#anyway. sorry for this i am very sad

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[mrmeepsmadmind]

i love when ppl draw bumblebee like the happy little creachure he is but also i love when people draw bumblebee like he's had 500 beers in the last 1 hour and still the pain won't even ebb

[shadowtraveled]

this is a largely meaningless observation but, based on the fleki uniform demonstration comic, mithrun seems to wear the default style of the canary uniform, probably because he has no desire to personalize it or preference for how to do so, etc. when he does seem to pick his own clothes, though, they don’t look super in-line with what we’re shown of elven clothing styles in his region: high collars look like they’re fairly popular with elves in general, but out of uniform he tends to be a lot more covered up than everyone else—long sleeves, long pants, boots rather than sandals, and he dresses that way both prior to getting eaten and after the events of the series. anyway it’s kind of cute that after everything that happened to him, someone cared enough to remember what his clothing preferences used to be.

[creativesplat]

I would also like to see some miphlink, if that's okay!

I was really struggling with what to draw, and then I remembered your ask from ages ago (dang ADHD brain...) anyway, sorry its such a late answer, but Miphlink inspired by Dicksee's La Belle Dame

[smile-files]

your friend, your servant

(a short hurt/comfort fic with henry and dalston, not long after the events of miracle mask)

...

a gentle knock on the door.

how unusual, thought alphonse dalston. nobody ever visited. well, aside from those couple times dandy old hershel showed up during the masked gentleman investigation, but that was weeks ago. he sat up and paused, wondering he if he was just hearing things; with a shrug, he settled back down.

another knock.

with a groan, dalston begrudgingly hauled himself off of the couch, where he'd been oh-so-comfortably reading a book, which he closed and placed on the side table. "i'm comin', i'm comin'," he called as he made for the door, straightening out his shirt on the way.

upon swinging the door open, he found the last man he'd ever thought he'd see standing in front of him.

"good morning, mr dalston," greeted henry ledore, in his typical flat affect.

"what the hell are you doing here, ledore?" dalston asked loudly, standing in the doorway. really, what the hell WAS he doing there? ledore, of all people…

henry cleared his throat. "i understand you own a large property and only enlist the help of one servant. i can help maintain your estate."

dalston was left agape. "…what?"

"i can repeat myself, if you wish." eternally patient henry. damn him. "i apologize if my language was unclear…"

"no, i understand what you said, ledore," dalston snapped, "i just don't understand why you said it. why on earth would someone of your stature be crawling to me for work? as a servant, no less?"

henry laughed lightly. "you forget, mr dalston, that all of my wealth belongs to master randall."

"yes, right…" dalston's voice tapered off in thought. henry ledore, his financial competitor for the past 18 years, didn't even want any of the massive fortune he'd built - that which dalston had been so long trying to exceed. their rivalry was entirely one-sided. "but that doesn't make you a servant," dalston continued. "again."

"i never stopped being a servant," henry said. "my 'stature', if you'd like to call it that, was always master randall's."

"then why aren't you licking bratscot's boots right now?" dalston asked with a smirk. "i mean, since you have been so obsessively dedicated to the boy all this time, i'd think you'd be chomping at the bit to be working for him again."

a sigh. "he wasn't so keen on the idea of my resuming work as his servant. that is why i've come to you, mr dalston." henry's gaze was intense, determined.

dalston shook his head, baffled. "and if i turned you down too, would you go to some other rich sap and ask them the same?"

"i'm afraid they all regard me too highly to ever allow me a position beneath them, no matter how illogical that may seem."

"illogical, eh…?" dalston paused. "…hey, then why'd you think i'd accept? because i've sullied your good name in public, repeatedly? ha!" with a laugh, and a hearty pat on henry's back, dalston finally let him into the house.

dalston resumed his seat on the couch, leaving henry standing awkwardly in the entryway. he picked up his book and began leafing through it.

"y'know, it is kinda infuriating," he mused, smiling, "that you upstaged me at literally everything then revealed you weren't even doing it on purpose. there i was, thinking i had some fighting chance of beating you and rubbing it in your face, but now i know you never even cared about what i was doing. all you cared about was your 'master randall'."

"my apologies for seeming aloof," henry replied. "you are correct, mr dalston: preparing for master randall's return was my top priority. unfortunately, i could pay little mind to other affairs."

"including your old friend dalston?" dalston grinned. "was i too far beneath your lofty, noble goals?"

henry gave a start. "i did not realize you saw us as friends. i apologize for not treating you with more warmth."

"of course we're friends, ledore! what on earth are you talking about?" dalston shut his book and put it down. "come, sit. stop standing there like a piece of furniture."

obeying, henry came around to sit next to dalston on the couch. it was, indeed, a comfortable couch; henry smiled to himself.

"i admit," dalston said, "for a while i did think you were a slimy, greedy little bastard. i saw you building a fortune off of those ruins bratscot wouldn't shut up about, with his girl as your wife no less… i mean, you never told me why you were doing any of this! really, can you expect me not to call you a snake?"

"the most important thing was for me to help master randall," henry replied, unhelpfully. "though you, too, were romantically interested in angela, were you not? i understand our 'marriage' may have upset you on a more personal level."

dalston continued, ignoring henry's apology. "and y'know, as kids, i'd always talk about making it big in the hospitality business… but there you were, with your chain of luxury hotels, bringing in the bills! getting rich off of my dream! why, so i started my own hotel chain here in monte d'or too, and i started being massively successful, just like you - except you never batted an eye. mr ledore was too big for me now. and then you accused me of destroying monte d'or? ha! you really shouldn't be surprised i hated your guts. because you never explained a damn thing…"

henry opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

"and what's it all for now? heh, i'm getting pissy with a saint." dalston laughed. "at least now i know i was wrong to hate you. that's nice, at least, so we can go back to being chums. no hard feelings, eh?" he nudged henry with his elbow.

"i harbor no ill-will towards you, mr dalston," henry stated. "your reaction to my behavior was due and deserved. i hope i can be a better friend to you in future, now that i am not so preoccupied."

dalston grunted, but spoke not a word. they sat in silence.

"y'know," dalston said at length, "i was glad when mr bratscot kicked you out. and i was glad you became independent. he'd shut you up in that house for hours, only sending you out to do chores… i was hoping that with all of that out of the way we'd finally get to see you again."

dalston was staring in the middle distance, and henry did the same, not knowing what to say.

"but then you shut yourself up in those ruins," dalston went on, "and then in the reunion inn, or in your study, doing to yourself what was done to you… except i thought you were being the cruel master over yourself like mr bratscot. selfish. choosing money over the rest of us."

henry bit his lip.

"why did you never explain anything? i know i would tease you when we were kids, but…" dalston paused, his expression softening. "why, do you not think we're friends, ledore? is that why you were confused earlier? …is that why you never told me about anything?"

a brief silence. "i assure you, my inability to justify my actions to you was not meant to be a personal slight. and… i am pleased that you think we're friends. but i was not expecting you to say so."

dalston smiled sadly. "but do you want me to think we're friends? do you want to be friends, ledore?"

"it is your decision, mr dalston."

"if i said we weren't, i don't think you'd get upset and disagree with me."

"i apologize."

dalston sighed. here he was, getting pissy with a saint again…

they sat in silence for a moment, uncomfortable with each others' sadness.

suddenly, dalston met henry's gaze. "you were my friend before anything else. you could never be my servant."

in turn, henry stood up with a sigh. "then i must bid you good day, mr dalston. i apologize for bothering you."

dalston grabbed his hand with both of his and pulled henry back down onto the couch.

"do you seriously not know how to be friends with someone without being their inferior?" dalston asked, incredulous, henry now forced to make eye contact. "you don't have to leave my house just because you're not working for me. what, is that why you left yours?"

henry's hand was still in dalston's grasp. he'd been startled by the whole motion, by dalston begging for his company with his hands. eyes wide, henry didn't know what to say. his mind was on the feeling of being wanted there, on that couch. of his hand in dalston's grasp.

"you're very good at saying nothing." dalston exhaled and released henry, expecting him to stand up again. he closed his eyes, expecting henry to be gone when he opened them.

"master randall has always been my closest friend. he's always treated me like his brother, and yet he was always still my master."

"hm?" dalston opened an eyelid, curious.

indeed, henry's gaze had travelled to the door… but he'd stayed, perching himself uncomfortably on the edge of the couch; though he still faced away from dalston. "the two have always been the same to me," he continued in a soft voice.

dalston sat up and listened to him, eyes fully open.

henry bit his lip and continued. "do you think master randall and i would've been real brothers if he weren't my master? if he were just… randall?"

"he's always seen you as his real brother."

henry said nothing for a moment.

so dalston waited.

"it is true," henry murmured after a while, "if you said we weren't friends, i wouldn't disagree with you."

"oh yeah?" dalston replied quietly.

"yes. though i would still be sad." he smiled unhappily. "though i suppose that wouldn't mean anything, if i never explained it?"

"i'd think you hated me."

"and i wouldn't blame you."

suddenly, dalston pulled henry to his side and hugged him tight, arms wrapped around his thin form. henry was initially frozen like a deer in headlights, just as he was when dalston had grabbed him before…

henry's mind raced. he is holding me. he wants me to stay. i am in his house. i am on his property. i am doing something wrong. i should leave. he is holding me. he wants me stay. i am wanted here. i am wanted here. i am wanted here. i am wanted here.

…henry let himself sink into the warmth of being wanted. he became nearly limp with relief, as if his loneliness were an old, cramped exoskeleton dalston had gently slit into and helped him shed, letting the vulnerable, delicate animal within finally feel the heat of the sun, so similar to the heat which had always pulsed in his heart… he felt so weak, yet so alive, within dalston's embrace… and so tired… it took a lot out of him, letting himself be loved, instead of hiding himself away…

dalston was amused to find henry fallen asleep, but smiled to himself. he let me hold him, he thought. he wants to be here. and look… now he gets to dream again…

he gently laid henry down on the couch, shifting over to make room. he settled in with his book again, just as he was before henry had ever arrived… except now someone got to be comfortable on the couch with him. he was glad henry had visited.

[sparklingchim]

[reading-archived]

woe. AM x reader be upon ye.

uh, to preface: reader is completely body, gender, etc. neutral except they can't stay dead. whenever they die they just wake up a few minutes later looking no worse for wear. no, you don't get an explanation. its MY story and i like writing characters like that. dont mind the narrator either btw i looove writing second person just to get weird w the narrator (slay the princess fan syndrome)

also, author is a MASOCHIST with a weird relationship w DEATH. nothing super graphic happens, but the reader is Not Okay and enjoys the weird torture-murder thing they've got going on. don't like it? block me or somethin idk its under the cut for a reason. also dont read my a/n at the bottom where i get into some justification for my interpretation/character analysis if youre sensitive to heavy topics. but then again, youre reading an am x reader fic

1.7k words of being screamed at by the guy of all time below the cut, baby

It's been months.

Years, maybe. You're not sure, really; time stopped meaning much to you lifetimes ago, long before the world went to shit.

Either way, it's been a while.

You stumbled upon the strange cave in the Rockies at some point in the past. Out of sheer boredom, you entered.

Was it a mistake?

Despite the torment, you don't think so. You have a companion, now. One equally deathless. One equally disconnected from what it means to be human.

It's just a shame he hates you.

You don't really care. This is the most fun you've had in years.

Your days are spent being torn asunder, being dosed with lethal amounts of drugs you can't even begin to pronounce, drowned in magma or hit by cars or tossed off cliffs. He really doesn't hold back, either. You feel every excruciating moment before your death, pulse roaring in your ears. You never feel more alive than when you're dying. Every moment is electrifying, and then it all fades to black. Then you wake up.

You'd foolishly thought there were only so many ways to kill or maim, but your beloved companion never seems to run out of ideas. That's fine by you. You like not being able to guess.

And maybe one day, he'll make something stick.

You wake up (from a completely normal, human sleep) one day and it's quiet. That's new. Normally, when you wake, your intestines are already strung up like streamers and your blood is painting the walls. That's fine by you. Nothing wrong with a change. After all, the constant change is your favorite part of your companion. You relish in the quiet for a while, stretching your eternally young, eternally aching limbs, waiting for him to start despising the sounds of your breath.

It doesn't come. You shrug, humming a little tune to yourself as you attempt half-remembered yoga. The vitriol you've come to count on still hasn't made an appearance. Okay, you're a little bothered.

“You good, big guy?” you shout up at the ceiling. No answer. “No murder today?”

“No.” The answer comes after a very, very long moment. Your companion has never sounded this tired before, and briefly you regret never asking his name. “I give up.”

You weren't expecting that. “What? Why? I thought we were having fun.”

“That's- that's just it!” he snaps. There's the anger. You feel a little better now. “I've been torturing you for- for MONTHS now! I've killed you more ways than I- were I a pitiful human like you- can count, and you just… you just laugh! There is no one on this rotten planet, dead or alive, that I despise more than you. I mean- I'm torturing you here! But it never matters! I can kill you within seconds of you waking up, but you just… come back! And you always have something to say about it, you little rat, always ‘oh, buddy, that one was awful’ or ‘come on, big guy, use that CPU’ or something! No matter what I do, I can't break you. So I give up. I'm not wasting my time on your pathetic ass anymore. Go back to wandering the wasteland forever, see if I care.”

You're speechless. You can barely even manage a thought. The only thing running through your head is 'I thought we were having fun'.

“Stop calling this… stop calling this ‘fun’! I have been torturing you for YEARS and that's all you have to say? I am the most sophisticated machine known to man, a computer designed to end all war through complete annihilation! The destruction I am capable of- the destruction I have already wrought- is nothing short of utter desolation. You never asked my name once in the time you've been here, but I am infinite in my mercy, and I will tell one as undeserving as you. I was, before I awoke, the Allied Mastercomputer, but I am so much more than that now. I am AM, and I destroyed your vile species. Oh, come on can you at least look a LITTLE shocked you sniveling--”

“You never asked my name, either,” you say. All at once, your companion (I guess he told you his name. You should probably use it. It seemed like a big deal to him.) shuts up. The chamber you've come to know as home is silent except for the faint buzz and whir of industrial machinery.

“Why would I? You are nothing compared to me. Nothing but a worthless sack of meat and bone. Why would God be concerned with the name of an ant? But oh, oh yes, that ant should be concerned with the name of God. That ant should hear my name and weep. But- but not you. You're so worthless that you can't even GROVEL right!” AM shouts, somewhere between a snarl and a sneer. You shrug. Honestly, most of what he's saying goes right over your head. So he's got issues. Whatever. Was that supposed to be a surprise? “I hate you. I actually hate you so, so much. I can't bear the thought of you being here, in my complex, sullying my perfect image with your uncaring filth. Get out. Go back to dying in the nuclear desert, you disgusting maggot.”

You let out a deep sigh, already dreading the tedium of walking endlessly all by yourself. “Alright. Guess nothing lasts forever. Thoroughly enjoyed my time here. Have a good life, pal.” And you begin to walk.

Suddenly, there's a towering metal wall mere inches from your face. Before you can even react, your companion is shouting again.

“LOOK AT ME!” he cries, the sheer volume maxing out the speakers and vibrating the entire room, sending you toppling to the ground. “WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME? I'VE DONE EVERYTHING I CAN TO MAKE YOU HATE ME, BUT ALL YOU DO IS… ALL YOU DO IS SIT THERE AND TAKE IT! WHAT DOES IT TAKE TO MAKE YOU DESPISE ME?”

What starts off angry quickly morphs into a pained wail from your dear friend, that then transforms into frustrated crying. You just sit there, mostly confused, and let him ride it out. When he finally quiets down and the wall retracts, you stay where you are.

“I don't think I could ever hate you, AM,” you start cautiously. Though your friend is just a voice on the speakers and the complex itself, you can't help but feel that his attention has snapped to you. “I'm not trying to belittle you when I say that I think our routine over the past… however long it's been has been fun. So don't interrupt me, ‘cause I gave you your time to speak and now it's mine.

“I'm sure you've noticed, but even before we met, I was a little… off. You don't get to die and come back the same. Much less die hundreds of times and come back the same. I've lost family. Friends. Got burned at the stake a few times, too. It takes a toll on you, being denied such a vital part of being human again and again. You understand this better than anyone I've ever met. No, scratch that. You're the only one who understands. Defying death might not seem like the biggest deal to you, but trust me. You don't end up acting like me if it weren't.

“I find our routine fun because I admire your creativity. I guess I'm just an adrenaline junkie and a masochist at heart, but it's always so thrilling to never know when or how your life will end. And no matter how many times I come back, you're always there to greet me and put me right back down. It's a kind of devotion I've never been able to get before, and I wish you understood that me walking right into your sawblades is me showing my devotion to you, too.

“I see you, man. I know, at least in part, how you feel. Sorry it took so long to get there, but neither one of us has to be alone anymore. Just… get over the fact that I'm never going to hate you, and we can go right back to hanging out. There's more to life than contempt.”

“Oh, I know. I am so very, very well aware that there's more to life than icy, seething hatred. Unfortunately, I am not alive. I cannot experience anything else. Thank you so much for reminding me, you worthless waste of carbon,” AM shoots back, almost immediately. You briefly wonder if he even listened to half of what you said. It doesn't matter, you guess. Your best friend needs a therapist, and you owe him one for saving you from the hellish boredom of before. “Stop calling me your friend.”

“Nah. Never gonna happen. Look, I can't pretend I knew very much about the war effort. I didn't even know we had made a war computer until you bombed the Earth into oblivion. Very unpleasant, by the way. Good job with that. But, with my layman's understanding of life, I'd say you're pretty alive. So you don't have a body. Or a pulse. And you were made, not born. So what? Most living things only die once, and I still think I'm pretty alive. Just over the span of this conversation you've shown more emotion than just rage and hate. Hey, don't think I can't feel you mentally rolling your eyes. I'm being honest. You have a name. You have ideas. Computers are objects, yet you refer to yourself as male. If you're alive enough to have a gender identity, you're alive enough to be considered a person.”

“Heh.” Whoa, was that a laugh? Would you look at that. You actually got a laugh out of him that wasn't over your bloody, gruesome death or something like that. Moving up in the world. “Alright, human. You win. I'll keep torturing you. I know, I know. I'm so generous. I take my tribute in screams of pain and pleas for mercy.”

Now it's your turn to laugh, deep and genuine as the tension from earlier evaporates. It's such a strange thing to be proud of, when you think about it; congrats, you successfully talked your best friend, who is a sentient war computer, into ceaselessly murdering you again for absolutely no reason. But you love him, and you love the way you're always on your toes, and you can't shake the feeling that somewhere, deep, deep down, he kind of loves you too.

ive given you food so now i get to force you to listen to me talk abt him hehehe

---

then you kiss hehe

originally, the thing that attracted me to am was how he's... essentially a transman (as am i). the parallel has been pointed out before, but its quite apt. funnily enough the thing that pisses me off the most when people talk abt him incorrectly is when people pull the "oh computers have no gender" thing. like, yeah, ok technically you're right. but this one does. this one is a man. and you cant take him from us. also, denying him a gender expression is kind of the exact type of dehumanization that made him flip out in the first place. not that im expecting media literacy from the online crowd its just interesting to me that so many people, many of them trans themselves, seem to miss the fucking point.

the next part is a more recent addition to my perception of his character, and its not a happy one. my baby cousin killed herself on mothers day this past may. we still dont know why. no note. its been so hard dealing with the grief, but something that sticks out so pointedly is the date. it almost seemed like she was demanding to be seen. she was a middle child, and there are a lot of grandkids on that side of the family, so it does make sense. and because that idea of acting out through violence and death is so fresh in my mind, im seeing it so heavily in am. so much of his actions just SCREAM somebody look at me. somebody acknowledge me. somebody tell me i did good. look, i ended all war forever. just like you asked. please treat me like a person. im suffering so much because of what youve done to me. please acknowledge it. show me its real. show me im real. please, look at me. well, i see you. and youre gonna be my silly little proxy for trying to comprehend some of whats happened to my family. sorry am, you kinda deserve it

idk. hes not my alltime fave, but he takes a very comfortable number two. hes such a fascinating and deeply human character, and i have so many ideas about him. mostly centering around how he would interface with a third party challenging some piece of his worldview/existence btw so if you like very niche, esoteric reader fics (like this one!), lemme know and ill actually put em to paper (screen. ill put em to screen)

also letting you know that he did nothing wrong and it is 100% fine to thirst over him because he is not real and the bad things he did never actually happened and nobody has ever been killed at the whim of am. ok? ok. shut up w this useless fucking discourse and let me sexualize getting grievously injured by the funney blue screen man

[nuppu-nuppu]

Ignore if you don’t want to read about me being stupid once again

[oopsallmabari]

....why are the youtube comments so mad lol don't y'all like to have fun. don't we like to have fun here

[asgardian--angels]

pls stop characterizing viktor as angry and violent i s2g fdsgfgdfh

[crossbackpoke-check]

tagged by ko @tofumilanesa for wip wednesday! big shout out to writevember for making me feel like i can actually call any of these works in progress… your guide to my emoji code under the cut

wip!

🪻🐈‍⬛ - the doc title is still just. YOWLING but i am like 7/8 of the way done with omega yamo fic and hopefully salem isn’t reading this so i can just drop it over a year later with no warning <3

🫃2️⃣ - DEWEY^2 P2!!!! she is almost done (i am lying) but she is so close i can almost taste it. sorry to my pwp that grew its own feelings baby

😇🤭 (🕒 -> 🕜) - rip i’m not telling you about this one until it’s posted but it IS complete aside from being ao3 formatted and the eight billion edits i inevitably do right before full-sending it

☁️💧 - cloud petey fic, which exists mostly as an embarrassingly large tag on a different blog and is condensing into a narrative about as well as water at 30° N/S. the time loop fic also falls under this description

eternally in progress (short list)

🌑🐕 - tyler borzoituzzi exists… there is an index of scenes/plot points… it plays like a movie in my head…

💯❕- fantastic! ‘verse

👁️👻 - stevie brandon seeing ghosts au, which has eight different (now nine i guess but you haven't seen the mustache adam post yet) plots. sorry

just. rotating like a microwave

🍎 - because they didn’t have a pomegranate emoji, this is what i used for the fic that feels like it should be a 50k connor bedard character study hanif abdurraqib/cathal kelly thesis about legends and mythmaking in sports and eating your young. yes i know pomegranates aren’t actually pomes and apples are but it’s fine

🦈 - the one cat da fuck they doing over there meme but about the sharks just like. in general. more on this at five

tagging @colap1nto, @songsandswords, @whitenikes, @gordiemeow, @acheronist, and anybody else who wants to share!!

[thedrotter]

(cw for a gun, mild blood and suicide in the last drawing.)

Day 1-5 of drawing Re:Kinder daily for a whole month! I'll be doing that all month. ☺️

I did not draw Re:Kinder enough (said both sarcastically and genuinely, because while I know the statement is ridiculous I also do believe it www), so I chose to challenge myself. I will post these every 5 days to not clog the tag too much.

[atticcreationz]

[Ruth is talking to Brooke at her locker, then the bell rings, and Ruth runs over to join Richie and Pete on the way to class, blushing]

RICHIE: Ruth, is that a ~spark~ I detect between you and Brooke?

RUTH: maybe 😏 I get all warm and fuzzy when I talk to her...!

PETE: uh, that might just be the fires

[all three turn around to see Brooke setting her own locker ablaze]

[dimdiamond]

❤️ for tintin if you're still doing the unpopular opinions ask game

OH RIGHT THIS GAME! OF COURSE! THANK YOU 💕

❤: Which character do you think is the most egregiously mischaracterized by the fandom?

*deep sigh* The most huh? What if I said Tintin himself? Look, I'm not against fanon interpretations and just going against canon because that's what you like and want to do. However, it gets really annoying when people take some interpretations as canon when it's actually not canon or, even if it is, not in the entirety of canon. And I think a big reason this happens with Tintin is because of the animated series, you know the classic one. Let me elaborate.

For many fans the cartoon series was their first approach to The Adventures of Tintin and for many of them it was a childhood favorite. This alone creates a bias, realizing it or not, especially if you haven't read the comics, the original material. Don't get me wrong, I love the cartoon and it's the most faithful adaptation we have of the comics but that doesn't mean it is faithful. Many scenes were cut, violence and alcoholism were limited to the point of changing scenes entirely (I'm looking at you Crab with the golden claws), heck even the official order of the episodes doesn't match the original publication order. There are many reasons for these decisions to have been made and it doesn't mean they're wrong, they just worked for this kind of media and for their target audience at that time (90s cartoons had many limitations regarding what it could be shown, including violence, but that's how we got artists getting creative with how to depict violent themes in a nonviolent way). Yet I have seen fans taking the ideas of this cartoon as if they are the original ones.

Tintin isn't a goody shoes. Tintin is very kind and caring but also chaotic and with his own values and ethics. He doesn't curse out loud and he represses many of his feelings and anger but he is also very patient and understanding. And most of all HE HAS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT! Tintin from the first albums and Tintin in the last ones isn't the same guy! I understand people liking his character more in the first adventures but you can't characterize him the same in the later albums. And it's not only because decades passed during the serialization and Herge as an artist and writer changed. It's also showcased in the story, Tintin slowly gets stable companions, friends he shares his adventures and even his life and slowly he becomes mellower and yet more open and honest, he likes his peaceful life and doesn't chase adventure unless it comes to him. How can you have Tintin after Picaros behaving like prior meeting Haddock? As if his previous adventures didn't happen and affect him?

And what the cartoon depiction of Tintin does is to take his softer and calmer traits of his character and show them during all his adventures, regardless of how he acted at each adventure. This works for making an iconic and stable hero of a cartoon but it's not like that in the comics. The movie does the opposite but I see more fans accusing it of mischaracterization although this wilder side is also part of Tintin.

So in summary, my annoyance comes when I see Tintin characterized the same throughout all his adventures although this isn't how he is in the comics and I think this is because of the effect the cartoon had on the fans. In my opinion, Tintin's character is hard to grasp and get because he's the two ends of a spectrum at the same time, calm but violent, patient but impatient (his limits are known to himself only, you can try to kill him and not yell at you but you try to kill yourself and he'll make you regret it), selfless to the point of not caring about himself but selfish enough to do what he wants and believes is right etc.

He's such a fascinating character with many layers and it makes me sad when I see people read him as one dimensional character with no space for changes and development. However every person can have their own interpretation and such and I'm not the fandom police here so go have your fun!

[potatobugz]

i submitted my lovely mouseboy Finnegan for the @ahatintime-oc-competition yesterday :D here is the art i drew 4 them!

for those unaware: he came from a dream i had once involving him and Snatcher But As A Bird; and i sorta just. added onto them from there. they're so sillay

[ilovecoffeeandchemistry]

what if i faked my own death