#he has enough dramatic shit going on to be an anime character let him have the looks thanks

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? PT 1

All I could do was stare at my reflection. This had to be a joke. I was going to wake up in my bed, right this instant.

“FUCK!”

Ok, so, pinching myself hurts. That’s fine. This is like. Some sort of lucid dream. What do they say to do if you’re lucid dreaming? Oh, that’s right, put your finger in your palm, it’ll phase through!

I resist the urge to scream as my finger meets solid flesh.

You see, I’m not in the right body. Or the right world from what I can tell. No, I’m supposed to be back home, waking up in a panic as I realize my alarm didn’t go off cuz my phone died after I stayed up way too late reading manga.

But of course, I’m not late to work, I’m in a lavish bedchamber right out of the latest webcomic I’d been reading! And by the looks of it…. I’m the crown princes crazy fiancé! As much as I love reading about the Isekai trope, I never wanted to be in one! And come on- as the Yandere Villain!? Couldn’t this at least be original? There’s hundred of stories just like “my next life as a villainess,” why couldn’t I be like… a stable hand or something? Ugh. Ok. Think!

I need to get home. Do the protagonists ever get back home in the stories I read? I pace around my room and rack my brain over every webcomic I’ve ever read, every manga I waited in line for, every anime I binged, even the unfinished manhwas! I can’t think of a single fucking one where they get home?

Well this isn’t going to stop me. I have a cat who’s going to absolutely flip if she’s not given fresh kibble in the morning. She has enough in her bowl for another 2 days but she needs it topped off ok! She’s a princess! I can’t be stuck here! Who’s going to throw her pompom toy for her if I’m not there???

What did all these have in common? What’s the barebones trope layout? Ok let’s see

1) person either died or falls asleep and wakes up in a new world…. Check

2) person is the villain!…. Check

3) to avoid the characters terrible death, person tries to change the story, ends up being new protagonist…

Ohhh… hey…. Do these Isekai characters ever just…. Play along? Even the “reincarnated as a baby” ones, they only play along till they’re old enough to try to run away or rework the political structure of the entire city. Maybe that’s it. Make it to the books natural end, and you’ll wake up where you belong. It’s like when you get part of a song stuck in your head. Play the whole song, and it’ll get out.

Ok, I’ve trained most of my adult life for this- I can totally ace this trope! I just have to stalk the crown prince, act totally in love with him, and be a bitch to the female lead. Then my finance will leave me, I’ll do some crazy dramatic act to try to kill the female lead, and then I’ll be exiled or executed, and wake up to feed my cat. How hard can it be?

Hard. It’s very hard.

Where the hell did he go!? My fiancé, the crown prince Eric, was JUST HERE. I swear! He turned that corner back there and then went down this hall… at least I think it was this hall? Ugh! This is impossible! For someone with such loud shoes and an armed escort, you’d think he’d be easier to follow! Now my feet just hurt. They don’t make these fancy shoes to run around the castle all day. They’re meant to daintily peek from beneath my many skirts as I host a tea party or some shit.

Ok. I’ve got this! I’ll just peek into each room until I find him, maybe I can get a better feel for the layout, or maybe find his office and see if he has a schedule or a day planner or something I can use to make this whole stalking thing easier.

I begin snooping, and it’s a bit of thrill to be honest! Back in my real life, I’m the kind of person to hide a wrapper deep in the trash can if I’m babysitting, sitting on the floor playing a game on my phone after the kid goes to bed rather than “making myself at home” the way the parents insisted as they showed me how to access Netflix. I’ve never been a snooper. Now…. Well. It’s totally on brand for this character! I’m not me, I’m a psycho lovesick fool! I giggle a bit at that as my fingers trail over a shelf of beautiful pottery in some sort of sitting room.

“What’s so amusing dearest?”

I practically screech as my heart leaps to my throat and I whirl around, and see the very person I’d been searching for has snuck up on ME…. That’s so unfair!

“W-what? O-oh! Nothing! I was just- uh, admiring the pottery?”

I stutter out as I try to recall how to act like a human being while simultaneously trying to stop feeling my own pulse in my ears. The idiot has the nerve to LAUGH! Full on snort and everything!

“What are you doing in this wing anyways? Weren’t you meant to be out riding today?”

Shit. I was so busy trying to figure out his schedule, I didn’t consider maybe the body I was shoved into had a schedule of her own. Ok. Play it cool- I’ve got this!

“Yes, well, I decided I wasn’t in the mood and wanted to stay in today instead.”

His brows furrow

“Oh, but you love riding? Are you feeling ill? I can fetch the royal physician for you if you-“

“No! That’s- that’s quite alright! I simply wanted a change of schedule, that is all. Um… what about you? What are your plans for the day?”

He looked a bit surprised at that, and a small smile danced on his lips.

“I was just going to the library to do some paperwork, boring stuff really, and then of course our dinner at its regular time.”

I nod like that means anything to me. Ok think, if I were crazy in love with this man, what would I say?

“Would you like some company? Reading in the library sounds really nice, maybe we could have some tea as well?”

Ok. I’m already fucking this up. He looks confused…. God damnit …. I knew I shouldn’t have skimmed over those early chapters- but the translation was shit ok!?

“Well… I’d actually love that. But are you sure? You haven’t exactly shown interest in reading, and you’ve never requested something like this before…. In fact I don’t think I can recall the last time we’ve interacted outside of dinner or a scheduled social event in… well. Ever.”

Wait…. What? Isn’t my character like goo-goo-ga-ga over him? Are you telling me she never asks to just… spend time with her lover? They only talk during dinner and parties or whatever?

“Of course, I think it’ll be relaxing! Just lead the way!”

My brain is working overtime as I smile politely at him as we reach the library and I pretend to browse for books. I’m missing something here. What is-

Oh. Shit. That’s right. I’m supposed to be really insecure and awkward about him. That’s why she stalks him- she spends all her free time obsessing over this man from the shadows, threatening the competition…. Yet chokes up when it comes to how to act natural. Her inferiority complex is what drives her entire character. And then to him, they’re just two nobles in an arranged marriage who speak on dull subjects like the weather and horse rides…. And who barely interact.

This must have been a real big shake up, she always stays out of sight, they never run into each other by chance. And she certainly never would ask to sit and read with him…. Maybe watch him do his work from a hidden keyhole somewhere, but that’s right…. She IS more of a traditional lady with her hobbies. She was raised to be the perfect noble wife, so naturally, her hobbies include things like dancing, needlepoint, and horse riding. The only studies she’s interested in are etiquette and things that noble ladies are supposed to know.

Well…. Shit. That’s so like me to already have fucked this up. But that’s ok. That’s ok- he’s going to meet the female lead and fall in love and so I just have to be the obstacle they need to overcome. Surely the details don’t matter too much…. It’s my first day in the job ok? Not everyone’s perfect!

I find a book that honestly actually sounds interesting, it’s historical, but it’s giving Hellen of Troy, the closest to a dark romance I think I’ll get from an academic personal library like this. I settle into what looks like the comfiest chair in the central area, and begin reading. The prince and I exist comfortably, the only sound being the scratch of his pen, and the occasional rustle of paper as he flips a document or I finish a page. We continue like this for several hours until he puts down his pen and clears his throat, getting my attention.

“I know it’s a long way from dinner…. But I was thinking I’d grab something light for a mid day meal and then take a walk about the gardens …. Would you care to join me?”

Honestly, some lunch and pretty royal gardens sounds like so much fun, so I agree. As we begin walking, I ponder how I can recover from all this.

You know what.. this can totally still go to plan. This is just me being the evil villain and sinking my claws into him! The female lead will appear, and I’ll reveal my true, nasty side to her! She’ll have to fight to save the prince from his marriage to me!

*insert evil laughter!*

“You’re smiling.”

“W-what?”

“A smile. It suits you. You’ve been doing that a lot today….. I like it.”

Ok and now I’m blushing. I go to reply when I suddenly find myself weightless for a moment, and then hit the ground with a hard thump.

“Ow! What the-!?”

My eyes snap up and glare at this pretty blonde girl who just rammed into me, and sent me flying

“Do you not know how to watch where you’re going!? Owww…. Ugh.”

Ok I’m sorry I’m usually a nice and understanding person but I’ve never been literally knocked over before! Who does that to a person?

Eric helps me to my feet and sends a reproachful glare toward the girl, asking me if I’m alright with most concerned look…. And the girl gasps and says,

“C-crown prince Eric! I apologize! I’d didn’t recognize you!”

She drops into a curtsy and lowers her eyes all demure and modest as if she hadn’t just bulldozed me. I send an incredulous look toward Eric…. She… didn’t see HIM? I’m the one she took out? He gives me an equally puzzled look and so I decide, you know what, fuck it. I’m this evil person in this world…. I need to act like it!

“And not recognizing his highness is an excuse for taking out the princess consort, soon to be crown princess? Are you blind or just daft?”

Oh my god I really just called someone daft! This feels like when you stay up late thinking all the witty comebacks you could’ve used against your high school bullies, except actually using them in the moment!

And Eric is being a sweetie and letting me handle this, waiting expectantly for blondie to answer me, just prompting her,

“Well?”

“Forgive me…. Princess consort…. You are right. My oversight in inexcusable. It appears neither of us were looking where we were going. I hope we can start fresh!”

I scoff- that’s it? Who does this bitch think she is? Yes, I was looking at Eric, but I was going a walking pace, who rounds a corner with so much force that you knock someone over?

Suddenly something clicks- oh shit! This is the female lead!!!! This scene happened in the story, just without the prince here. This is good, that means this is on track. Although I gotta say- I was much more on the female main characters side when reading it. Now, I just feel like she’s one of those mean girls in high school who’s not *technically* doing anything mean. Anyways- what was I supposed to say? That’s right.

“Yes…. Well. I’m sure we won’t be seeing much of each other anyways. If you’ll excuse me-“

Nailed ittttt…. Now her line?

“Well, actually…. My name is Lady Cressida, and I’ll be staying in the place for several months as my father is a foreign ambassador overseeing trade agreements with his highness the king. So I imagine we will be seeing *plenty* of each other. That goes for you too your highness! So please- forgive me, I look forward to getting to know each of you better!”

Oh that’s so cool, seeing her recite the lines from the story. But ok- I have a role to play as well. I scoff and grab Eric’s arm, pulling him behind me as I storm off, playing the part of entitled lover, stuck up and irritated at this ambassadors daughter who DARED to speak to my love.

Yea, this will work, Eric will think Cressida is a genuine sweetie, and see me as being the unreasonable bitch who’s refusing to accept her apology, or apologize for not looking where I was going either. And now I’m manhandling him- totally unlady like. God I’m killing this aren’t I? Minimum wage job and demanding cat, here I come!

What I don’t see, as I lead Eric by the arm, is the cold glare he shoots towards Cressida, before smiling down at our connected hands, an unreadable look in his eyes.

Part 2

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 1: Welcome To A New Kind Of Tension]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “American Idiot” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What do you think, should we kill ourselves now or later?” Rio is spinning his Beretta M9 around on his index finger. This is not advisable. He doesn’t care.

Your hands are gripping the skeletal latticework of the transmission tower, steel hot enough to burn you; no electricity hums in the power lines suspended above your heads. Your eyes are on the horizon, golden June sunlight over fields no one has planted. Weeds are growing up through the earth, feral and defiantly useless, reclaiming their land just like the deer are, and the rabbits and the opossums and the turtles and the squirrels and the doves. The reign of humanity is over. Now you’re prey animals too. “Let’s wait.”

“For what?”

“Maybe someone will save us.”

“Ain’t nobody coming, Chips!” Rio says. “We’re a hundred feet off the ground in the middle of nowhere, motherfucking Catawissa, Pennsylvania, and we haven’t run into anyone since that Amish family back in Lightstreet, and I wouldn’t count on them driving by in their horse and buggy to pick us up.”

“We’re about sixty feet off the ground.”

“Okay, Bob the Builder, why don’t you whip up a helicopter or something to get us out of here?” Rio’s M9 has one bullet left in it, yours has three, nowhere near enough. At the bottom of the tower is a swarm of fifty-four zombies; you’ve counted them twice. There are no cute euphemisms: walkers, biters, the infected. They were once people and now they’re not. They wear the vestiges of their former lives, like how those who believe in reincarnation see meaning in birthmarks: here you were stabbed, there you were kissed by your true love. They lurch and snarl and hiss in their professional attire, college t-shirts, Vans and Jordans, septum piercings, wedding rings. They decompose in a miasma of metallic blood and spoiled meat. Parker had been the last one to the transmission tower, and they grabbed him by the legs. Now they’re chewing the gristle off his bones: disconnected ligaments that swing like strands of cobwebs, scarlet threads of muscle. “Oh shit,” Rio says, looking down. “We’ve got a smart one.”

Most zombies don’t have the fine motor skills to climb, swim, or open doors, but every once in a while—just like out of every 5,000 or 10,000 or however many ordinary humans you’ll pull the lever on the genetic slot machine and get a Picasso or a kid who can score a 1600 on the SATs—you run into an overachiever. This zombie, a teenage boy with red hair and a blue plaid shirt, is slowly scaling the tower. He’s already ten feet off the ground.

Rio aims his M9, semiautomatic, packs a punch but won’t break your arm with the recoil. “Fuck off, Ed Sheeran!” He fires and misses; the bullet grazes the boy’s shoulder. He groans dramatically and asks you in defeat: “Will you take care of that, please?”

You pull your pistol out of your holster and lean away from the tower to get a better angle, holding onto the scaffolding with one hand. You feel Rio’s large fingers close around your wrist, ready to yank you back if you slip. You click off the safety with your thumb, peer through the front sight, aim and wait until you’re sure. It’s a headshot: shards of skull ricochet off steel beams, half-rotten brains spray out in a mist. The carcass plummets to the earth.

“All this horror, all this catastrophe.” Rio’s eyes, dark like a mineshaft, drift mischievously back to you. “We could…distract each other.”

He’s not serious; this is a game you play. “No thanks.”

“You don’t want to die a virgin.”

“I do if you’re the only other person up here.”

“You deny a condemned man his final wish?”

“We’re not dying,” you insist. “What about Sophie?”

“Sophie would understand given the circumstances. She would want me to be happy.”

“What if we have sex and then immediately thereafter get rescued? You’d be a cheater. You’d be consumed by guilt. You’d never be able to take me back to your parents’ doomsday prepper cult commune in bumblefuck Oregon to wait out the apocalypse in peace.”

“You’re going to appreciate those doomsday preppers when you’re eating Chef Boyardee out of a can instead of shuffling around as a reanimated corpse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will,” you muse. “So you agree we’re going to get off this tower somehow.”

Rio sighs and whistles a morose tune: what a shame. “You should have gone out with that Marine at Corpus Christi.”

You frown, repentant, wistful. There’s nothing on the horizon except fields and trees and black storm clouds of crows taking flight. “I was afraid of making a mistake.”

“And now look at you. About to die as pure as Pope Francis.”

“How did this happen?! We’re not idiots, we’re goddamn professionals!” You re-holster your M9. You’re still wearing your uniforms from when you went AWOL, stealing away from Saratoga Springs like rats from a sinking ship.

“I’ll tell you exactly how this happened. You let that loser Parker come with us even though I knew it was a bad idea—”

“I couldn’t just leave him there! He started crying!”

“And he had one job, which was to check the oil in the Humvee, and clearly he failed because…” Rio glances at his watch. “Approximately four hours ago, the engine started smoking and the whole thing died on us, so we had to get out and walk, like we’re pioneers or some shit, and then that hoard down there came out of nowhere, and the only place left to go was up. Freaking Parker. I could murder that guy.” An awkward pause. “I mean, the zombies beat me to it. But still.”

“He had two jobs. He was also carrying the extra ammo.”

“Don’t remind me.” Rio isn’t messing around with his M9 anymore. He’s contemplating it as the sun hovers just past noon, hot and shadowless. “How many bullets do you have left?”

“Two.”

“Good. Don’t use them.”

You look at him, this man you’ve known for over four years, this man you’ve traveled the world with. You’ve already gone so much farther than Oregon together. How is it possible that what was once a six hour flight is now a month-long journey that might kill you? “It’s not over yet, Rio.”

“Remember what you promised me.”

His hushed voice in the moonlit indigo of the Humvee the night you left Saratoga Springs: Don’t let me die alone. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it to Oregon.” Then you grin, sweltering summer air breathing over you, humid, heavy, the screeching of insects in the trees. “But if it comes to that, I’d be happy to shoot you first.”

Rio smiles as the zombies below growl and claw at the steel framework of the transmission tower. Flesh peels off their fingers until you can see the gore-stained white of their bones. “Don’t miss.”

“I rarely do.”

“Do you have any more packs of Cheddar Whales in your pockets or—?” He cuts off as he spots something in the distance. His eyes go wide, his jaw drops open. “What…what is that?!”

It’s an SUV, massive, dark blue, rumbling across the field in a dust storm of displaced earth. It’s headed straight towards you. There is someone standing up through the sunroof, short dark hair that whips wildly in the wind, binoculars. You can hear the engine revving and, faintly, Kanye West’s Gold Digger. As the SUV nears the tower, Sunroof Kid ducks inside and closes the hatch.

Rio explodes into hysterical, rapturous laughter. “Oh my God, we’re saved! We’re not going to die up here! Oh, thank you, Jesus, thank you. I’m never going to jack off on Sundays again.”

The SUV, still accelerating, plows through the mob of zombies. Severed limbs go flying; bones crunch and snap. There’s a woman driving, you can see now through the slightly tinted windows. She puts the monstrous vehicle and reverse and does another pass. Zombies paw futilely at the sides of the SUV, a Chevy Tahoe, as it turns out. They smack their open, soggy palms on the windows; they gnaw and lick at the bumpers and the wheel wells. The Tahoe circles to regain speed, the engine growling, a bear, a dragon, and barrels into the remaining ambulatory zombies. The hoard is now largely incapacitated. Rio is cheering and clapping his hands.

The Tahoe’s doors open, and your rescuers appear. There are two men wielding baseball bats: one with long dark curly hair, the other tall and blonde, and there’s something wrong with his face, the left side, though you are too far away to see clearly. They move rapidly through the battlefield of felled, moaning bodies, swinging their bats and crushing skulls. There’s another blonde guy, shorter, softer, pink with sunburn, wearing plastic sunglasses and a teal polo with a popped collar. He’s spinning a golf club in his right hand. He is followed out of the Tahoe by one last blonde, spindly and swift, stalking the perimeter with a compound bow, a quiver of arrows secured to his belt. Rio is singing along to Gold Digger, drumming his fists on the steel beams.

“Now, I ain’t sayin’ you a gold digger, you got needs

You don’t want a dude to smoke, but he can’t buy weed

You go out to eat, he can’t pay, y’all can’t leave

There’s dishes in the back, he gotta roll up his sleeves…”

The driver wriggles out of the Tahoe with some difficulty; she is seven or eight months pregnant. “Stay in the car,” Madame Driver tells someone inside as she slams the door shut. She’s holding a hammer and sets about euthanizing the zombies still squirming on the ground and gnashing their cracked teeth at her.

Golf Club says: “Jace, bro, that’s so embarrassing. You’re gonna let her do that?”

Curly—or, rather, Jace—shrugs. “Exercise is good for the baby.”

All three blondes respond at once in a chorus of appalled disapproval. Interestingly, your rescuers have British accents. From within the Tahoe, someone turns off the CD player. This is wise; noise tends to attract more zombies. Madame Driver, unaffected, puts her hammer through the eye socket of a former Arby’s employee.

Jace flings back: “She likes helping! It would be sexist to tell her she’s not allowed to!”

The Scarred Man looks up at you and Rio and salutes, two fingers glanced off his forehead. You begin climbing down the scalding rungs of the transmission tower to meet them.

“Oh fuck, Aemond, you gotta deal with this,” Golf Club says. He is holding a yowling zombie at arm’s length by the straps of its overalls. It’s tiny, maybe a kindergartener. “You know I can’t kill the little kid ones.”

The Scarred Man, Aemond, turns to him. He’s wearing a maroon Harvard University t-shirt. “You have to learn how to do things yourself. I might not always be around.”

Golf Club scoffs. “As if I’d outlive you.”

“Go on. You can do it,” Aemond says. Behind him, more people are emerging from the Chevy Tahoe: Binoculars Buddy, a slight girl with shifting, watchful eyes, a blonde woman in a billowing sundress and with a burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder.

Golf Club is still struggling. “Aw, Aemond, man, he’s got light-up sneakers!”

Jace strides over irritably. “Aegon, you’re so fucking useless…” He kicks the miniature zombie to the dirt, raises his bloodied baseball bat, and brings it down on a skull that disintegrates like an overripe Halloween pumpkin. “You’re welcome.”

“Get bit, you poodle.”

Rio hits the ground first, his boots thumping against untamed earth. Aemond sets his baseball bat aside and reaches out to offer assistance as you dangle from a white-hot steel beam. “No,” Rio tells him roughly. “Back up.”

Aemond shows his palms and complies, retreating several paces. Rio helps you down. Now you can see Aemond’s face perfectly. There’s a relatively fresh wound running down the left half of his face, the violent red of burgeoning scar tissue, clear stitches; his eye has been sutured shut. But that’s not why you’re staring at him. His other eye is a focused, hypnotic blue, his short blonde hair disheveled. He keeps touching his chin, a nervous tick. Immediately, there’s something you like about him. He gives you the impression of someone who has gotten very good at hiding how afraid he is. Aemond looks away from your gaze, thinking you’re horrified by his injury. Then, reluctantly, he comes back. There’s forbidden temptation the lines of his ravaged face, a curiosity, a hesitation.

“Thank you for saving us,” you say to your rescuers, tearing your attention from Aemond. It’s not easy. “That was really, really cool of you, and we know you didn’t have to do it. So thanks.”

“Yeah,” Rio adds. “Sorry your Tahoe is covered in guts now.”

Aemond turns to confer silently with his companions, then asks you: “Where are you headed?”

“Odessa, Oregon.”

He nods. “We’re going to California.”

“NorCal,” Jace says, holding his baseball bat across his shoulders. “Bay Area.”

“Are you two together?” Aegon asks.

“Yeah,” Rio says, misunderstanding the question.

“Not like that,” you clarify. “He has a wife and baby, that’s what’s in Oregon.”

“So you’re single,” Aegon says, grinning toothily. His fellow travelers—family? friends? classmates? a combination thereof?—grumble and roll their eyes.

“Um, I mean, yeah, technically…?”

“Aemond’s also single,” Madame Driver informs you, relishing the chaos.

“He’s single but deformed and traumatized,” Aegon says. “I am mentally uninjured.”

You chuckle awkwardly. Your eyes, by their own volition, flick back to Aemond. He peers down at the ground then up at you again, smiling, a little sheepish, a little wicked.

Aegon groans, swinging his golf club around. “Man, come on.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Aemond replies.

“No, it’s just right there, all over your fucked up face.”

Madame Driver feigns a sympathetic frown at Aegon. “How sad. Guess you won’t have anyone to give your syphilis to.”

“I don’t have syphilis,” Aegon tells you. Then, to the others: “I can’t be the only single guy! It’s pathetic!”

“I’m single,” Archery Team says brightly.

“You’re like twelve. You don’t count.”

“I’m seventeen!”

“Are you Army?” Aemond asks you and Rio.

“Navy,” Rio replies. “We were stationed at Saratoga Springs in upstate New York.”

Aemond is fascinated. “You’re deserters?”

“What are you gonna do about it, Brit Boy?” Rio says. Aemond blinks at him. Aegon cackles, drawing huge circles in the air with his golf club.

“Everyone’s deserting,” you explain diplomatically.

“They were going to evacuate the base and send everyone left into New York City,” Rio says. “Fuck that, we’d heard things, we weren’t about to go on some suicide mission. We weren’t even in a combat unit for Christ’s sake, we’re Seabees.”

“You’re what?” Aemond asks, puzzled.

“We do construction. That’s why we were still at the base. If they’re putting us on the front lines, the situation is desperate. I’m not going in the meatgrinder. I’m not gonna be like those Hitler Youth kids sent to Russia.”

Aegon is squinting behind his sunglasses, truly lost. “Huh?”

“We should go west together,” Aemond suggests. He’s attempting to sound casual.

“I thought we didn’t want to travel with strangers, Aemond,” Jace says pointedly, mocking him. “I thought they couldn’t be trusted, Aemond. I thought they might slit our throats and steal our Tahoe in the dead of night, Aemond.”

“We’re useful!” Rio bargains. “We can shoot things!”

Aegon is very confused. “I thought you did construction.”

“Everyone has to go through basic training,” Aemond tells him impatiently, watching you.

“She got the Marksmanship Medal,” Rio says, grinning, proud.

“A lot of people get that,” you demur immediately.

“We can give you guys weapons training,” Rio continues. “You seem…like you probably don’t know about guns. Like you read a lot of books.” He gestures to Aegon. “Except that one.”

Aegon snickers, unoffended, still swinging his golf club around. “I don’t read books. I read maps.”

“Okay, lets do it,” Aemond says. “We’ll stick together across the Midwest and split up before we get to the Pacific. That puts us at ten people, and there’s safety in numbers.”

“Why do you get to make all the decisions?!” Jace demands. “Who signed that fucking contract? I didn’t consent to those terms.”

“Because that’s what Criston told us the last time the phones worked,” Aegon replies smugly. “He said Aemond’s in charge. So he is. If you want to find your way to California on your own, you’re welcome to try.”

“Who’s Criston?” you ask.

“Our fake dad,” Aegon says.

“Oh, your stepdad?”

“No, our mom is still married to our dad, he just sucks.”

“He does suck,” Archery Team confirms.

Rio tells you: “Hey, Chips, you’re standing in a torso.”

“Am I?” You look down. Your boots are buried to the ankles in the rotting gore of a bare midsection with only one limp arm still attached. You step out of it and shake off the bits of decomposing organs. “Gnarly. Thanks.” You spot Parker’s backpack containing the extra ammunition, pick it up out of the dirt, and throw it over your shoulders.

“Chips?” Aemond says. “Like…chocolate chips?”

“No, like woodchips. I’m a carpenter. I mean, I was a carpenter, I guess. That’s what I did in the Navy. Some people call the carpenters Chips.”

“I was an electrician,” Rio says. “So clearly, now that all the power is down, that turned out to be a fantastic career path.” Then he formally introduces himself. “Hi everyone, I’m Rio.”

Aegon perks up. “Oh, like the Rio Grande.”

Rio pretends to be scandalized. “Wow, racist.”

“So racist,” you agree.

Aegon’s chubby pink face fills with horror. “No, wait, I didn’t…um…”

Rio laughs and taps the nametag on his chest, black letters stitched over green camouflage: Osorio.

“His first name’s Bryan,” you say. “But no one calls him that.”

“My mom calls me Bryan. Sophie calls me Bryan.”

Aemond points at his companions, one after the other. “That’s my brother Aegon and my sister Helaena. Jace and Luke are our cousins. Then Baela and Rhaena are their girlfriends. Well, Baela…she’s kind of a fiancée. But there’s no official ring yet.”

Jace says: “Unfortunately, all the jewelry stores were looted on account of the apocalypse.”

“And I’m Daeron,” Archery Team says buoyantly, waving. Then he shields his eyes as he notices something at the edge of the field. “Oh, guys…?”

There are zombies approaching with clumsy, staggering strides, only a few now, but more will follow. That’s the thing; they are in seemingly endless supply. It’s easy to get too comfortable with them, to think of them as slow and mindless, even comical, even pitiful. But they can surprise you. And it only takes one bite to become just like them.

“Time to return to the Tahoe,” Baela announces, waddling towards the driver’s seat. Rhaena climbs in the passenger’s side. The rest of you pile into the back. The SUV has nine seats; Aegon crouches on the floor without being asked to. He’s unfolding a map he pulled from the pocket of his salmon-colored shorts and laying it flat across Rio’s knees so everyone can see. Baela turns the key in the ignition and the Tahoe rumbles to life. You spot a few red gas cans under the seats. If you can’t find more when that runs out—siphoning it out of other vehicles, stumbling across a gas station that is miraculously not drained dry—you’ll be walking, biking, or skateboarding to the West Coast. Or embracing the Amish lifestyle with a horse and buggy.

“We were planning to swing by Fort Indiantown Gap,” you tell Aemond. He twists around in his seat to look at you, that absorbed crystalline blue gaze. “That’s where we were headed before our Humvee broke down. It’s a National Guard Training Center. It’s probably cleaned out like everywhere else, but if it’s not…we might be able to find some guns and ammo there.”

“Where is it?”

“An hour south of here, just outside of Harrisburg.”

Baela is watching Aemond in the rearview mirror. He gives her a nod. “How do I get there?” Baela asks you.

“South on Route 42. Did you see the signs on your way in…?”

“Yup. Got it.” Baela steers the Tahoe across the field, kicking up a vortex of parched soil. She intentionally runs down four zombies before swerving left onto a two-lane road. Then she turns up the volume on the CD player: War Pigs by Black Sabbath. “It’s a mixtape,” she informs you.

Aegon points to southcentral Pennsylvania on a map of the United States of America, highway arteries and local route veins. “We’re here,” he says, sliding around on the floor of the Tahoe as Baela drives. His index finger traces the path; it’s a precarious balance between avoiding the most heavily populated areas and still having access to the necessary trappings of civilization: supplies to scavenge, roads to follow, buildings to take shelter in. “We’ll stop by Fort Indiantown Gap and then head northwest, thread the needle between Pittsburgh and Cleveland, stay south of Detroit and Chicago, cut across Iowa, Nebraska, Wyoming, that top part of Utah, then go our separate ways in Nevada. Oh my God, it’s just like the Oregon Trail! Do you guys remember that game?! Fording rivers, getting dysentery, hunting bison to extinction?” He starts humming the theme song.

Jace smirks, chomping on a Twizzler. “Hope you don’t die of a snakebite or something. That’d be awful.”

Aegon ignores him and refolds the map. “Rio! Fuck, marry, kill. The last three first ladies before Biden.”

Rhaena says, exasperated: “Aegon, you have to stop asking people that. It’s inappropriate.”

“Oh, easy,” Rio replies. “I’m fucking Laura Bush.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Aegon gives him a high five.

“And then I have to marry Michelle.”

“You gotta.”

“Which means Melania gets the grape Flavor Aid.”

“It’s the only logical answer.”

“I’d fuck Melania,” Jace says.

“Of course you would, you sick, sick man,” Aegon mutters, rolling down a window and sticking his head out like a golden retriever, his sunglasses still on, his blonde hair flapping in the wind. There’s a tattoo in black ink on his forearm, you notice for the first time: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fort Indiantown Gap is a ghost town like a gold seam emptied, an oil well run dry, a collapsed coal mine. There’s no central armory but instead a series of arms rooms, one for each unit. Every single scrap of lethal metal is gone: no pistols, no rifles, no grenade launchers or machine guns, no ammo, not even pocketknives, although you do find clean PT uniforms for you and Rio to change into, t-shirts and running shorts and sneakers. Clothes are surprisingly difficult to acquire now. Most stores have either been looted or overrun by zombies, and Amazon is tragically no longer delivering. You can break into houses that seem abandoned, but then you have to hope the people who lived there just so happened to be your size and also aren’t waiting inside to eat you. It’s not usually a wise gamble.

You study Aemond and his companions as you move through the base clearing buildings, you and Rio with loaded M9s in your holsters and clutching borrowed baseball bats; gunshots are best avoided if possible so as not to attract unwanted attention. Aemond and Jace take point, almost always; Aegon hovers on Aemond’s blind left side, wagging his golf club around, occasionally slapping Aemond’s shoulder to remind him he’s there. Daeron prowls at the back and on the periphery. Baela pretends she isn’t struggling to keep up. Luke and Rhaena are the lookouts. Helaena fills her burlap messenger bag with small treasures you don’t even notice her accumulating: bottles of Advil, batteries, lighters, pens, tweezers, Band-Aids, Uno cards. You encounter only three zombies, easily decommissioned. Fort Indiantown Gap must have been evacuated weeks ago. You wonder what pointless battles her soldiers died in. Everyone knows the dead have won.

What the abandoned base lacks in weaponry it makes up for in food. You find a chow hall with an untouched kitchen, a wealth of shelf-stable delicacies: chili, saltine crackers, applesauce, fruit cocktail with bright red gems of cherries, peanut butter, strawberry jelly, green beans, carrots, peas, beets, tuna fish, chicken noodle soup. You feast—a Thanksgiving, a Last Supper—then settle into the barracks next door as the sun begins to set. There are plenty of bunkbeds and a closet full of pillows and sheets. Someone always has to be up to keep watch; Daeron and Jace immediately go to sleep so they can get some rest before they are shaken awake sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. Baela says she’s going to lie down for a minute and almost immediately begins snoring. Helaena makes silent amendments in her notebook; she keeps an inventory of everything the group has, needs, or wants.

Outside, Rio and Aegon are engaged in a spirited game of Uno. Luke is sitting cross-legged on the roof of the Tahoe with his binoculars. Rhaena is beside him softly reading a book out loud: The Hunger Games. Aemond is on a wooden bench on the front porch of the barracks, watching the sun sink into the west. When he notices you, he seems pleased. “Hi.”

“Hi. I’m sorry we wasted your gas to come here.”

“No, it was a good idea. It was worth a shot. And now we have a safe place to sleep tonight.” His eye drops lower, his scarred brow crinkles in concern. “What happened to your hands?”

“My hands?” In the haze of the adrenaline, you didn’t even notice. Your palms are blistered, swollen and stinging. “Oh. It was the transmission tower. The steel beams got really hot while we were up there. I’ll be okay.”

“Let me bandage them. You don’t want to get an infection.”

“Really, I’m fine, I shouldn’t inconvenience—”

“Sit down,” Aemond insists. You take a seat on the bench while he goes to the Tahoe to fetch a black nylon bag about the size of a briefcase. Rio casts you a furtive, crafty grin. It’s nothing, you mouth back, more to convince yourself than him. Your pulse is thudding in your ears; your cheeks are warm. You haven’t felt like this since you almost agreed to go on a date with that Marine you met at Corpus Christi, where your battalion had been dispatched to build a series of new airplane hangars. Aemond returns to the bench and begins wiping down your palms with antiseptic. “Sorry if this stings.”

It does, but you’re grateful for the distraction. “It isn’t too bad.”

“You’re not from Oregon.” He’s noticed your accent.

“Kentucky,” you confess.

“You aren’t making a stop at home before traveling west?”

“Why would I want to go back there?”

Aemond looks at you uncertainly; he can’t tell if you’re joking. You like the way his voice goes quiet when it’s just the two of you. You like the way he barely shows his teeth when he talks, like he’s keeping secrets.

After a moment, as the sky begins to turn to orange and pink and lilac, you continue. “People join the Army for a paycheck and a place to sleep, free college, health insurance. People join the Marines to prove they’re the best. People join the Air Force because they want to be in the military but think they’re too smart for grunt work. And people join the Navy to get away from home. I wanted to get far, far, far away.”

Aemond smiles. “Are you far enough yet?” He doesn’t mean by miles. He means the fact that the world will never be the same. Now he’s coating your hands in a thick white ointment, cool and blissful.

“I was afraid of so many things, and now none of them matter.”

“We all have brand new things to be afraid of.” He gets a roll of gauze and begins to wrap your palms, careful to keep your fingers and thumbs unencumbered.

“Aemond?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to your face?”

He shrugs. He’s trying not to be resentful about it; he can’t change it anyway. “We were scavenging supplies from a Home Depot. We had to board up the house and wait until things…got quieter and it was safe to travel out of Boston.” And by got quieter, he means that the initial wave passed, the zombies began to wander out of the cities and disperse, the survivors were hunkered down and not participating in gunfights or Vikings-style pillaging in the streets. “A piece of sheet metal fell on me from the top shelf. Aegon and Jace dragged me home, they thought I was dying.”

“I’m glad you weren’t. Who treated it?”

“I did.”

You can’t disguise your shock. “You…you stitched up your own face?”

He smirks, finishing the bandages on your hands. “I was in medical school before all this.”

“You’re a doctor?”

“I was an intern. So definitely not a doctor, but the closest thing to one I had access to. And I had taken some things from the hospital when everything went to hell. So I got a little mirror, and I lidocained myself very generously, and I started suturing.”

You don’t know what to say. His eye?? He stitched his eye shut?? “I mean…you did a great job.”

“I’m aware I look like Frankenstein, but I guess it’s better than not being here at all.”

“No, seriously. You look amazing, Aemond.”

He stares at you, bewildered. You realize how bizarre it must sound. You both start laughing as Aemond packs his supplies back into his medical kit. He touches his fingertips to his chin a few times—restless, meditative—then stands to return inside the barracks. “I’m…going to go check on Helaena.”

“Yeah. Cool. See ya.” You don’t watch him leave. This takes intentional effort.

Seconds pass anonymously: no time you need to be anywhere, nothing late, nothing early, no television premiers, no football games, no State Of The Unions, no time zones to do mental math over. You aren’t even sure what day it is. The earth has erased your invisible prisons. Now all that remain are the real ones: weather, terrain, disease, predators.

There is the creaking of weight on the porch steps. You warn him: “I’m not interested in your commentary.”

Rio winks as he says: “Maybe you won’t die a virgin after all.”

[itsabouttimex2]

Sooooo... How do you feel about the season 5?

In short? Mid. 6-6.5/10.

In long…?

A severely rushed season that bit off way more than it could chew. A season that had the characters pull powers from their asses more frequently than ever before. A season that had shitty “dramatic” moments for the sake of having dramatic moments. A season that lampshades issues instead of fixing them. A season with so, so much wasted potential.

It basically boils down: everything they wanted to do COULD have been good, but they just didn’t have the time.

I’ll go into some varied details below. I’d also like to make clear- I’ll be tagging all of my Season Five Posts with “Lego Monkie Kid Season 5” and “LMK Spoilers” until August 1st. Then the gloves are coming off and I’ll stop tagging them.

(I still liked the season, for what it’s worth- and you can watch it in full here! I’ve got some drafts and bots cooking as we speak!)

This was a cute send-off to Flying Bark! It was nice of them to acknowledge, in some way, everything that those dears did for the show- because Lego Monkie Kid would NOT be where it is without them.

Significantly less cute-

The absolute kick in the fucking face that constantly superimposing old footage over newer, worse footage is.

You don’t want us to be constantly reminded of the animation downgrade- that’s the literal last thing that anyone wants. Why would you constantly remind us that it used to be better?

What the fuck does this accomplish? Okay, let’s make comparisons, cause that’s the only thing that can result from pulling this shit-

This is what happens when you constantly reference the older, superior content.

PEOPLE CONSTANTLY NOTICE THAT YOUR CONTENT IS WORSE.

Also, why is it so saturated? How do you make a Lego Minifigure look like he has jaundice?

It’s just a bad look to constantly reference content you can’t live up to. I’m hoping they’ll just recreate old content instead of sloppily pasting it into the background of the show- it’ll be less jarring.

Alright, what else…

———

Uh, I fucking called it! Nuwa is not MK’s “loving though bereft mommy”! Which I had been guessing ever since the Celestial Pagoda leaked, actually-

I mean, come on. He’s literally stealing the stones away from her as she reaches to take them back.

And the Season confirmed it! Nuwa might’ve be been MK’s creator, but she certainly wasn’t his momma.

And you know how the series subtlety clues you in to how little she cares about her “son”?

Nuwa didn’t give him a name. She had hundreds, maybe thousands of years to think on it- but no. No name.

We mortals name our pets, our vehicles, our art. We love them enough to bestow monikers.

Nuwa didn’t even bother to name her own sapient mortal creation.

But when he makes a move against her, does something she doesn’t want, takes destiny into his own hands?

She calls out to him with one word- not “son”. Not “MK”.

Nuwa angrily calls him “mortal”.

Becuase that’s all he ever was to her, really. A mortal pawn. A handmade puppet.

Someone designed to fulfill a sacrifice. Even though her intentions were good, MK’s sole purpose by her hand was to shoulder the weight of the world like a good little hero.

So… a potential villain in the making?

———

Lampshading the fact that you’re doing the “macguffin hunt” again does not excuse doing the “macguffin hunt” again.

Lampshading the “apocalypse after apocalypse” plots doesn’t make them any less exhausting.

Lampshading Macaque’s lack of narrative consequences does not undo the awkward and weak redemption arc.

———

They changed Mei “no longer wielding” the Samadhi fire, I guess.

Ignore that she never displayed a hint of concern or sorrow over “losing it” because now she’s sad and worried (after backlash from the fans over her losing it) about losing it.

Like, Subodhi knows so much about the world and the universe that he’s aware of his existence in the ink scroll- but he gets Mei not having an interplanetary level threat inside her wrong?

I smell a retcon.

———

Macaque’s redemption arc is still shit. I’ve got a whole rant queued to release soon, actually- I imagine it might be the final time I comment on his arc until Season Six.

To put it short- Macaque still falls upwards into redemption. No pushback or difficulty or introspection. He’s just a magically better person without any onscreen development to make the change believable.

But they reference this at one point?

Sun Wukong points out that Macaque escapes the trial without any punishment, and is just allowed to mope in place of an actual consequence.

So maaaaaayybeeeee they’ll do something in Season Six? I’ve lost all faith that he’ll ever be an interesting character again, though.

He’s essentially just “brooding rival #80058”. Instead of being a character that calls back to Seasons 1-3, from 4 onwards he’s just a brand new dude who totally didn’t commit any atrocities with a smile on his face- and he’s a worse and more boring character for it.

———

If I haven’t misjudged the intent, I think Monkie Kid will be going back to being an episodic series for the extent of Season Six. Again, they lampshade the “apocalypse after apocalypse” thing, yeah?

And now they have a perfect formula- find someone who’s having trouble with their new power, and help them.

And we might see Bai He again???

Let’s hope for a good breather season!

———

Rest in piss Li Jing their asses did NOT cook with you sorry papa

You could’ve been interesting in the writers didn’t try to pull a “loving father” bait and switch after you got like four scenes of being a raw jackass

If they were going to deviate from the source material and make you a good dad couldn’t it have just been:

“Li Jing, you were not invited to the trial!”

“STF that monkey son of a bitch hurt my baby boy-“

“Father I’m 300-“

“Hush son, let daddy take care of this- that monkey son of a bitch hurt my baby boy when he stole the Samadhi fire map!”

Maybe next season you’ll get to be interesting, hun.

(I’m still writing for Lotusfam though)

———

Drama for the sake of drama. 0/10 scene. Could’ve just had the interruption come AFTER they held hands, but no. Gotta drag shit out for the shippers or whatever. There was no reason to prolong this reunion.

I’m really not a fan of the “just wait another season for it”, mentality. Stop stretching shit out. You had a chance to do something sweet and heartwarming, and chose not to for the sake of trying to drag a conclusion out.

Ugh.

———

Characters just pull powers out of their ass for the sake of forcing dramatic scenes.

THESE ARE DOGSHIT SCENES

THIS MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. THIS IS DONE SOLELY FOR THE SALE OF “MUH DRAMATIC FINALE” AND IS BAD

ITS BAD WRITING TO HAVE CHARACTERS PULL NEW MAGICAL POWERS OUT OF THEIR ASSES FOR THE SAKE OF DRAMA

IF WUKONG HAD THIS POWER FROM THE START HE SHOULD’VE USED IT AGAINST HIS FUCKING LETHAL ENEMIES AND NOT SAVED IT FOR HIS PRECIOUS STUDENT

MK NEVER LEARNED TO USE THE FILLET SPELL. THE WRITERS PULLED IT OUT OF THEIR ASS TO FORCE DRAMA BY HAVING MK TORTURE HIS MENTOR LONGER THAN EVEN THEIR ACTING ENEMY LI JING DID WITH A CIRCLET THAT IS CANONICALLY TIGHTER THAN HIS FIRST

WE SEE HOW FAST HE IS WHEN HE FIGHTS THE AZURE LION

MK CAN MOVE FASTER THAN WUKONG

HE COULD’VE BEATEN HIM THERE IN AN EQUALLY CLIMATIC RACE

I FEEL NOTHING WHEN I WATCH THIS BECAUSE IT IS FORCED DRAMA FOR THE SAKE OF DRAMA

—————————————————

💚💚💚

[oklotea]

MY FAVORITE TINTIN SIDE CHARACTERS

ARRGRGWHDHEH I'M VERY VERY PROUD OF THIS I'M NGL!!!!!!! I LOVE THE WAY I COLORED THE CHARACTERS, I LOVE THE POSES I DREW THEM IN, I MADE SOME DECENT COMPOSITION IN THIS ONE!!!! HATE THE EDITING I DID I FUCKING SUCK AT EDITING

Anyway, I'm going to ramble about these guys and you can't leave until I'm done ok? Ok.

First of all, MY BOY MY SON MY PERSONAL LITTLE DEMON, ABDULLAH!!!!!!! he is very endearing to me!!! But I really do wish we could've seen more of him!!!! He looks mischievous enough to sneak on adventures along with the marlinspike crew himself for shits and giggles!!!!! HIM AND HIS DAD'S DYNAMIC IN LAND OF BLACK GOLD IS MY FAVORITE IT MAKES ME SO GIDDY AND HAPPY. like no matter how obnoxious and annoying Abdullah's pranks can become, his dad will forever love him unconditionally. MY FAVORITE DYNAMIC. I MISS THEM SO MUCH.

A little note, even though a lot of poc representation in tintin is pretty influenced by the stereotypes of the time, and a bit of orientalism, tintin and the land of black gold is also the first time in my childhood where the words "assalamualaikum" Was muttered in any piece of animated media. It definitely wasn't perfect, but that was important to me as a Muslim child. Maybe that's why Abdullah and his dad hold a special place in my heart!

Next up we've got ARREGEHFHFHHGHJ!!!!!!! CHANG!!!!!!! MY FRIEND FROM SCHOOL WHO HELPED END A CRIME RING IN SHANGHAI!!!!!!! I adore him and his personality so much!!!! HE WAS ONE OF MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS AS A KID AND HE STILL IS TODAY WHEN I REWATCH BLUE LOTUS!!!!!!!! The way that the moment he was saved by Tintin in that flood he pledged his undying loyalty to Tintin will never not be sweet to me. HE IS SO TALENTED AND CUNNING, HE SAVED TINTIN FROM CERTAIN DOOM MULTIPLE TIMES IN THE LITTLE TIME THEY'VE SPENT TOGETHER, AND IN TINTIN IN TIBET, TINTIN SAVES HIM ONCE AGAIN (Tintin in tibet is also a very memorable and special episode for me) AND JUST-- ARGEHDBEHF I CAN CONTINUE ON AND ON ABOUT HOW CHANG SHOULDVE BEEN INCLUDED IN MORE ADVENTURES!!!!! actually Tintin has TONS OF CHARACTERS who should have been given more important roles in a lot of different stories!!!! Idk maybe that's just a wish that will never be fulfilled.... Still I can dream!

And last but DEFINITELY not least... THE MILANESE NIGHTINGALE HERSELF, BIANCA CASTAFIORE!!!!!!!!!!!! AGHHDHEHFHJDHV MY GORGEOUS MY BEAUTIFUL MY LOVE MY EVERYTHING I MISS HER SO MUCH

SHE WAS A HIGHLIGHT FOR ME!!!!!! AND SHE IS VERY UNDERRATED!!!! I love seeing how much she treasures her friends, how she's so dramatic about everything, how she has such an unapologetically loud and large presence and personality everywhere she goes, how she is genuinely passionate about her singing and her art, how she clearly knows her worth and won't settle for less from anyone.

Every time she was on screen she always made me feel very happy and warm inside, also I really like her voice!!!!!

AND HER DESIGN!!!!! ARRRGHWHFHH HER DESIGN!!!

I'm ngl, she was the hardest for me to draw. But at the end I'm quite satisfied with the results!!!!

She would be such an amazing friend. SHE'S ALWAYS BRINGING GIFTS AND BEING CONSIDERATE WITH HER FRIENDS, AND SHE WOULD NEVER HIDE JUST HOW MUCH PEOPLE MEAN TO HER

PLEEEEASEEEE CASTAFIORE I MISS YOU SO MUCH GIRLFRIEND COME BACK TO ME-

Anyway, the last picture is how I'd imagine Chang and Castafiore's first meeting would go. She as always, acts as sweet and polite and extra af as she always does, let's Chang know that Tintin's talked a lot about him! And then she would bring out some biscuits and pastries she bought as a gift for everyone, and then she and Chang would sit together while eating, and they get along really well, CHANG HAS A WICKED SENSE OF HUMOR THAT CASTAFIORE CAN'T GET ENOUGH OF, (haddock would be completely dumbfounded with how good at talking to Castafiore Chang is, and how anyone could talk to her for so long) but little did haddock know, in their conversations, Castafiore does a whole lot more listening than speaking, especially when Chang starts to tell his back story, and all the things that have happened to him and Tintin. After Chang ends his story, he looks up at her after a while of being lost in his story, and mascara is dripping down her face silently, her mouth is agape, and for a few moments couldn't say anything.

Suddenly she burst out loud, pulled Chang into a hug, and sobs after listening to the horrors this sweet kid has gone through.

In over a few hours she seems to have grown a strong attachment to this kid, she'll probably send a package filled with gifts a few months later, along with a long letter talking about what she's been up to and her wishes that Chang will succeed with anything he's currently busy with, and that he shall take care of himself well.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the small character appreciation I was able to share for some obscure/underrated characters! And that they will occupy your mind just for a little while. I love these three so much, tintin shaped me as a person, tintin made my childhood, I hope you have a great day.

Click for better quality!!!!!!

[awyeahitssam]

Stiles crochets magic shit. Fluff. 

His mother made cards, his father carves, and Stiles crochets. 

At first it’s just something to keep his fidgety hands busy, and by the half dozen wonky scarves and blankets it’s clear that it’s more for mental preoccupation than making something nice, but then Stiles discovers that you can actually make creatures with yarn. There are free online patterns for superheroes, Pokemon, video game characters—all of which he already likes. 

Also, some people sell that shit, and he’s been looking for a source of side income on top of babysitting and selling essays to high school kids.

So Stiles is twelve when he starts. And he’s a damn perfectionist, hiding all his first attempts away until his stitches are even and his embroidered features precise. 

It’s something to help him unwind. He can binge watch and crochet at the same time, or listen to music and audio books. Eventually the motions are ingrained enough that he only has to keep half an eye on whatever he’s doing to push his hook through the proper stitch, and the rest of his attention is devoted elsewhere. He’s even managed to read while he’s at it, going down a rabbit hole of loosely connected wiki articles. 

Stiles is 13 the first time he makes Batman, his long time favorite hero. After he’s finished sewing all the pieces together and adding the bat emblem, he holds it up to the light to inspect with a proud grin and yelps in surprise. Because the tiny arms reach out, seemingly of their own accord, and wrap around his hand in a soft hug. Stiles hadn’t used posable wire. It shouldn’t be able to bend that way and stay. 

“What the fuck,” Stiles mumbles, confounded. The doll’s embroidered straight mouth curls into an impossible smirk, and the amigurumi falls limp in his hold. The only way Stiles knows he hadn’t hallucinated it all is because the upturned lips remain instead of the straight, serious line he had embroidered. 

Stiles blinks. Tries to write it off. 

But he’s always been overly aware of mental illnesses - it comes with the territory of loving information and having a clinically insane mother - so he starts selling his creations. They’re cute and niche enough that he gets $25 to $40 a piece, and considering that the activity relaxes him and only strains his wrist… Well, it’s better than them just collecting dust in his closet. He still writes essays, and instead of pitching in on groceries he shops cheap with what his dad is willing to spend. 

Eventually he has enough for an MRI, $1,372.00 without insurance, plus a signed consent form from parent or guardian. He goes a couple of towns over, outside of Beacon County, unwilling to let the gossip reach his dad’s ears. The bill never comes - he brings a cashier’s check, less suspicious than cash - but a letter does, confirming the doctor's original findings. 

He keeps the clean bill of health tucked at the bottom of his yarn stash, and pulls it out whenever he needs reassurance. So really, whenever he finishes making something and it begins to move.

His Harry Potter tends to end up pitched off the bookshelf or in Voldemort’s lap. Don’t look at him--he has no control over them once he’s tied off the last bit of yarn and tucked it away. 

He never gets super into anime, but he does end up watching a few. And Alphonse Elric cookie jar becomes one of his proudest creations. And then of course he can’t leave Al without his older brother, plus Ed is a complete badass. Stiles is in awe of him. Someone who does that kind of alchemic calculations on the fly just to add skulls to shit is a dramatic hoe, and Stiles can respect that. Tom Riddle sits next to him on the bookshelf, because that’s where the dramatic hoes live. If Stiles ever made a Peter doll, he’d have earned his place there. 

Once werewolves become a thing, Stiles can’t help himself. He makes a Remus Lupin, and then gives him a pack of wolves in gray, black and white. They trot around his nightstand, tugging impatiently at his sleeve every time he’s assembling another packmate.

They understand, just as Stiles does, that pack is important. Scott couldn’t get that lesson through his head, but Stiles knows it to his core.

…

Stiles slips off his shoes and curls up in the nook, grabbing a 3.50mm hook and two skeins of yarn. He connects to the Wi-Fi and puts Parks & Rec on while he crochets, occasionally remembering himself enough to reach out and sip at his slowly melting blended mocha. He’s just finished Deadpool’s body when somebody sits across from him, and he pulls one earbud out with a scowl, glancing up.

Peter Hale sits across from him with a small smirk and a hot drink, eyes meeting his for a moment before he cracks open a book. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Stiles blinks at him, the intrusion hardly registering as an annoyance because Peter hasn’t started talking, and stares for another bemused moment before replacing his ear bud and hitting play.

He was relaxed in minutes, movements smooth and practiced as he started the head. He felt eyes on him, but they only stayed long enough to catch Stiles’ awareness but not make him self conscious. 

He finished off his drink and another was set in its place by the barista, who met his eyes and winked. Stiles blinked back, then smiled warmly in thanks and stopped reaching for his wallet. 

He finished off Deadpool's head and shuffled for some more materials. The small red coffee mug filled with dark brown yarn and a little extra fiber-fill to imitate steam is quick work, only the size of his fingernail and fiddly enough that he had to focus. 

He waits until the two people in line have their orders, then goes to pass off the bauble. 

The barista gasps. Her name tag says Aria, but she always takes a beat too long for it to actually be her name, so to him she’s simply the barista. 

“This—is worth more than a free coffee,” she says, not exactly a rejection. She’s clearly enchanted by the tiny piece, which is nice. Stiles does like to be appreciated, even if his talent in this is the only thing that ever seems to earn it. 

“Pretty sure you’re up to around six free coffees now,” Stiles countered with a bemused little smile. 

The barista huffs. “Don’t tell the boss,” she mumbles, taking his creation at last. 

Stiles laughs at that. The boss—Rachel Zohinder—was absolutely besotted by the barista, and wouldn’t say a word against it. “Our secret,” he agrees. 

She tilts back a smile, small but true. “Show me if you finish before you leave?” she requests. 

Stiles shrugs. Nods. 

He ignores Peter’s eyes when he slips back into the booth, gnawing at his lip absently as he feels around for his wire.

Cheers to Hook, Yarn, Sinker by pprfaith that started my crochet journey in 2016. A truly gorgeous Steter story.

[rath00ker]

Twisted Wonderland mento illness headcanons please kind sir 🙏

I way I left ibis paint so fast- YES. I’m gonna run down my personal hcs for what mental illness I think twst characters have and a bit of a reasoning why! (Also some autism hc because autism cause why not and also just so you know and as a comment pointed out neurodivergent conditions aren’t mental illness)

Warnings: Talk of Mental illness, eating disorders

I must note now at the beginning that I am just a 16 year old don’t come to me for any actual mental illness diagnosis or advice I am not a licensed therapist nor do I claim to be one. I just have a strong interest for psychology and took a few high school courses on psychology.

If you or a loved on have any suspicions they might have a mental illness (if you are able) I would recommend going to a licensed psychiatrist

Now with that warning out the way let’s get into it‼️

I feel like Riddle has BPD (borderline personality disorder) and PTSD. I don’t have a strong reason for why I think he has BPD he just has the vibes ya know? PTSD because of his mother. A lot of people don’t talk about it but you can get PTSD from abusive parents (if you try to say Riddles mom wasn’t abusive I’m gonna reach through the screen and beat the shit out of you).

Cater has HPD (Historic personality disorder), he’s very attention seeking online and I feel like he can be really dramatic then get over it really fast like nothing happened (me fr). He was that kid that was scared all his friends thought he was annoying and would do anything they asked. Also he’s hypersexual cause I said so

Ace has ADHD and Deuce has Autism. Epic rap battles of history ADHD vs Autism.

Leona has depression, it’s pretty clear from his characterization that he has depression. With his lack of motivation and over sleeping being some of them

Ruggie definitely has an eating disorder. No one talks about his eating habits like they do Azuls but I feel like he has binge eating disorder because of his troubled past with food. Like when he has food he will eat himself til he throws up if no one stops him because of an internalized fear of there not always being food to eat so he’ll eat as much as he can. (This might just be me self projecting ngl because me and Ruggie have a similar past)

Jack just has autism. Notably he hates wool textures and would have crying fits of his mom tried to make him wear them

Azul already has an eating disorder it’s clear from his relationship with eating and the fact he was bullied for his weight. I’m not sure what kind he would fall under but he definitely has one. I also hc him to have Autism

Jade also has Autism but he has low empathy also.

Floyd has cluster B personality disorder written all over him Idc what you say. I think he has BPD personally but that also might be self projection again. He has ADHD and like his brother also has low empathy as well

I hc that Jamil has NPD (Narcissistic Personality Disorders) but just keeps all of his personal thoughts to himself so no one else knows.

I feel like Vil also NPD funny enough because it makes a lot of sense with his character. He checks most of the boxes anyways

Rook is smt else. I can’t understand him

Epel has anger issues but he’s actively getting help.

Idia has social anxiety that’s pretty clear also Autism because I can definitely see him going on super long rants to Azul about his favorite anime at the time. I believe I mentioned it before but I think he takes Anixety medication for his social anxiety

Malleus has BPD also because imma be honest with you Overbloting because your best friend and dad are leaving you because your scared of the time you have left with them so you put everyone in a dream is a very BPD thing to do. Also Autism because this man will take any chance he can to talk about Gargoyles and I love that for him. You go dragon boy

Author closing note: If you have any questions about my hcs then please be respectful in the comments and remember that no mental illness makes a person a bad person. Bad people are bad because they do bad things it’s not because they have a certain mental disorder. Also if a character wasn’t in here it’s because I have no hc for them or just don’t care about them enough to give them one. Last point a lot of these hcs are self projection, okay byyyeeee

[reitziluz]

I don't have any handy skeletons but I do have my floof cat lounging dramatically after dinner. And hmmm random headcanon query!! How do your favorite characters sleep?

lounging floof! decadence!

hmm, let's see if i'll be able to remember who my faves even are...

i guess reigen could be a surprisingly heavy sleeper, once he actually manages to put himself to bed. serizawa i could see being prone to sleeping too much, or alternating between anxiety all-nighters and and sleeping through the day. he's surely working on it, though.

i enjoy the fanon that papyrus Does Not Sleep. that he needs less sleep and also has an interesting sleep schedule.

i have other faves, but i don't think i've especially thought about their sleep before, and nothing came to me now either. but luckily my ocs are also my favorite characters! putting them under the readmore so i can go ham hehe

kimon sleeps very lightly, wakes up a lot during the night, and p much always wakes up earlier than he'd want. part of it is his hypervigilance. another part is his whole physiological situation re: having animated himself and technically being undead. his power nap game is unreal tho, and he has fallen asleep standing up with his eyes open more than once.

vaal can go without sleep way longer than humans can, but e purposefully sleeps every night. e curls up in the middle of so many pillows and blankets and hot water bottles. sleeping for a long time leaves em kinda cold and stiff, and then it takes a while for em to warm up and wake up.

arin has a really regular sleep schedule despite the whole chaotic inventor thing. they get cranky if they can't do their whole sleepy time routine. a big part of it is about just. dealing with their prosthetics and other supportive magic shit. can't sleep comfortably with them on and running. sleeps on their back, sleep mask on.

sam can fall asleep anywhere, and often crashes right to bed when she finally gets home. she sleeps pretty well, but often doesn't have time to sleep quite enough. doesn't dream, or at least couldn't tell you a single time she did. prefers to sleep naked.

tess has a hard time falling asleep, both because she often gets absorbed in something around bedtime, and because it's hard for her to turn off her brain and fall asleep once in bed. this leads to lots of reading in bed. their bed is a princess four-poster deal. i don't know if body pillows are a thing in the setting, but she def hugs something when she sleeps.

... leskel doesn't sleep unless he involuntarily passes out. he should sleep more. someone needs to pin him down with like five weighted blankets and keep them on for like a full day, and maybe it would fix him.

[istherewifiinhell]

LETS FUUUUUCKIIINGGGGGG GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

BAT TURTLES

Here yee here yee! Come one come all! New and long time fans, young (ish) and old. These are so god damn. PREMIUM. Grade A. Turtlefied Certified. Ninja Turtles. Who are Mutant Teens.

Long have we wondered. Must a turtles movie overly explain the concept and set up of the turtles. Or else be a sequel that could confusing or lower quality. Must there sadness about fathers, conflict between brothers and general. Condensed movie run time character arc things. Well. The answer is here. And its this. Who know who the fucking turtles are. And Batman too. So lets just get to do some fucking Movie Ass Movie shit.

(And okay side note I only know animated dc im not like. All up on it but. Yeah. Its batman. Hes over there).

There is a plot a foot! A foot plot! even. Turtle villain and bat villian team up that leads the guys to gotham! And due to it being. Ninja robberies. Misunderstandings abound. But then the team up of the. Two teams. And conflicts arise there. Until they work it out for the greater threats, and thematic culmination in your final action set piece. Delightful. Tasty. So so workable.

Anyway. HELLO ANIMATION. These turtles are so. Wonderous and goofy looking. We have distinct shapes and colouration going on, which is the hotness for modern designs. They have the all white eyes look which is classic and cool. Theyre a bit toned down in shape and snoot having but its a vibe, it looks great in motion.

The action is sick as shit. and a little bloody! your not in nicktoons anymore! hey some turtles arent for little kids indeed. people can be killed! But its not like. Aggressively so. Just enough to feel it. But also theyre doing great comedy animation too. all rounder.

So whats the real meat of it? Well. WOULDNT IT BE SICK IF THE TURTLES WERE IN GOTHAM? And yes. Yes it is. Due to the crossover nature and large cast. We dont really need large changes and arcs. Isnt it enough to see how characters would bounce off situations and others...

Hows our comic lover goof ball, with slight powers of 4th wall poking, enjoy the rogue gallery. What happens when our sciencey tech guy puts his mind to finding a secretive vigilante. What do our serious leaders in blue make of each other. What if an EXTREMELY self aware 16 year old with an attitude read ur entire gimmick from a mile away. What happens when 4 sewer raised teens end up in a rich dude MANOR with a whole ass bulter...

Like basically. All of them are allowed to be their cool funky selves without needing to push it into something thats gonna be the crux of a joke or problem. We get that Leo has the weight of his responisblity as leader stuff, but his still a teen, without him having to tear into anyone. Donnie's doing his tech stuff that goes over other ppls heads without anyone saying he "relies on it too much" or being pressured into fixing everything for everyone. Mikey is techincally, a joke in that. hes saying funny things, hes goofing. But no one needs to slip into anything down right cruel about it, nor does it make him a fuck up.

And Raph... my RAPHIE.... Giving the fucking. Crown of Raph understanders to these fine folks! Yes he's implusive! Yes he's the bruiser. Yes he finds his little brothers jokes annoying! (this is half the point of a little siblings joke. trust me). But also he loves his fucking family. He's nice to kids! And he doesn't have time for anyones elses dramatic broody horseshit. THATS HIS THING??

Delicious. Finally some good fucking food. And eh. Pish posh I really dont know enough about the other bat characters but know its Babs, who is also a purple smartie, and she was fun! Shes fun to see react back at the turtles. And The smallest angriest robin. Who yeah really idk him. BUT DELIGHTFUL. To force into contact with the turtles. This is a mandatory playdate you WILL be dragged into shenangans. Enjoy ur new older bro/cousin figures. They came free with ur fucking crossover.

Shout the fucks out. Watch this movie. They gave the turtle van a little angry mouth again. Fuck Yeah.

[beerecordings]

Wolf Bite - Part 17

“I have kids,” he says, the second she closes the door behind them. “Two of them. And they're cute as hell, for the record.”

“You've done little else but beg for your life since I sent Anti out for you again,” replies the Alpha, kicking a chair into place in front of him. “It doesn't seem to be working out very well for you.”

Chase wishes he could be glaring, fierce, cocked like a gun. But he knows he's bug-eyed and pallid, a bead of sweat tracing its way down his temple like a raindrop on glass. The amount of cameras in this room is even worse than the darkness of downstairs. He remembers the anxiety that started to eat him alive in the last year of his streaming career: everyone is looking at you, and all of them think you're pathetic.

Iris folds her hands together, leaning against the table as she looks at him. He doesn't like that. He doesn't like her. He doesn't like that brutal smell, like a layering of something on his tongue, he doesn't like her eyes, looking into him instead of at him, and he definitely doesn't like this place, decrepit and tattooed in spiders.

“What do you want?” he whispers.

“To learn about you.”

“I don't mean that. I mean all of this.”

“Ah,” she says. “Of course. I'm a researcher, Chase. I'm conducting an experiment.”

“Living in the wild?”

“Oh, sure, living in the wild. We'll do that. But it's been done before. What we'll do is live as part of the wild. Never human if we can help it. I want to know how close to a real wolf you can actually get, Chase. And wolves, they don't pick their packs the way humans pick and choose and come and go. No. I'm an Alpha. I saw someone I wanted for my pack, so I took you, even if I had to have you bitten. When we're all wild, you'll stop resisting. The wolf, Chase Brody, is stronger than the human, even in turned wolves. That's my hypothesis. You're my research method.”

He feels something other than sweat running down his cheeks, and he swipes bitterly at his face. He wishes he didn't believe her. He wishes he thought he could resist no matter what. But the moon is getting so close to full, and he knows that the feeling of needing to be a wolf who belongs will only get worse. He knows because he did it once already. He couldn't resist the Second and he can't resist the Alpha now.

“Well, great pick,” he sneers, shoving mussed hair out of his face. “A fucking has-been Youtuber who got famous throwing shit at cups. I've been surviving on junk food, Gatorade, and my space heater for years. I'll be dead in a month living in the woods like an animal.”

“I won't let you die, Chase,” she replies coolly. “Don't be so dramatic. This had nothing to do with your videos – although they did give me a chance to examine your character, or at least the version you show to others. But I've seen your charity streams too, Chase, and I've been to your court dates.”

“What? How long have you been following me?”

“Oh, since before I had JJ turned. I knew exactly who I wanted. You getting away was a mistake, admittedly... Anti fucked that up. Couldn't keep you quiet enough. If he'd listened to me you would never have been barking and howling like that. He would have shut you up.”

Chase swallows, leaning away from her in his chair.

“But once the police came I knew it wouldn't be safe to go get you again, and taking Henrik would be tricky too. Then they sent you to Sean, and I realized you'd find Henrik there if I had him bitten too.”

“So we bonded,” Chase growls. “You planned that. Anti said so. But you planning it didn't make it happen. Henrik's a good guy, and we get along easily, that's the only reason we're friends.”

“Henrik's a trust fund kid with control issues and a sum total of zero social skills. You're not friends, you're pack, and that's because I picked a pair of isolated recluses, put them in exactly the same boat, and threw werewolf instincts into the mix. There is no possible scenario in which you two didn't bond the way I intended you too. My healer, the genius... and you, Chase. The pack wolf of all pack wolves.”

“I don't know what you mean,” he croaks. “I want to go back downstairs to Henrik. You're just a liar.”

“I've seen how you interact with others, Chase, how genuine you are, how you light up every room you step into when you're well. Everyone likes you, Chase.”

He starts laughing, then, despite everything. “You're actually out of your mind.”

“You will be the one to bring my pack together,” she tells him, smiling for once. “Leave the worst of the hunting and the fighting to me and the others, if you have to. You'll be the lowest rank of the pack, but the most central part, too, our cornerstone. When we're settled and we want more wolves, you'll welcome them, the same way you welcomed Henrik, showed him the ropes, cared for him. I promise you'll be taken care of too.”

“You can't possibly be planning to take more people. This is insane!”

“You're prettier when you're not cowering from me, did you know that?”

“If you're trying to make me throw up, just know that it will be you I throw up on.”

She's opening her mouth again when a knock rattles the door.

“Iris?”

“What?” she snaps. “I'm in the middle of something.”

“That doctor's going crazy. I don't want him around JJ. Can't we go for a run?”

“What, in that park where you nearly lost a fight to a fucking social worker? No. Everyone will be out looking for you. I'll take JJ with me tonight. You're staying here. And let the doctor go crazy. He can feel the moon coming. He'll be more himself by the time it's risen.”

There's a long pause, but Chase can tell Anti hasn't moved.

“I want to stay with JJ,” he says finally.

“I said I'm in the middle of something! Do you want me to tell you again? Medicate if you're anxious, just handle it.”

He retreats this time, but Chase can smell... too many emotions at once to pick them apart. Anti smells like that most all the time. Chase never knows what he's feeling.

Iris leans forward again. Her wild hair slides down her shoulders, hanging around her face. “I've been planning this a long time,” she says, very soft. “I'm so glad you're here now. You and the moon, Chase. I can't wait to run with you for the rest of our lives.”

He closes his eyes, trying to breathe. In some part of his body, like the instincts that teach birds to fly, he can feel the moon rising.

.

Marvin finds Jackie at home.

Their home. The thought is still warm in his stomach, but the rest of today has been cold despite the summer heat, everything layered over in goose-flesh anxiety for their missing friends and Sean in the hospital.

Jackie's at his desk, staring at nothing. Unnaturally still for Jackie, always meant to be in motion. He only turns when Marvin is so close he can't smell anything else, startling as he looks up.

“Hey,” he says. “Did you leave Sean in the hospital?”

“Nah, he's in my backpack,” says Marvin. When Jackie only frowns at him, he continues. “His brother just flew in from France, dummy. He's okay.”

Marvin pulls Jackie's rolling chair away from his work desk, spinning him to face him. “You're thinking about Chase and the doc.”

“I'm going to handle that,” says Jackie. “I don't want you worrying.”

Marvin pauses, rocking on his heels as he regards his cousin.

“Yeah,” he says. “You're going to get Graham to help you.”

Jackie's stern look breaks in half and his mouth falls open, staring at Marvin. “What?”

Marvin breathes out, shaking his head, and gives a little laugh for reasons he couldn't name. “Jackie. For all his many, many, many faults – like, a lot of faults, for real, probably hundreds – ”

“Yes, thank you, Marvin, I get it.”

“ – he's also the greatest tracker I've ever heard of. He might be able to catch their scents beneath everything.”

“Yeah, but I didn't want you to know,” says Jackie, voice rising. “I didn't want – ”

He cuts himself off, rubbing bitterly at his face. Marvin nods, breathing out again, long, low, slow. It's okay. They're okay.

“Jackie,” he says, softly. “Go do what you have to do.”

Jackie's shaking his head at him already. “No. I will do anything to help Henrik and Chase, but you're my pack, I have to worry about you first, and if this will hurt you, I – ”

“It won't hurt me. It's you. I trust you.”

Marvin leans down to Jackie's level. He reaches out to grab his shoulder, squeezing firm, familiar pressure into his arm, and smiles at him.

“I told you I wanted you to be my Alpha. That means I trust you to make your own decisions about your dad. Whatever you need, Jackie, I'll support you.”

Jackie's breath catches slightly, blinking fast. Oh, no. Marvin laughs again, weaker. If Jackie cries, he'll cry too, and they've had enough of that for this week.

“You really meant it,” Jackie says. “All of this.”

“Yes,” Marvin murmurs. “I will follow you wherever you lead.”

Jackie clears his throat and nods. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I'm going to call on Dad. And when I find them, Marvin... I'll bring them back to you. And I'll build a pack for you.”

Marvin feels his face stretch with how big he smiles. “Seriously? You're ready?”

“I will be,” says Jackie, rising to his feet. “Because they need me to be. And if you trust me, that's enough.”

He throws up the hood of his jacket. “Stay here for your full moon, where it's safe. Dad and I will be tracking. He's not pushing me around today, either. He's not my Alpha anymore. I lead my own pack.”

Marvin sees him off, watching him go from the door. He won't celebrate, not until everyone's home safe, but with the moon so close to full, he can't deny for a moment how long he and his wolf have both waited to hear words like those from the Alpha he's followed for years.

He doesn't want to deny it anymore, either. This is what he's always wanted. Finally, he can have it.

“As long as the moon brings you all back to me in one piece,” he whispers. “Hold on just a while longer. He's coming.”

He just hopes Chase and Henrik are still themselves when they find them.

.

The line of questioning Iris puts him through freaks him out so thoroughly he's actually relieved to return to the concrete prison of the basement beneath the house, but the door still closes behind him with a click like the timer of a bomb being started.

It's dark down the stairs. Chase stands at the top of them for a moment, shaking and hugging himself. He wants to go home so badly. He wishes he could have at least said goodbye to the kids.

“Schneep?” he croaks, padding down the stairs. “You okay?”

Claws scrabble in the dim light and he blinks as he makes his way down the stairs, trying to sort through everyone's scent. Henrik's still a wolf, and for some reason, it gives him a chill down his spine. He barks and approaches Chase in a rush, pressing his head into his leg.

“Your packmate's out of control,” snarls Anti from the corner, JJ panting cheerfully in his lap. “Howling and sprinting around. Can't you quiet him down?”

“Oh, yeah, I wonder why he'd be freaked out,” Chase snarls back, but Anti responds with a growl so intense Chase shows his neck, gripping at Henrik's fur. Henrik rumbles a threat at Anti.

“Dude, please give me a sign you're okay,” Chase whispers, leaning down to speak to the white wolf. Henrik nips gently at his hands, but doesn't shift back.

“It's his first full moon,” Anti mumbles. “He won't be himself much longer. You were the same way.”

Chase shivers and leans down to hug Henrik closely. JJ, apparently interested in the display of affection, trots over to the pair of them, tongue hanging out warmly. For the second time, Chase reaches out to the little stranger and puts his hand tentatively on his head. Henrik growls, but he doesn't do anything, and when JJ doesn't either, he goes quiet. When JJ is still, Chase rubs at his ears. JJ thumps his tail and leans forward to sniff at Henrik. For the first time, Henrik allows it.

Okay. At least they're not destroying each other down here. They've got to work together, and after all he's heard... Chase thinks there might actually be a chance they could.

He clears his throat. “Anti?”

Anti glares up at him from the corner. Even as a human, he seems to have an unnatural light in his eyes. Chase steels his nerves and approaches him, hands gripped into fists.

Anti watches him carefully. Chase sinks down to sit a few feet from him, showing his neck nervously, and it seems to soothe Anti in some way, the show of submission.

“I need to talk to you,” Chase says. “Quietly. Do you think she can hear this?”

“Don't try to conspire with me, dumbass,” grumbles Anti, rubbing at his face. “She always finds everything out.”

Chase scoots closer, licking at his dry mouth. “Look, man, she – she turned you, right?”

Anti doesn't answer, setting his chin in his hand and staring across the room at JJ as he gently explores Henrik's smell, that bushy black tail wagging endlessly.

“I thought it was all you,” Chase rushes to explain, voice low. “When you abducted me, when you made me shift – but I realized, while I was talking with her.”

“That it was her orders?” Anti mumbles.

“Yeah, well, I knew that. But what I realized, Anti, is that my wolf, the part of me running on pure wolf instincts – it never felt this way with you. This total fear I have of her – when it was you and me, it wasn't like that.”

“Because you bonded to me, idiot,” Anti snaps. “Duh. I'm the one who turned you. Of course your wolf trusted me, even though you shouldn't have.”

“My wolf doesn't trust her even though she smells like an Alpha,” Chase insists. “But you – my wolf never stopped trusting you. And that made me feel like shit the whole time I was trying to recover, because I didn't want to feel anything for you after what you did to me. But now I wonder if maybe the reason my wolf trusted you – the reason I bonded to you, missed your scent, missed being your pack – was because you are, actually, a lot more trustworthy than you're letting on.”

“Oh, shut the hell up,” Anti growls. “Are you joking? You know exactly what I did to you. And to the doc.”

“She told you to. Right? It was her idea. She made you.”

“Chase, why are you fucking trying to give me excuses? Are you really this desperate to believe I'm not dangerous?”

“Yeah, kind of,” he chokes, voice wavering. “Aren't you a prisoner too?”

Anti rubs at his face again. Chase watches his hands, frowning. Is he shaking? It's not cold. Chase reaches forward for a second, almost wanting to touch him.

“Anti,” he says again. “Weren't we pack, for a moment in time?”

“No,” says Anti, softly. “You're fooling yourself.”

“Please don't let this happen to us. Tell me you regret what you did, that you only did it because she made you. We have to get out, man. You can't want this to happen, can you? Your brother – ”

“Don't talk about JJ.”

“You love him, right? Is this really what you want for him?”

Anti won't look at him anymore. He's running his fingers through his hair, eyes distant.

“Even if it was your teeth,” Chase goes on doggedly. “She bit all of us, right? She – ”

“No,” Anti cuts him off. “No, she didn't. I'm a born wolf.”

Chase starts. “Oh. I thought you said...”

“I didn't say shit.”

“Why didn't you tell me when I asked?”

Anti takes a long time to reply. His eyes flicker up to the cameras all around the room, and he shifts in place, looking back at JJ, who's now trying to engage Henrik in a game, chasing his tail and yipping. Chase slips a little closer to Anti, desperate for any shred of hope. He can't lose himself tonight.

“I didn't tell you because it makes it worse,” whispers Anti.

Chase stares at him, waiting, but Anti never seems to volunteer any info without being prompted. “Why is it worse?”

He's staring down at his hands, shaking in his lap. Actually, they're shaking pretty badly.

“Because for nineteen years, I made sure my baby brother knew he could be a wolf the second he decided he wanted to be,” Anti replies, voice rough. “I would offer every year on his birthday: told him I could bite him, guide him, be his pack, but only if he really wanted. And for nineteen years, he told me no.”

“He finally told you yes this year?”

“No,” chokes Anti. “No. He...”

Oh, no. Chase's stomach hurts for a second, twisting up.

“He didn't want to be a wolf.”

Anti doesn't reply. His eyes are wide. Chase blinks, tilting his head to look at him more closely. His eyes aren't just wide, the pupils are blown.

“Wait a second, wait,” says Chase, almost laughing from how fucked up this all is. “Are you – are you high?”

Anti licks his dry lips, gaze flickering over to him. “No... I mean, I just had a little.”

Chase gapes, head shaking. “So she's your supply too. That's – holy shit, that's what that chemical smell is, and where the money for the fancy equipment comes from. She's dealing. What are you on?”

“Nothing illegal, they're just painkillers! Fuck off, okay?”

“Yeah, painkillers are still illegal without a prescription.”

“I just need something to help. She says the cravings will stop once we're wolves full-time.”

“There's no way it works like that. Anti, this is insane. You need to get out of this, man. This is – this is Alpha violence and addiction and maybe a cult, I think? And if you're her Second, does that make the two of you partners? She's the one who gave you that bruise on your face, right? You and Henrik and JJ and I, we need – ”

“Keep your fucking voice down!”

“We have to get out of this or we're going to get stuck!”

“They're stuck already!” screams Anti, whisper tearing into a shout. “Look at them! It's been months since JJ was human! His mind is gone! Don't you understand, there's no escape for us: he can't disobey her while he's this feral, and I won't leave my brother to this fate alone, I can't. So yes, I bit you and your friend, and I locked you up, I don't care, I would do it again to keep him safe!”

“Does this look like safety to you?” Chase snarls back.

“Once we get to the forest – ”

“No, once we get to the forest we'll all be lost, for good! Now is the time to fight her, Anti, now is the time to save your brother, because I don't think we'll get another chance!”

Anti clamps his hand over Chase's mouth, shoving him back against the wall, and all of a sudden Chase remembers exactly who he's dealing with. He whimpers, extending his neck in a snap, and Anti's teeth gleam even in the sliver of light through the high basement window-wells.

For a second, he thinks Anti will bite him just to show dominance. His eyes have caught the moonlight; they gleam more like a cat's than a dog's, silver and piercing. But a moment passes, and Anti just seems to crumple. His hand slides away from Chase's neck. His gaze falls to the floor.

“Iris used JJ against me,” his voice comes, tremulous as a leaf on the wind. “For so long, it was just talk: talk about her and I going away together, to live like real wolves. I loved it. Soaked in the idea. She was my only werewolf friend, and then something more, and I needed the connection. We made plans to go to Canada. But she started to change when I let her start calling herself my Alpha, and myself her Second. Commanding. Confining. I thought we were just fighting like a normal couple until the first time she hit me, hard enough that my nose bled. I tried to get out that night. She told me that if I didn't come home, she'd go to JJ's dorm in London and bring him with her to the wild instead.”

Chase's blood chills. For a second, he almost gets lost in the memories that summons in him: memories of his own sister, of his failed attempts to protect her or to get back to her. Even now, not having spoken to her in years – if someone threatened her, he... might do anything.

“We used to visit him at uni together. She got along with him, but he was having trouble with his professors and classmates. He – he's mute, always has been. A deformity in his voicebox. There were some incidents of discrimination, and he was having trouble making friends. He started to isolate himself. The worse it got, the more she started to talk about how much better it would be for him to be a wolf, how he wouldn't need to talk if he were living wild with us. I even thought it might be an okay idea, for a while. I let him know the offer always stands if he wants to come with. But he was determined to get his degree. I thought she was just lamenting the discrimination until she started to threaten him, to keep me in line. I realized she has no respect for him or what he goes through with his mutism. But by then it was too late. She knew where he lived, and she wanted him for her own.”

Chase can't help but reach out, then, just for a moment. His hand raises and falls onto Anti's shoulder.

“I was so stupid,” Anti whispers. “For not seeing what she was earlier. She's nothing but my captor, now, and his. I should have taken him and run the first time she threatened him. Should have called the police, should never have started taking the oxy's with her, should have – ”

“Dude, you can't blame yourself,” Chase whispers back. “This is messed up stuff, and these things, they happen in a spiral – start out small and get bigger, and by then, you feel trapped. She hid who she was. You did everything you could to keep him safe.”

Anti just shakes his head, lost in something else, somewhere far away.

“I bit him,” he whispers, so soft Chase almost doesn't catch it. “She pinned him down and ordered me to. Said she'd do it herself if I didn't.”

Chase closes his eyes.

“The way he looked at me,” Anti chokes. “The betrayal in his face... I... I haven't seen his human eyes since, and now, I never will again. I'm going to be stuck with that memory of him staring up at me, with the tears and the pain and the disbelief, signing my name... for the rest of my life. So you see... JJ and I, we're both stuck already.”

“Please don't give up, Anti,” Chase begs. “I can't do this alone.”

“You saw me as I am when I bit you, Chase. Just an animal, trapped by her will. I deserve this fate. Now, I can't do anything but try my best to keep him safe from her for the rest of our lives.”

His gaze goes distant, a drowsy, sickly smell poisoning his scent, and Chase knows whatever he took is kicking in. “I think it will be better in the forest,” he says, almost dreamily. “Maybe all these thoughts will leave me alone, and finally, I'll just be the monster I am.”

Henrik comes trotting back towards them, and Chase can't press any further. He doesn't think he wants to know more. Instead, he reaches out with trembling fingers and clutches Henrik's fur, burying his face in the side of him, and he cries for a while as Henrik sits solidly beside him, as though protecting him from the rest of the world.

JJ comes to join them minutes later, settling himself back in Anti's lap as his brother drifts, eyes fixed on something nobody else can see. Chase's bones begin to itch with the need to shift, but he'll hold on as long as he can. Someone has to keep track of Anti's pulse, thready and tremulous beneath Chase's fingers on his wrist.

[ultraericthered]

Anime Update V2 66

Vinland Saga S2 - Ketil and his sons went to offer a tribute to King Cantue and ran into Leif Erikson while there, who is accompanied by an orphan slave he bought and named Thorfinn. Conversation sparks the idea that the Thorfinn currently owned by Ketil and at work on his farm might just be the Thorfinn Leif has been searching for, but then things start to go south when Olmar fails a swordsman test presented to him by Canute, leading to him getting mercilessly bullied and mocked about it by others in a very uncomfortable way until Olmar snaps and challenges the lead bully to a duel to the death. Due to Thorgil encouraging him and some sneaky interference by one of Canute's secret agents, Olmar gets his first kill, which sets off a complete bloody massacre of the king's other men by Thorgil, and it horrifies Olmar. Upon learning that this entire arrangement was a trap by Canute so that Ketil could be arrested and forfeit his farm land, the family flees and escape by boat with Leif who demands for Thorfinn in exchange. Meanwhile, Canute is getting prepared to march on Ketil's farm with over 100 men to take it by force. Fuuuck!

Hunter x Hunter - Aside from Killua delivering a glorious decapitating blow to Rammot, a brief fight with Cheetu, getting to see the mindless zombie that Neferpitou made from Kite, and Netero preparing for the "final showdown" with Meruem and his ant forces that I already know by this saga's length is going to be far from that, there wasn't much here that grabbed me enough to talk about.

Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works - Big fight with Caster and Kuzuki, Caster is betrayed and killed by Archer, but Archer still isn't back on Shirou and Rin's side. He wants to fight Shirou, and kill him!

Re:ZERO - Got done with the entire rest of Season 2, which in itself should speak to how high the quality was. In addition, after the episodes that gave us backstory for Emilia and how her forest and her people got frozen, I watched the second OVA, The Frozen Bond, which centered on when Emilia met Puck and their contract was forged, being a far more serious and dramatic piece than Memory Snow, even including actual action, peril, and villains in it. There's altogether way too much content, twist, turns, and great character moments for me to cover here, so I'll just say that I absolutely loved it all, Subaru and Emilia are everything, Echidna is bae despite her cold amorality, Garfiel and Puck are both Good Boys, Regulus and Pandora can go fuck themselves, Betelgeuse deserved better, Roswaal deserves worse, and Beako deserves the fucking world.

Symphogear AXZ - Got two episodes done with, the first giving us some more character focus for Shirabe, making it automatically work for me, though I also got invested in what was going on with the Illuminati's side of things and felt it so tragic that Prelati had to get killed (for real this time) like that, just when she was out to warn St. Germain about Adam's treachery. The following episode saw St. Germain fight against Hibiki and Kirika while expressing her desire to end all oppression in the world, but she ends up opening her heart to possibly finding another way...and that's when Adam and Tiki show up to let us know that shit's about to get real. The episode finishes with Hibiki and St. Germain united in saying "Even so!", which I'd not even realized Hibiki says a lot until it got pointed out in-universe.

Eureka Seven - Saw the remaining episodes set in the mines. There was a part near the end of the first one where Dewey announces his plans to his new unit, but that's not really gone anywhere yet. Renton and Eureka still have some awkward tension between them, but this time it's due to Eureka constantly getting physical and mental stress from being around these mines, to the point where she feels Renton should probably be entrusted with the Nirvash full time. After this one incident where a miner tries to make off with the Nirvash, Eureka hits her limit and goes off on her own inside the Nirvash just as the military launches an attack against Gekko State. When Renton recovers her, her body has melted into this almost putty-like state and is in critical condition when Renton activates another Seven Swell to escape the collapsing mines with her. Through all of this, Holland is just being the world's biggest douche, beating up on Renton, ordering the Gekko to leave Renton and Eureka to possibly die in the mines, and straight up making a death threat to Renton for if he should ever get inside the Nirvash at the end. Funny thing about this is that as the episode closed out, "You're A Mean One, Mr. Grinch" was playing on my radio. Couldn't help but apply it Holland and think about that one joke from Nostalgia Critic's Eight Crazy Nights review: "And given the choice between the two of you, I'd choose the...uh....oh Hell no, I'm going with the green guy!"

[diguerra-moved]

brothersindeath  brothersindeath  also! expect me to liveblog about...

flowing ginger locks…..

in this house we support cloud strife darion mograine sorry I don’t make the rules

[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 24: OH...HI

after months and too much longing, you finally meet corpse in person.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 3.8k

author’s note: we did it joe.

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous. ҉   next.

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You woke up. That’s a lie, you didn’t sleep. Too much to plan, too much can go wrong and you’re...Not nervous, no, that’s not quite accurate. Excited. Yes, excited, so excited that two Redbulls and three coffees (so far!) make you jitter around the apartment like a butterfly that can’t find a flower bed to rest on. 

Rae has almost had enough of your...random spurts of energy. So what if you ran a few laps, climbed a few tables, sang karaoke a bit too loud and yet another noise complaint had been issued? It arrived exactly an hour after your concert via your displeased landlord. Rae was, of course, the one to apologize because you were too busy trying on miniskirts. After that ordeal was taken care of, no sooner than Rae shut the front door with an exhausted sigh, you emerged from your room clad in your prettiest outfit. You present it to her with a bright smile and flourish. 

She is not impressed.

“Will you quit it?” She questions, arms crossed over her chest. Your grin does not damper -- you’re used to such harsh treatment, having accepted her backhanded way of showing love long ago. Instead, you flick your wrists, showing off an ungodly amount of rings. You’re not certain of the exact number because you can’t count, “Y/n.” Her voice gains an edge, but you persist. Show off your shoes that have cute lil’ charms that jingle jangle not unlike the spurs on a hot cowgirl’s boots, “Y/n.” Her eyes narrow in displeasure, her stern tone making you falter in your dramatic stride down the imaginary catwalk, “Just stop.”

Okay! So maybe you’re not as used to her coldness as you thought you were. Your expression sours, and you quit the act, even if a part of you - one you barely fight off, goodness, you almost perish in that battle - wants to continue but even more annoying. As if you could somehow block her rationality with manic energy. 

“What?” You ask, trying to keep the mood lighthearted despite her squared shoulders and tight frown, “I’m just having a bit of fun!” You say with a joyous little laugh, reaching for a glass of much needed water.

“No, you’re panicking.” Her words make the glass still, hoovering by your painted lips, but it’s short lived. You take a greedy gulp and it tastes fresh with a pinch of lipstick, “Look, I get it...” She shakes her head softly, “You’re meeting the guy you like for the first time, you jumped the gun straight to dating and now you’re...Anxious. It’s normal, you know.”

“But I’m not anxious.” You persist, and you really do mean it. You don’t like how she looks at you as if you’re the one that’s misunderstanding your own feelings. You set the glass down with a soft clink, heaving your own sigh, “I’m not, I’m really happy actually.” You explain softly, “It’s just...my way of dealing with it. I’m more... Worried about Corpse, to be honest.” You add, a tad quieter, “But, like, it’s all good!” You exclaim, strolling up to her and landing your hands on her shoulders, “I prepared.”

And it’s true! You had spent the night scouring the depths of the internet. Read every WikiHow article on how to deal with someone with extreme anxiety, how to not make things painfully awkward, and how to talk to boys (just in case. The last time you stumbled upon that particular article was way back in middle school when you had a crush on that one guy you saw in your school’s cafeteria every now and then. Naturally, that led you down the rabbit hole, and according to WikiHow’s How To Tell If A Boy Likes You guidebook, you found out that he was absolutely enamored with you because he glanced in your direction, like, two times. Safe to say that love story went nowhere. The point still stands). 

So you forward all of this information to Rae, nestled in her bed whilst she lazily folds her clothes; clarify that you know that nothing much can happen, and that this whole situation is delicate, and that you must tread carefully because you don’t want to overwhelm him. She pauses her actions, glancing behind her to watch you staring idly at the ceiling, so peaceful, so thoughtful. And it’s not the eerie calmness you had displayed during your murderous spree in the last Among Us game, no, it’s just...quiet understanding. 

“I’m actually impressed.” She says. You merely hum, counting the dust slowly descending in the cascading light, “You’re not as clueless as I thought.” Your lips quirk into a shy smile at the compliment- “Or as tactless.” - and turn downward just as quick.

“That implies that I’m always tactless.”

“You are.” She states and you sit up, a soft frown pinching your brows, “Not like, in a terrible way. You just...don’t think about your actions. Or the repercussions. You just know that you can get away with everything.”

“And I can!”

“That doesn’t actually mean you should do something just because you can. You know I’ll always support you. Literally everyone will always support you. But I’m not gonna coddle you. You’re just...a lot. Online and especially in person. But the fact that you’re actually taking this seriously and taking his feelings into consideration is...well, the bare minimum, but still, good job.”

...Much to think about. You don’t like thinking, it makes your head hurt. Though, that could just be the lack of sleep. You cross your legs and plop your head in your hand, tired eyes blinking owlishly, “Do you...think I should change what I’m wearing?”

Prompted by your question, she gives you a careful once over, “I mean, it’s signature you.”

“Signature me is a hoodie and some sweatpants.”

She smiles, “Then go change. Your outfit is a bit distracting for just...Hanging out indoors, no? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind either way, though.”

“I just...” You bite the inside of your cheek, mulling your words over. Truly, the last time you were so attentive was when you went Psycho Mode in Among Us, which, to be fair, wasn’t that long ago. Perhaps there wasn’t a chance to let your mind dull - it’s almost as sharp as your butterfly knife, “I figured that if, like,” You vaguely motion with your hands, “if I be, like, all over the place, and wearing something cute, he’d be, like, distracted? And less anxious? No...awkward silence?”

“First meetings are always awkward, it’s natural.” She chimes, “I mean, if you’re so nervous-”

“I’m not nervous!”

“-then just don’t overthink it. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’re you, and Corpse is Corpse, and he likes you for who you are, and even if it is a bit awkward, I’m sure it’ll, like, blow over in a second. It really doesn’t matter how you look, Y/n.” She grins, “Plus, it’s not like you’re greeting him in your underwear or something.”

You will not admit that that was your plan B, not when you just landed in her good graces. You nod, “...I’ll go change.” 

And so you do. Pick out your cutest hoodie and some sweatpants. Put away your jingle jangle shoes with a broken heart, instead of them donning your fluffiest socks; slip off some rings because they keep falling off of your fingers. It’s almost like all of those transformation scenes in rom-coms that are still popular for some reason, except you’re hot before and after, so there’s really no transformation at all. 

Now you wait. Just wait, all other activities are excluded from this. Rae comes back to find you sitting on the edge of your bed, back straight, hands neatly folded on your lap. She compares you to a Sim’s character and you allow her. After mercilessly mocking you and snapping a few pictures - for blackmail, you assume - she helpfully informs that she is leaving because she doesn’t want to get in the way, but your psychic abilities which you acquired just now tell you that she simply doesn’t want to witness this train wreck. Not that it’ll be a train wreck, it would be if you were nervous, but you aren’t. 

You just aren’t. You fidget with the rings adoring your hand; toy with the hem of your hoodie; bounce your leg up and down. It’s just caffeine, okay?! Fuck this, Twitter time.

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[ADDING A MUSICAL INTERMISSION, LISTEN TO THIS IF YOU WANT (I WROTE THIS CHAPTER WITH IT IN MIND)]

The waiting commences, only now it somehow feels more intense. The sun is setting, and you really want to be one of those cute girls that fill their camera roll with pictures of the sunset and the roseate sky, but your hands are trembling and holding up your phone feels like too much of a hassle. You’d rather just sit there, alone in the apartment, in the pin-drop silence, extremely uncomfy and tense, as if waiting for the end of the world. 

A notification sounds off and your life flashes before your eyes. Hastily, you check it, a sticky mixture of delight and something else, something unpleasant constricting, making your stomach churn. He’s here. Holy shit, it’s happening. You order your anime plushies to stop fucking panicking, they’re like, totally embarrassing you at the moment! You wonder if they have their own little group chat, but instead of Totally Spies it’s called Total Embarrassment. Yikes, okay, that was harsh. After a good scolding, and a heartfelt apology for getting so heated, you smooth down the non-existent wrinkles on your modest outfit, and quickly waddle over to the electronic apartment thingie something something... you unlock the main door, okay!? This is for some reason feeling very not cash money, so you break out in a little dance number.

The doorbell does not sing that shrill, unpleasant tune; rather, there’s a soft knock on the apartment’s door, and you pause your shuffling, your renegade, and perk up at the imposing future hidden behind a slab of wood. Your heart beats a melody all on it’s own, and it’s loud, uncoordinated, like a musician that’s still familiarizing themselves with their instrument. And there’s that knock again, as uncertain as you’re feeling, and your clammy fingers latch onto the lock and turn it and now there is no more hiding - such a possibility is no longer an option; no more sporadic dances or sitting in disheartening silence and letting your thoughts weight you down.

You’re not quite sure what you were thinking about before you saw him in the threshold, head tilted slightly, fluffy dark hair obscuring the bags under his eyes, hunched, one ringed hand clutching onto the strap of his duffel bag, the other frozen mid-air, ready to knock one more time lest you didn’t hear him the first two. No, truly, you can’t, for the life of you, remember what all the fuss was about. 

“...Oh.” It’s a soft sound, so quiet, but not surprised, rather...relieved. Faint shimmers of a smile reach you, hidden behind a black face mask - the panini chic! You must stan a respectful king - but there’s something about the way he looks at you that makes you question it’s sincerity. He fails to return your gaze, rather choosing to stare somewhere over your shoulder. His eyes seem unfocused. Apprehensive. A wild thought occurs to you that he expected you to trick him somehow, and wild thoughts invade the land of your mind often, but never in such a way. You clutch the handle just a bit tighter.

His hand retreats to his side, up to his mask and you think he’s about to unhook it but he stills, and there’s panic there, as if he had been moving unconsciously, as if he hadn’t realized what he’s doing. He plays it off by idly scratching his cheek, muttering an equally quiet, “Hi.” to fill the silence.

Finally, your WikiHow knowledge can come in handy, along with your common sense, “Hey, pretty boy.” You mutter, pulling away from the door, “Make yourself at home!” You slide to the kitchen, your socks acting not unlike ice-skates cutting through the Arctic frost covered ground. You hope that with you occupied and not watching him as closely he’ll feel slightly more at ease. 

You’d like to hug him. Kiss him, definitely. But if he’s so uncomfortable that he can’t bring himself to shed his mask in your presence, then there’s really nothing you can do. 

You hear the door shut and lock behind you as you pull out two glasses from the cupboard, humming a song you can’t quite recall the name of. You ask him if he’d like something to drink - it was a short flight, yet a flight still, and planes always make you thirsty, and there you go talking his ear off. You end abruptly, but smoothly, like a true diplomat; if he notices, you have no way of knowing - he doesn’t provide even a hint. He’s hard to read, and literature was never your best subject. But you’re trying.

He sets his duffel bag down on a nearby chair, “I, uhhh,” His voice is raspy and low, another indication of a pathetic lack of sleep, “I...got you something, uhh, I dunno-dunno if I should...give it now, or?” He sends you a questioning glance, but it doesn’t linger. Your offer of drinks is momentarily forgotten, though you hardly mind. 

You grin, “Sure! I love gifts, gimmie gimmie.” You make grabby hands, and he snorts, and it would’ve sounded endearing if he didn’t sound so fucking tired. He unzips the bag, and you pad your way to him, mindful of personal space (something you, in most social situations, chose to pretend does not exist). You note his hands quivering lightly, just like yours had in the agonizing wait, but he hides it well. You wish you could hold them. You’re afraid to try.

He pulls out a black hoodie and you recognize the custom art on it instantly - it’s his merch. He presents it in awkward flourish, murmuring a “Tadaaaa” under his breath; your heart skips a pleasant beat, and you have to bite down on your lower lip lest you smile appears too big. The fabric is soft under your fingers, and you accept his gift with a dramatic bow, and he turns his head away with another little laugh. You’re chipping away at the ice around him; it’s a slow process, but it’s worth the effort.

Truly, your own hoodie is shabby in comparison - icky, how could you have ever worn such a thing in the first place?! You’ll have to do extensive research in fashion magazines and Printerest so such a slip-up may never happen again. You discard it hastily and put his on instead; it smells like washing detergent with hints of cologne, one you instantly pin point belonging to him, “It’s, uhhh, it’s mine? I hope you, uhh, I didn’t have any spare ones, so-I hope you don’t...mind.”

He’s finally looking at you, but he’s still tense, still hesitant, and you shake your head softly, “No,” You admit, “I like it even more now.” You pull on the hood, toy with the strings and yank them quickly; your face is concealed, save for your nose, “Comfy.” Your commentary is unmatched, best of it’s kind - eloquent and effortless, much like yourself.

Another small laugh reaches your ears, and it sounds a bit livelier than the others had been. Success!

“Stop that.” He says gently, and you see moving shadows; his hands loosen the strings and your face is revealed to him once again. He’s close now, and he doesn’t move away; his hands come to rest on your shoulders, warm even through layers of fabric, “I came all this way to see you, don’t hide your face from me.” 

Your eyes narrow playfully, your finger rapidly tapping away on his clothed cheek, “What’s all this then? Hm? Hm?” Instead of swatting your hand away, which you figured he’d do, he complies and finally tugs that fucking mask off. Your breath catches in the back of your throat and you halt your ministrations - truly, seeing him smiling on screen is nothing compared to him smiling in person. You can’t quite contain yourself any longer - your excitement might burst out in another dance number otherwise - as you throw your arms over his shoulders and pull him flush against you. He’s quick to return the embrace. Maybe it was all the encouragement he needed.

“Wow,” He mumbles, only slightly offended, “so I finally show my face to you, in person, and you just-...you just look away?”

“I’m hugging you, dumbass.”

“...Touche.”

Things fall into place after that, like a dozen puzzle pieces fitting together. He won’t let you go - he doesn’t want to. You put on some music, something easy and indie and that doesn’t require too much effort to listen to, as the two of you contemplate what to eat. Cooking by yourselves was dismissed due to the unstable relationship between yourself and cooking utensils. The stove and you had had a falling out recently, but this feud had started long ago, back in pre-school, with only short intervals of friendship. He listened to your extensive explanation absolutely enraptured and only moderately confused. 

So you settled on ordering pizza from Domino’s. You have no trouble calling or receiving phone calls, because you have no trouble doing anything, and he admitted that he only really calls you because he gets too anxious to do more, so you’re tasked with ordering the food. You accept this mission with pride.

You stand tall, gazing out the window into the wild California domain: massive buildings and towering eucalyptus trees, bleeding skyline and the sun slowly getting swallowed up by the ocean. Corpse looms behind you, with his arms snaked around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, looking at you through the corner of his eye. You wait patiently for the underpaid, overworked staff member to pick up, and once they do, you have the audacity to grin brightly and chirp, “Hi! I want pizza.”

Conversations flow smoothly, and you make hot chocolate - because you are hot and you crave chocolate - and he insists he wants one too, because you want one, and you don’t hesitate to overflow his cup with whipped cream and an ungodly amount of miniature marshmallows. A premature heart attack, just for him. Whoever said romance is dead has clearly never met you. When the doorbell chimes, you’re astounded that an hour flew by so quickly.

After the delicious meal, the movie night must commence. So what if you watched 10 Things I hate About You yesterday, you insist that you have already forgotten the plot. You lead him to your room and he tries not to stare, but can’t help himself. Pretty boy in a pretty girl’s room. His eyes linger on the massive posters of Chrollo on your walls, and you sense his displeasure rolling off of him in waves. 

“What?” You huff, fluffing the pillows, “You don’t like my husband?”

He jabs his finger into his chest, into the spot of his heart, “I’m your husband.”

“Side hoe, then-”

“-No.”

You didn’t lie when you said you love to cuddle, or that you’re clingy. It’s a good thing he’s just as clingy as you are, because when he lays down and you latch onto his side. He doesn’t complain, rather wraps his arm around pulls you close. His thumb draws lazy circles on your side; with your head resting on his chest, you feel each rhythmical rise and drop. 

The opening credits play on the projector, the room dark enough for your pile of plushies to look like a whole fucking human just standing in the corner. A ghost! Sucks for it, you’re not scared. You feel safe. Protected. So comfortable in Corpse’s hold that you’re honestly wondering how did you manage to be so long without him. To think all of this started when Sykkuno followed you on Twitter. What a lucky accident.

“Can I ask you something?” Your voice cuts through the bopping 90s soundtrack and Julia Stiles’ voice. He hums. You take it as a yes. Tilting your head upwards, you find his eyes again, a thorn of displeasure picking you as you note that that apprehension you had seen previously is still very much there, “...You really wouldn’t date me if I was a worm?”

His chest rumbles with a laugh and his lips split into a grin, “I would.” He presses your side for emphasis, “I really would.” He repeats, reassuringly. You, however, are not convinced.

“But I’d be a worm.”

“I know. We’d... roll around in the dirt together, or something.”

“But you’d be human.”

He frowns softly, “Why couldn’t I be a worm, too?”

“Those are the rules.”

“What kind of shitty fucking rules are those?”

“I dunno, it’s like the Thanos snap or something. I just turn into a worm. I’m the only one.”

“That’s fine.” He smiles, “I’d take you out on a fishing date or something.”

Shocked, offended, and heartbroken, you hit his chest and pointedly turn away with a pout, which he finds very funny for some reason, but you fail to see the humor anywhere except the movie. Despite the fact that he’d sacrifice you for a fish, you smile shyly and close your eyes. He did say you would take a nap together, and if he really thought you’d stay awake for movie night, well, then he’s just an idiot. You had decided you would fall asleep as soon as he was next to you. It’s a miracle you managed to stay awake for so long.

“...Sleeping already?” You don’t appreciate his teasing tone.

“’m not sleeping...” You murmur, “’m resting my eyes.”

“Sure.”

You’re not quite certain (of anything, really) how much time drifts by, but you’re nearly lost in unconsciousness, in the warm, nice feeling that comes along with him like a cloud. Perhaps he thinks you’re asleep, he has to, else he wouldn’t say anything at all, “You’re stuck with me now, you know.” It’s such a soft admission, riddled with the same notes of anxiety that always prevail in his speech; with the same hopeful sincerity he had been gazing at you the whole evening. 

Moving your lips is such a hassle, but you manage, “’m...stuck...” You mumble, “’m...stuck...what are you doing step-”

“No!” He laughs, and your lips quirk into a lazy smile, “No, no, no. Just no. Do you talk in your sleep?” You fake snore at that, loudly, “You’re like a little dragon.”

“...Fuck you.”

“Fine, a kitten, then.” That’s better. You feel something chapped, but soft, press onto your forehead, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

God, you’re so fucking happy. Does he know how happy you are? How happy he makes you? But you’re too tired for screaming and flailing around, too tired to even crack an eye open. You want him to know all the same, “...like you.” You whisper, but you don’t know if he hears you over the movie, “...I like you.”

His reply is instant, breathless, “I like you too.”

Good, you want to say, and maybe you do - can’t tell anymore. Sleep takes you too quickly.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury--moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[oxygenbefore1775]

AoT characters staging Romeo&Juliet

basically a school AU where AoT characters (both Paradisians and Marleyans) are staging R&J, who would play whose part and stuff like that

Imma tell right away that I'm not a theatre kid so I've no clue how all of this works exactly so just bear with me if i write something out of the left field

fyi I'm going to list the R&J characters in the same order as in the original

cw: mentions of death Ig

Cast

Prince Escalus - Zeke

the troop just needed someone adult to play this part and decided to go with Eren's big brother

for someone who appears only three times during the entire play, is way too invested into this - Zeke doesn't want to let his little brother down

speaks with a strange (and mildly offensive) accent

Count Paris - Marlowe

everyone wanted Jean to play the character but he refused since being rejected by a love interest seemed all too familiar to him

Hitch suggested that Marlowe should play the part because she wanted to see his serious ass showing some emotion

it's really hard for him to get into character (even if it's a simple one) so he stays in character throughout the whole play

can't kiss Juliet on the lips so only gives her a peck on the cheek

feels a relief everytime his character dies

Romeo - Marco

initially Jean was aiming at this role (because of course he would)

but then he saw the sheer amount of lines he's supposed to memorize and backed out

Marco's interpretation of Romeo is adorable rather then passionate

tbh Marco doesn't give off 100% performance - he just does exactly what he's asked to

in the scene when Romeo slays Tybalt, doesn't seem angry enough and just runs towards Tybalt in anime style before gently pushing him

Mercutio - Eren

wants this role because Mercutio seems like a free spirit

genuienly tries to remember his lines but failes miserably so someone always has to help him out

completely forgets the Queen Mab speech but stays in the character and rants about some random stuff

funny thing is... the audience actually buys it

draws out his death agony trying to make it as dramatic as possible

Benvolio - Armin

memorized the script in its entirety - potentially can play any role

was chosen for the role of Benvolio because he is the only one capable of calming Eren down

often helps others when they forget their lines (mostly Eren)

needs to break up the actual fights between Mercutio and Tybalt

Tybalt - Porco

was glad to get the role because it doesn't have a lot of lines and he gets to show off his physique

doesn't need to get into the character

Porco is already aggressive enough

whenever there's a fight scene, Porco improvises, throws out his sham sword and beats the shit out of his opponents

is convinced that Romeo wasn't actually strong enough to kill Tybalt

Friar Laurence - Connie (Reiner as an understudy)

initially this role was suggested to Bertholdt but he declined because of his stage fright

Connie wanted to be on the stage but didn't want to memorize the lines so the role of Friar Laurence seemed perfect - Connie was carrying around a book prop where he hid the notes with his lines

Connie whales and sobs everytime during his last monologue (when R&J are already dead)

One time Connie forgets about the play so Reiner has to substitute him - Reiner also wanted this role but didn't want to rob Connie of it

the black robe that Connie usually wears is really figure-hugging on Reiner (that's the power of tiddies)

Juliet - Hitch

yk Krista was the first person to be suggested for the role but she declined

Mikasa agreed to play Juliet but only if Eren plays Romeo - both Eren and Jean were against it

the troop settled on Hitch

initially likes the fact of being a lead - but gets irritated when she needs to attend all of the rehearsals

her acting is good but a bit unhinged - she likes to be overly dramaric

during the scene of the first kiss during the ball, Hitch is more eager to kiss Marco (and not the other way around as it should be according to the script)

Rosaline - Krista

Rosaline doesn't have any lines but she appears on the stage (at least in some adaptations)

Krista volunteered to play her part because she kins Rosaline (like her decision not to marry a man)

her bright neon nails stand out in the crowd of extras

Nurse - Sasha

originally the troop was unsure of this casting because of Sasha's seemingly lacking sense of responsibility

but Sasha vigorously learns her lines and is by far the most hard-working

sometimes she cheats though by sliding the notes with difficult-to-memorize lines inside her sleeves

although Sasha's nurse is not portrayed as caring as she should be, Sasha still manages to bring out the humurous side of the character

improvises a lot and makes a lot of jokes on the stage

gets berated by the director because of it

Production team

Director - Jean

a huge controversy led up to Jean's appointment as a director

starts dressing up to fit into his director aesthetic

draws most of the decorations

has beef with Eren so assistant director has to step in every time in order to instruct Eren

has his own "vision" of the play and doesn't let the actors improvise too much because they are sabotaging his perfect play

Assistant Director - Pieck

much more chill in comparison to Jean

unofficial director and the troop tends to be more cooperative with her

supervises all of the scenes where Eren has speaking lines

hosts teambuilding activities inbetween the reahearsals

Set Designer (also Prop Master) - Hange

their initial drafts on the decorations turn out to be too complicated for the school play

raids local thrift and craft stores in search of perfect props

spray-on metalic paint (silver or gold) is their solution to beautify the ugly looking props

didn't bother to make the blades of the swords dull

somehow gets their hands on a historical piece - which turns out to be a piece of broken crockery

Costume Designer - Levi

makes the costumes the way he wants them to be and is unfazed by Jean's requests

will die on this hill if the costumes are not historically accurate

the troop is scared to put on the costumes because Levi is gonna beat the shit out of them if they damage the clothes

is present during the rehearsals to make sure that the troop wears the costumes properly

Stage Crew - Bertholdt, Ymir and Mikasa

Ymir is the most focused out of the three - that is wnen Krista is not in the wings - otherwise she gets distracted and strikes up a conversations with her

Bertholdt hangs up all of the decorations thanks to his height (man's a fucking tree)

when it comes to the fast change of set decorations, Mikasa is the best at this

it turned out really messy but i hope you like it!

[foryoumyheroes]

Otaku

[Bakugou + Todoroki] are in love with the anime character [Name]. 

A/N:  Gender-neutral reader  Crackish?? 

Bakugou Katsuki: 

He’s sort of picky with the genre, be it fantasy, horror, shonen, but his favorite character has to be a super cool, super powerful one. No excuses. 

You know, the type of anime character that’s probably introduced through a silhouette of them posing dramatically with their notorious group whose image is teased throughout the first few episodes/seasons. 

He goes pretty hard for All Might, and he’s definitely the same for your character. 

Reads the manga (but he buys it super secretly, like in a hoodie at night and the cashier probably thinks that they’re being robbed until he brings the entire [Series] collection to the register). Watches the anime the moment it’s broadcasted, reads metas and watches youtube videos that talk about conspiracies/analyses of your character. 

NO ONE CAN KNOW THOUGH. 

He’s taking his anime phase to the grave. 

For some reason gets super aggressive when you’re being flirty or being shipped with another character?? He hates all the scenes that tease any potential romance between you and other characters. asdfgj He’s like, “No one is good enough for [Name]!!! Except for me.” 

He even tries to think up ways he can legitimately square up with them LMAO. Like he wonders how he could defeat your potential S/Os in a fight but y’all are like ,,, anime characters SO WHY DOES IT EVEN MATTER LOL 

“Three-sword style?? Tch, I’d fucking blow that bastard to bits.” 

“Who’s this Gaara of the Sand looking ass and why is the author getting so bold.” 

He even tries to think of how well your abilities match up with his own Quirk, this dork. 

THE LENGTHS HE WOULD GO FOR YOU.

If you were a real life person and your dislikes are lets say spicy food or loud, overbearing people, Bakugou would be like, “Tch I’m right, they’re wrong. Shut the fuck up!!!” But if his ultimate wifu/husbando has those dislikes he would be like, “Omg...😳😳 opposites attract...👉👈” 

He honestly tries to be a low-key fan (as in, not be a fan at all to outsiders), but if one day during class Kaminari ends up saying that in [Series], you’re the weakest character in your group/squad, Bakugou would get super angry. 

“Hey, Dunceface!! It’s so fucking obvious that you’re an anime-only fake fan, so don’t talk as if you know shit!” 

Bakugou is those “um actually” ;; fans 

Bakugou is a manga reader, so by the time your introduction scene or Ultimate Attack scene is being aired he becomes super OOC. He’s hyped for it for days, incredibly nervous at how the animators handle the scene. 

By the time he watches it?? 

THE ANIMATION!! THE VOICE ACTING!! YOUR COOLNESS!!! PLS ORA ORA HIM IN THE CHEST!! HE’S BEGGING YOU! IF YOU’RE GOING TO UNISON RAID WITH ANYONE PLS LET IT BE HIM!! 

He’s legitimately sweating buckets by the time the episode is over. A whole-ass fire hazard. 

Probably knows how to play your character theme on the drums. 

Omg but if your character dies/is hinted toward dying/or the most recent chapters ends with a cliffhanger where you’re fatally injured he will become legitimately depressed. 

Like holes himself in his dorm room for a whole day without contacting anyone and with the blinds drawn type of depressed. 

When he comes to class the next day with eye-bags and is slouching and his classmates think that something horrible has happened, it’s probably only Izuku who knows what’s going on. 

He’ll say, “You’re upset about the most recent chapter of [Series], right? I know it must be hard for you right now.” He’ll give Bakugou an officially licensed rubber strap of your character and Bakugou will just ;; cradle it in his hands softly. 

In complete seriousness, your character is probably someone who is strong physically, but publicly rallies for things like, “Failure is fine.” Your character arc would probably explore what it’s like being not good enough or feeling constantly disappointed, so he feels comfort in your character. 

Todoroki Shoto: 

In comparison to Bakugou, he’s probably a more low-key fan unintentionally, but goes just as hard. 

Buys all of the merch, limited-edition or not, has your picture set as his phone lockscreen and homescreen, has a little acrylic charm of you on his phone, follows several fanartists that draw your character on social media. He buys enough merch that his room looks like a glorified shrine. 

It’s canon that he reads manga, but I headcanon that he’s even less picky with his genres and willingly reads things like slice-of-life or shojo all the way to shonen or adult fantasy, so your anime could come from any possible story. 

Your character is probably someone who is sweet and kind but has a traumatic character backstory. 

He probably ends up thinking stuff like, “If [Name] was with me, I would never let them get treated like that.” asdhj he’s a dork too. 

Unironically dramatically quotes you during battle and thinks that it’s still badass because he’s a teenage boy in his anime phase. 

Doesn’t get into debates with people who don’t like your character. He’s like, “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion :)) even though they’re wrong. >:(.” 

If you’re from a sports/competition anime he’ll try to learn all of the rules, and even try it out for himself (if it’s not fighting) but he finds out that he’s... not very good at it. That doesn’t make him any less amazed though! 

If your character is from a different culture with different customs and traditions, he’ll even learn more about them outside of your anime! 

Forces his siblings to watch the anime with him. They don’t necessarily have to, but the Todoroki household has one big TV and he hogs it all the time watching your anime over and over. 

Natsuo is begging him to watch something else and Shoto will just pout angrily from the other side of the couch.( ￣＾￣)

It’s so jarring because he doesn't look or appear like a hardcore anime fan, but sometimes he’ll just butt into conversations randomly and talk about you. 

Like you know those tumblr Naruto posts that talk about it as if it’s some sort of Renaissance literature. That’s Todoroki. 

[”Man, they’re so hot--!” 

“You want to see someone hot?” Todoroki asks with a perfectly straight face, and he’ll just... turn his phone around and show them a picture of an anime character.] 

When his dad tries to set him up with someone else: “You think they’re my type? Do they watch [Series]? Do they know what true friendship is?? Do they understand pining and love the way [Name] does?” 

Endeavor: who the FUCK is [Name]. 

Gets into fanfiction because of your character and series. He’ll just be reading on his phone during break times at school and everyone thinks that he’s being so well-read but he’s just reading pure smut with a straight face. 

Doesn’t mind when you’re shipped with other characters necessarily but he is super picky. If your character is hinted toward a potential romance with another character that’s pretty crass and doesn’t necessarily treat you well but you’re sticking together through the power of friendship, he won’t ship it. 

He’s just like “[Name] would be so much happier with someone else like me.” ://// 

And if your character goes through something traumatic or terrible during the series he’ll be so sad, like soooo sad. :((( Deku would probably be comforting him on the couch in the common room and everyone is concerned because he looks like he’s mourning a lost pet, but it turns out to be over some anime character pshhhsdfh. 

Deku would just be patting his shoulder trying to console him and Todoroki’s just sitting there with a big frown on his face going, [“But they’ve been through so much throughout the anime already...” 

“I know, Todoroki-kun, I know...” 

“The author can’t do that to them... It’s just not fair.”

“I get it,” Midoriya says mournfully.]  

Plot twist: They like the same anime character 

They’ll probably find out when they have to retake the license exam together. 

Todoroki will just take his phone out during off times and Bakugou’s eyes looks over because it’s drawn by the noise but then his head just snaps to the side when he realizes its a little charm of you, like, he’s going to get whiplash from that. 

“What the -- is that [Surname] [Name]?!” 

Like they have never really hung out together before this, so when they both first realize that their favorite character of all time is [Name] they’re left ,, just standing there ,,, pointing at each other like the spiderman meme.

At first they’re both inwardly excited because FINALLY someone cultured and with taste. They spend the entire time talking about your stats, your attacks, your post-timeskip character design, and your personality, and then they delve a little bit deeper and then they realize ,,, oh. 

Bakugou says that you don’t belong with the dumb protagonist, you should be shipped with someone strong, confident and loud, but Todoroki is like noooooo they deserve to be with someone that treats them gently. 

They connect the dots. 

[“Bakugou, you aren’t compatible with [Name]. It says so in their trivia page.” 

“Says you! They won’t want some bland-ass pretty boy! They would want a real man!”] 

They’re such fanboys ;;; they do realize that you aren’t real, right asdfghj?

One day Kaminari and Sero separately invite them to an anime convention, but they both say no and that they have plans or “something better to do” that day. 

Then Bakugou and Todoroki both turn up to the convention at the same place because they both reach for the last limited edition [Name] figure and they just stare at each other wide-eyed (ʘoʘ╬) like that. 

They start verbally fighting each other over the last figure and then physically fighting each other andddd then they get kicked out of the convention. 

Izuku ends up swooping in and getting the last box. 

[asimpforarmin]

What Dog the AoT Characters Would Have 💛

Character(s): Armin Arlert, Sasha Braus, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Bertholdt Hoover, & Annie Leonhardt

Genre: Light-hearted, modern!au

Warnings: Mentions of animal neglect/abuse, some dog breeds commonly perceived as scary, cursing

A/n: I usually include Mikasa in my headcanons, but I just forgot until last minute that she existed ;-; so, sorry for not including her. If someone requests it, I’ll add her to the list.

💛 Armin

His parents got him a beagle puppy for one of his birthdays and he got so attached to it. He was so grateful that he had a dog and absolutely treasures him.

Named him Buddy because he’s his little sidekick and is always fun to play with and snuggle up to.

Buddy almost never shuts up though. A bird flies past the window? He starts barking. A truck goes by? Goes bonkers. He sees himself in the mirror? Shooketh.

Whenever Buddy starts going crazy, Armin picks him up, takes him away from whatever’s bothering him and scratches behind his ears. That makes Buddy practically melt into Armin’s arms and it’s so adorable. 💕

Buddy is very protective over Armin, or as protective as a dog his size could be. He always barks at the doorbell and is very wary of strangers.

If you walk into Armin’s house and Buddy has never seen you before, Armin will be sitting in a chair holding a dog who’s glaring into your soul.

You and Armin will try to have a normal conversation while Buddy is snarling and growling at you with Armin just patting his head and making an expression that says he deals with this all the time.

After a couple visits, Buddy is still tense around you but unwinds once you start playing with him.

Whenever Armin’s studying or working, Buddy will jump up into his lap and snuggle with him.

Sometimes when Armin falls asleep at his desk, he’ll have his arms on the table and Buddy in his lap.

When he’s in the car, Buddy tries to bite cars through the window. He just growls and bangs the glass with his teeth before Armin stops him from chipping a tooth.

Just how Buddy is protective of Armin, Armin’s protective of Buddy.

If someone talks shit about his dog, he’ll get sad about it. Buddy doesn’t deserve to be treated like that, he never hurt anyone.

Buddy can’t be taken to the park because he just agitates other dogs. He never gets along with them and never lets his guard down.

Buddy’s also one of those dogs who gets really dramatic. One time he was laying on the couch with his ball and it rolled off so he just started howling.

It’s also really hard to trim his nails without him growling, even though he’d never bite anyone.

Once Buddy has calmed down around someone, he’s fun to just hang around.

Armin likes to sit on the couch reading with Buddy on his lap or beside him. He’s great to study with or have around.

💛 Sasha

Adopts a 5-year-old blue greyhound from her local shelter.

She’d been volunteering there for a while when the greyhound came in and just couldn’t resist.

With greyhounds being bred to hunt and Sasha coming from a family who has a hunting background, it seemed like a match made in heaven.

She bought her and gave her a bright pink collar with a little dog bone tag with her name etched in it.

Since greyhounds’ necks are so long, she gives her a big knitted scarf to wear in the winter to keep her all nice and cozy.

Was torn between naming her Snickerdoodle or Candy because they’re both cute names and are both foods, but ended up naming her Pumpkin because she couldn’t decide and Pumpkin’s a really cute name as well.

Sasha loves playing fetch with her and it’s so fun because Pumpkin can run really fast, really far.

Pumpkin almost never barks unless she’s having fun or there’s someone at the door.

Sasha’s bed is lofted by a couple feet for storage and Pumpkin has no problem getting on and off her bed.

The first time Pumpkin saw Sasha’s bed, she didn’t know what to do so just sat there looking up at Sasha. It took a couple minutes for her to realize Sasha patting the bed meant she could jump onto it.

Sasha allows her dog on any of the furniture so there’s short hairs all over the couch no matter what.

Pumpkin’s really kind and gentle around kids so Sasha can basically take her anywhere. She’s super well behaved but sometimes scares people because she jumps in excitement.

Sasha also shares her food with her dog all the time. Always packs extra whenever she goes somewhere so she can give some to Pumpkin.

If you moved in with Sasha, Pumpkin would take to you right away.

She would literally be so sweet and always make you happy all the time. 😭💕

Plays tug of war and fetch a lot with you.

If you’re working/eating at a desk, she’ll lean her head on your leg until you pet her or give her food, or both.

Overall, Pumpkin is so sweet and adorable. She will always cheer you up when you need it and always has enough energy to play.

💛 Jean

Adopted a pitbull who is now 6, but was brought into a fighting ring when he was 4.

He knew it would be a challenge to help an abused dog but wanted to give him a good home.

When he first saw him, he was covered in scars and missing part of his ear.

He named him Kane. He’s a beautiful deep reddish-brown color with a white belly.

From the first moment they met, there was a connection. Kane warmed up to Jean quite quickly for a dog who’s been through so much.

Jean took him home and slowly introduced him to lifestyle changes, like going for walks or taking baths.

He introduces him to other dogs too. Kane showed a little hostility in the beginning, but once he realized they weren’t threats he was fine being around them.

Jean pays top dollar for him. Any issue he has, he takes him to the vet and gets it fixed up. He also gets the best food for him because that’s what he deserves.

Kane loves going for car rides. Sometimes Jean will get in the car with him, no destination in mind, and just drive.

Jean rolls the window down and Kane pokes his head outside. His mouth opens and because of the wind going into it, he showers the window behind him in slobber.

Kane absolutely loves swimming. He’s quite good at it, but Jean still takes a lot of safety precautions, such as a life jacket or shallow water because pitbulls are known to be somewhat bad swimmers.

Every summer, Jean takes out a kiddie pool and lets Kane splash around in it.

He also really likes to turn on the hose or sprinkler and aim it at Kane. He jumps up to bite the water and they both have a great time.

It can be a problem though because when Jean’s trying to fill the pool up, Kane keeps batting the hose with his paw or trying to eat the water and Jean has to get him to relax.

Other than his little quirks, Kane’s a relatively chill dog. He’s alright with being dressed up in costumes or having to wear a cone.

Every halloween, Jean gets both of them a matching costume and they sit on the porch to give kids candy.

Jean also lets the kids pet Kane because over time, he gets very welcoming of people and other dogs he doesn’t know.

Long story short, Kane’s not the dog you want to protect your house, if someone broke in, he’d just start wagging his tail and not be able to tell what’s going on.

💛 Connie

Saw how cool Jean’s dog is and also wanted a badass and cool breed.

He ended up adopting a doberman pinscher.

Like Jean’s dog, she looks strong and intimidating.

Unlike Jean’s dog, she acts the complete opposite of how she looks.

She’s often quite jittery or seems scared. Whenever someone even remotely raises their voice, her ears go down and she lowers her head.

You and Connie often have to give her tons of pets and appreciation after shouting, whether it’s good or bad shouting.

She’s also a total cuddlebug. She loves to be on Connie’s lap 24/7 and sleeps right next to him, watching over him.

Because of her timid personality, Connie named her Lily. It’s a sweet and innocent sounding name. Even though he sought her out to be a “cool” dog, she’s super sweet and didn’t want to name her something that conflicted with who she really was.

One thing about Lily is she loves running. Connie likes to skateboard alongside her as she pulls him along. It’s not much effort for her because Connie’s lightweight and uses his feet a lot. Plus, the area they live is pretty flat, so they often do.

Lily has a hard time understanding what is and isn’t a toy. One time she nearly chewed off one of the sofa legs. Next time Connie sat on it, it snapped and then he figured out Lily was behind it.

After that, he trained her to know everything he puts in her basket is a toy, but everything else isn’t. Then, she used the basket as a toy.

She goes through toys lightning quick.

Every time you or Connie give her a new stuffed animal, it takes approximately .2 seconds for it to be torn to shreds.

Connie loves to take her to PetSmart and let her pick out toys in-store.

If she chooses a toy that means Connie won’t need to guess what she likes and what she doesn’t.

One time she chose one of those scented rope toys, but once Connie took the packaging off, she started acting weirdly.

Once he gave it to her, she started barking at it and whacking it with her paw.

Connie was super confused so he threw it and she chased after it like normal, but once she got close to it she started acting scared of it and barking.

It’s been like that ever since now so they just don’t play with that toy.

Lily doesn’t bark that often. She usually only barks from excitement or when she meets someone new.

She also doesn’t have the zoomies that much so she’s a really relaxed dog to hang with.

💛 Bertholdt

Bertholdt saw his neighbors packing their stuff in a van one day and leaving but saw they left their samoyed leashed up outside.

He wanted to hold out hope that they were just going out somewhere for a bit so waited the rest of the night but found the dog still chained up the next morning in the rain.

He was never close to his neighbors and didn’t want any confrontation so he went up and knocked on the door, checking if anyone was home.

No surprise, they weren’t so he cautiously made his way over to the dog.

It was so happy to see someone and started licking his hand right away.

He unchained the dog and led it into his house where he gave it a nice warm bath and some food.

While bathing her, he took off her collar, with the neighbor’s number and address engraved in it along with her name, Mavis.

While Mavis was eating he called the number he found on her tag. He explained that the dog looked like it was left there on purpose so he took it in until they got home. They just said they didn’t want her anymore and hung up, which broke Bertholdt’s heart.

So he took her to the vet, got some pet things because he hasn’t owned a pet previously and she became a big part of his life.

She clings to him everywhere and won’t ever leave his side. Almost never barks and is super good on a leash.

Bertholdt takes her to the dog park a lot, Mavis is very social and has made a lot of friends there.

Mavis has quite the habit of rolling around in the mud or dirt though so Bertholdt has to give her a bath quite often.

Bertholdt absolutely cannot contain the dog hair. There is so much of it and it’s everywhere, went through like 3 lint rollers in the first week.

He spoils her rotten. Whenever he goes shopping he gets her new treats and toys because he swore to do right by her when her old owners didn’t.

If you were brought into the equation, Mavis would love you unconditionally. She’ll be there to give you high-fives and cuddle with you.

She is the softest thing on the planet so the cuddles are amazing. If you and Bertholdt sleep together, she’ll plop herself right in between the both of you so she could get attention until you fall asleep.

Whenever she needs something but isn’t up, she licks your face until you give her what she wants.

Even though she can get quite hot in the summer, she always wants to cuddle and loves to do it, whether it’s with you or Bertholdt.

💛 Annie (normally I don’t write for her but I couldn’t get this scenario out of my head)

Hitch gave her a chihuahua for her birthday even though she never remotely hinted at wanting a dog.

She didn’t want to return it though and oddly liked it, even though she never asked for him.

Just calls him “Dog” for a bit since she doesn’t know what to name him.

He’s a tan deer head dog so Annie gives him the name “Biscuit” after a couple weeks.

It’s super generic but she doesn’t think he needs any fancy name and he looks like a biscuit so 🤷🏻‍♀️

She has one of the backpacks with a compartment to fit a dog.

She likes to put Biscuit in there and take him out when she goes out.

When Annie takes him out, Biscuit is usually pretty chill, aside from giving a couple glares to random people.

Sometimes he even falls asleep in her backpack.

Whenever someone pisses Annie off, Biscuit senses it. Annie isn’t usually one to get into a full-blow fight and be loud, so Biscuit is her volume. Whenever she starts going off, he starts growling and barking.

And when she does get loud, both of them are yelling and screaming so that often deters the other person.

When she first got Biscuit, Annie didn’t really pay that much attention to him. She’d be on the couch and whenever he came up to her with a ball or toy, she’d throw it.

Then as she started to get used to him, she started to like him more.

Nowadays, she sometimes chases him around the house with a smile on her face and it’s so adorable, especially because she doesn’t smile all too often.

Biscuit is relatively calm, even for a chihuahua. He can often be seen on the couch on his back with his tongue out laying in the sun.

Speaking of being on the couch, originally Annie wanted to keep him off all furniture but soon realized he simply wouldn’t stay off and she didn’t want to bother to train him not to.

Now, they share almost everything. She sleeps with him next to her, they relax on the couch together, and sometimes she even brings him up on one of the kitchen chairs and they share food together.

Biscuit hates her alarm clock with a passion. If Annie doesn’t wake up from the alarm, she wakes up from the high pitched barks of her dog wanting her to turn it off.

Once the two are close, they are bonded for life and can be seen everywhere together.

[tsubasaclones]

↓long post incoming↓

or: i actually like something the clear card anime did (that doesn’t happen in the manga, but is similar to something) better than what the manga did

against my better judgment (i should be studying for a midterm i have tomorrow) i am writing another long ass post about clear card. sorry guys.

something has been bothering me about syaoran’s role in the school play in clear card. like, i knew from the very beginning that he was going to end up having to be on stage, and i know they needed him to be on stage for when shit started going down, but still.

it starts off with him being very adamant that he DOES NOT want to act, that he’s fine being a stagehand, etc. this is because of his uh... experience acting in the play in the original story. perfectly understandable. he insists on being a stagehand multiple times. Eventually he agrees to playing a character, but voicing them while being offstage, so he could still participate without being uncomfortable. He says he’ll do it because he wants to give his all just like everyone else. This would be fine.

But then.

When it comes time for the play, he ends up going on stage to play the character, and yes it’s partly because he wants to be there in case shit goes down (and it does) but also he says “look how hard they’re all trying” and “i don’t want to let them down”

like, what do you mean “let them down” and what’s with implying you’re not working as hard if you don’t play the role on stage. but this is because syaoran has a tendency to do this kind of thing, to think his effort isn’t enough and push himself to, in his mind, “try harder.” he does it earlier in the story too, with the cards.

the cards take too much effort for him to use, yet he uses them anyway, because it’s the only way he can compete against the new cards. even though he spent a whole year training a bunch, to the point where kero was alarmed he knew certain advanced techniques (the way he pulled out his sword or whatever). it still wasn’t enough so, to him, he has to push himself to try harder even if it’s to his detriment. and he literally gets called out on it (thank you yue, for having common sense.)

so to me the whole thing with his role in the school play feels similar and it makes me sad. but it also reminds me of something that happens in the anime, but not the manga. there’s this episode about some of them going to the library and reading a book to some kids. he’s initially like “sorry i can’t do it” because, again, the school play in the original story.

but after some puppy eyes from sakura convincing, he agrees to do piano accompaniment for the story (they reveal in an earlier episode that he can play piano, and he originally says no to the piano idea, because he thinks tomoyo can play it better- but she’s recording the video for the reading, because of course she’s recording a video. so it doesn’t matter). and he just gets to play the piano for it, he doesn’t later change his mind and force himself to read after all, and he’s still just as important of a part of the thing as everyone else.

and like theres a part while sakura & akiho are reading the story and the kids theyre reading to get riled up because theyre concerned about the story, and sakura & akiho don’t know what to do, so syaoran helps them by changing what he’s playing to be more dramatic to set the tone. or whatever. point is he was able to participate in a way he was more comfortable with while still contributing equally, and without having to force himself to do something he doesn’t want to because otherwise he doesn’t feel like he’s doing good enough. thank you for coming to my ted talk.