#because apparently it was not easy after all

[cat0901h3]

Goosebumps Books 1-10

Can't believe that it took me nearly two years to just do 10 covers for the books. Will be posting more Goosebumps in the future, along with other stuff.

Read more to know my personal opinions and critiques on my fanart for each book:

Welcome to Dead House: I wanted to make the house look alive like Monster House, so I gave it more human characteristics (ie: the people in the windows to form eyes, or the finger-like branches.) Also paid homage to a horror film by styling it after The Amityville Horror house.

The Benson children themselves look a bit depressed, that's because the first book is actually more scarier than the rest of the series, so they're a bit angsty.

Stay Out of the Basement: This one killed a lot of my green markers lol. I tried to make Dr. Brewer as menacing as possible while still showing that he is a father with the photos, There were going to be more plants reaching out, but I decided that the leaves hidden on him would be enough.

Though I have to admit my disappointment with the lighting. It still looks a bit too bright, and not dark enough. That's just my own critique.

Monster Blood: Honestly, pretty mixed about this one. While I'm proud of the bubbling ooze that looks like a skull, which is outlined by one of my colored pens. I'm not proud that everything else is so muted with brown. Almost all of Jacobus' works are vibrant and saturated, so it being dull in colors feels like a disservice to him.

Also, Andy's last name was made up by me, she apparently just doesn't have one. It's inspired by Stephen King. Btw, hope you love banana and strawberry dyed hair, you'll see more of it soon in future batches.

Say Cheese and Die!: One of my favorite books, and of course it gets the best fanart imo. The screaming skeleton form of Greg Banks with red bg in the polaroid, contrasting with the dark background is just super cool, coolest shit I've ever done. Though I might be biased, I really like skeletons. Like Curly.

I actually made concept art for a Say Cheese and Die! graphic novel, which includes drawings of the photos and Spidey! Let me know if you're curious.

The Curse of The Mummy's Tomb: Not much to this one honestly. Just a mummy casually busting down a wall filled with hieroglyphics. Though I will say, I was experimenting with shading with purple and blues like Jacobus. As you can see, didn't stick for long.

This is also the book that I discovered that if the protag doesn't have a last name, then there is an official one either in the Presents novels, the mobile app, comics or other.

Let's Get Invisible!: This was pretty tricky to draw. Drawing someone turning invisible maybe easy in Photoshop or Procreate, but this was traditional art. Sure Jacobus did it with airbrushes, but I all had were pens and markers. But I somehow managed to pull it off, which is insane that I even managed that in the first place.

Night of the Living Dummy: Ah, the infamous Pamela Vorhees book, where the main antagonist isn't the mascot, but instead some other puppet lol. I've seen a lot of fanart of Slappy, but never of Mr. Wood. So I wanted to do justice for Wood while still showcasing Slappy. While I am proud for how it mostly turned out, there are two things that bother me. 1. This is the night sky that is black, the rest are either blue or purple. 2. I forgot to add the lines that make the jaw on Mr. Wood, whoops.

Aside from that, I hope guys like that Misfits poster in the background and Kris's cool hair cut. The green was inspired by the comic adaption not 2015 Jacksepticeye.

The Girl Who Cried Monster: Please forgive me for the small thumbnail, I wasn't using a ruler at the time. The design for Mr. Mortman wasn't much of a challenge. I loosely based it off of the French rendition of the cover and gave him a large leech-like mouth.

In my headcannon, the teeth spin like a garbage disposal, making easy work of the turtles.

Welcome to Camp Nightmare: Another one of my favorites, and I think I did a decent enough job, too. The lighting is perfect, the clouds look alien enough, and you can just barely see the screaming campers inside the tent. I do have one issue though, and that is the size of the monster, Sabre. In the original sketch I did, he was supposed to blend in like a bush, but instead he looks like Sasquatch Sr. Oh well.

While they did give Billy a last name in the Presents books, I had to make up one for Dawn. Just based it off Gwen Stacy lol. Also, hope you enjoy the little bonus pictures down below.

The Ghost Next Door: The original Jacobus art was perfectly vague enough to keep the twist there but not spoil anything. Of course to do the same thing, but with a twist of my own. The "ghost" shadow that you see in the street is the Dark Figure that follows Hannah around or when Danny is near. I wanted it to look like it was constantly on fire, since SPOILERS: someone in the book does die in a fire.

Another headcannon is that the Dark Figure isn't actually a ghost or whatever, but instead the embodiment of Misery.

[maxwell-grant]

I managed to finally read The Chimera Brigade and it's given far, FAR more to talk about than I ever expected, and much like last time with Mina Murray and my LOEG breakdown, I'm devoting a separate post to a specific character that gives me far too much to talk about to include in the main write-up. The character in question is a French pulp hero I've covered some years ago by the name of Leo Saint-Clair a.k.a The Nyctalope - here presented as the "protector of Paris", entrusted by Marie Curie herself to watch over the city, and just about detested by everyone who has to interact with him on a daily basis, with the feeling very much reciprocated. He is a profoundly funny character, one of the smartest and most purposeful usages of a classic pulp character I've ever read, and one of greatest, most incisive takes on a pulp hero I've ever seen.

The official English translation of the comic calls him "The Eye", because despite being from 1911 and not having seen any kind of continuous publication since his author was disgraced for becoming a Nazi collaborator, apparently there are Nyctalope rights holders from Jean de La Hire's family who forced them to change the names for this comic and to alter it for all releases of the prequel series Lehman and Gess did, which is a hilariously obscene and yet fitting note to start this on - the very idea of Nyctalope rights holders invested in the sanctity of their hero, which is very funny considering that, within the story of The Chimera Brigade, the Nyctalope is driven in no small part by the fact that his legacy was entirely penned by hack pulp writers, and he desperately wants to correct that so he can take his place next to the greats that he claims he used to be on equal level with. It's an extension of the all-consuming insecurity that completely defines him and makes him such a pathetic, funny, and ultimately compelling character to watch, regardless of how much context you have for who The Nyctalope is.

Saint-Clair, as his alias indicated, has the ability to see in the dark after an injury. He has an artificial heart. He leads a crimefighting organization, the CID.

His decline is all the more pitiful: after traveling through time, rediscovering Atlantis and exploring an errant planet called Rhea, Saint-Clair becomes a collaborator in a 1944 tale called Night of the Nyctalope.

Even as an outcast, he remains a major figure in the French imagination, the missing link between the "gentlemen crimefighters" of the end of the 19th century and the modern adventurers of whom Bob Morane is emblematic.

He is painfully aware that, next to the likes of Lupin and Fantomas and Holmes, he is an insignificant nobody, that history will simply not remember The Nyctalope the same way it did them, and he has no idea why. We can certainly understand easy enough why he is generally despised by the other characters: he's a weasel, he's a cop, he's vindictive and petty, he's a reactionary, he's uncomfortable to be around, he's rude and snooty and demanding, he's self-obsessed, he's a piece of shit, he's unlikable, and we eventually learn he failed his most important promise on the most profound level possible and has only aggravated the problem ever since. And he is aware of all of that, and none of that, in his view, should have any kind of bearing on his record. Up until the finale of this, he had brushed off his failure to protect Spain from fascism, the dying promise that Curie entrusted to him above all else, as a quirk or flaw on the record, comparable to Holmes' cocaine addiction. None of these flaws explain to him why is it that he is not on the level of Lupin and Fantomas, despite having known them and been, theoretically, on their level. He has no context for his own existence.

He doesn't know how profoundly the world is gonna forget him. He doesn't know he's the last of a kind already on their way to extinction. He doesn't know what Jean de La Hire is gonna do in 1940. He doesn't know that whatever legacy he could have as a proto-superhero is gonna be tainted to shit because his author was a hack who sold out to the Nazis and fled town for it. He just knows that there is a Canon, and he is not a part of it, and this fact is killing him and blinding him to everything that doesn't revolve around his attempts to secure a legacy for himself.

The streets of Paris are adorned with big signs of him as it's protector, he is invited to political conferences as an international player of note, and Marie Curie, whose discovery of radium and whose scientific institute defines the backstory of the entire setting, entrusted him to protect the city, a huge unthinkable honor that her own children are baffled by, and none of this truly matters to The Nyctalope, because it's not enough. He holds a position of authority and power, but he is far less concerned with the impending war and bloodshed than he is at what's going to happen to his own legacy. Best exemplified by a particularly funny sequence in Issue 4, where he attends a Soviet conference and and learns firsthand about the alliance/treason kicking off the war that's gonna ruin all their diplomatic efforts so far, and his immediate concern is "what about the Eisenstein biopic I was promised??".

A single hour of darkness, and the vampires will tear the city apart.

What is Saint-Clair waiting for?

The first deaths. The public will crucify us, all he'll have to do is name the place. Well played.

It's in large part this obsession with legacy and imagery that makes him such an unpleasant person. The Curies even state in Issue 3 that the Nyctalope is willing to let the Chimera Brigade fail publicly and let casualties occur if it means he can take greater credit for fixing a problem they failed to contain, and eventually you can even see why he is so obsessed with the public perception: all of his victories and achievements have been hidden. Defeating and killing the secret ruler of the world, protecting the city from the shadows or up top in his airships, keeping dangerous beings hidden in his cave, none of that gets the public applause the Chimera Brigade got for stopping that alien frog.

If he'd kept up his promise to Curie and saved Spain, no one would have seen it happen. He says as much in the last issue that even now, to him, Mabuse is nothing, no more of a threat than Cagliostro, and certainly not as big of a priority as those dirty communists at the Curie Institute he will publicly deal with first. If you stop the threats before anyone sees you do it, they might as well not have existed, and he can't afford that anymore. He needs to have something to show for it all, he needs to have a victory that matters, he needs to belong in The Canon, and he has no way of understanding why he doesn't already.

I've said before, on my old post about the Nyctalope, that he is inherently emblematic of failure in a way that I find very interesting in so far as what it can say about the genre he's part of. How, disturbing origin and weird sci-fi adventures and design aside, he really was essentially a fairly clean-cut superheroic do-gooder. A Superman, a Captain America, indistinguishable from any other idealized patriotic do-gooder, and how none of that changed when his author sold out to the Vichy government. How just that single turn exposes how contextual and finnicky the entire premise of a pulp hero/superhero is, and how what happened to the Nyctalope could have befallen any number of other characters within the medium.

The Chimera Brigade's take on Nyctalope isn't even really about that historical fact surrounding him, although it is very much cognizant of this fact - it is more so about the failure state he represents and lives in. He stands for France, and thus stands for the failure of France in the pre-war era, the failure to do anything against it's fascist neighbors, the failure to assist in containing the threat of Nazism until it was far too late, the obsession with legacy and preservation of image coming at the cost of human lives. The failures of the Nyctalope are the failures of France, and he is a perfect character to stand in for failure. He is the perfect character to do this kind of thing with.

Significant and recognizable enough that he matters, not too significant or recognizable enough to not be irrelevant. A guy who was a perfectly ordinary pulp hero, if not for these strange proto-superhero quirks and that inescapable shame of his creator. He is part of the Canon, but he doesn't define the Canon, and the Canon will not wait for him to join it. He is just one of many pulp heroes, significant as a missing link between the ones that actually matter, and nothing more. Self-proclaiming as the last of the greats, instead of just being one of the greats or the next step of the greats - of course he wants to be the last of the great Gentlemen Vigilantes so that no others can come after him and overshadow him - ultimately a historical curiosity rather than a true step in the genre.

There is indeed real pity, even sympathy, for this contemptible schlub. There is an acknowledgment that his past deeds indeed mattered, and that it's his failure to move past them and grapple with his true present obligations that damns him more so than anything else. A lesser story absolutely would have cared about giving this guy some due, some respect or acknowledgment, but The Chimera Brigade is unflinching and the Nyctalope is not spared. He is laid out in clear terms as a colossal fuck-up loser too obsessed with his own myth to be of any help, and why would he be depicted otherwise? What does it actually mean to be The Nyctalope? What does he want to be remembered for? What does he HAVE to be remembered for?

For his great past deeds that nobody really saw? For his great magnetic personality? For the promise that he never kept, for the city that he doesn't protect, for the country he's failed, for the allies he's pushed away and the enemies he enables? For all these great adventures and accomplishments boiled down to nothing anyone really cares about, penned in cheap disposable pulp magazines? He desperately wants you to overlook everything else that surrounds him and listen to his assertions that he is one of The Guys, because his legend doesn't speak for itself, so he has to babble for it instead. And that's the note he ends on - finally realizing that there truly is nothing left for him, and that he failed on the most profound level possible. That even his tragic realization of failure is accompanied by a hilariously pathetic reveal - that all this time, in his most private quarters, he has all of his supposed "peers" framed in posters looming above him, and he was waiting to put himself next to them.

Holmes, Lupin, Fantomas, they were seismic shifts, they were major notable steps in their genre, they changed the world as a result of them, they were The Guys - and The Nyctalope wasn't. He was noteworthy, respectable, but just that, and he couldn't deal with that - that his legend will fade instead of endure. Ultimately, all he wanted was a spot on the wall next to them, and he's at last acknowledging that not only he will never have it, but that he never deserved it.

Whether you knew all this context about him or not going into this story, all along, deep down he knew the same thing that you did.

[nereidof40k]

The Thief, AKA Sassy Space Sherlock Sevatar

The crows fluttered around Jago, cawing and pecking at the meat he’d brought them. They knew him by now. The sound of their wings a balm to his aching head.

Watching them, he paused, curious. Feathers lying about was nothing new. But this one was the biggest he had ever seen. Shimmering black, just like the others. But given the size difference it must have come from a crow bigger than half the serfs. He picked it up, turning it over in his hand. Interesting. He would like to see that crow sometime. The beating of its wings must be an incredible sound.

Once his crows were fed, he went looking. Discovering two more of the feathers in the corridors of the Nightfall.

Before he could continue he heard a loud scream from the direction of Curze’s quarters. Pivoting to check on his Primarch instead. Tucking the feathers into his armor.

Curze was cursing up a storm in Nostraman. Jago didn’t even know all those words.

It turned out Konrad was furious because “some cursed little shit who should have been flayed at birth” had nicked his feather cloak. And gotten away with it. Not even the Primarch had been able to catch them. He was currently sneezing because the thief had trapped their escape route with a bag of extremely fragrant and hot spices. Overwhelming Konrad’s keen Primarch senses.

Another mystery for Jago to investigate. He found himself intrigued by the sheer auramite balls something like that would take. And why take a feather cloak? Of all things?

She slowed her breathing, moving slowly and carefully. As silent as possible. Only a few steps more, and she would have her feather cloak back. The Night Haunter had added some length to it, but that was easy to fix.

As she moved back to the hidden door with her prized cloak, she heard the main door creak. Beating her wings for extra speed, she dived through into the maintenance tunnel, flying through to avoid the roaring menace coming after her. She didn’t even falter when she heard the Night Haunter scream after blundering into her spice trap.

Miles away she settled down to preen her cloak, bundling up the extra material as she pulled it off. Adding a few of her own feathers to repair his rough treatment. He was apparently hard on clothes.

Once it was properly restored she threw the cloak on, picking up the bundle of unneeded fabric and feathers in her beak. She would dump it somewhere, it was useless anyway. And dirty.

Returning to his own quarters, Jago blinked. There was a mess of feathers and cloth outside his door. Turning out to be half the cloak. The half Konrad had added to make it fit.

[reddevilmcnt]

Initially, Maksim easily brushes off the beyond ridiculous chatter about toys and other trivialities-------- after all, none of it's directed towards him or meant to be suggestive. And so it's effortless to let everything roll off his shoulders. Everyone has their own ways of seeking pleasure, and if maybe they're hopeless in the dating department or uninterested in a string of meaningless hookups, there's nothing wrong with just getting the job done yourself. Maksim, however, can't fully relate. A big part of his ability to get off comes from something far more innate... domination. There’s nothing quite like the whimpered noises and soft mewls of someone succumbing to him completely, the intoxicating power of breaking them into submission. Of course, he keeps that to himself; Ross’s tipsy jabbering is far too amusing to interrupt, and, admittedly, Maksim finds it fun to poke and prod at the bratty little bottom. Whoever ends up dealing with that in the future is going to have their hands full. After spending just one morning with Ross, Maksim had felt an animalistic urge to fucking tear him apart. ...Annnnnd here he was now, making bets and somehow agreeing to hit a club with him someday. Was he really so bored (or maybe so stressed out of his fucking mind) that he’d let a singular human become his best source of entertainment? Perhaps. But it could’ve been worse. At least Ross was easy on the eyes, far more enjoyable to look at than to listen to when he was whining and bitching. Maksim could appreciate that, even if it meant tolerating the rest. Ahem.

After a bit more idle chatter about nothing of consequence, and with most of the food gone thanks to him, Maksim found himself feeling significantly looser, far more at ease than before. He credited the alcohol for that, along with the occasional laugh the human had managed to pull out of him, though he wouldn’t go as far as giving Ross any direct compliments. That just wasn’t his style. Once the cleanup was finished, a slow, relaxed smirk spread across Maksim’s lips, piercing blues roving down Ross’s form, lingering on the way the smaller man swayed unsteadily on his feet before bumping clumsily into the counter. "Looks like it’s bedtime for you," he remarked, and with a long arm of muscles rippling beneath his skin, Maksim reached around Ross to grab the half-full bottle of vodka sitting nearby. "Drink some more, and then go to bed," he instructed, the playful lilt in his tone matched by the wag of his brows. "Haven’t picked up on anything concerning in the area, so you’re free to get your beauty sleep." His gaze swept over Ross one final time, lasting just long enough to take in the sight of him, before he stepped back. Grabbing the keys to his motorcycle, the Alpha abruptly made his way toward the door, solidly hulking frame moving with mesmerizing purpose as he slipped out into the night. But just as the apartment door clicked shut behind him, he paused. That overpowering confidence faltered as a troubling thought crept its way into his mind; it wasn’t just the alcohol or the warmth of the night that had him hesitating. No------ deep down, buried beneath layers of hardened indifference, Maksim knew the truth. He didn’t want to leave. Not really. What nagged at him was the fact that he hadn’t been invited to stay, not because of danger or necessity, but simply because Ross wanted him there. It was an outlandish notion, one that made no fucking sense, and yet it rooted itself stubbornly in the carved masculinity of his chest. Frowning, Maksim glanced down at the crack beneath the door, his broad shoulders tense. Nah, that's not it, he decided firmly, brushing the thought aside. It’s definitely just the loneliness talking.

After that, Maksim heads back to his pack’s makeshift village, setting the wheels in motion for the upcoming date with a member of a neighboring pack. It’s with some little male Omega, apparently so stunning that he’s managed to get several Alphas and Betas fighting over him, and was currently fending them off like trying to beat back some wild dogs with a stick or some other absurd drama. Nevertheless, Maksim’s skepticism ran deep. When you’re used to beautiful bottoms practically throwing themselves at you, and you’ve had the kind of upbringing he’s had, your standards tend to be a bit more discerning, even complicated. Maksim knows the connection he seeks depends far more on physical chemistry. He wants that spark, the one-of-a-kind gravitational pull that tells him right away that this is the one, the mate. And though he’s never experienced that instant recognition, he’s not about to let his hopes run wild. So, he reaches out to the Omega, sets up the date, and goes about his pack duties------ leading meetings, lending a hand with family matters. In between, he makes a random stop in town at a dingy little bookstore to pick up Lord of the Flies, feeling slightly stupid for caring about some juvenile kindergartner's book. Finally, he takes care to ensure he’s well-groomed and presentable by the time the blind date rolls around.

For the date, Maksim brings the Omega on a typical werewolf-style adventure, nothing extravagant, but enough to feel like an experience. A hike through rugged terrain leads them to a stunning waterfall, its cascade shimmering in the daylight, before finishing with a peaceful picnic in a meadow. Maksim’s prepared for comfort, bringing enough blankets to keep them cozy, though the cold has no effect on them------- werewolves always run hot, after all. But as they settle in, Maksim quickly realizes he’s the one doing all the work in this conversation. He’s the one asking questions, pushing for any spark of energy or intrigue from the little wolf, but it’s like pulling teeth. The Omega only seems content to giggle softly and nod in agreement, never straying from the script, offering all of the submission but none of the personality. Maybe they’ve been told this is simply an arranged connection meant to unite their packs, with zero deeper elements of mate-selection even considered. It’s frustrating, because Maksim inherently knows the real bond with a mate is supposed to feel different. There should be chemistry, a shared fire, but there’s nothing here but polite pleasantries. Maksim can’t help but wonder: is this how they all see him? As the overbearing Alpha, too in love with the sound of his own voice? Does his pack truly believe that he needs someone who won’t challenge him, who’ll simply let him take charge and never rock the boat? That’s how this date feels-------- like a carefully orchestrated performance. And while it’s irritating, Maksim can’t really blame his loved ones. They just want him to be happy, even if they’ve got the whole thing wrong. But one thing’s for sure: he won’t be talked into this kind of bullshit again.

Despite the lackluster outing, Maksim manages to wrap things up on a relatively bright note, politely declining when the Omega shyly suggests coming over to his place . It would be easy, almost too easy, to snatch up the offer and get his dick wet, but for some inexplicable reason, Maksim finds himself more interested in heading home to have a heated conversation with Ross instead. He drops the Omega off with a courteous "thanks for the lovely time," his tone polite but distant, before making his way back to his own home. There, another Omega is already preparing his bath and getting his bed ready for the night. And later, in the quiet of the evening, Maksim lies sprawled across his crimson sheets, the luxurious fox fur pillows propping up his head as he relaxes completely naked, a single scrap of crimson silk draped across his chiseled thighs and hips. One massive arm gets tucked behind his head, supporting his weight as his other hand taps out a message, a devilish grin curling on his lips.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Hope you and your toy collection are ready, we're going out Saturday.

For a moment, Maksim’s mind goes into overdrive, thoughts spinning out of control as his brain becomes consumed by the dark and tempting fantasies. He can't help but imagine Ross, stretched out on the thickest toy, the image searing through his mind all too captivatingly. The idea of asking for a video of it crosses his thoughts, but he immediately discards it. There’s no way he’s letting himself be seen that desperate for a human. Sure, he’d have no problem if Ross introduced him to one, or even tried to set him up with one at the club. But that was different; Maksim owed nothing to an ordinary human, and the thought of them meant little beyond the moment. He wouldn't care if he killed them when his inner beast became too much; in fact, Ross would be leading a lamb to the slaughter on that night, much without his knowledge.

[ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] What's your type btw? So I know what to look out for. [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] I like a man who's pretty, thick. Has some tummy, ass, thighs, all of that good shit. Enough for me to grab onto. [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Also can I suggest something without you making it weird? [ Little Brat ⟶ ✉︎ ] Wear a pretty little plug when we go. What guy doesn't want his sub all warmed up in public? Thank me later.

"oh, i love being degraded, when there's a nice heavy cock in one of my holes, but any other time? absolutely the fuck not. no self respecting brat sub lets a man collar him without a little mouth about it." perhaps it's time to stop drinking, as ross is certainly tiptoeing into that dangerous slutty drunk territory he'd previously mentioned, and he knows that it's playing with fire to just openly admit something as lewd and personal as his preferences, but the conversaion flows so easily, and he doesn't feel embarrassed to admit any of this, surprising as that is to realize.

instead, he continues snagging bites of food between chatter, enjoying the warmth the alcohol is providing, and experiencing something like real joy at the feeling of making a connection with someone. maybe maksim isn't his friend, but it feels like he has a real one after so many years slogging through with half-friendships and acquaintences, never really feeling this comfortable with any of them.

maybe he's getting too ahead of himself. maybe he needs to just slow down on idealistic dreams about friendship or anything else.

an eyebrow lifts, and for a moment, ross considers pulling out his extensive toy collection to make a very pointed point about just how much he enjoys a big cock overstretching him, but even in his fuzzy state, that feels like maybe a step too far. instead, she shakes his head a little. "big wasn't the issue, thank you very much. i can take big, i have toys in there to prove it." bringing them up without showing them off, still maybe too far. but his loose tongue slips and he laughs it off. "the problem is big cocks with no power behind them. if you're gonna drive me into the mattress, i expect not to be able to walk the next morning. need one of those little donut pillows, you know?"

shrugging, ross reaches in to snatch some more of the nachos before maksim can inhale the entire plate, smirk on his face still playful as he rolls his eyes. "william golding is an author. he wrote lord of the flies, it's what the kids are reading in class right now." his hand gestures vaguely toward the folder still stuffed with papers he needs to grade. "and training is what the toybox is for."

the offer of a bet is an interesting one, and while ross knows that he should probably say no and discourage any kind of little games, perhaps the alcohol is making him a little more bold and playful about the whole thing. he nods, then nods again as if affirming the first nod. "alright, a bet it is. if your blind date is garbage, we'll go out to the club and i'll help you find the perfect bottom. and maybe i'll find the perfect top, too. it'll be a smashing success for the both of us. i'll even wear the stupid see-through top."

[aptericia]

Man sometimes it really hits me like it should not be this hard.

[kyojuuros]

knowing communication is vital to a healthy relationship but never knowing how to start a conversation or holding back because you don't want to burden them with your emotions or say/do something that will push them away and just generally being socially inadept is such a fun time! :)

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Going buckwild at the way Hilda The Series portrays adulthood and loneliness. Kaisa has no one to go to to ask for help getting the due book back, even though all it would take was someone she could minimally ask to knock on an elderly lady’s door and ask for a favour; she’s in the library after hours, is shown to have no allies aside from the woman who raised her and who she lost contact with. Johanna is only ever seen working or caring for Hilda, and her lack of a life aside from those two activities is pointed out by her own daughter when she thinks that this is going so far as to affect their relationship. The bell keeper lives alone in a small cabin on the edge of town, barely within city limits and away from everyone, a house barely even inhabitable and clearly only a place to sleep and eat. He works a solitary job and he’s the only one in the town still working it, meaning he’s probably overworked and forced to pull inhumanly long shifts. Victoria hyperfocused so hard on her projects that whatever friends she had before - and she must have had some from college time at least - lost contact with her, and she never made any other connections in Trolberg, anything that would tie her to the city and it’s inhabitants and make it so it wasn’t worth it to live by herself at the top of a hill. Even when that was over, she still chose to isolate herself somewhere abandoned and keep what was essentially another machine she’d built as her source of company, something she could understand and control instead of an unpredictable human being. Gerda works a job she likes but is shown to be disregarded by the person she works the most around, her abilities and intellect thrown aside for the good of someone she has to bear because of a hierarchy she was forced to accept in order to keep working. She’s appreciated by the town, but other than the main characters, we don’t see anyone paying her any mind when they don’t need something from her.

Meanwhile no kid has ever been alone in Trolberg. The mean kids are a group, the good kids are a group, even the gloomy teenage girls are a group. One of nightmare inducing entities, but a group nonetheless. All children in that world seem to operate on a ‘no man left behind’ code, looking out for each other even if they aren’t exactly fans of one another, helping even grown ups without asking why and working together. And this logic seems to extend to the adults who work around children too; especially the Raven Leader, who we see that through the children works as a vital part of the community and a way through which it comes together.

This isn’t very articulate but do you see the point? Do you see how clever that is? That a show about growing up has these themes? You can be magical, kind, strong, intelligent, competent, but none of that will make you truly happy if you don’t keep the most important thing from childhood? If you don’t keep your friendships, your bonds, something to tie you down to your reality and your community? The adults in the show all made their choices, and it’s okay to want to be alone, we all need it and some more than others (this is coming from someone who needs it a lot), but isolating yourself completely is the one thing that will make growing pains truly painful. I’m just so emotional over it. It’s so subtle and so clever considering the whole Mountain King plot that Hilda is willing to change species because she feels detached from her main relationships and surroundings. I love this show so much.

[ayakoito]

Aya listened carefully to Lucio's proposal, thinking it over. It definitely wouldn't be the first time she'd turned her back on her actual client for far more money. Her practices were to be questioned anyway, weaving her way back and forth between honest souls and criminals.

That didn't mean she was emotionally unavailable and morals meant nothing to her, it just meant it was often pretty clear who the criminals were. And Lucio's opponent was definitely of the criminal variety.

His proposal sounded tempting. Especially because it meant that they could salvage their relationship after all.

Admitting her mistake, Aya let out a sigh. “All right, listen... I was a fool, I admit it. I thought this would be an act I could get over quickly and I'd be out of it sooner than I'd have liked, but apparently getting to you isn't that easy. I like you and I don't want to risk what we have any longer. Sorry I lied to you.”

Sensing how she was overcome with shame, she averted her eyes briefly. That rarely happened to her. “Fuck, that's pretty embarrassing! But… if you don't hate me now, let's go somewhere quieter. Not out here. We can talk about everything else.”

Looking at her slightly disappointed face, he can't help but wonder how long she's actually been 'on the job'. Were all those meetings by chance like he'd thought? Hardly anything happened by mere coincidence. Or was she really sought out because she'd been seen with him more than a few times?

He's frowning slightly now as he thinks it over. Those red eyes staring almost through her.

He supposed most people could be bought. Shame and dignity seemingly were becoming a bit more of abstract concepts in this day and age.

"I don't need you to track him. I can do that myself."

After all, he could just smell him on her after a meeting.

"You can just tell me who he is-"

And fuck off.

"And then quit following me."

Lucio would say he had nothing to hide, but his blood sport just couldn't be exposed. Nor did he have much interest in killing her at the moment. Even for food.

He knew this person paying her must be human. Otherwise he wouldn't be so stupid as to have a human girl follow him around. All vampires were great observers, and even better scent followers. Most vampires he knew would just come to him and negotiate with him. If not attack him for what they wanted.

No vampire would be so stupid as to play such a dull trick on him.

"Since money is your only motivator- we can discuss price. I'll pay you more than he is that's for sure. Especially for only just a name. Though- falling through on contracts doesn't look good on you, does it?"

[widevibratobitch]

something about being told im 'the leading person at this whole academy when it comes to interpretation and stage intelligence' by the husband of the woman im trying (not really. but i mean. who knows) to seduce... ok boy you got me. lets make it a polycule.

[front-facing-pokemon]

[raifuujin]

It’s done!

The directory of all the various DC related books (that I own) has been completed!

Not all of the scans are mine, when other people have shared for the main series and spinoffs over the years, but a very solid chunk are my scans of all the ‘unimportant’ material. (If other people had good scans, I opted to save my own time, even if I could scan my own copies, basically.) And now it’s all fairly organized in one easy access list!

Includes: Conan, Kaito, Yaiba, the novels, movie manga, educational manga, activity books, tokubestuhen, archives, game guides, etc.

Now that it’s caught up, I’ll try to keep it up to date when I get more books in the future.

[leijonzzz]

I LOVE SUIKODEN SOOOO FUCKING MUCH

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

god i cannot WAIT to have a desk again

[beachesgetpeaches]

there have been random rumours about Pedro Pascal leaving The Mandalorian and I just

1) I wouldn't be quick to trust these + we'll find out when we need to find out.

2) Do not think they would let him go shoot TLOU, accommodate him so he doesn't even have to be on set, then write him out idk.

But ALSO imagine if they did. At this point, reading people's comments (and btw the fandom is key here bcs I promise you casual viewers don't consistently attribute to a show's popularity)... anyway, it kind of seems like it would be them shooting themselves in the leg. Because from what I've seen lots of people are still watching for Din and Grogu. And lots of people are still connecting to Din (and Grogu??) from our viewer side.

And honestly same goes for me so far.

I'm not saying I don't care about other characters at all, like it's cool to see Bo-Katan be a badass and all. And the rest of the Mandalorians are interesting to get to know. But the show has not made me connect with them. Bo was present briefly (kinda) in S2, with no selfless motives btw, and then my next view of her is clearly her downfall (which we haven't been shown, but told so eh I can't care much), which is supposed to be her low point before her inevitable come back. I have not yet connected with her "cause as a character", I don't quite get why I should be rooting for her. Hell, I care more about Greef Karga and the development of Nevarro at this point because over the seasons I've grown to like him as a character and respect what he is doing for his home.

Anyway, imo not having Din would cost the show a lot especially since this season still seems to be failing at having people connect with any other character other than Din.

[tardis--dreams]

I'm so obsessed with that concert that i don't even have enough brain capacity to stress about everything around it

[lwieserce]

I do think i can actually get along with anyone though