#he is under a lot of stress

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF Movie Mike got mixed signals from Vanessa..

[seeeuspaceecowboyyy]

Y’all I hate when Miguel is portrayed as the “silent brooding” type in fics. Like yeah he had his brooding moments in the film but canonically he’s so sassy. Literally always has a comeback (maybe not super witty) and yeah he might be a bit awkward and mopey but he’s not shy or quiet. Irritated and grumpy maybe but not silent. He’s a talker and he’s got some sass. Just look at how he talks with Lyla, Peter, and Jess.

I also don’t like when he’s portrayed as “unreasonably cruel”. If that were the case, Peter B. and Jess would not have stood behind him and supported him all those times before the Miles incident. You can tell he really cares deep down when he:

• Lets Gwen join the Spider Society despite his reservations because he knows what it feels like to lose family

• Keeps Lyla around even though all she does is tease him because if he was a jerk he wouldn’t have wanted to put up with that and would have just shut her down instantly

• Carefully holds and watches Mayday while she’s with him instead of recoiling from her

• Tries to patiently explain the spider-verse canon problem to Miles and you can see the sympathy yet determination in his eyes when he tries to reason with Miles about the sacrifices of being Spider-Man

• Shows Miles his most vulnerable and heartbreaking moment as a way to connect with him

• He regularly calls for backup and works in a team instead of just going on his own which shows how much he trusts and appreciates his colleagues

I just wish we could have seen more of his normal interactions with other characters when he’s not dealing with high pressure situations.

(Edit: Yeah he got crazy scary during the Miles chase scene and kicked Gwen out at the end. I’ll admit he’s got a temper. But he was desperate guys. It was life or death to him and linked to his trauma with losing Gabriella. He literally thought another universe would collapse again if he didn’t do anything to stop it, making it partly his fault. It wasn’t just a pride thing. He felt like there was so much at stake and that’s why he went ballistic on Miles, just to make him listen.)

[yeonjune]

Yeonjun about the strain he felt while preparing for his debut solo project ✙ "GGUM" MAKING FILM

[atoriv-art]

older designs for my specialest guy

[canisalbus]

machete looks like he'd be your grandma's really awkward, shaky, crusty white dog that has exactly three teeth if you met him in person. either that or the embodiment of a cave painting. perhaps the hunt of the unicorn on a good day. either way, truly a splendid creature. vasco is very lucky

.

[lenaellsi]

baby pictures

[rouge-the-bat]

kurama deserves to go on a killing spree whenever he wants. good for stress relief

[rubydubydoo122]

I think the funniest thing about how the Fandom perceives Tim (especially obnoxious Tim fans) is that he is was deeply hurt by the actions Jason, Damian, and Dick have done to him, but lowkey that’s just the fandom projecting

Tim lowkey did not give a fuck. Maybe a little at first, but he definitely does not hold a grudge against any of them.

[qoldenskies]

I was reading back through caged lungs and I realized just how many times Donnie got hit in the head during the last fight and how hard, no wonder Leo is concerned about brain damage.

Also, when Donnie goes to see April at the end of chapter 2, is he just dissociating really hard or is that an actual physical symptom from the…everything really!

not to mention the oxygen deprivation with raph throttling him! the last fight is so visceral and nasty and it was the final nail in the coffin when it came to donnie's issues physically and mentally, because although he would have been terrified of them regardless i dont think it wouldve been "inconsolable screaming heap at the sound of raph's voice" like it was in the early bit of CW.

and id mark that as dissociation personally. the second he registered as being in relative safety he kind of shut down because he wasn't able to process it, which had kind of been a running coping mechanism through the last month or so of CL. MIND YOU: IT IS NOT HELPED ALONG BY THE BRAIN FOG CAUSED BY HIS TIME IN ISOLATION, its a nasty concoction of problems. and also yeah physical exhaustion definitely doesnt help! he ran all the way to april's apartment while actively starving, after all.

although itll get better after [REDACTED PLOT THREAD] is handled, i think dissociation is gonna be something donnie will be dealing with for years, because spending four days in a quiet, enclosed dark space has some extremely messed up consequences for your brain and body. it was also in general something he used to cope under the abuse, so i could see him having issues with it when he's not in his right mind (sick or sleep-deprived, for example), i could see him regressing back to that old mindset when something like that happens. his perception of reality is permanently a little fucked :(

[transmechanicus]

Can this shit pretty please Not break me.

[grahoriasfancave]

Thinking about how in a single gameplay Jason (who already has blood on his hands and conscience from an incorrect call) can be faced with the decision to:

let Merwin face the vampires alone

stab Joey

shoot or abandon Clarice

shoot Rachel

lie to Nick about his chance of survival

leave Salim to die

And then thinking about how they find Balathu or Kurum half preserved and suffering and Salim decides they must put him out of his misery. And how when Jason automatically moves to follow through, Salim puts a hand on his gun and says “I’ll do it.”

It’s a choice born of practicality, not kindness. But to Jason, who’s made the call so many times he’s gone numb, it must also be a lifeline.

[tangledinink]

in an older ask (before the bracelet comic) you broke down, basically, the odds of donnie recognizing his family to different degrees on any given day... i'm curious, what would the odds be now, now that he has the bracelet?

Hell yeah let's do more Swanatello Math~

Let's say his family visits him eight times-- this time with the bracelet.

-> Maybe one time out of eight, usually less, Donnie will not be able to recognize them and will treat them as intruders, driving them off. There are occasions when he disregards the message of the bracelet or forgets it too quickly to be helpful.

-> Two times out of eight, Donnie will be able to recognize them enough to not view them as threats, but will not be able to organically recall any further details about them. He is confused and frustrated. He recognizes something is wrong, and can comprehend the research materials he's reading, but no actual memories are being pinged in his brain, leaving him in a very frightening, bizarre, uncanny-valley sort of space. He has to repeatedly reference notes and journals to try to puzzle the identities of his family together, which is upsetting and embarrassing. Days like these focus on providing comfort and support to Donnie, but the context that his research board and bracelet provide does make this easier to manage now.

-> One time out of the eight, Donnie will be able to recognize his family but struggles to comprehend his current situation or recall details surrounding it, though he recognizes something is wrong. He knows that Raph is here, and he remembers Raph fully, but has a difficult time processing why they're here at the lake instead of being at home; it's just not sinking in for him. Things in his brain are not matching up, and he is confused and frustrated. His family will have to re-explain to him what's going on, typically multiple times. Days like these focus on providing comfort and support to Donnie, but the jumpstart that the research and bracelet provide often makes this process much easier.

-> One time out of eight, Donnie will be able to recognize his family enough to not view them as threats, but will not always be able to recall further details about them. He's not able to fully process that anything is wrong unless it's explained to him, (usually more than once,) but even then it seems to overall elude him and not fully sink in. He will happily spend the day showing his lake off to his family, dancing with them, etc. His bracelet and research board help, but on days like these he often seems unable to fully retain this information throughout the day. These days are usually pretty frustrating for his family, but are overall lower-stress for Donnie, at least. False memories are common on these days.

-> Three times out of eight, Donnie is able to both recognize his family and recall details about their current situation. He remembers the family members who are currently with them, and sometimes even those who are absent, and understands that he is currently being affected by magick that manipulates his memory and patterns of thinking.

Overall, the bracelet has improved the situation. The family has to take care to try to be present as much as possible, however, as receiving this information from the bracelet and research board can sometimes be very scary or disorientating, and they've found that having someone around either during this process or immediately after is very important. Typically, if Donnie wakes up, receives the message from his bracelet, inspects the research board, and waits for the promised family to arrive... and then they don't, he'll panic and quickly lose trust in the information. He may react negatively to any family members once they do show up. Swanatello overall tends to do poorly when left alone, they've discovered.

[radioactivepeasant]

Free Day Thursday:

"Responsible Adults", the sequel: Jak tries to do a regular Jak Stunt and is shocked that it doesn't go over well

(Roughly a week after this one ends. Long post warning, as most of these are lol)

Night terrors were not an uncommon experience for Jak. They may not have been his nightly companions anymore, but when he did have them, they were intense. He woke up in a corner of his room, wedged beneath the sink. There was a vague sense that he was taking cover from something, or someone.

Blessedly, he remembered no details of the nightmare. But the terror still sent his guts quivering the way they had in the prison. Huddled under the cot both for warmth and silently praying the boots wouldn't stop at his door. That he wouldn't end up Tyber's new punching bag when he got bored of the old man in the cell above Jak's.

Tyber is dead. Errol is dead. Praxis is dead. I watched them die.

Jak repeated the words like a mantra until he could move his limbs again. He crawled out from beneath the sink, but the lingering fear made his room feel claustrophobic. Smaller than it really was.

At least he hadn't woken Daxter this time.

Jak put on his boots, but didn't bother getting fully dressed. He didn't even know what time it was. Why bother if the doctor and the king guy were just going to nag him about being sleep-deprived anyway?

It must have been early morning, before dawn; the moon had vanished and people were outside doing repair work on houses and fog-catchers.

Early morning was the best time to get any outdoor work done in Spargus. A small girl led a flock of caprids out of the stables and towards one of the other districts to graze on the cactus there, and a gang of trainees only a little older than Jak were taking advantage of the temperature to do an endurance run around the city.

Personally, Jak didn't see the good of such things. You learned to be fast enough or smart enough to escape your enemies, or you didn't. He'd learned through life and death experience, not a footrace with no winners.

"Easy with the straps there!" A stocky man backed into Jak, calling up to a team of three people.

"Ope-! Scuse me there, pipsqueak." The Wastelander stepped to the side as if Jak was barely worth noticing.

"Howland, that thing ain't cinched tight enough!"

They seemed to be trying to remove a corroded beam from the supports of one of the multi dwelling houses. It was already leaning at a precarious angle, as big around as a grown man. If that beam came down the wrong way, it would take a lot of the adobe structure -- and probably a lot of people -- with it.

"It's fine, Daru!" Howland complained, "I just cinched it!"

"Well cinch it again! That sucker’s leanin'!"

Jak frowned, but let his curiosity wash away the dregs of the night terrors.

"What's wrong with it?"

The unofficial foreman tugged at a bushy red mustache and shook his head. "Don't rightly know yet. Could just be age. Sand storms and salt air will do a number on this kind of metal after a while."

Jak wondered if that had anything to do with Sandover using wood and stone almost exclusively. He was about to ask why it had been anchored to a mud wall when there was a loud metallic clang. The last bracket holding the beam snapped under the weight, and the straps weren't enough to hold it.

Jak didn't remember moving. But then he was there, with the beam on his shoulders and the foreman on the ground, having narrowly avoided being crushed to death. Cold metal dug into his hands, pressed down against his head, and Jak knew that by rights he should've been dead.

There was a thrill of revulsion in his chest when he reluctantly acknowledged that the only reason he was standing right now was that the dark eco experiments had lengthened his muscle strands to twice the size of a normal hu'men's. It wasn't just in his dark form. That element of...unnatural...was just with him. Every moment.

"Frith! Oh my- HOWLAND! GET DOWN HERE!" Daru roared, "YOU COULDA KILLED SOMEBODY!"

"I got it," Jak said through gritted teeth. "Is there a place to put this thing down?"

"Not yet," Howland admitted as he shimmied down a ladder.

"We were going to cut it into pieces once it was secure, transport it that way to be recycled."

Jak craned his neck, but the motion jarred the beam. Hastily, he adjusted his grip.

"What's- What's around me?"

"Too much," said Daru grimly. "Just- Hold on, kid."

He winced at the boy's flat stare.

"Er...no pun intended. We're gonna, gonna get you out from under there, I promise!"

"Get it cut up first," Jak grunted, "And you won't have to worry about getting me out."

"And what if your hands get sweaty, huh?" Daru demanded, "Fat chance, little man! We're going to find something to hold this up!"

The other two men hurried down from the roof with saws in hand.

Oh gods. Handsaws. This was going to take a while.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Honestly, Damas should have been expecting trouble when he didn't start his day with a free heart attack after seeing eyeshine in the kitchen. The kid was diametrically opposed to the concept of sleep, so he wouldn't have been in bed. If he was off his routine -- and by now Damas had learned to dread something interrupting the kid's self-imposed routine -- then there was probably going to be trouble later.

When he refilled the fuel in the Beacon, fed the birds, and actually had a cup of coffee uninterrupted, he was suspicious.

When the sun rose and there were no echoes of truncated curses in the halls from guards running into Jak, he started to wonder if the kid had decided to work outside. Unusual, but as long as he didn't do anything that would make Dr. Petros yell at them both, more power to him.

But when the talking ottsel showed up in the throne room about an hour after dawn, frantically demanding to know where Jak was, Damas was concerned.

Those two were attached at the hip! Jak wouldn't have gone to look for work without Daxter.

There was a small crowd forming by the time Damas stepped outside. People were shouting encouragements, or conflicting advice about pulleys and snatchblocks. Had something fallen? Damas hadn't heard any impacts. As he began to pick his way through the crowd, the shouts took on new meaning.

"He's slipping! Somebody get under there!"

"How many more hands do you want? There's ten people holding the beam up!"

"Why won't he just let go?!"

"Standing this long, maybe his arms locked up-?"

A beam? People holding a beam-?

An accident. There'd been an accident and night watch hadn't caught it.

Thoughts of crushed citizens and mangled houses circled Damas’s imagination as he pushed through the rest of the crowd, close enough to hear the rasp of handsaws and the buzz of a lone angle grinder.

"Get the cart back in!" Someone yelled, "Next piece is almost off!"

From the looks of things, a crew of four had reduced a two-story high support beam by a third.

Ten Wastelanders were beneath the colossal pole, hands and shoulders braced against the metal as it shrieked and groaned. If even one of them slipped-!

Damas threw down his staff without thinking to join them, racing to catch the end beginning to slide.

"What happened?" he demanded, straining with the others to keep it from crushing the houses and themselves.

"Tie straps broke!" a man three people down called back, "If it weren't for the kid, it woulda come down right through the roofs of a couple houses!"

Kid?

Oh gods don't tell me...

Jak was standing in the very center of the line. His arms trembled, and sweat poured down his face. He didn't seem to hear anything happening around him, too focused on keeping his grip. He was beginning to pale.

"What's he doing here?!"

"Dunno!" A woman to the left answered. "He was already there when me and the girls showed up, but that was two hours ago."

"Hours?!"

Jak had been out here for hours, trapped, and Damas had been none the wiser?

"Why hasn't anyone gotten him out yet?!"

"We tried! The poor kid froze up!"

Damas gritted his teeth and pushed away images of the kid standing alone under that crushing weight for hours until help had woken up.

"Get a truck and winch out of the pit!" He ordered, "Forget damage to the streets, we'll fix it later! I want this thing taken care of now."

It took a full twenty minutes to get the Dozer through the narrow streets of the tower district. By that time, those who had been holding the beam first had cycled out for fresh arms to allow for water and eco. All except Jak. He'd accepted some water that someone poured into his mouth earlier, but still seemed to be unable to let go. He was at the fulcrum point, he insisted, and he wasn't going to let it tip. (Not that he thought he'd actually be able to move at this point.)

Fifteen people attached pulleys and cables to the beam from above, careful not to dislodge the hands of those below. When the cables had all been hooked to the Dozer's winch, the weight began, at last, to lessen.

There was a ragged cheer from the assembled Wastelanders as the end of the beam tipped up and the rescuers eased the other end to the ground. There would be extensive damage to infrastructure to deal with. But nobody had died, and there were no major injuries, and Damas would count that as a victory. Shaking out aching arms, he hurried to the center of the line, where someone was physically holding Jak upright. Damas took hold of the boy's stiff arms carefully.

"It's gone," he said, easing the limbs down, "It's gone, let go, Jak. Come on, you're done."

The kid made a sound, a soft rasping whine that might’ve been words. Then he collapsed.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

When the world drifted back into focus, Jak didn't know where he was. The smell of eco lingered around him, confusing the other scents that could have identified his location. He couldn't move his arms. Why couldn't he move his arms?!

It took a massive effort just to pry his eyelids up. Jak’s breath caught harshly between his teeth as he forced himself onto his side.

Well, that explained the lack of mobility in his arms. He ached like he'd been fighting beyond his limits again. The injection sites would be agitated again, he knew without looking. The pain radiated from his shoulders to his fingertips, skin, muscle, and bone.

The room was a blur. Brown and yellow slowly settled into more colors, ending in something either white or pale blue in front of his nose. The longer he stared at it, the more detail he could see. Pills of thread, clinging to loosely woven fabric. The texture and shape of the warp and weft shifted as he tried to move his hand.

He hissed in pain.

"Well that's what happens when you try to make a career as a load-bearing wall."

Jak tensed. Not alone. Not with Daxter.

Biting down on the pain, he dug his fingers into the pallet beneath him and forced himself upright.

This wasn't the hospital -- small blessings -- but it wasn't his room either. There was a low wooden bedframe on a wall a few feet away, on the other side of some kind of half partition full of plants.

"Where...?"

"Well you're about to think of it as prison," Damas answered from the opposite direction.

He was sitting at a table, hunched over a cup of coffee. The empty pot beside him was a story of its own.

"By the way, you're grounded."

"What?!" Jak sputtered. He started to get up, but fell back onto the pallet with a grunt of pain.

"Like rot!"

Damas glanced back over his shoulder. "Take it up with the doctor. He put you on bedrest, not me. Better yet, blame your own self! You could've let go at any time once the rest of the district turned up to help!"

"The whole...district?"

Jak blinked.

"I don't...remember that..."

Damas sighed and peered into into his mug.

"You've been sleeping most of the day, I'm not surprised. Even with the eco you'll probably be sore for a while."

"How -- ow! -- long was I out there?"

Jak cringed at the look in Damas’s eyes when the man turned around fully.

"Four. Hours. Four hours! Why didn't you let go when others arrived?!"

Was this a trick question? It had to be a trick question.

"Be...cause...I'm not supposed to let other people get hurt?" Jak answered with slow confusion.

Damas stared in complete silence for several seconds. Then,

"You're insane. My foster-son is insane. That's insane! In what world is "throw the youngest under the pillar" a rational solution?!"

"Uh. Haven?" Jak muttered peevishly. He tried to sit up again. "Look, just. Tell me which way my room is and I'll get out of your hair."

Damas pushed his chair back with a scraping sound.

"Mn. No. What part of "bed rest" didn't you hear?"

In brusque motions, he knelt and pulled the blanket back over Jak.

"You are not to do anything even mildly strenuous, or Petros will strangle me. And since I apparently can't trust you not to willingly walk into harm's way unsupervised, you get to camp out in here, and I get to work from home for the next few days to make sure you don't go try to lift a car or something!"

Jak was appalled. "You can't do that!"

Dry as dust, Damas retorted, "First of all, I'm king. Secondly, I'm your legal guardian. Yes I can."

Jak groaned in frustration.

"Where's Daxter?"

"Not grounded."

"Oh come on!"

[stefisdoingthings]

Nightow. Hey Nightow. Thank you for making men cry in various situations. Doing God’s work.

[canisalbus]

Hello! I hope I won't sour your mood with this ask but I have been thinking a lot about your gay dogs this month especially.

I'll just try to keep the context short but in general I'm someone that has accepted being romantically undesireable. It was hard but in the end I have built my life just around me, my humble family and at this point in time I don't even think I have the time for a partner. And considering that it's the love month and a lot of people are preparing to celebrate it with their SOs I assumed that, actually, this is a thing that I sort of have in common with Machete.

From the miscellaneous lore on your profile I see Machete as someone that also has kind of rejected love. That also has built his life around his job, possibly hobbies, his family or mentors (depending if we're talking about canon or modern au). Who kind of forgot that relationships are a thing and that people bond with others in that way. Well, at least he did until meeting Vasco.

I just love thinking about their awkward beginnings. Machete being 100% sure that Vasco is just joking, maybe even sometimes teasing him (in a friendly banter type way) or just explaining to himself that all that kindness and interest is just him being a very considerate friend. And then we have Vasco that just tries to be subtle, as if he was trying to pass a fawn without it noticing and running away, but also with time gains confidence and tries more risque moves. Vasco being all smug and Machete being flustered when their hands or shoulders or tails brush in passing. And then when both are sure of their feelings we have Machete who has to choose between God and his love. Who, at first, unwillingly accepts that divine wrath will be worth their brief love.

I just love your boys. I swear they are all the love supply one might possibly need

Thank you for such a long and thoughtful message! I don't know why you thought you might accidentally sour my mood, I'm utterly delighted whenever I hear that someone has been pondering my little guys (rotating them in their head, as they say), and when they go through the trouble of sharing their findings and conclusions I'm so happy I could crawl up a wall.

I think you deciphered Machete's inner workings very well, especially those of the original canon version. The concept of love is of course prominent in Christianity, so even as a kid being raised in a religious environment that discouraged overt displays of affection and close personal bonds, Machete wasn't completely alienated from it. But it has always been a nebulous, unperceivable and unattainable thing for him. When he was old enough to lock down his career choice he readily accepted he'd never have romantic relationships, spouse or a family, and I think he must've been too young and socially inexperienced to think of it as a significant loss. Either he consciously blocked out the need for companionship by studying and working like his life depended on it, or he didn't really consider that being genuinely befriended, appreciated and loved as a person instead of a respectable and competent authority figure was even an option for him, at least not until Vasco came along.

[mattzerella-sticks]

Something about Riz Gukgak and Max Durden works actually... 😏