#Guess what I did Literally Nothing of

[oceanwithouthermoon]

saikis powers are a vital part of him so it makes sense that people who dont know about them cant truly understand his whole self, but its also very silly to me when people act like its the ONLY important part of him... people act like his friends that arent in the know are completely blind to who saiki is, but i feel like that kinda means you missed some major points... he cant keep his powers a secret forever and it DOES matter, but he can still be loved and KNOWN without knowing about them... hes still human, he still has a personality, he still has regular likes and dislikes, etcetc

his friends perspectives on him may have been wrong at first, but they CHANGED... they know him and love him, and theyll KEEP loving him the SAME once they know of his powers...

​some people cough cough cough in this fandom like to reduce saiki to JUST his powers and its so obvious that you just. missed everything. you didnt absorb anything from the show, you just saw it and went "ha, everyone thinks hes just a guy when hes actually super cool and powerful" no no no, he IS cool and powerful but look a little closer and at his core he is still LITERALLY JUST A GUY 😭😭😭

hes such a guy.....

[deoidesign]

For my birthday... read my webcomic! It's literally free! (Unless you want books. Those are not free)

It's beautiful, it's gentle, it's funny, they're canonically t4t and gay... And it's about time traveling vampires solving supernatural mysteries!

I've spent thousands of hours writing and drawing it, and it's really good! I'm not biased!

It's on hiatus right now and coming back in 2 months, so it's the perfect time to get caught up

[krussyarts]

Thanks to @teatitty for the idea!! Original under cut

[dragonpyre]

It turns out you CAN be misdiagnosed with ADHD. If the guy doing the test gives you such severe misophonia that that’s all you can focus on…

[serotonin-dose]

AsaDen x Metaphor Re:Fantazio

[uncanny-tranny]

When I was a kid, I have a distinct memory of borrowing a laundry basket from my parents, and putting it back when I was done. Now, I hadn't put it back exactly where I saw it, and do you know the "punishment" I received? My entire room was completely trashed multiple times.

As an adult, I realize that the parent who did this wanted to teach me a lesson about respecting people's spaces enough to put things back in its proper place. I realize that it was supposed to be a kind of "eye for an eye" type of punishment, but that's not what I remember learning.

I remember learning as a kid, though: Never rely on other people for help, they will enact revenge on you. Don't go to other people. They will fucking hate you for it, they don't care about you enough, and the punishment you receive will be payment.

And in many ways, I still see this type of parenting being practiced. You aren't going to teach your kids jack shit by doing this. Kids' brains are typically not going to connect the dots the way yours is doing. A kid isn't going to have a grand sense of consequence because to them, they did a thing and then their parent fucking lost their mind.

What do you do instead? Preferably, you seek to communicate with them, show them the behaviour you want from them, and don't resort to corporal "punishment" or humiliation.

[island-in-the-shadows]

Loooool I love seeing all these people going no past Devil's Minion never happened, moving on. Ok, sure, because all the little things mean nothing. Because Night Island existing in this universe (regardless if they ever make the mini series) means nothing. Because taking Armand's whole thing about turning a vampire (and how this also plays into his formative relationship with Marius) and literally sledgehammering it to a gooey pulp and making it about Louis makes sense.

If anything I started out going "oh ok nothing" and the more time has passed, the more I think the opposite. Hey maybe I'm wrong, but it would be a waste of source material that would only ADD to the complexity of the characters and their relationship in the present. And it would literally make the relationship near fucking impossible. Might as well say DM isn't happening at that rate.

[lloydfrontera]

tfw when you write an entire novel with two protagonists that spent the entire plot getting closer to each other, becoming best friends and eventually both of them deciding they would rather die than allow the other to not live a long, fulfilling life, their friendship carrying most of the emotional weight of the entire plot and the emotional climax being one of them sacrificing his life so the other can live and then the other crossing literal universes to find him, a tearful smile in his face as he confesses how much he missed him. which is the scene you wanted to write and show the most because, again, this is the pay off to the slowburn you've been writing in the entire novel and what everything has been building up to since the very first chapter. and then you end the novel by having them share a smile, finally confident they'll be able to have a happy future.

but you also just gotta have one of them marry offscreen because everyone knows you can't be happy if you're not in a het marriage with kids lmao it's whatever it's okay i'm fiNE-

[thechildbesuffering]

au where lbd is not killed at the end of season 3, but instead stripped of her powers and effectively turned human. she'd get to see the world from a mortal's perspective and further understand mk and the others' notions regarding the world's imperfections. i also want her to work at pigsy's in place of mk when he's training or not present. and you can't tell me that she would find a favorite pass time after a while. she'll sound hypocritical insulting people's "sentimentality for mortal pleasures".

[whollyjoly]

for some reason i can't explain i know saint peter won't call my name

nothing that lives, lives forever - an immortal soldier!alton more au

(1.1k of snippets from my old guard(ish) au where alton more is old, too old, and has been living and fighting far longer than anyone should. full description/other thoughts at the bottom. tw: blood, violence, mentions of death)

Alton clicked the lighter closed, running a thumb over the silver case. The night was warm, sticky in a way that he never could get used to. He sucked in a breath from the cheap cigarette, letting his head fall back against the rough side of the barracks.

It was quiet. Typically, there would be no end to the commotion coming from the small building, one of many that littered Camp Toccoa. The wall of sound was ever-present, no matter if it was shouting or laughing or snoring. But whatever the cause, there was always noise. 

No matter if it was a blanket of noise he knew well, unchanging except for the language and the scenery. Soldiers are soldiers, and some things are a constant. It could almost be comforting, if it didn’t also mean that the need for soldiers was a constant as well.

However, tonight was a Saturday, and it was one of the few weekends that Sobel had allowed Easy the use of their weekend passes. Almost every man in the company had jumped at the chance to get off base, to travel home if they could and spend time with loved ones. The ones with farther-flung hometowns had spirited off to Atlanta, happy to spend their time drinking and dancing and fucking instead of slogging through another run, three miles up, three miles down.

Normally, Alton would have joined them in their carousing - it was easier to pass the time with the effortless camaraderie built during a training camp than bored and alone. 

But today had been a bad day. The sound of swords and the shift of sand beneath his feet followed him out of his nightmares, the humid summer of Georgia morphing itself into the baking, dry heat of the desert. 

His shouts must have been real, because when a hand came to shake him out of his dream, the first face he saw was not that of a grouchy NCO, but of a blood-caked Saracen, eyes alight with righteous fury. 

Alton didn’t think. He had grabbed the knife from under his pillow, an old thing that had been sharpened more times than he could begin to count, and was on the man in less than a breath, pressing the blade into the side of his neck. The familiar thrum of blood beat against his fingertips, the grit of sand scratched his gums. He knew what he had to do, had done it a thousand times, a thousand thousand times, what was a little more bloodshed spilled across his feet-

Alton had blinked, and came to himself in a rush.

Instead of an unnamed Saracen, the ashen face of Johnny Martin stared up at him, eyes wide behind the knife.

Alton drew back his hand, retreating almost as quick as he had lunged earlier. He mumbled a quick curse and apology as he stepped out of arm’s reach from the man. It wasn’t until Martin’s eyes widened even farther that Alton realized his tongue was slipping out Arabic of all things.

Usually, Alton was better about remembering himself, who he was almost as important as where he was. But for whatever reason, his demons had decided to catch up with him that night.

After a quick smile and some quip about the Krauts in his dreams, he managed to wave an only-slightly-mollified Martin off. The shorter man apparently hadn’t forgotten it though, if his watchful eyes during chow that morning were anything to go by.

Alton was just glad that no one else was awake to see it, at least. That was the last thing he needed.

And so, instead of joining in on a weekend of broads and booze, Alton found himself waving away the invitation by an eager Smokey and bemused Alley. When the horde made their way out of the barracks, fantasizing in bawdy terms about their planned misadventures, he felt like he could breathe easy.

Fucking finally.

~~

Alton took another drag from the cigarette. He watched the smoke curl, up and up until it faded into nothing amongst the darkening sky.

The lighter was a welcome weight in his hand, grounding him to this time, this life.

The design was worn by now, details barely visible after a half century of worrying. It still managed to amaze him, sometimes, what people could do with the smallest of canvases. Alton didn’t feel the same wonder however, wasn’t as mesmerized by the beauty man could create as he once was.

But in the quiet moments, he could still appreciate the time some French craftsman took to transform a hunk of metal into a small token carried around by a dead man.

Luz had spied the lighter one weekend, and laughed at him for using something so old-fashioned. Alton just shrugged, not caring to admit that he was still getting used to having a light at his fingertips. It wasn’t all that long ago when he was still lighting a pipe with a flintlock pistol, and not so long before that when he would carry around a flint and steel.

Time was passing all the more quickly these days, technologies changing and advancing, and everyone was obsessed with needing things to be quicker, cheaper, simpler. Alton scoffed. He could hardly find it in him to care.

He glanced down at the lighter in his hand, shifting it back and forth in a practiced motion and watched as the light skittered across the sides. 

It had shown flowers, once. A veritable garden of carnations, daffodils, and lilies of the valley, with leaves spilling across the front panel onto the back. They represent good fortune, he was told. Good fortune, luck, and hope. 

When the merchant described it to him, eyes ablaze with a passion known only to those with wares to sell, Alton didn’t try to hide the snort that escaped his throat. 

Fortune and Luck had abandoned him long ago, and hadn’t returned since waking up in a battlefield abandoned by all but the dead, sword in his chest and blood in his mouth. 

And what the fuck was Alton supposed to do with hope?

It was the quote on the back that had caught his eye, all those years ago in a street market in Reims. The beveled edges had faded with time, the familiar letters Alton traced were more memory by now than any physical mark. Une vie honorable est une vie éternelle.

An honorable life is an eternal life.

Alton couldn’t help but stare at the message, both then and now. He hated that goddamn word. Immortal. Unending. Eternal. 

They were such flowery words, used by people who craved what they couldn’t have, what they shouldn’t. The romanticized idea of the everlasting, the fountain of youth, the gift of life! Alton was sick of it.

This wasn’t life. He was a fucking dead man walking. And he sure as hell didn’t do anything honorable to deserve it.

months ago, while thinking about the absolute insanity of the almost...cavalier? attitude we see alton more have over the course of the series, an idea hit my brain: what if there was a reason nothing seemed to phase him - not panzers, not being a breath away from a car wreck, not bastogne, not speirs? what if this wasn't his first war? that thought spiraled me into a minor insanity that is this: my immortal soldier!alton more au, loosely inspired by the movie the old guard (2020). the idea is that, once upon a time, there was a soldier in a land many centuries ago. one day, he died in battle. and then, he woke up. and then he died. and then he woke up. over, and over. drawn to countless battles, conflicts, and wars, each one etching itself into the core of his soul. a never-ending cycle...until one sweltering summer, where he found himself at a training camp at the foot of a mountain. anyways. at some point, i plan on writing this as a full story, but that is admittedly a long ways away. however, in celebration of alton more's birthday today, i wanted to post my favorite scene that i've written for this au! it's set sometime at the beginning of the story, in the early days of camp toccoa. mostly, it's just a character study of this version of alton more. hope you enjoyed! and of course - happy birthday alton more!

(song insp.)

taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @coco-bean-1218 @bucky32557038ww2 @georgieluz @samwinchesterslostshoe @xxluckystrike @next-autopsy @ronald-speirs @land-sh @ronsparky @panzershrike-pretz @theredrenard @kyellin

[infraredss]

im like "SLUT ERA‼️ I want to MAKE OUT with women!" and then experience debilitating levels of homosexuality if a woman leans in close to me for any reason

[possamble]

Do you have any plan to make some kind of bonus chapter or oneshot about marcille's perspective in little creature? It's not like I'm asking you for it ofc!! it's just that i think it'll be interesting to read, and especially since you had those tags about marcille after her fight/outburst with falin and how you couldn't add it to the fic because the fic is from falin's perspective

Probably not about anything that happens during a little creature, but maybe something before or after? Sometimes I do like to do "the other character thinking back to events while doing stuff in a sequel" oneshot type thing, but we'll see how it shakes out!

[dreamsicle262]

if the reading comprehension of some people who do make dead plate text posts is so bad (as i've had at least two people tell me in the tags) then maybe i SHOULD start analyzing every little detail in the game.

[veatomis]

remembering how when the tarot cards for the companions dropped i was actually skeptical abt them because. to me they didn't tell a story of who our companions really were. they felt really... "here is a character and here they are" unlike inquisition's where you can actually get a feel for each companion's personality/story/archetype but i was still excited to see how they changed as the game progressed and the events affected each character and especially. how each tarot card would look once the romance lock in happened. and then none of that happened because it was essentially a stunt to appeal to fans of the previous games without actually putting in any effort (not that they could anyway. since most of the personal quests barely affect the companions and have barely any ramifications)

[maliciousalice]

Hear me out (or don't... it's fine I'm just venting and mean) yeah um I don't believe Chakotay was saved in Prod*gy s2.

[naivety]

not even saying it's a good thing because i am so far beyond checked out at this point but i cannot fathom nailbiting over this election after more than a year of genocide, after every single 395 days of it. like i can but i can't. the truth is americans will sleep just as well tonight as we have every day since october 7th no matter who wins because that's the world we live in. we live in. while the money we generate from shitty 9 to 5s is taxed and sent to keep children and mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters up night after night after night with the sound of drones and gunfire and bombshells. this world is so far beyond americans' worst case scenario already and the solution to it is outside a ballot box on election day.