#acton speaks

[mrm-pachypoda]

K and Evan, based on this post

@ralofofriverwoods @say-hi-intrepid-heroes thought y’all’d be interested i dunno

(Hoping that the image quality doesn’t get butchered by tumblr)

[mrm-pachypoda]

Doodles from episode 5! Can’t believe I haven’t done something like this sooner tbh, I’m brimming with ideas!

[kj-munch]

headshots for today since i gotta run to work in a minute… theyre like younger highschoolers here

[born-to-lose-writing]

Teenage Romance

Pairing: Pete Townshend x John Entwistle

Requested by @dannyawesome65

Summary: John confesses to Pete, but them being best friends before doesn't stop them from acting nervous while in a relationship.

Tags: fluff, teenagers, implied homophobia

Words: 2,758

A/N: Young and awkward Towntwistle (featuring a little fem presenting Pete)! I loved writing this 🥺💖

Pete and John spent every break at school together and most of the time they were outside in the school yard, chatting in a quiet place. They never ran out of topics and when they did, they enjoyed that they didn't have to speak to feel comfortable in the other's company.

They wandered around, talking about dogs and sharing dreams of the future, until they found a bench next to a bush that needed some cutting, but it was good enough for them as they couldn't be observed as easily.

Continuing their conversation, they were sitting so close that their knees touched when one of them thought of something urgent to tell the other and shifted in his seat. Pete wasn't bothered by it at all. In fact, he liked when John touched him in whatever way, whether it was a handshake or the brush of his hand when he gave him something.

There was a pause while Pete listened to the light breeze through the bush shielding them from the teachers’ and fellow pupils’ eyes. “I love you,” John suddenly said, pulling his friend out of his trance.

Pete's heart stopped for a second before it started beating faster. He had probably had a crush on him for a while – at least he felt similar about him as he had felt about his first girlfriend, although he secretly had thoughts concerning John he had never had about anybody else. He felt butterflies in his stomach and tucked his shaky hands into his pockets. Surely John couldn't mean it this way though, right?

“Yeah, me too,” he replied, trying his best to sound casual so he wouldn't embarrass himself in case it was simply meant as words of appreciation for being a good friend.

John shook his head, turning to look at the boy next to him. “No, I love you. I'm in love,” he nearly whispered.

“Oh,” Pete simply said, still not knowing how to respond. Of course, he had fallen in love with him too, but he was a boy. The look in John's eyes told him that he was being serious, but Pete hadn't expected him to reciprocate his feelings.

Hesitantly, he reached out to hold his friend’s hand. John glanced down and smiled before they both returned to looking at their surroundings, staying like this for the rest of the period.

When the bell rang, John shyly placed his free hand on Pete's cheek, making him look at him. He closed his eyes and quickly gave him a peck on the lips before letting go of his hand and motioning for Pete to follow him to the next class, a sheepish grin on his face.

He was blushing hard as he hurried back inside the school building. His thoughts were all over the place and he only hoped he wouldn't forget which class was next.

Pete tried his best to stay focused despite his eyes wandering to glance at the clock above the door every now and then to figure out how long it would be until he would see John again. Finally, the last lesson ended and they met at the same spot where they always did before walking home, often going to the other's house or stopping to buy something to eat.

John was smiling when he spotted Pete walking up to him with fast steps. “How were your last classes?”

“Uh, they were fine,” Pete stammered, honestly not remembering much from anything that had happened after the last break.

His friend grinned and suggested, “Let's get some food.”

While making their way to their favourite fish and chips shop in Acton, it felt like nothing had changed compared to last week when they had taken the same route at the same time in the afternoon. As long as you ignored Pete's pounding heartbeat, the more awkward conversations than usual, the avoiding eye contact and the nervous little smiles when their eyes did meet.

Weird as it sounded, Pete liked watching John eat. Something about the way he liked to eat and sometimes ate a lot in a short time was sensual to him. He could stare now, couldn't he?

“What is it?” John asked after he finished chewing. Pete hoped he didn't make him feel self-conscious.

“Hm? Nothing,” he quickly replied, feeling his cheeks heat up as he looked back down at his own food and continued eating.

After they had finished, John patted Pete's back and they threw away their newspaper wrappings. This was a normal gesture for them, so why did it suddenly make Pete shudder?

“It's too early to go home, don't you think?” he said after a while, wandering around neither in the direction of his house nor John’s.

“We don't have to.” They kept walking until they found a less crowded green area.

Pete started to climb up a tree, stretching his hand out to help John follow him when he had reached the top. On occasions like this, they had often held hands before, but they had usually let go when support wasn't needed anymore. This time, they didn't. Although John's hand felt hotter today than ever, Pete wouldn't mind getting burnt and intertwined their fingers, resting them on his thigh.

Despite the tree being fairly thick, they had a nice view from up there between leaves. Shifting to spot a new building his friend had pointed out, John’s foot slipped and Pete immediately put his arm around his middle.

“I got you,” he said and John wrapped an arm around his friend as well to steady each other.

“Did you mean what you said?” Pete asked nervously after a few minutes. He assumed he had meant it based on how he had been acting since, but he wanted to make sure.

“Of course,” John answered, asking equally anxiously, “Do you?”

“Yes.” They smiled at each other and this time, Pete brought up enough courage to initiate a kiss. Normally, he wouldn't have, but John seemed to be just as timid as him in this case and he didn't know if he would ever get to kiss him again if they continued acting like this.

He leaned forward and kissed him, feeling John’s grip on him tightening in fear of Pete falling. Finally, they actually had the chance to savour the kiss without having to break it after a second. Pete placed his hand on John’s shoulder and right after he pulled away, the older boy leaned in for another one, a little less awkward, a little more loving and a little firmer to show they were certain of their feelings.

Then they sat in silence as especially right now it was nice to not have to say anything and just reflect on today's events while being together. They wouldn't know what to talk about anyway. The casual topics they usually talked about? Rambling about what had made them realize they had a crush on each other? Deep confessions for which it was much too soon? All options they came up with seemed wrong, so staying quiet was the easiest thing to do.

Eventually, it was time to go home and before they parted ways, Pete squeezed John's hand and waved as he disappeared inside, wide smiles on their faces.

From then on, they made it a habit to sit on that bench where they had confessed their love for each other during breaks. It was on site so they wouldn't get into trouble for leaving the school yard, but it served enough privacy to allow them to be themselves – almost, at least. John had always acted as a shield for Pete when other kids bullied him, but if they got caught, they wouldn't even back off from him.

They still only showed affection in secret, but their fond looks and way of talking implied that there was more than pure friendship going on between them.

When they saw each other in the morning, they embraced like friends did. When they sat in their quiet spot in the school yard, they held hands for the entire break and sometimes rested their heads on the other’s shoulder. When they were about to return to their classes, they shared a brief kiss when nobody was around. On their way home, they walked close enough for their arms to touch. Before going inside their houses, they hugged and squeezed each other's hand.

All this subtle affection didn’t mean the initial awkwardness had disappeared. In fact, they were still nervous about every light touch, even if they had been holding hands during breaks each day for two weeks. They weren't used to it and scared of doing something wrong, which increased proportionally with their growing feelings for each other.

As if a crush on his best friend wasn't enough, Pete was having confusing thoughts about his own gender and after John had confessed his love for him, he felt slightly more confident in his wish to experiment with his appearance.

John could have basically any girl he wanted, yet he wanted Pete, and that boosted his self-esteem. At times, he still felt a little weird about it because in his eyes, John was way ahead of him and he often had the image of the John he had first met in the back of his mind. He had already looked like a young man when Pete would remain a little boy for a few more years. Of course, that was not the problem as their age difference was only seven months. Objectively, there wasn't any problem.

He didn't consider himself attractive, but women and girls wore makeup to enhance nice features too, so it only made sense for him to try the same. Not too much, only a little to see how he could look prettier without overdoing it and risking being called slurs.

Besides that, presenting feminine was practically impossible wearing his school uniform, but he did start to put on a layer of mascara occasionally. The difference was very subtle as he already had dark eyelashes, so unless you got close to him, you would barely notice, while he still felt girlier and even cute.

An additional motivation was to doll himself up for John, especially today when he was coming over for the first time since that special school break. He decided to put on two more layers of mascara than usual along with some eyeliner and just a little bit of his mum’s red lipstick, which he applied with his fingertip to tint his lips enough not to look pale but not so bright that he would look like a clown.

Then, the doorbell rang and Pete rushed to open the door, excited to see John again, even if they had just met at school the day prior. John's eyes went straight to Pete's lips and he smiled as he was let in.

Neither of them knew how to greet each other yet, especially in public, but behind closed doors, Pete felt like he could hug his friend tighter and longer – or rather boyfriend now. He was still getting used to it despite never referring to him as more than his best friend when talking to anyone else. John wrapped his arms around Pete, still nervous but less now that they were not around other people.

However, he was here to rehearse, so Pete pulled away and led him to his room, loosely holding John’s hand as he did. Not because he needed guidance as he had been at the Townshends’ flat many times before, but because Pete liked showing affection, which they couldn't do freely when outside.

They practiced together as normal, with the usual reassurance from John that Pete had talent when he got frustrated over not playing something the way he had imagined.

“Thank you,” he murmured, looking down at his guitar to fiddle with the tuning.

Sitting beside him, John had the chance to catch a proper glimpse at Pete's makeup. His eyelashes appeared fuller and longer like the legs of a spider and his dark pink tinted lips made him look even cuter than John had already thought he was.

“You're so pretty,” he remarked quietly, knees touching again.

Pete slowly looked up, blinking. “You think so?”

The older boy nodded. “The mascara brings out your eyes.”

John was too nervous to mention the lipstick despite that being the detail that made his heart race. He wanted to kiss him so badly and perhaps have Pete leave a faint stain on his lips too.

“You should wear makeup more often,” he added sheepishly, gaze still not moving away from his lips.

Before Pete could respond in any way, John pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth, his hand resting on Pete's thigh. He quickly returned the kiss, first not knowing what to do with his hands until he started playing with John’s hair at the nape of his neck. Normally, John hated people touching his hair, but he soon figured out Pete was the exception. He wanted to melt into him but feared he would be moving too fast, so he pulled away with a smile.

Pete reached out to lightly drag his thumb over John's lips, chuckling. “Rubbed off a little.”

“Sharing is caring,” John smirked, Pete's touch giving him a tingling feeling on his skin.

After sharing a lingering look, they looked away nervously and picked up their instruments again. John cleared his throat and suggested the next song.

The way their playing complemented each other was indicative of their relationship. While they concentrated to impress each other and thankfully played louder than their pounding hearts, the air was full of adoration and both of them silently waited for the other to take another break so they could kiss again or find some excuse to touch each other.

It had gotten late and honestly, John didn't want to leave yet. As Pete often slept over at his place when everything became too much or he just didn't feel like going home the same day, Pete offered John to stay the night.

During those overnight visits, they always shared a bed. John's family's house didn't have a guest room and even if it had, he would have preferred to be in his friend's own room either way. Despite Pete initially planning to sleep on the rug next to the bed, John had insisted on a more comfortable sleeping space and since then it had been the most natural thing in the world for them to sleep in the same bed.

Of course, it had always been purely platonic. They hadn't cuddled – most of the time at least, although they had sometimes woken up snuggled up to each other, especially on colder nights – and neither had they felt weird about sharing his bed.

Tonight, however, a certain sense of awkwardness hung in the air as they got ready for bed. It was clear that they were going to sleep together in Pete's bed as well, but both of them felt nervous for reasons they didn't understand. If anything, them being in a relationship now should make it less strange. Otherwise, nothing had changed. There were no expectations to be met, all they had to do was go to sleep the same way they had done since early into their friendship.

Eventually, they climbed into bed one after the other, John lying on his right side and Pete close behind him as his rather small bed didn't allow for much physical distance. Before they would fall asleep, he urgently needed to say something.

“John?”

Hearing Pete say his name suddenly made him feel warm inside. He must have said it a thousand times before, but only now he couldn't contain his joy upon the sound of his name rolling off Pete's lips.

John turned around to face him. “Yes?”

“I love you,” he said softly, for the first time in this context, maybe even for the first time to him in general.

He flashed him the same crooked grin that Pete was weak for. Paired with the blush creeping up on his cheeks and his half-lidded eyes that had softened with tiredness, it was enough to confirm that what he had just said was the truth.

Yawning, John brushed some hair out of Pete's eyes and kissed his nose. His hand moved down his cheek and then found his boyfriend's hand, who smiled shyly and rolled over. John was still holding his hand over the boy's shoulder, whispering, “Good night, Pete.”

[mrm-pachypoda]

Nijntje wouldn’t stand a chance

1. Yes they have to fight, 2. Tell me who’s fighting who in the tags! (I’ll add the most ridiculous combos in a reblog)

[nostalgiaclown]

Lost Boy

Robert Laidir - He/They - 28 - Lords Of Fortune - Slayer Lost - Immature - Disruptive - Avoidant - Emotional - Joker

t/w: Abuse, Panic Attacks, Lack of Self Worth, Daddy Issues (I'm so sorry Rob)

��××

“ROBERT!! NOW!!”

The loud booming voice of your farther rings out across the field, breaking through the ringing in your ears, sweat covers your body, your hair sticks uncomfortably to your face, armour you quite fancied yourself in this morning now feels like a dead weight constricting you, weighing you down, adding to the pressure you’re already feeling after you hear the call of your name, and command to act.

Action.

“ROBERT! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR BOY??!”

Take Acton.

The ground beneath your feet trembles, another deafening roar sounds, that shakes you to the core.

“NOW!!”

Now.

Move.

MOVE.

The weight of your greatsword is too much for you to bare, your hands ache as you grip the hilt tighter, and you are NOT ready for this.

“USELESS FUCKING CHILD!! DIMITRIOS!”

“SIR!”

You stand, frozen, starring into the eyes of the wyvern as it charges towards you. Then, a sickening crunch, as Dimitris’s axe swings down against the wyvern’s skull, blood sprays, and the wyverns head lands with a great thump inches in front of you.

You stand there, chest still heaving, still looking into the now lifeless eyes of the wyvern, you manage a stolen glance to Dimitris, only to see him throw you a sneer as he pulls his axe from the beast.

Fuck.

Fuck…shit- fuck, fuck fuck-

“ROBERT! WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

Your heart clenches as your farther painfully grips your arm, pushing you back forcefully, you bite the inside of your mouth so hard you taste fresh blood, you cannot show how much his thumb digging into the gash on your arm hurts, or you know the pain you’ll endure later will be worse than this.

“LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM SPEAKING TO YOU BOY THAT IS AN ORDER.”

You close your eyes, steel your resolve, or try to. You can feel your grip loosen, and your hands start to shake from the fear and adrenaline running through you. You turn to face the man, no- monster, then open your eyes.

Shit.

He’s fucking furious.

You watch the older man as he closes his eyes, exhaling slowly, before opening them again and speaking with a slow, forcibly calm tone.

“I’ll ask again. What was that, Robert?” His thumb again digs into the gash on your arm. You manage to keep your face stoic, but your jaw clenches, and you lose your grip on your weapon. You hear Dimitris scoff off to the side somewhere. Arsehole.

You need to answer, but what do you say? Nothing you say will matter.

“Captain- I- I’m- shit- I froze, ok? You- you didn’t tell me-“

“Enough. Don’t stutter, boy. Are you trying to piss me off? Huh? Making me look a fool in front of the other officers? Do you get a kick out of playing the useless fool?”

If it fucks with you mate, yes. Cunt didn’t tell me we were going to fight a massive fuck off wyvern today.

“No Sir.”

That earns you a punch to the face. Your vision blanks for a second, but you manage to stay on your feet. Just about.

“THEN STOP FUCKING ACTING LIKE ONE! Worthless idiot. We’ll have words later.”

You hear him walk away, your vision darkens again, and you let out a bitter laugh. Hopefully, this time, you don’t wake up. No words from him are worth shit. You’ll never hear the words you need from him. You’ve accepted that much.

You promptly pass out, the last thing you can make out is your farther spewing more degrading words.

You bolt upright, drenched in sweat. That fucking nightmare again…

“Ugh…fuck’s sake man…” You untangle yourself from your wet blankets, kicking them away. The sound of the sea hitting the hold grounds you. it's fine. He’s not here. You’re away from all that now. Free.

“Hey Rob, shut it will ya? Some of us are trying to sleep yeah, quit yer whimpering and shit, we don’t wanna hear all that-“

“Yeah yeah- sorry, mate.” You get yourself up and pad your way over to the stairs. You need some air.

“An don’t fuckin come back down those stairs stomping like a drunk wyvern- we gotta be up early member- that Rivaini noble tosser wants that artefact, so we need you in top shape, yahear?”

“Yeah yeah I hear ya, still don’t like the guy. I’ll be quiet as a nug… quieter than your snoring anyway.” You bark out a laugh as you dodge the boot that was thrown at you and quickly ascend the stairs.

The night air is cold, the sea breeze whips around you, and the ocean spray kisses your skin. You breathe in. Out.

Looking out across the dark expanse of the sea, your grip on the mast tightens. You are free now. But, what do you do with that freedom? Seek out adventure, of course. Gold and Glory and all that too, you suppose.

Anything to feel something.

Something more.

Something to be prideful in.

[anewnewcrest]

From Anne Sawyer's Prayer Journal

Watcher help me... I've been having sinful thoughts! About a young man from church! His name is Acton Miller and he's the oldest son of another family from church, and he is... he is so amazing! He's 22 to my 18, which is just the kind of age difference a young couple should have, and he has a job, he's a policeman... and he is just the best kind of man! He loves his family, he works so hard (he even has a second job stocking shelves in a grocery store to help his family, and I think that speaks very well of him, that he's not too proud for any job to support his family), he loves children, and he has such a good heart and such a love for the Watcher! He pays for his sister Acacia's piano lessons, and he takes her to my father's house for her lessons, and picks her up, and sometimes he stays for a little bit to listen!

I know I should confess my sinful thoughts to my father and then let him handle the matter, but... I know what my father would do. He would warn Acton away from me, because he thinks the Millers are beneath us - whatever that means - and that Acton is not good enough for him! He says they're trouble, especially after Acton's brother Ashton got a girl from another family at church pregnant! But Acton is not like Ashton - really, he dislikes his brother a lot - and... talking to him when he picks up Acacia is the best part of my week, especially when we have to re-schedule and I can talk to him on the phone for a few minutes, or when we see each other on Sundays at church.

I know I can't be forward and tell him I'm interested, because girls don't do that, but I'm praying and praying and praying that the Watcher will do a work in his heart and make him notice me!

[slashingdisneypasta]

Poly!Dale Acton and Wayne Jackson x Reader || Drabble

Plot: A random drunk guy decides to bait equally drunk Dale and Wayne, and its everything you and Norman can do to keep those two from killing this man.

Warnings: Violence & misogynistic shit talking. I wrote this in the middle of the night during a burst of inspiration... from... the... weasley twins??.. so yeah. It might not be the best 😂😅XD SEVERELY unedited.

Tagging: @slxsherwriter

This guy wants to get his ass kicked so damn bad. It was all Norman could do to keep Dale in his seat and not leap over the booth and lunge at him, and it was all you could do to stay in front of Wayne (directly between him and this jerk, since he managed to slip out of your booth before you could stop him)- but this guy would not stop talking!

It started with just a few odd looks here and there from the bar. Dale noticed it and put a bad taste in his mouth, but you managed to calm him down again with a kiss on the cheek- you all just got off a long job! Can you all just have fun tonight?? Please.

Then he started to talk shit. Saying some very unflattering things about you, bar side picking at the guys' egos (You couldnt do shit if I came over there and started kicking your lame little asses, could you? How much are you paying for the slut? Etc etc), and you couldn't stop Wayne from talking back, and then well naturally it just got NASTY.

"-hey, old man, you lookin' kinda pent-up there now. Nothing else to say?? 'S not my fault if ya don't like the truth. How about you come over here and prove me wrong, huh?? Y'think your old back could take it?"

Wayne's voice is little more then a growl, and you're shocked; eyes wide, head snapping up to look at him. Oh, shit- "Come here, you little shit, I'll show you a broken back- "

"Well come on, then!" The guy laughs, and when you turn your head see the loser- you regret it immediately. He zeroes in on you. An obnoxious, simpering grin slips across his annoying mug. "... or, is your bitch the boss around here?"

Norman has to actually push Dale back down into his seat, then.

You flash the guy a glare, but ignore him, turning to look up pleading at Wayne; Try to talk over the guy and get through to him. "-hey, don't listen to him, he's drunk. You're drunk. He's just trying to bait you. Calm down, take a deep breath- "

"... just trynna bait me? heh... doin a real good job of it."

"I know, but- "

"Y/N." Normans voice. You turn your head, a hint of annoyance in your gaze. What?? He nods meaningfully towards Wayne's waistband, a note of worry in his face, and your eyes go insanely wide. Oh, shoot- right-

By the time you've had the time to look down and try to grab the gun before he can, Wayne's already got in hand. Luckily you're able to snatch it away before he can do anything; flashing him a ferociously stern glare. "No." You're not in any mood to spend the night in jail. And neither is Norman, who you hear give a half-relieved sigh.

"Aw, she is the boss!" The guy continues again, patronising and dumb-drunk. Poor, dumb, asshole. He doesn't know what poor decisions he's making fucking with these two. He's only lucky Norman's not easily picked on, otherwise there's nothing you could've on your own to save him. Or them. Or any innocent bystanders. "Cute. Omega men, right babe?"

He is SO. LUCKY.

Even you wanna kick his ass.

"Don't call her babe." Dale seethes, the first thing he's said during this entire encounter. Dale's not a talker- opposite to Wayne. Dale's a beater; hence the iron-grip Norman has on him.

The guy sneers at Dale. "Why not? She is." His eyes find you again, or your back, because you're not looking at him. You're tracking Wayne, hoping he doesn't try something crazy. "Huh, babe? Babes? Sweet tits?"

You give a wince, you cant help it; grossed out and uncomfortable, it does not fly over Dale's head. He tries to jump up but Norman's grip forces him hard back down in his seat. "Stay the fuck down. We don't want trouble."

"Speak for yourself, I wanna kill this mother- "

" -Dale, come on," You take your attention off of Wayne for a second; turning your pleading gaze onto Dale. "Please."

... He looks at you like he cant believe what you're asking of him, like its so unfair he cant beat the shit out of this guy, but thank god- he listens. He grips the table so hard his knuckles go white and he's scowling so hard his blue eyes are almost black, but he listens. Halfway through relief, your ears prick up at that fucking guy, talking again. Still. When will he shut. up!?? "Oh, you guys are so whipped. I mean, she's cute don't get me wrong. And pussy's good- but not that good. Show her who's fucken boss already. ... Show me."

... You don't remember when you let go of Wayne. But you know you did. Because the next thing you know you're whipping around, discarding the gun, marching up to this drunk asshole and punching him directly in the jaw.

Then Wayne's fingers dig into the guy's hair and he's on the ground. Wayne's boot on his throat. The sound of Norman cursing behind you, and he must let go of Dale because he's going to have really painfully bruised, split knuckles tomorrow. Then all 3 of you sitting handcuffed in the back of police car side-by-side.

[mrm-pachypoda]

Could never forget:

The favorite character is the last one listed, because they appear in exactly one scene. And I had to read through the entire thing just to find that out.

looking for fics about your favorite character on ao3 be like:

dont care

dont care

dont care

what the actual fuck

dont care

ooh that sounds- what the fuck

unfinished

don't care

the best fic ive ever read in my life. this absolutely ruined me and ill never be the same ever again

dont care

[toondisneyartz]

20 Years of Comfort Characters

Today is my 20th birthday, and I decided to draw every comfort character I've had since I was very young. You can notice there is a diverse amount of characters in this photo XD, some of them were really special to me growing up, but they all have made an impact on me. I also did NOT include every comfort character I've had in my entire life, as I was unable to include some characters I really wanted to include.   

Mickey Mouse is owned by Walt Disney Studios (2005?-2008) Martha Speaks is owned by Susan Meddaugh and PBS Kids (2011-2012) Ponyo is owned by Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli (2011-2012) Peanut Big Top is owned by Amandine Consorti and MGA Entertainment (2011-2014) Dracularura is owned by Garrett Sander and Mattel (2012-2015) Liberty Moshling is owned by Michael Acton Smith and Mind Candy Entertainment (2013-2015) Unikitty is owned by Phil Lord, Christopher Miller, and Warner Brothers Entertainment (2014-2015) Riley Andersen is owned by Pete Docter and Pixar Animation Studios (2015-2016) Bonnie is owned by Scott Cawthon (2015-2016) Violet Parr is owned by Brad Bird and Pixar Animation Studios (2017-2019) Loki is owned by Stan Lee and Marvel (2019-2021) Gumball is owned by Ben Bocquelet and Cartoon Network Europe (2019-2020) Marceline is owned by Pendleton Ward and Cartoon Network Studios (2019-2020) Tom Lucitor is owned by Daron Nefcy and Disney TVA (2021) Commander Peepers is owned by Craig McCracken and Disney TVA (2021-present) Cala Maria and Hilda Berg are owned by Chad and Jared Moldenhauer and Studio MDHR (2022-2023) Mordecai is owned by JG Quintel and Cartoon Network Studios (2022-present) Spinel is owned by Rebecca Sugar and Cartoon Network Studios (2023-) Alphys is owned by Toby Fox (2023-)

[spencerberkeley]

DON'T WORRY, BE HAPPY:

Look, you know what happens if you don't spice up the dash. People die. Mistral's doesn't get enough love so...let's do this to it I guess idk. Features Spencer, Cassie, Nora, a bunch of NPCs and a vaguely referenced dude. Date: Evening of 21/8/24. Warnings: Kate up to her usual ish. 

“I hate French food so fucking much. Why are you doing this to me?”

“Laurent recommended the place, and I said I’d—”

The initial disgust present on Cassandra’s face dissipated in an instant, instead replaced by amusement, and all he could do was grimace in annoyance that he had somehow ended up calling her his best friend. There was no point finishing what he was about to say. Slowly, she lifted her hand from the thankfully (in her humble opinion) foodless table, giving him a dramatic thumbs-up.

“Don’t start this shit again.”

“Ooh friend!” The blonde cooed loudly.

Too late.

“French friend!”

This time it was Nora who chimed in, and he shot her a look that very much said ‘traitor.’

The reference earned a few sniggers from the others gathered around the table—Jessica and Llewellyn, in particular—and worse, drew the attention of several onlookers. Spencer didn’t care enough to offer them any attempt at an apology for bringing literal farm animals to dinner, but tried to hush the pair of idiot blondes for his own sake.

They were a party of eight and he regretted almost every choice intensely. Cassandra and his former girlfriend, Jessica Mirzoyan, sat opposite, smirking like school girls at his expense. His two sisters flanked her new partner, his cousin, Llewellyn, to his left. Camilla’s husband, Philip, and his childhood friend, Jack, were engaged in their own conversation, entirely separate from the mess at the table, to his right. They were down two, though. Jasper and his new girlfriend—or old, if they were going to get technical about it, he supposed—were also supposed to be in attendance, but given her apparent reticence sparking concern during their vacation earlier in the month, Spencer suspected it was for the best that they weren’t being subject to whatever the fuck this was.

“You know when you lecture me about being too busy with work to socialise with you?” Spencer began, pointing a finger at Cassandra accusatorily. “Maybe it’s because you’re shit.”

“I’m actually a blessing, but okay.”

“A blessing,” Nora repeated for emphasis, taking a very ladylike sip of her champagne. “Speaking of blessings, though, where is Alexis? You better not have left her at home with the kids so you can get drunk on a school night…”

“Nah, some shit came up with Gaius. Mum is babysitting.”

“Mine, too,” Camilla added.

“She’s watching all of them?! You realise dad has the larger inheritance, right? This better not be some morbid tactic to send the woman to an early grave…”

The conversation was light-hearted, and he appreciated it given the weight his day had landed squarely on his shoulders. A meeting with Elizabeth Acton had left him reeling so spectacularly, Spencer had almost cancelled last minute so he could go home and try to figure out what the fuck he was going to do. As much as he pretended the people surrounding him were nothing more than irritants, however, the reality was that in that moment, he was more grateful for the distraction than they could begin to understand. Particularly when he was no longer sure that this could be as regular an occurrence as he’d like going forward.

Eventually, the food was delivered by a very proud looking waiter. Most displeased was he, upon returning to check on their progress, to see Cassie pushing hers around the plate like a petulant toddler who would’ve been better suited to chicken nuggets.

It was the first time everyone had been relatively quiet, though; a contrast to the otherwise bustling restaurant around them.

Until the ambience was disturbed by a shrill shriek coming from outside.

Spencer checked his Rolex. 19:39.

In typical British fashion, everyone’s eyebrows pulled into a frown, though none commented aloud. It was more an annoyance—how dare somebody mildly inconvenience their evening with such unbecoming behaviour—as opposed to concern for what may have caused the outburst. The only one seated at their table that seemed to be worried about what might be happening outside of their little bubble was Nora, typically enough, and she attempted to steal a glance through the window they were seated beside.

“It’s South Ken, Nora. Somebody was probably spotted wearing last season’s Chanel,” Jack brushed it off, though not without attempting to get a look, himself.

Spencer almost huffed out a laugh at that, but it died in his throat before it ever reached the others.

Suddenly, something just…didn’t feel right.

A few people around them had got up from their tables with similar intent to be nosy; perhaps, when they noticed the normal evening crowds making their way down the street begin to disperse in what was almost certainly not a reaction to somebody’s poor fashion choices.

It wasn’t his first time being caught up in a situation like this, but given how he reacted, one could’ve been fooled into thinking so.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds between the first scream and the sound of gunshots ripping through the comfortable normality of Kensington and Chelsea. The onslaught was so loud it couldn’t have been anywhere else but right outside, and as much was confirmed as the sounds of nearby windows shattering intermittently pierced the panicked screams of the diners.

Champagne and fois gras was sent flying as people sought cover beneath their tables. Threw them aside in an attempt to get away from the room and the stray bullets finding the interior, entirely. Except it didn’t much seem like they were strays. It seemed like someone was aiming them directly at the fucking restaurant.

Pick a table by the window, Laurent had said… It’ll be fun, he’d said…

Spencer reflexively grabbed for Nora, attempting to drag her beneath the table to take cover, but she was attempting her own rescue on Cassie, and she was out of his grip before he ever truly had it. Philip was trying to pull his wife to safety, but the continuous shots in their direction made it hard to tell where was safe, and where was directly in the fucking firing line.

What were they supposed to do? Where were they supposed to go?

Glancing around for something they could all duck behind, every single sense heightened by the immediate shot of adrenaline, he took note that a woman a table over had clearly been struck. Though he could see her moving, the blood pooling around her seemed so swift in its escape, he probably would’ve wondered if her demise was an inevitability had he not been so focused on trying to help the people he loved avoid a similar fate.

Everything was a blur, eerily reminiscent of another time he’d been showered in glass at the hands of murderers.

Why here? Why now?

A Frenchman lying limp on the blood-stained pavement outside answered both of those questions, but nobody present beneath the table could’ve known that.

It felt like an eternity of ragged breathing and thumping hearts until it finally stopped.

The screaming didn’t, though. Nor did the wails of pain. Grief, in some cases, he didn’t doubt.

“What the fuck—” Jessica, always the calm and collected one, was utterly betrayed by the wavering in her voice. Spencer was surprised she could string a sentence together at all.

“What’s happening? Is everyone all right?” Camilla, then.

Cassie was practically catatonic, and he realised quickly, this was not her first encounter with a firing squad. It seemed she was even less equipped to deal with it than he felt. Maybe in some cases, experience wasn’t always such a good teacher…

“I think I’m bleeding,” Nora said shakily.

Spencer’s head shot up immediately in spite of the fact everyone else was too scared—rightfully so—to stray from their hiding spots. What was to say whoever had done this wasn’t just fucking reloading? What if this wasn’t really over as quickly as they thought it was?

“What do you mean? Where?”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“It’s just—” His sister’s attempt at an explanation was cut off as she gasped out in pain, Llewellyn attempting to place pressure on the wound. “It’s just my arm. I think it hit my arm.”

“We need to get out of here. Is everyone else good?”

“There’s blood on me, too, but I think I’m—” Philip started, his slicked-back hair dishevelled for perhaps the first time in his existence, before he was looking right at Spencer. “It’s not mine. Spencer, you’re bleeding.”

What?

Maybe it had been a mistake to assume he felt so detached from that moment because of stress, or anxiety, or pure fight-or-flight reflexes. In fact, he hadn’t felt a fucking thing until he’d looked down at himself, the faces of the others around him paling. It didn’t require too much searching when ‘you’re bleeding’ suddenly felt like the biggest understatement in the world. Evidently, when he’d jumped to his feet in an attempt to grab for his sister, he’d exposed himself to the window.

He hadn’t felt a fucking thing then but he sure did now.

The blood was soaking into his dress shirt at a terrifying speed, and he was suddenly very aware of an intense pain growing just beneath his ribcage. Oh, fuck.  

One hand reached for his upper abdomen, another for the table.

One missed and he found himself falling to the ground, body suddenly weak as though it took seeing it with his own eyes for his brain to fucking register what was happening.

It was enough to break Cassie out of her trance, though.

Might’ve laughed at her crawling toward him hurriedly on all fours like something out of a horror movie if he hadn’t felt himself starting to fade a moment later.

Maybe he hated French food now, too.

And maybe, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about Elizabeth propping him up to be the next Leader of the Conservative Party if he was fucking dead.

[mrm-pachypoda]

Don’t worry I got you lol

Lethargy - Bastille

Dirty Harry - Gorillaz & Bootie Brown

So alright, cool, whatever - the happy fits

Growing Old on Bleecker Street - AJR

Black Shirt - Rustic Overtones

6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro/Con) - Will Wood and the Tapeworms

No Distraction - Beck

Blow - Ke$ha

Something Good Can Work - Two Door Cinema Club

Eve of Destruction - The Chemical Brothers

Le Retour à La Terre - Les Fatals Picards

Deceptacon - Le Tigre

It’s Been a Long, Long Time - Kitty Kallen

The Other Side of Paradise - Glass Animals

Midnight City - M83

Loud Pipes - Ratatat

Leave Me Alone - I DONT KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

Shame Shame - Foo Fighters

Supermassive Black Hole - Muse

Never There - Cake

Cynical - Enter the Haggis

Call This # Now - The Garden

Pretty Little Ditty - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Go Robot - Red Hot Chili Peppers

Jerk It Out - Caesars

Michael - Franz Ferdinand

Hot N Cold - Katy Perry

Sex on Fire - Kings of Leon

Blind Leading the Blind - Mumford & Sons

Cough Syrup - Young the Giant

Anna Sun - WALK THE MOON

Walking the Dog - Fun.

Walk Me Home - P!nk

Talk Too Much - Coin

Dear Life - Beck

I Will Follow You Into the Dark - Death Cab for Cutie

Girl - Jukebox the Ghost

Voulez-Vous - ABBA

May have gone overzealous and made multiple persons’ worth of song recommendations, hahah

Uhh how about

@chaotic-neutral-anxiety @sincerelyhannibal @reddit-user-hotbox420 @dash-n-step @sea-buns @str4wb3rrycr3p3c00k13 @ratmelody

Have at thee!

Hey eyeone! I want to know what your favorite songs are, if you see this post you are CONTRACTUALLY OBLIGATED to reblog with at least 1 song you have listened to and enjoyed but if you have more you'd like to share then go ahead! Also tag your friends!

I'll start, I'm going to list 5 of my favorite songs

Dr Sunshine Is Dead by Will Wood

134340 Pluto by Cojum Dip

Vulture by Bear ghost

Dear John by I monster

And finally: playing places: Oceans by Cosmo Sheldrake

Here's the people I want to tag

@f4y3w00d5 @ashen-the-tiefling @terrencetheshark14 @underpaid-guard @blacktipreefsharkwizard @the-gnomish-bastard @thatgayforkcrow @lixorloveslicorice @yourlocalbreadenthusiast @agentldiddy @aileaxthevoidien @slutty-wizard-council @monsterfucker-research-wizard and anyone else who wants to play!!!

[mrm-pachypoda]

@mischieviem isn’t a cradle snatcher. They are, as we call in the business, a casket snatcher. A grave robber. A skeleton scrambler. The mortuary ASSistant

[michaeljfoy]

“Absolute Power Corrupts Absolutely!”

The phrase absolute power corrupts absolutely is a popular proverb that has been around for centuries. Its powerful message speaks to the dangers of giving one person too much power and control. The origin of this phrase is not clear, but it has been attributed to several historical figures, including Sir John Dalberg-Acton and Lord Acton.

The proverb highlights the idea that when people are given too much power and control, they can become corrupt and abuse their position for personal gain. This can lead to negative consequences for the people they are supposed to serve, as well as for society as a whole.

The dangers of absolute power are not just limited to corrupt leaders, but can also be seen in corporations, institutions, and other organizations. When these entities have too much control, they can become abusive, leading to negative consequences for society.

Historical Context The idea of absolute power corrupting absolutely has been around for centuries and has been observed in various historical contexts.

The Roman Empire was marked by the concentration of power in the hands of a few people, who often abused their positions for personal gain. The French Revolution was driven by the desire to overthrow a corrupt and abusive ruling class.

The proverb has also been applied to more-recent events, such as the Watergate scandal, which exposed corruption at the highest levels of the US government, and the Enron scandal, which revealed widespread corruption and abuse of power within a major corporation.

The Importance of Limits on Power The idea that absolute power corrupts absolutely highlights the importance of placing limits on the power of individuals and organizations — particularly within governments. This can be achieved through checks and balances, such as an independent judiciary, a free press, and a robust political opposition.

It is also important to ensure that those in power are held accountable for their actions. This can be achieved through transparency, open and accessible information, and robust systems of oversight and regulation.

Fictional Characters with Superhuman Powers Can Serve as a Powerful Allegory Fiction often provides a powerful lens through which to explore complex themes, including the dangers of absolute power. This is particularly true in stories featuring characters with supernatural abilities, who — when given too much power — can wreak havoc on those around them.

In J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter series, Lord Voldemort represents the dangers of absolute power. Through his quest for ultimate power, he becomes a cruel and tyrannical leader who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals.

In the X-Men universe, Magneto is a powerful mutant who seeks to take control of the world in order to protect mutants from persecution. Although his intentions may be noble, his methods are often brutal and indiscriminate, leading to conflict and tragedy.

These fictional characters serve as cautionary tales, highlighting the dangers of absolute power. They remind us of the importance of challenging the control of those who hold absolute power of any kind.

Conclusion The recurrent warning absolute power corrupts absolutely has been illustrated in many contexts, real and fictional. From historical examples of corrupt leaders and institutions to fictional characters with supernatural abilities, the dangers of absolute power have been made abundantly clear.

When power is concentrated in the hands of a few, it can lead to corruption and abuse. By promoting accountability, limiting power, and ensuring transparency, we can be on guard against granting anyone absolute power.

The End

Live the amazement of astonishing plot twists with a sneak peek at https://michaeljfoy.com/books/

And unlock the world of FREE fiction at https://michaeljfoy.com/ – Get your FREE novel now!

[mrm-pachypoda]

Is that fucking Marlboro??

[toobwaysider]

KILLIAN’S Y2K: THERE AND BACK AGAIN

When they lived in the unremarked neighborhood of Allansburg in Brooklyn (once they graduated from Acton University in the Flatlands), Timjimmy Auxberon and his roommate Killian Vellinge would often frequent the local watering hole, Doonasie’s.  Eventually, due to demands on their time from their jobs, they settled on hanging out there at least on Thursdays.

This was mostly because Thursday night was Doonasie’s trivia quiz night.

Killian was an avid fan of a good pub quiz challenge; since he was a boy growing up in Pooticuck County, he had always been intrigued by the pop culture of the humans who surrounded his people, in the Flatlands.  (O’Bservation: For those who might not be familiar with that flat planet in its own pocket dimension, humans are not the only bipedal humanoid race to be found there.  All of those once believed to be only found in myths and legends – from the demi-gods and elf lords to dog-headed disciples of St. Christophaurus and halflings like the Keetauks, along with the headless Blemmyes and those with tails like the Firbolgs of Irish legend who became known as the Wonnix in ancient Connecticut – they are indeed real.  They would still be on Earth to this day had not the Toddler God kidnapped them all to populate the Flatlands.  As for Killian, his people were from the dimension of Nemed like the Firbolgs, but in the North Sea region remembered now only as Doggerland, they were known as the Halifae.)

Timjimmy wasn’t too shabby in the trivia department, either.  But what he never told Killian, knowing his betailed companion would not approve, was that he was surrounded by ghosts, all of them eager to join in, just to be part of the living world in some way again.

However, even with their own expertise along with the supernatural support, they didn’t always win.  Who knew Allansburg was such a haven for pub quiz enthusiasts?

In 2000, Killian and Timjimmy suffered their own devastatingly personal Y2K crisis when Killian was murdered by intruders into their apartment.  Had Timjimmy been home, he would have surely been killed as well, not that such thoughts ever brought him solace.  He was lucky he wasn’t even in the City at the time, because the detectives investigating Killian’s murder were quick to jump on the “longtime companions” scenario as their solution.  However, Timjimmy was on assignment in the Firelands of Ohio, working undercover as a “hotel irritant” in order to assess the client hotel’s capability to handle difficult guests.  (And Timjimmy always could put on quite a show disguised as one of those difficult guests.  In this case, it was memorable enough that he had plenty of witnesses to the fact that he was over 500 miles away from the scene of the crime.)

It would be fifteen years later when Timjimmy suffered a post-traumatic breakdown, triggered by the revelation of who was responsible for Killian’s death. (O’Bservation: It was the executives at the advertising agency where Killian had been one of the Creatives.)  But to add to that shocking revelation, suddenly Killian’s spirit manifested itself to him after so many years as merely a memory.

Normally this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary, since Timjimmy had the bent for seeing and speaking to the ghosts trapped outside of the spirit realm.  But even as a kid, long before he met Killian, it was a deeply-held belief that those who came from the Nemedian dimension – Firbolgs/Wonnix, Huldra, the Moon-eyed Children and Killian’s own Halifae….  Even though they might have been considered more as aliens than fae, tradition held that they had no souls.  And with no souls, there shouldn’t have been spirits.

But his heterochromiac eyes – one crystal blue, the other deep yellow – were not deceiving him.  There was his long-lost best friend, back again.

Only this time… he could see right through Killian.

It was more than Timjimmy’s brain could handle.  And that’s why he ended up in The Institute in Harper.