the dread eating away at Miles’ confidence. “It was a mistake to bring you here. You were a mis–” 

You yanked Miguel off the kid and slammed him into the wall, hand clapping over your partner’s mouth while your red-hot stare bore into the back of his skull and pinned him still. Your other hand held firm over his throat. You didn’t hurt him, but the fingertips digging into the straining tendons of Miguel’s neck threatened the opposite. 

“Quiet,” is what you commanded.

The room fell silent. And it stayed that way. It was hard to tell if anyone still breathed or lived in the minutes you all stood, patient, suffocating, and you stayed in that unsure limbo while the bloodthirsty reverie gradually de-crescendoed in the placid muteness. Slowly, slowly, with each wandering corpse that left to chase errant noises or to wander aimlessly with no mission left in mind, the air in your sanctuary began to heal. 

Your grip became kinder, and you let go, staggering back on unsteady legs. Then, you collapsed.

–

Your injury turned out to be a gash, not a bite. It ran across your shoulder horizontally, accented by a few other gouges bloodying your exhausted face and Miguel's busy hands. 

He stitched you up carefully yet thoroughly, eagerly trying to finish the job while you squeezed your eyes closed and gnawed on the belt wedged between your teeth. To your credit, you handled the temp stitches well. You only really shifted and panicked when Miguel tried to flush the wound with what water he had on hand. 

“That should hold until we get back,” he murmured for your ears only. He cut the thread with his teeth after tying it off, and wrapped your arm with a strip of torn shirt. 

You nodded tiredly and let him take the belt from between your teeth. “Thank you.” You sat up a little straighter against the wall and took deep breaths, eyes squeezed closed and brow beaded with sweat. 

Heat flared in Miguel’s chest. If not for you, Miguel would have ripped Miles a new one. He might have even thrown him to the undead in your name. If you'd come out infected, doomed to die, he'd make sure Miles suffered the same. 

“Don't be so hard on him,” you rasped, voice blending with the soft crackle of the unconvincing campfire. 

Miguel's stare hardened into ice. “He could've–” 

“Miguel.” He looked at you, and melted as you leaned into his warmth. “Lectures can wait. We need to get home first.” 

You were right. And it enraged Miguel further. He wanted to take his anger out on something, or better yet someone, but you just–

“You remember when you proposed?” You whispered. 

The creases between Miguel's brows lifted and smoothed. “‘Course I remember.” He slid a careful arm around your waist and held you to his side. He kissed the top of your head and inhaled your scent. “You were coming home from a night shift.” 

He remembered it too clearly, actually. You, being exhausted and out of it, still suited up in your uniform when you came through the door with a yawn. 

Coffee, your other beloved, lured you to the kitchen where Miguel knew you'd find him. Though he hated not waking up beside you those mornings, he cherished the sleepy back hugs you'd greet him with while you both waited for the carafe to fill. 

“Mornin’,” you grumbled into his neck between small kisses. “Sleep good?” 

Miguel always leaned back into you and basked in the wander of your hands and the scent of cigarettes hiding in your words. It all meshed too well with the bitterness of coffee. “Woulda slept better with you here.” 

You hummed, crackly and apologetic. “Good thing that was my last night shift this block, hey? Get to wake up with you tomorrow.” Your fingertips dragged up the hem of shirt in your search to feel the dips and curves of his toned stomach. “And the next day, and the next day…”

Miguel turned in your arms to spy your drowsy smile. He cupped your face, running his thumbs along the bags under your eyes, before giving you a peck. “I think you need a nap, mi amor.” 

“No, no, ‘m fine. Promise. Just need a shower ‘n I'll be right as rain.” You took one of his hands in your own and turned to kiss his palm. “Wouldn’t be opposed to a mid-morning nap, though.” 

“Lucky for you, I'm getting back in bed after coffee's done.” Miguel kissed you again, purposely mooshing his nose against yours. “Go take a shower. I'll pour you a cup.” 

You hummed, accepting the offer, and very very reluctantly separated from your lover. “Just don't make mine too crazy sweet, alright?” 

Miguel huffed. “Tch. I don't even make it that sweet.” But you were already sauntering off to the ensuite, loud yawn punctuating your departure. “Pendejo.” 

The coffee maker beeped not too long after. Thoughts of what to do with the weekend swirled through Miguel's mind with the springy, disoriented bounce of ADHD while he made up both of your coffees, one just sorta sweet, and one just a little (a lot) sweeter. Honestly, Miguel was bad at making coffee to your taste. Too often he'd watch you stand at the coffee maker, measuring cream, sugar and coffee in your quest to achieve a perfect bitterness to sweetness ratio. 

But when Miguel made you coffee, you never complained. Simply requested it not be too sweet. And everytime Miguel handed you that cup, trepidation filling the childish part of his pride, you always declared it was perfect from the first sip. 

Perfect. Like you. Like his life. That's why he needed to–

“Honey,” you called, bringing your partner back to the present. He turned to you, eyebrows raising in interest at just how low the towel hung from your hips–until he saw the small box in your hand. That made his heart start pounding. 

Miguel crossed his arms and cleared his throat, trying to hide his sheer panic. “Where did you–”

“You forgot it in the bathroom. I think. Found it on the counter.” 

Shit. Fuck. Shit. He really forgot to put that stupid thing away. He really went all cliché romcom and rehearsed in front of the mirror and didn't put the fucking ring away. What the fuck was wrong with him? He was supposed to be a goddamn genius, and yet–

You opened the box because of course you would. Anyone with a shred of curiosity would. And you whistled in a way that only cowboys could. Back when you were both young, you whistled at Miguel like that when he walked by. Lyla said you weren't one to do that, that that was a first for you.

“Damn. This thing looks expensive.” You pulled the gold ring out and looked it over as Miguel came to you. The band was simple gold, yes, but inlaid was a diamond flanked by your birthstone and his, all shaped in a striking baguette cut. The piece was simple and masculine, something befitting you entirely. 

But you were too out of it to realize what the fuck it was you were holding. 

“Bet I could buy a farm with this.” 

Miguel had to laugh a bit at that. “Most people would say a house, you know.” 

“Farm's better. Comes with a house.” You snatched up his hand and examined his fingers, probably sizing up which one the ring–your ring--was supposed to fit on. “Either way, you’re gonna turn heads with a whole mortgage on your finger, I'll tell you what.” 

Miguel's chest warmed. Maybe because of your smooth way of talking, or maybe because you were too sweet and admiring of your partner. Miguel couldn't tell. But it was probably both. 

“On my finger?” He repeated as he plucked the ring from the box. His heart beat in his ears. His face burned. But it was now or never. “I think it'd look better on yours.” 

“What?” You asked, soft and confused, sorta like you'd realized what that ring meant halfway through. “Wait, wait–” 

“I was going to.” Miguel slid the fine gold band on your left ring finger. “But then you ruined the surprise.” 

There was something magical in that moment. Your hand in Miguel's, the sparkle of new promise shining on your finger, the glitter of crystals pooling in your eyes. And your eyes were so wide, like you didn't quite believe Miguel would want to marry someone like you, so he had to say it, if not for the cliché, movie finale:

“Will you marry m–” 

You kissed him before he could finish. Your arms flew around his neck as your weight hit him like a ton of bricks. But he caught you both and held you close, laughing against your lips as the ball of doubt unraveled as every whispered chant of ‘yes, yes, yes,’ touched his skin. 

Those days were good. They were simple. They were The start of everything Miguel could have dreamed of–and then he ruined it. 

“Still hard to believe you wanted me, sometimes,” you reminisced, looking down at the dull, chipped set of rings hugging your finger still.

“You're the only one,” he murmured into your hair. “Even when–even if I–no matter what. No matter what, it was always you. It'll always be you.” Then where's your ring, Miguel?

You hummed and sunk into your partner's warmth more, staying silent with your thoughts as you watched the dim flicker of the fire and the two others collapsed around it. “Try not to be so hard on Miles.” Ah. “He screwed up. But we need to keep morale up.” 

Miguel huffed. “So you only mentioned our–you just wanted me to stop thinking about today.” 

“I wanted you to relax, sweetheart.” God, that smile was so clear in your voice. 

“Tch. Pendejo. He deserves to be yelled at.” 

“By his father. At home. Where it's safe.” 

“Fine.” 

[badass-queer-couples-battle]

Sword gays showdown, round 2 of bracket one

Propaganda:

For Zoro:

Literally training to be the greatest swordsman in the world. Has a special three swords technique (one blade in each hand plus one with the handle held in his teeth). I haven't read the manga or watched the anime but the live action adaptation gives me extremely gay vibes and based on the fandom things I've seen I'm not the only one

bro uses three swords. has one in his mouth. dont ask how the HELL he manages that. one day he will be the worlds greatest swordsman....after he beats the current greatest for both the titles of greatest swordsman and fruitiest swordsman. he's dramatic as FUUUCK like bro what the hell. has homoerotic fights with the local twink like everyday. directionally challenged, can and will get lost in a paper bag, doesnt know left from right...he probably cant read, too. hes too silly ngl

First of all, im in like episode 250 and so far he hasnt been shown attracted to any woman at all during the whole show so far, not even when one changed clothes in the same room as him and this is anime so you know there were other characters with bloody noses and shit. With that out of the way he wields three swords at once [two in his hands, one is his goddamn mouth dude. Its cool af trust me.] When he was little he made a promise to his best friend that he'd be the best swordsman in the world. Later she died in a tragic accident and left her sword which he still uses today. He also carries a cursed sword but he overpowers the curse with a combination of skill and sheer luck. He got stuck in a chimney. While his crewmates sail their ship he takes naps. He learned how to cut through metal by fighting a guy who could turn his body into metal blades. That's metal. He refuses to fight this liberal marine officer because she looks like his childhood best friend and its just understandably really awkward for him. He's autistic. He's a he/him bisexual lesbian. He's a gay man. He's ace/aro. He's whatever you want him to be babey!!

he has 3 swords, wields one in his mouth sometimes, his dream is to be the greatest swordsman in the world

three swords and big aroace-spec gay vibes

He not only has a sword he has *three* swords. He's absolutely gay there's no way to see this man as straight. Also one time he licked his sword for no reason and that was really funny to me so I had to mention it

Look, this man thinks about three things: Swords, His Captain, and Booze. He’s on a quest to be the worlds greatest swordsman. The Live action has a scene where he declares his undying, unwavering loyalty to his captain WHILE reaffirming his promise to be the worlds greatest swordsman. At this point His dream and his Captain are so intertwined it’s crazy. Man is so sword-y he’s got three of them. When one of his swords broke he carried its empty scabbard until he was able to give it a SWORD FUNERAL. He hears a sword is cursed and takes that as a challenge. He will literally tell his swords off for “bad behavior” when they “act up” due to being straight up cursed. He tests one by throwing it in the air and sticking his arm out to see if it is so blood thirsty and ill tempered that it will cut him. Even though he’s literally the first mate if you ask him what his role is he’s going to answer Swordsman.

He's dedicated his life to two things: becoming the greatest swordsman in the world and his captain, Luffy. 

He mastered the three sword style. Its his style. It would've been more swords but he could only fit one sword in each hand and one in his mouth. He wants to be the world's greatest swordsman, a deal he made with his childhood best frenemy (before she died falling down the stairs). He thought he was All That at the start and was almost completely decimated by the actual Worlds Greatest Swordsman. Now, after two years forced training with that guy, he's probably in the top tier no-doubt, and honestly could already be the best but we just don't know for sure yet. Also, did I mention: he's got the whole demon/devil imagery going on at times. And he has absolutely no sense of direction! plus is a total softie when it comes to Chopper and all the children who somehow gravitate towards him. And he loves naps!

One of the guy's main goals in life is to be the best sword fighter and he fights with three swords which I think is telling enough of his skill.

For Sayaka Miki:

my favourite scene is the one where Sayaka turns off all her pain receptors to battle the shadow witch, uncaring of the damage dealt to her body, because what is a body but a decaying vessel you must eventually abandon anyway? that was very depression of her <3 Also there’s that one time (in the rebellion movie) where Sayaka stabs herself on her own sword to release the witch that dwells within her. and then she immediately gets up to fight back to back with her girlfriend. that moment lives rent free in my head. Sayaka is so depression and I love her for it:)

SHES SO GAY ITS NOT EVEN FUNNY SHE FLIRTS W THE MAIN CHARACTER HER NARRATIVE FOIL IS ANOTHER GIRL W TBE OPPOSITE COLOR SCHEME THEYRE RED BLUE LESBIAN MOMENT YOU WANNA KNOW WHAT ELSE ??? SHE COMES TO THIS FALSE REALITY LITERALLY JUST TO SEE HER GIRLFRIEND ALIVE THEY LIVE TOGETHER AND THERES A WHOLE OUTRO SEQUENCE JUST W THE TWO OF THEM SHE STUDIED THE GAY BLADE I STG also she uses a sword 🗡️ love u sayaka

[berensteinsmonster]

FORMER COWWOY SHERIFF RANDY RUBEBERG BABEY!!!!!

To me an opposite Randy Radman is someone who is basically all work no play. He acts super serious all the time, and yet he stills builds giant whimsical inventions but denies theyre for fun. he enjoys his love for machines because they're his art

The reason I didn't make him a completely sad/depressed dude to be the opposite of Radman's happiness is because that's not all I see Randy as. I'm mirroring his party-animal trait only. Plus, this guy still needed to show his heroism in a way as a Cowwoy sheriff, so he wanted to build machineries to try and help people with them, especially the cow boys in the posse. Plus PLUS, steampunk fashion is dope as all hell and fun :3c

Brother Reynaldo is the opposite of Reynaldo the Brute. So you know, gentle guy. Total hippie. Smojkign that weed i mean chewing that straw. Can get on Rubeberg's nerves because of how carefree he is, but he wouldn't replace him for any other right hand.

Also gonna put it out here that all Cowwoy Sheriffs are usually crowned to be the next sheriff passed down by the chief before them. No one is getting dethroned because. you know. The Cowwoy Posse are good guys,

(part 2)

more hv au

[thenukacolachallenge]

some fun facts about Luis and André Peña(his VA)

(from the Nick Apostolides(Leon Kennedy VA) livestreams, because i think Luis is neato and i liked André's performance, especially for a first-time big VA gig!)

UPDATE: NOW WITH TIMESTAMPS bc someone on the part two of this post asked about them lmfao

-André actually auditioned for the Spanish cops that escort Leon to Valdelobos originally, and went through several more auditions before landing the role of Luis Serra. for his first role on a big project like Resident Evil, that's incredibly impressive! (timestamp)

-Both Nick and André did motion capture for multiple enemies, including André calling his "best role" playing a dead body lmao. He and Nick also did mocap for the Verdugos, Salazar's bodyguards! (timestamp)

-Being that it was such a big role, he was very anxious about the game dropping, from the moment he got cast to the day it dropped. He even apparently asked Nick constantly if he had somehow been recast. (poor dude, as someone with anxiety issues and huge imposter syndrome, i feel for him!!!) Nick gives him a very sweet but stern pep talk about how he earned and deserved his role on stream too, it was a cute moment! (timestamp 1: André first mentioning his nerves) (timestamp 2: second mention of anxiety/Nick's pep talk to André)

-André is a big enough fan of the original to remember where all the treasure used to be! i love when people who are fans of a series get to work on it, dude. in addition, he was also very happy with the direction he was given, and felt that he was allowed to explore Luis as a more fleshed out character. (which he absolutely is, and i love it! Luis in the original was so strange and honestly off-putting imo. fucking ballistics lmao) (timestamp 1: first mention of André knowing a lot about RE4) (timestamp 2: more of André knowing the game) (timestamp 3: MORE of André knowing the game lmao) (there are a lot more than just these. dude is a FAN) (timestamp 4: André talking about direction and Luis)

-He refers to the bag Luis is stuffed into as a "Luis burrito", which is hilarious and adorable. (timestamp)

-(Also, not related to Luis, but Nick yells "YEET" when Leon gets tossed into the wall by Mendez, which is fucking hysterical) (timestamp)

-UPDATE: thank you to tumblr user @hamartia-grander for this detail that i completely missed originally! (timestamp)

(transcript: I hope this okay for me to add, but he also said that in the first scene with Leon and Luis, Luis looks away as Mendéz injects Leon with la plaga because he couldn't watch another person be infected by something horrible he had a hand in creating. Which is easy to infer from that scene, but it was nice that it was a conscious decision on André's part, rather than aimless direction.)

-the first scene André and Nick filmed together was Luis and Leon chained up together! and the first line of Luis's that got revealed was when he said to Leon, "I guess you, me... picked the wrong spot to vacation, eh?" Apparently the mocap for this scene was also very awkward for André, which is totally understandable, considering Luis spends 90% of it getting jerked around by Leon or trying to dodge a Ganado without the use of his hands lol. (timestamp)

-André worked very hard to make sure that Luis's accent was as accurate to Spain's Spanish as it could be, which is awesome, especially for someone who doesn't naturally speak that particular dialect. GOOD ACTING, BABEY (timestamp)

-André owns a legitimate Red 9 gun, the weapon that Luis uses in the game. this is a unique gun bc it was manufactured during the first World War, and it's VERY expensive(they can go up to $10k, but André apparently got his for a great deal!). he also has MADE a copy of the RE4 tactical knife Leon uses, and there's a video up on his youtube channel! (timestamp)

-(not related to Luis, but André also mentioned he has adhd! same buddy!!!) (timestamp)

-OKAY NEW STREAM TIME! This begins part four of Nick's playthrough, and André is a guest once more. All the previous facts are from part one, which is the first one André guested on. According to Nick, André learned how to flip a lighter around his fingers just for Luis, which is awesome. (and he shows off by doing so in stream!!!) (timestamp)

-Ashley's VA, Genevieve Buechner, got asked about her reaction to Luis' infamous "ballistics" line and both her and André aren't sad to see it missing from the remake. André himself makes a comment about how this version of Luis is still flirty without coming across as "creepy" about it. (i find the ballistics line from the original annoying, and it was a huge part of why i didn't care for Luis in og re4, so i too am VERY glad it's gone) (timestamp)

-André jokes about Luis breaking the brake on the minecart: "I react so depressed, like.... 'Guess that's it, bro.' 'Hey man, I tried.'" He really does! it feels like a mix of sheepishness at breaking it in the first place, and just very, resigned and depressed lol. (timestamp)

-Sadly, because he hadn't played up to that point yet, he didn't watch Luis' death scene, and therefore didn't have much to say on it :c

-when the cast was asked what kind of pet each of their characters would have, André said Luis would be a cat person, and he'd probably specifically adopt a stray cat, probably one that "adopted" him first. I definitely agree! (timestamp)

i havent watched Nick's last vid in the series yet but this is long enough as it is! im planning on watching some of André's streams up on his personal channel, and some others where he's a guest in, and i may make a part 2 of this :D (update: i did, link at the top of the post lol)

[pink-pkmn-trainer]

looking way too much into episode 2

ok, to start things off, pomni's dream. it was, in fact, a dream about abstraction. and may i just say that pomni's voice actor really did a good job in showing pomni's fear using her voice

what ragatha says here is interesting, simply because it seems....out of character? she's being all sassy and stuff, so either pomni is a TERRIBLE judge of character, or....she thinks ragatha doesn't like her. which it would make sense for her to think that, considering she left her behind when kaufmo attacked.

but immediately after the dream sequence, we see ragatha come to check on pomni, showing actual interest in her and asking how she is. so she does actually like and care about pomni, or is at the very least she's doing a good job at pretending she does.

ragatha reassures pomni that there's no hard feelings, but it still doesn't look like pomni believes her. poor babey :(

aww, he does like bugs! how cute!

now we've got some religious imagery. caine is god, i guess.

oh, and jax likes violence. i'll talk more about why i think that is once we get to the actual violence.

the way he just rests his chin on gummigoo's back, that's so cute

knives. that is all.

what??? what the fuck is the figurine thing???

aww look at him he's so silly when he's trying to be helpful

ragatha has stuffing inside her confirmed

THE BACKROOMS

existential crisis time

hholy shit. no wonder goose said we weren't ready for him.

bucket

her ass is NOT a handyman

i love this whole scene. i wanna go in depth about it but there's not much i know how to say, i just like that she's trying to cheer him up

also funny gummigoo screenshot

seems like a pretty good time to talk about jax's desire for violence. this is still a video game, after all, and the way he's acting is pretty similar to how i sometimes play games; using it as a sort of "rage room" to destroy and vent my frustrations in. it would even be excusable if it weren't for the fact that the AIs are sentient.

now it's time to REALLY get talking

silly man with his head in a bucket. he mentions caine here, specifically that they can ask him for help, and it wouldn't be a stretch to say he may have asked caine for help with things in the past. which, while not very important or significant, does create a cute mental image. goofy little ringmaster being helpful.

what ragatha says here is SO important to her relationship with pomni. she thinks that pomni doesn't like her, while pomni thinks that ragatha doesn't like her. so they're basically stuck in a loop, a platonic "will they, won't they" where they both think the other hates them. this is the type of barrier that prevents a friendship from forming.

kinger is unexpectedly very wise in this scene, and gives her some good advice. this is the reason i think that ragatha will attempt to pursue a friendship with our little jester later on, only for pomni to be skeptical because she thinks ragatha's just being nice. and pomni's fear of ragatha secretly hating her is going to end up being the only thing that stops them from being friends.

it's also really sweet of her to immediately run up to her and check on her. i love these two :)

ok sorry for all the shipping propaganda let's get back to overanalyzing

this is what i wanted to mention the most. even though the NPCs see caine as a god, he's a bit of a cruel one. he has no regard for their well-being and only really cares about the humans. but i don't actually think it's his fault. he's an AI and he's programmed to care for the humans, so that's his priority, not the NPCs.

caine is described as being a "rouge AI", but i don't think that's the case....yet. i think he's actually going to go rouge as the story progresses, and eventually realize how unforgiving he's being.

anyways, i still want to talk about some other theories i have. hopefully there's still room for a couple more pictures in this post.

this line from jax in the pilot is my main base for this. obviously he's referring to the centipede he put in ragatha's room, but it's the fact that he says it right before he opens the door to reveal that kaufmo abstracted. no one in the circus knew he had abstracted until this point, nor did anyone mention seeing any signs that he was going crazy.

i think it's a hint. what's being insinuated here is that no one's going to know who will abstract next. there's no trick for for discovering the order they'll all abstract in, and there's no signs when it's going to happen.

(edit: i just remembered that kinger mentioned him acting weird but sshhhhhh it's still a good theory ok)

as for the void, when caine realizes pomni wandered out there, he mentions that she'll get "totally spoiled". i think this means that looking into the void gives you visions of the future, and that pomni knows how the show is going to end; she knows all the surprises and twists, too. it would explain why she looked so angrily at caine (possibly now knows about how little he cares for the NPCs), and also why she seems so lost in thought right at the end.

but hey, that's just a theory

A CIRCUS THEORY!!!

[touyubesposts]

Things that mean different things in my different fandoms:

Puppets:

For Thomas it's a happy learning moment

For Mark it's angst time with a possibility of death

For Jack it's just a scary, scary death

2.Dark sides:

For Thomas, it's Virgil, Remus, and Janus

For Mark, it's Dark (The original dark side)

For Jack, it's Anti (The original glitch bitch)

3.Actors/Acting

For Thomas, it's Roman and an opportunity

For Mark, it's ‘Actor Mark’ and Manipulation

For Jack, it's what he has to do to fake cry during his projects, have you seen that?! I was stunned! Speechless!

4.Loops

Thomas’s most severe problem with loops is fruit

Mark is trapped in literal time loops and space tears in the fabric of the universe

Jack is stuck in ‘Fucking circles’ doing things ‘over and over’

5.Choices

Thomas, very calmly, goes through his choices in every episode with each of his sides

Mark doesn’t really get a choice, but you do! You get many choices

Jack really has no choice and is stuck in the middle of whatever the fuck Anti and IRIS are doing

6.Interview

Thomas’s 5 year anniversary babey!

Mark’s universe just has Wilford asking some questions

Jack, please, give Chase a break! He’s just a boy!

[rithmeres]

ok i mentioned that i watched hxh 1999 the other week when i was sick and i also rewatched 2011 (minus the ch*m*ra *nt arc) so here r some expanded thoughts on the 2 adaptations:

why tf would 2011 cut kite out of the first episode(s). this is unforgivable. it UNBELIEVABLY weakens the entire ch*m*ra ant arc (i hate it to begin with but cutting gon’s previous connection to kite makes is so much stupider)

2011 hisoka would tear 1999 hisoka to PIECES. 99 hisoka is just kinda weird and off-putting but 2011 hisoka is TERRIFYING and charismatic and seductive and disgusting and 85% of the heavy lifting is done by namikawa daisuke’s voice acting but he has so much more PRESENCE in ‘11

99 gon is so babey omg. look at him

2011 killua is also extremely babey and i like that, but i also like how he seems a bit older in 99. i don’t prefer one take over the other i just like the flavor variations it adds

99 cut most of the kastro fight?? WHY?

2011 really nerfed leorio lmao when i was watching 2011 i was like theres no way this guy should have passed the hunter exam. but in 99 it’s a little more believable because he’s not a complete dolt. justice for my man he ain’t done anything wrong

the choreo and technical aspects of kurapika vs uvo are better in 2011 but 99 really hammers home how disgusted and conflicted krpk is over the whole thing. i loved his prayer before the fight begins and his breakdown when it ended. how completely done in he was by just one fight with one spider. 2011 focuses more on his anger and doesn’t give it the gravity it needs (KURAPIKA ⛓️🩸IS DROWNING🌊IN AN INDESCRIBABLE EMPTINESS 🕳️🚶‍♂️🎸🎸🎸🎶🎶😝) (WHAT WERE THEY THINKING)

the fight between chrollo and the zoldycks seemed weird to me in 2011 because it takes place in a bright yellow room. 1999 gave it a much darker atmosphere that i think it deserves

it CANNOT be understated just how much of a difference mozart’s lacrimosa/dies irae makes in 2011. the 1999 requiem was so empty without it

i know it’s filler but i really really like how gon meets leorio first in 99. they have such a special relationship and i think giving them a little side quest together before they meet the other boys was an inspired choice

they were not kidding, 1999 chrollo really does look like michael scott. tf

in 1999 kurapika actually seems like a boy. i cant explain it but 2011 kurapika will always be a girl to me

99 has a wealth of truly incredible gifs. illumi girl why did you fall like that. gon so real for bootyshaking when he gets same day shipping on his ps2. killua canon buttslapper friend. there's so much going on