#finding ways to pass the time

[atths--twice]

Passing the Time

While waiting for labs at the hospital, Scully helps Mulder pass the time.

Fictober day 6. Prompt: That's All? Easy.

For my dear friend Ingrid. 💓

February 7, 2018 George Washington Memorial Hospital 

“How much longer did they say?” Mulder asked Scully as she closed the door and rejoined him in the hospital’s waiting area. 

“Twenty minutes at least,” she replied and he sighed heavily.

“We’ve already been waiting for two hours.” 

“Lab work takes time. You know that.” 

“I do,” he said with a nod. “I also know that we’ve been out of the game for a while. Maybe there were advancements while we were away.” 

“Excuse me?” she asked, picking up a random magazine as she sat down. “We haven’t been away from anything. You have. I worked in a hospital until very recently, remember? I am aware how long labs can take.” 

“You know what I meant,” he said, rolling his eyes and she hummed. Glancing at the pages before her, but not finding much interest in them. “I guess I just forgot about the waiting part.” 

“No, you’ve never been good at waiting,” she said, turning the pages with a sigh. 

“In regard to some things,” he said and she turned her head to look at him. He shrugged and gave her a small smile. 

“Hmm,” she hummed again, her attention back on the magazine. His leg bumped hers as he began to bounce it and she pressed into him, silently telling him to stop. “Don’t you have something you can do on your phone? A game to play or something you can read?” 

“Not really.” 

“You had that one game you were playing. Just do that and the time will go by faster,” she said, feeling as though she was speaking to a large child. 

“But it’s boringgggg,” he said, dragging the word out dramatically while he bumped his leg into hers. 

“Mulder,” she said, huffing out a laugh. “Twenty minutes is hardly any time at all. You’ll be fine.” 

“At least twenty minutes. That’s what you said they said, right? So it could be more.” 

“You wanna find a supply closet and make out?” she asked, turning her head and looking at him as he immediately stilled. 

“You… you’re… seriously?” 

“Of course not,” she said, looking back at the magazine and shaking her head. “We’re working.” 

“If that’s the only hold up, I’ll take a rain check.” 

“Sure,” she said, turning another page and not giving it much thought. 

“I’m gonna hold you to it,” he said, his voice lower and she fought back a smile, enjoying teasing him. 

“With or without clothing?” she asked, her voice also low. 

“Definitely without,” he answered quickly and this time she was unable to hold back her smile. “Or whatever you prefer.” 

She turned her head and held his eyes, seeing the desire within them. Leaning closer, she grazed his cheek with her own as she brought her lips close to his ear. 

“I prefer without as well,” she whispered, brushing a kiss to his cheek as she pulled away. 

He groaned softly and she smiled as her attention turned back to the magazine. 

“Christ, Scully,” he breathed, putting his arm along the back of her chair and looking around the room. 

“You gonna make it?” she teased and he laughed as he shifted in his seat. 

“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t know, Scully.” 

“I do enjoy keeping you on your toes. Or your back.” 

“Fuck,” he breathed, shaking his head. She bit her lip to keep from laughing. 

“Can I offer any help to alleviate any discomfort you’re presently experiencing?”

“Yeah, you can stop talking,” he nearly growled. 

“Or I could offer a distraction.” 

“No, that’s how we ended up here.” 

“A different kind of distraction,” she said with a laugh. 

“I’ll be the judge. Let me hear  it.” 

“You consider yourself an intelligent man,” she stated, looking at the magazine. Pausing on a page, she considered the pair of pants the model was wearing.

“I do indeed, but I’m not sure I’m liking where this is heading.” 

“You have an incredible memory. Some might say it's too incredible.” 

“It’s definitely served me well,” he said, stretching out his legs and crossing the left foot over the right. “In more ways than one.” 

“Hmm,” she said, trying not to let her mind wander too far, knowing how well his memory had served in their sex life. Even from the very beginning, it was as though he had memorized every spot that made her cry out and beg him for more.  

“So what did you have in mind?” he asked and she shook her head, pushing away those thoughts. 

Later, she told herself. Definitely later. 

“Make a list of all fifty states,” she said and he looked at her. 

“A list of all the states? That’s your grand plan to help me pass the time?” he asked, moving his arm and sitting up, his brow furrowed even as he smiled. “List the states? That’s all? Easy.” 

“And the capitals,” she said as he stood up, patting his suit jacket, most likely looking for a pen. 

“What?” he asked, stopping and staring at her. “The capitals too?” 

“You said listing the states was easy. We’ve got time to kill so… capitals too,” she said, turning a page and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Oh… you’re going to regret this. I’ll be done way before the labs are.” 

“So you say,” she said, looking at the magazine. “Yet there you stand, writing nothing down.” 

“Oh, you… you…” He shook his head, waving his finger at her. “I’m gonna find some paper and then… be prepared to be amazed.” 

“I’m all a tingle,” she said with an exaggerated shiver. 

“You… ha ha ha,” he said, walking out of the room to hunt down some paper. 

She smiled as she put the magazine down and reached for another. 

He was back quickly, heading to the small table in the corner of the waiting area, when she stood up and stopped him. 

“Give me your phone.” 

“You don’t trust me?” 

“No,” she laughed. “Not for things like this. Gimme it.” 

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me,” he said, taking his phone from his pocket and handing it to her. “I would never-”

“Dyspareunia,” she said, putting his phone in her pocket. “Thought of that word on your own to build off of your previous word spare?” She raised her eyebrows and he shrugged with his palms up, a guilty smile on his face. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I’ll be holding onto your phone. Go on.” 

“Bossy,” he said, as he continued past her. 

“You love it,” she stated and he nodded, grinning at her. 

“I absolutely do. Especially when-”

“Nope,” she said, pointing at the paper. “Get to writing.” He saluted as he sat down as she shook her head as she also sat down. 

Quiet fell over the room and she was surprised when she realized ten minutes had passed without any interruptions. Looking over at him, she smiled as she saw how focused he was as he wrote. Suddenly feeling sleepy, she set the magazine beside her, crossed her arms, and closed her eyes. 

“Hey,” Mulder said softly and she opened her eyes. “It always amazes me how you can fall asleep anywhere.” 

“Are you done?” she asked, sitting up and looking at the paper in his hand. 

“Why yes, Miss Scully. I got all my homework done,” he said in a southern drawl, handing the paper to her. She took it with a smile, her eyes running over his words. 

“You know,” he said as he sat down. “That was actually harder than I thought it would be.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed. “That’s not surprising.” 

“What are you trying to say?” he asked and she laughed quietly.

“Nothing about you in particular. It’s just not something we think about in our normal day to day life, so it’s not surprising that it proved to be somewhat difficult.” 

“As long as it wasn’t a dig at my intelligence,” he said, sticking out his lower lip. 

“I would never. Did I not call you an intelligent man earlier?” 

“No. You stated that I considered myself an intelligent man.” 

“Did I?” she asked, tapping her finger against the paper as she read. 

Juneau, Alaska. Austin, Texas. Olympia, Washington.    “You did. Find any mistakes?” 

“Not yet,” she said, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. 

“You won’t. Because, I have a fantastic memory, as I believe you said.” 

“Ohhh. You were so close,” she said, closing her eyes briefly and shaking her head. “I said you had an incredible memory, but it looks like I was wrong.” 

“Fantastic… incredible. One would say they’re interchangeable,” he said, moving his hands as though weighing the words on a scale. 

“Hmm,” she hummed, nodding in agreement. 

Columbus, Ohio. Montpelier, Vermont. Bismarck, North Dakota. 

“So what’s the word, Teach?” he asked as she folded the paper in half. 

“All correct. One hundred percent,” she said, smiling as she turned her head to look at him. 

“A hundred percent. That should get a gold star,” he stated and she sighed. 

“Unfortunately, I’m all out of gold stars at the moment.” 

“Huh…” he said, rubbing his fingers across his chin. “No gold stars? You got anything else of value? I mean… a perfect paper achieved by my incredibly fantastic memory… it deserves something.” 

Smiling again as she leaned closer to him, she placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him softly. Then again. Then once more, her lips lingering on his. 

“Better than a gold star?” she whispered and he hummed as he kissed her before pulling back slightly. 

“Much better,” he whispered back, bumping his nose gently against hers. 

She pulled back further, smiling at him, her fingers scratching lightly at the stubble upon his cheek. He smiled and she dropped her hand with a sigh just as the door to the waiting area opened and the lab technician stepped inside. 

“Agents, I have the results you’ve been waiting for,” he said and they both stood to their feet and followed the technician down the hall. 

Though her focus was on the case and the new evidence they now had, her mind kept drifting to the softness of Mulder’s lips and how she wanted to feel them on hers again. 

Without clothing this time, she thought. Most assuredly without clothing. 

[ifyoucandaniel]

ummm so have y’all seen that GQ photo shoot…?

this is sort of a joke for @bluelotuswrites fic The Hellblazer’s Apprentice on a fun way for bruce to find out jason is in fact alive and well. it’s also just an excuse to draw all blades jason shirtless bc i’m a hoe 😔

edit: now with fic!!! please go check out blues fun fic about model jason!

[otaku553]

Ok so I have been stewing this crossover au in my brain nonstop for the past few days and. I am nothing if not committed to the bit, so. Volume cover redraws :)

Here are the originals:

If you want to read more about my one piece spy x family crossover, keep reading!

So the idea is simple! Crossover reincarnation au where ASL is reborn in Spy x Family. They’re each born separately and none of them are born with the same names as their previous lives, and with no way of finding each other, they each find their own thing to do in the world.

Sabo, too used to the dangers of being a spy, eventually finds a cause to devote himself to again, in preventing war from engulfing the country he was reborn in. Ace, drawn to fire as he was in his previous life, used arson as a means to rob rich people for sustenance and survival, and is eventually scouted and hired by Garden as a fire specialist and assassin. And Luffy, though born in perhaps the poorest condition, grows up happily and takes whatever part time jobs he wants to do.

The thing about Sabo is that, as much as he seems like a young man of good repute and high standing within society, everyone in WISE knows that he is a massive nuisance. Nobody knew in the beginning how a child less than half the age of most of their veteran agents could have the same skills and knowledge in their profession. Sabo was— and still is— hyper competent, and by the time WISE figured out just how much of a menace to society he was, it was too late.

Ace forgot for the first few years of his new life that he wasn’t made of fire, and consequently, received multiple accidental burns. This did not deter him, however, from growing up to be a very skilled arsonist, well-practiced in every which way to start a dumpster fire or house fire. As a teenage he would use this often to draw attention as he robbed rich people blind. When he was caught, he was given an ultimatum by Garden: join them and receive payment for starting fires and causing problems under contract, or face the government and authorities for his crimes. Begrudgingly, he joined Garden, but eventually comes to appreciate that he can make substantial money in his element.

Luffy is Luffy. No telepathy or experimentation, no fancy schools, no gimmicks or secret identities. But he has still lived an extremely colorful life in this world, full of fascinating and kind individuals who have helped him grow up healthy and relatively happy. He goes where he is free, and he takes whatever part time jobs he wants in order to make the minimum he needs to survive.

Ace and Sabo find each other first, in their late teens, and neither of them realize that the other remembers their previous life, but both refuse to separate. (Sabo thinks Ace doesn’t remember, because Ace didn’t recognize him. Ace never saw Sabo grow up past 10, however, so he doesn’t recognize older Sabo immediately. By the time he does realize who exactly Sabo is, Sabo has backtracked and pretends to know Ace from a dream, or from somewhere else.)

Sabo’s attachment to Ace, predictably, causes problems between Sabo and WISE, but by then, Sabo is indispensable to the organization, and they make an exception for Sabo to be able to remain with Ace, so long as Ace never finds out what Sabo’s actual job is. Ace, on the other hand, hides his job because he doesn’t want his brother, who he has just found and who does not know Ace well enough yet, to know that he makes a living from killing people.

And they find Luffy sometime afterwards, prior to the beginning of the Spy x Family canon. Luffy figures out, not long after moving in with his brothers, both of his brothers’ secret occupations and the fact that both of them remember their past memories. He thinks it is common knowledge, however, and so he never brings it up.

[welcometogrouchland]

(ID in alt) I literally said I was gonna post this month's ago and then never had the wherewithal to describe it and so I didn't Lmao (said with pain). But since I'm thinking of opening my commissions I figured I should remind ppl that I. Yknow. Can draw.

Lots of Steph here (I had major art block making all of these and my brain worms for her kept me going) + some sprinkles of stephcass for Cass nation to enjoy!

[surreal-duck]

es rarepair week 2024 day 1 | AU/future

lil ghostic au of mine!!! yuzuru and the rest of fine are long since trapped souls in an abandoned mansion of which rst come across while looking for shelter during a storm :] it doesnt um. particularly end well

[kosmogrl]

.

[cowboylikejesper]

just thinking about wylan saying “i don’t deserve you” in response to jesper telling him he loves him

[starry-bi-sky]

Blood Blossom Au: before the nightingale sings

---------

for my batdad blood blossom au, the one where Vlad poisoned Danny with blood blossom extract and Danny ran away from him and ended up tumbling into the care of one Pre-Robin Battinson Batman :). A quick oneshot telling the tale of the tragic deaths of the Fentons

TW: Major Character Death Warning

-------

Not all deaths are created equal.

That is a valuable lesson in life to learn. One that Danny learns when he is eleven years old, standing in the pit of his parents’ creation; the culmination of their life’s work. The portal to the other side, the realm of the dead. To the infinite. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, in a hazmat suit that sags on him, and boots that clunk when he walks because the only ones that fit are his mom’s, and even those are too big. In gloves that he has to clench his fists in because otherwise they fall off. In goggles that slide down his nose even when he’s tightened them the farthest they can go. 

He learns that when he’s eleven years old, choking on giggles that harmonize with the laughter of his friends’ who stand at the mouth of the tunnel. Sam’s holding a polaroid in her hand. They’re just being kids. 

They’re not laughing when Danny’s hand hits the safety lock — the one with faulty wiring, the only one in the tunnel. The only one he could possibly hit. They’re not laughing when the portal buzzes to life, and the lights inside switch on row by row as the generator begins to rumble and hum. 

They’re not laughing when Danny dies. They’re screaming. They’re not screaming when he comes back.

Not all deaths are created equal.  

Some are poetic, beautiful. The satisfying close of a book as it comes to an end, of the hardback thumping soft against the pages like the sound of a door closing. A train run its course.

Some are violent; unsatisfying; unfair. The unexpected shattering of an egg as it rolls off the countertop when nobody is looking, the unmistakable crack as it falls to the floor. It is abrupt and messy. 

But most are just… unremarkable. Unintentional. Clumsy. 

Danny’s family dies one night in late January. He is thirteen years old, barely a month away from fourteen. It is unforeseen. It is preventable. It happens. 

It happens like this: 

Their water heater breaks one Monday in January. It’s old, sitting in the garage, and has dealt with nearly sixteen years of Fenton-grade chaos and shenanigans. Of parents tossing scraps and junk into the garage as brief storage to come back to later. Of illegal tune-ups on their vehicles that result in something exploding. Of little children running around and knocking things over, playing with poles and sticks they find on the ground, on the shelves. Of being lived and used.  

Something had to give. 

Jack Fenton notices it immediately when he comes upstairs that very afternoon — his children at school, his wife downstairs — to grab something from the garage. The very same scrap and used material they store like squirrels to use later. 

He stops what he’s doing to fix it.  

It wasn’t supposed to be permanent. 

Despite what many believe, Jack Fenton is not the idiot people make him out to be. He knows what he’s good at, he knows what he’s not. He knows he can be passionate and obsessive and single-minded about things. He knows that he is a scientist, an inventor; an engineer. 

He knows that he is not a plumber. That fixing water heaters is not something he knows how to do, not safely. And he loves his family. What he does is only meant to be temporary — a fix meant to only last a few days until they can call someone in who can fix it for them. 

So Jack Fenton futzes with the water heater, gives it a temporary stitch to last a short while, and reminds himself to call a plumber later that day to come in and fix it. He turns and leaves the garage with the part he came for —  a sheet of metal for his wife to melt down — and disappears back downstairs. 

He does not make that call; it slips from his mind. 

It is not his fault. 

One day passes, then two, then suddenly it is Thursday. The water heater has still not been fixed, the water heater has been forgotten. It is nobody’s fault.  

Danny asks his parents at breakfast if he can stay over at Tucker’s house for the night. Just one night. They’re going to study for their math test and then play video games until midnight, but he only tells his parents that first half. 

He’s been doing well in school. Really well — better than he has in a while. There’s been a delightful lull in ghost appearances for the last few weeks. The living don’t know why, but Danny does. The Winter Truce always calms the dead down for a while, something about how the Zone cleanses itself twice a mortal year and that fresh wave of ecto clears out the old and brings in the new. 

This year Danny got to participate. He’s feeling the effects of it too, and he’s been sleeping consistently well for the first time since the accident. 

It’ll never happen again. 

His parents agree under the condition that he doesn’t stay up late, and Danny harmlessly lies through his teeth and agrees. He goes and throws overnight clothes into his school backpack, and when he leaves for school with Jazz his parents are already departed into the lab. 

The last conversation he has with his sister is in her car on the drive to school. Inane, mindless conversation to fill the air and pass the time. Jazz comments on how relaxed he’s been lately; Danny tells her about the Winter Truce. She listens in rapt attention. 

She tells him that she’s glad to see him so well-rested. She thinks her little brother’s been growing up too fast these days. She thinks he’s been too tense. Too caught up with the spinning of the world around him that he forgets about himself sometimes. 

When they reach school, before Danny can get out of the car, Jazz looks to her little brother and says; “I love you.” 

Her little brother’s cheeks turn an embarrassed shade of red. He makes a scrunched up, grossed-out face, but can’t hide the smile pulling across it. “Don’t be a sap, Jazz. I’ll see you later.” He tells her, yanking his hood up over his head. She hears the bashful, ‘love you too’ before he walks away. 

That is the last conversation she ever has with her brother. 

Thursday is unremarkable, passing by in its normality as it always does. There’s one, maybe two ghost sightings; shades lurking around in curious infancy that are easily spooked away by the presence of a greater being. Danny doesn’t even have to go ghost. 

Thursday evening is even less so. Danny goes to Tucker’s house — Sam has a prior arrangement with her slam poetry club — and the two of them study for an hour before they toss their textbooks aside and reach for the game console. 

Danny sleeps in Tucker’s room with one of the extra blankets on his bed, curled across the room in one of the bean bag chairs. It shouldn’t be comfortable, but to Danny it is. He sleeps throughout the night, the portal shut down by his parents before they’d gone to bed. 

Early Friday morning, before the sun has even risen yet, before it’s even so much as a concept to grace the horizon, the water heater breaks again. It was supposed to be fixed. 

Carbon monoxide is a silent killer. Odorless and scentless, it kills within minutes. It fills the house like a shadow casting over the ground, creeping into the rooms. 

Danny’s family die in their sleep; painless and unaware. 

It’s not Jack Fenton’s fault. He didn’t mean to.  

Nobody wakes up with their alarms. 

Danny wakes up to Tucker Foley’s alarm on Friday morning, and he turns his head intangible and shoves it into the beanbag chair like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Tucker gets up before him, and throws a pillow at him as he reaches for the alarm. 

There’s laughter, messing around. The both of them get dressed, and Danny has breakfast with the Foleys that morning. He takes the bus to school with Tucker, and they meet Sam by their lockers. 

To him, everything is as normal as it should be. There are no ghosts for him to fight right now, school is as school does, and he’s on top of all his schoolwork. 

He does not see Jazz at all that morning, he doesn’t notice. Their schedules are so different, their routes on different paths, that it’s not uncommon for Danny to not see Jazz until he gets home some days. That’s if there’s no ghost attacks. 

At lunch, he gets approached by her friends. Worried creases between their brows, they ask him if he’s seen Jazz. She hasn’t shown up to any of her classes. She’s not answering their texts. It’s unprecedented of her; unheard of. 

Danny doesn’t admit to the concern that swells in his gut when they tell him this. He shrugs at them, and says he hasn’t seen her either. But it was probably nothing to worry about; she might just be sick and sleeping it off. 

He offers to text her and let them know if he gets a response, and that seems to ease her friends enough that they shuffle away in uncertainty. He keeps his word, and does exactly that. He pulls out his phone and opens her contact, and shoots her a message.

‘Where are you?’ 

He doesn’t get a response back, Danny is left on sent. He puts his phone in his pocket, and with a sense of unease creeping in the back of his mind, goes on with his day. He gets no response by the time the final bell rings; and he tries not to be worried. 

The house is quiet when he opens the door. Unusually quiet. He drops his backpack to the floor, it lands with a hearty thunk, and begins to take off his jacket. “Mom! Dad!” He yells. He hangs it up, and slips his shoes from his feet. “Jazz skipped school today!”

A laughable untruth that would get his sister all riled up normally; she should be able to hear him from the front door if she was in her room. The house just stays dead silent. 

He can’t even hear the usual banging and crashing from the lab. His unease returns. He reaches for the intercom that leads directly down to the basement, and presses the button to turn it on. A burst of static, and then he speaks;

“Mom? Dad?” 

Danny lets go, and waits for a response. He gets none back. That never happens, not when the house is this quiet. Not when he knows they should’ve heard him. 

Something sickly and fearful borns in the pit of his stomach, and begins to snake upward. He heads for the lab. The cool metal of the door is familiar in the grooves of his hand, and he doesn’t even need to think about the code as he punches it in;  he simply lets muscle memory guide him. It’s been the same since he was little. 

The door hisses as the pressure is released, and he swings the door open. He takes the stairs down two at a time. Something is wrong. His parents aren’t answering him. His feet pound against the metal. 

“Mom? Dad?” He calls again, more worried, more frantic. More scared. His voice echoes down the stairwell, and he reaches the bottom before it’s fully faded. The lab is empty. The portal is still shut down. 

It was four in the afternoon, they should still be down here. 

Danny races back upstairs, fear-raised nausea coiling in his throat. “This isn’t funny you guys!” He yells when he reaches the top, shoving open the door with more force than necessary. His head swims, his voice cracked. 

He checks the garage, the car is still there. 

“Mom!? Dad!” His voice bellows out throughout the first floor, loud enough that it bounces back at him and rings against his ears. He’s never raised his voice this much — mom would scold him if she heard him. But she doesn’t show up. “Jazmine!” 

Finally, he goes upstairs, and he can’t tell if what he’s feeling is anger or terror. Something is very, very wrong. 

He swings the door of his parents’ rooms open first, and there they are, with the lights still off and the curtains still drawn. As if they hadn’t left their bed all day. Some of Danny’s fear lifts from his shoulders just by the sight of them, but he’s still trembling. Something is still wrong — the room smells… off. Not good, not bad. Just… off. 

He swallows dryly, his throat still thick, and steps into the room. “Mom, dad?” They do not stir. “Didn’t you guys hear me yelling?” 

There is only room static. Danny’s heart shrivels in his chest with a tenfold return of terror, he feels ill. He remembers, just now, that they’re not heavy sleepers, and his dad should be snoring like a freight house. 

Danny reaches their bedside in seconds, hand outstretching for the covers, “Momma? Dad?”

Not all deaths are created equal. 

But many of them are accidental. Unmeditated. Shocking.

Danny Fenton finds his family dead in his childhood home. He runs to his neighbors in hysterics, inconsolable, in tears. Nine-one-one is called, but there is nothing that can be done. They were dead for hours by the time Daniel Fenton returned home. 

He sits on the front steps of the neighbor’s house beside FentonWorks, his jeans slowly becoming wet from the snow that was unable to be scraped off, and watches the paramedics cart out his family beneath white sheets. There are police cars blocking off the street, yellow tape blocking off his house, red-blue lights lighting up the block, an ambulance on the scene. He is wrapped in a shock blanket, and he is missing his jacket and his shoes. His tears are freezing onto his face, he can’t feel the chill. 

Not all deaths are created equal

But all of them are unforgettable. 

[happyk44]

percy needs to be haunted by bianca's ghost more

[soupmanspeaks]

I think that it would be really funny, for how proud William is for being British, he just could not for the life of him stomach tea, like he still drinks it but its because he "simply has to" (he's grasping the mug handle with enough strength to cut off the circulation in someone's hand as he's drinking it, mind you) and Michael on the other hand, just, loves tea, and it sparks this petty jealously out of William, because why can his pathetic loser son drink tea and not HIM

and it leads to funny scenarios like -William struggling to stomach some Earl Grey- "Father, you do know you don't have to drink it-" -William throwing the mug at the wall and grabbing Michael by the collar and going:- "YOU THINK YOURE SOOOOO MUCH BETTER THAN ME, DON'T YOU, MICHAEL? HMM? GO AHEAD AND LAUGH! LAUGH! LAUGH AT YOUR PATHETIC FATHER FOR NOT BEING ABLE TO DRINK THE SYMBOL OF BRITISH PRIDE!"

"FATHER I JUST SAID YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DRINK IT-" "WHY? BECAUSE YOU WISH TO KEEP THAT LEVERAGE ON ME? OHOHO, YOUR SCHEMES WON'T WORK THAT EASY ON ME, MICHAEL!"

[youkaigakkou-tl]

New key visual!! 🎉🎉

Premiering on OCTOBER 8TH!! 🎉🎉

For 2 consecutive cours!! (24 eps)

🎉🎉

Full voice cast has also been revealed:

Abe Haruaki: Ryouta Oosaka

Sano Mikoto: Ryouta Suzuki

Maizuka Mamekichi: Reo Tanie

Hijita Koutarou: Taito Ban

Zashiki Beniko: Akari Kitou

Nyuudou Rensuke: Akira Takano

Utagawa Kuniko: Hana Ayasaka

Akisame Tamao: Yuki Sakakihara

Yanagida: Tomokazu Sugita

Mujina Yakumo: Takao Mitsutomi

Fuji Touya: Saku Hyuga

Renjou Yuri: Nanako Mori

Miki Rintarou: Shun Horie

Hatanaka Izuna: Ryouta Iwasaki

Principal: Jun Fukuyama

Takahashi Akira: Shouta Aoi

Yamazaki Makoto: Tomoaki Maeno

Marshmallow: Chitose Morinaga

Little man: Tetsuya Yanagihara

[tropicalcontinental]

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

[skunkes]

[puppyeared]

learning abt friendship decay and "not reaching out to your friends for months at a time unprompted is not neurotypical behaviour" has me feeling a certain way

[bajaja-blast]

finally finished this fucking book

it took me almost a year because it’s so hard to get through oh my GODS

[calitsnow]

Just thinking late at night …