#i really like this episode. i tear up at the end

[dimlylittorch]

need to cuddle with a big beefy man fr (1.5k words)

My Masterlist🌱

John Price x emotional!transmasc!reader (maybe neurodivergent!reader too? this is kind of based on how i act and i have adhd + rsd so yeah😭)

I’ve honestly been going through it lately and i really wish i had a john price of my own to make me feel better. but.. i just get to write these instead :(

Warnings: very brief mentions of su!c!dal ideation/SH caused by emotional stress

You and John had been together for a small while. The two of you got on well, balancing each other’s personalities out easily. But as you started to spend more time together, like John sleeping over at your apartment, you found yourself having to be more wary. You had always been an emotional person, which was clear for anyone to see. Always having a smile on your face, it was easy to tell you felt things more deeply than some. But of course, there are two sides to every coin. You did your best to not show your ‘negative’ emotions to anyone. They were known to be.. explosive at times.

After a long day, it wasn’t unusual for you to go home and lock yourself in the bathroom for a small while, sitting on the cold tile floor to ground yourself as you let the tears flow. You learned a long time ago that trying to prevent them just makes it ten times worse. And crying could be triggered by anything for you.. messing something up, thinking someone is mad at you, spilling something on your outfit or your routine being overshadowed. It was hard- feeling like the world was against you. You couldn’t help that you were ‘sensitive’. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t not cry.

Getting your own apartment had been a positive and a negative thing. Positive in the sense that you could cry or express your emotions when you needed to. Negative in the sense that if you were having a really bad emotional episode? You were completely by yourself. Dark thoughts popped up sometimes. You knew it would all pass- but it was still hard to have to sit and listen to your brain telling you it would be easier if you didn’t have to feel it all anymore.

Being different than others had kept you from typical romance scenarios. Not dating much in high school, always feeling too emotionally mature for everyone.. a blessing and a curse. Meeting John and him asking you out was something you never even expected for yourself. But it ended up making sense. Having an older guy with higher maturity really allowed you the space to for once feel less obligated than others to always be mature and in charge. He was like a breath of fresh air when you’d been breathing in smog for far too long.

You had an incredibly shitty day. One of the few friends you had was being distant, your work was piling up so much you had to bring some home, you’d practically forgotten to eat all day.. everything was falling apart at the seams. Unable to hold yourself together, you started crying during the car ride home- which wasn’t all that unusual for you. Pulling into your parking space you make it up the elevator to the door of your apartment. Unlocking the door and walking inside, as soon as the door clicks closed behind you a sharp sob slips past your lips.

Tossing your bags onto the floor, you continue to sob almost uncontrollably as you stumble into the kitchen, vision blurry from tears. Wiping your cheeks with your sleeves as you open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. You can’t drink and cry at the same time.. it was a good hack that never felt like you were forcing yourself to stop crying. Letting yourself slide down the kitchen cabinets, you hit the floor with a weak gasp for breath, face heavily flushed and eyes bloodshot as you continued to cry to yourself.

After a few moments to yourself, you suddenly hear heavy footsteps from the hallway of your apartment. Looking up, your puffy face meets John’s, who is clearly concerned. Wearing a towel around his waist, his hair only slightly wet from the shower he must have taken- you interrupted him drying himself off. He wasn’t supposed to come over today. Christ- you interfered with another persons life. Why did you have to be such a bother?

He quickly darted over, immediately crouching down as his eyes scan over your form, checking for something wrong. “Sweetheart?” He says quickly, his voice slightly panicked. “What’s wrong?”

Staring up at him like an idiot, you can’t help but look away out of embarrassment. You never let anyone hear you cry like this. “Nothing” you murmur faintly as you wipe your cheeks. “Just.. needed to cry.” The embarrassment of getting caught like this made the tears stop almost instantly.

He looks at you with furrowed brows and a confused gaze. “Love..” he murmurs softly as he kneels in front of you, cupping your chin and pulling you to look at him. “I’ve barely heard men who’ve been shot cry that hard.” He says softly out of concern as his thumb rubs over your cheek.

Sighing softly, you lean into his touch. “I just.. I cry really hard. Always have.” You confess faintly. “I’m sorry- I never wanted you to see that.” You sniff.

With a huff, he gently leans forward and pulls you into his arms, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “Hearing you like that broke my heart.” He whispers gruffly against your ear. “Don’t you ever hide from me again. Not when you’re hurting like that.”

Sniffing faintly as you let him hold you, you can’t help but feel the guilt bubble up inside of you. You weren’t hurting that bad.. you just cried really hard. For some reason. It was never justified- you were just always overreacting.. nothing can hurt that bad. At least, that’s what you’ve been told your whole life. “I’m really okay.” You murmur softly, but you can tell your heart isn’t in your words. “I just.. overreact. I don’t know how to fix it.”

Shushing you, he holds you tighter against him. “No one could fake that, lovie.” He murmurs against your heated cheek. “Your little heart is too damn big.” He sighs. He gently scoops you up into his arms, bringing you to your bedroom which you’d perfectly crafted to be a safe space. Setting you down, he reaches to grab one of your stuffed animals before putting them in your arms. “I know ya like the softer things, sweetheart.” He says softly as he walks over to his overnight bag to pull out some clothes.

Sighing contentedly, you wrap your arms around your plushie, holding it tightly to your chest as you try to forget about the day you’d had. The crying spells came out of nowhere, but ended after a small while. Even then.. you’d learned early on that other people don’t need to cry that hard. But for some reason you always did. “Some friend in high school saw me cry like that once.” You whisper faintly, burying your face into the plushie in front of you. “They stopped being friends with me after that.” You sniff. “Are you going to leave too?” You asked, unable to look at him.

He paused at your words as he slipped his sweatpants on before walking over and sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ve seen combat, love.” He murmurs comfortingly as he brushes a piece of hair behind your ear. “You think a few tears could scare me off?”

Shaking your head slightly, you let out a soft sigh. “I wish I didn’t do that.” You said faintly. “It gets hard.. having to run away and cry. But if I don’t- it starts to hurt. Physically, I mean. Well, it hurts either way. But it hurts more if I try not to.”

John sighs softly as he looks down at you. “I don’t remember that last time I cried.” He murmurs softly. “I miss.. being able to feel like that. Emotional.” He says faintly as his hand reaches over to stroke your hair.

Letting out a contented sigh at his touch, you let yourself melt into the mattress slightly, reaching behind you to tug your weighted blanket over yourself, which he quickly helps with. When you process his words, your bloodshot eyes meet his own. “C’mere” you murmur, holding up the blanket for him.

He chuckles slightly, shifting to lay down next to you, smiling to himself when your arm slips around his waist to hold him close. With his back to your chest, he can’t think of another time he felt this.. safe. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had let him be the little spoon. “I should be holding you, yknow.” He murmurs.

When you grab another plushie from your bed pile and reach over him, placing it in his hands, he can’t help but laugh. “Let me hold you.” You say softly. “And you hold him.”

With a tired smile, he wraps his arms around the silly little stuffed animal, letting his mind fade away into the warmth and comfort of your arms. Only his baby would find comfort in comforting others. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten to find someone like you.

hey!! on the last writing i posted i added a poll, and John Price fluff was in the lead. I know I haven’t been posting much fluff w/o smut, so i hope y’all enjoy :D

[fandomwe1rd0]

Honestly, while this episode was hot garbage. I did really like this scene, even though it broke my heart. Morty deserves more moments like this. Considering all the shit that happened in this episode, just finding out his grandpa was a robot for months, and wasn't really nice to him, finding out that a mistake he made might cause the end of the world, no wonder he broke down and cried. He deserves to have moments where he breaks down, and just vent. He has to keep his feelings bottled up, so it completely makes sense that he just broke down in tears and just needed to vent.

I also really like how the president, despite how dumb and incompetent he is shown to be, actually acknowledges that Morty's a kid. Very little people actually realize this, or at least don't acknowledge it. A lot of people just treat him like a mini adult, and a lot of the fandom sees Morty as an adult because of all of the shit he goes through, despite the fact that he's 14.

Really the president is the only person that really acknowledged that he's a kid. I mean Summer does call him her little brother at times, and sometimes Rick calls him kiddo, but that's really it. And even then, Rick makes it clear multiple times that he sees Morty more-so as one of his adult friends, instead of his teenage grandson.

I hope we get more moments like these, Morty deserves more sad-boy moments.

[thurstydiaz]

Chris is laughing because, well, what else can he do.

He was pretty calm when Eddie moved to El Paso, all things considered. Abeulo told him theres a big difference between being 13 and being 14, like this piece of your brain unlocks and you learn to think all over again. It's like, yeah, theres this new shelf somewhere in his brain. He can feel these thoughts now - hes been able to do that this whole time, he thinks, but with that new shelf in his brain he can see that both I'm just a kid and I've dealt with so much in my life its irrevocably changed the way I interact with the world. Nothings really just a shrug anymore, even when he tries.

Just a week ago he watched Lego Ninjago with tía Sophia's toddler and it's like his brain pulled out all his knowledge up to that point of the series and he genuinely thought to himself: "are these filler episodes?" On his cartoon? Filler? And there it found itself, sat on that new shelf - this thought - that suddenly this episode could be taken out of the show completely and the final battle would still be breathtaking and the story to get there unfettered. The next episode feels much the same and Chris disengages, nearly hysteric, as Lloyd the ninjago pauses his, up to this point incredible, character development to do a sick kick flip on a dodgeball court. He does another, then runs off the screen and does one more move then ends with a knowing wink to Chris as he slides his little Lego body on that new shelf.

So, his dad showing up and staying in a nice Airbnb - done. Not even on the shelf.

He misses him, objectively, lovingly. Its tense because, duh, but Eddie takes him to the lake and shopping and introduces him to a bbq place that Abeulo said was a total tourist trap. It's delicious, a total trap, and Chris walks away with a Polaroid of them both smudged with sauce and beaming through their ruined bibs. That sits on a shelf on his wall next to a discarded pair of swim goggles. Sometimes its turned down, when his stomach tears in knots and he finds himself unable to picture Eddie without a clouded storm of his dead mother over his shoulders.

Eddie staying for more than a quick trip - fine. He's a grown man, he can do what he wants. Chris isnt grown but Eddie let's him do what he wants. Odd. But oh well. He can see how his dad is so nervous to tell him, the way his shoulders tense and his back is stick straight even in these funny wooden chairs his family's passed on for generations, how he keeps flicking his eyes to the doorway where his grandma is definitely snooping on the other side.

That's the first shelf thought he dares to filed away under Dad. Eddie's not only nervous in front of him, his son, who he's let flee. Hes nervous in front of his parents. His mother. Who he fled from. Is this where he sat when he told them about Chris? Did he twist his fingers the same way - was his back this tense before the army changed him - was Shannon there? Theres a picture somewhere of his parents at this table, exhaustion evident in their figures, with Chris on a little bouncer on the table between them. Did she like this table? These chairs?

Eddie tells him "I'm here, mijo. I cant - I wo - I'm here. I love you too much to miss you, Chris." And theres Eddie, again, filed firmly on that shelf next to the child version of himself who's dreading telling his secrets. Chris can't articulate it well. Instead, he swallows the lump in his throat and nods his head and ducks away when he gets the chance. Voices fill the space he's abandoned and he hears his grandmother's voice grow shrill and he can envision his dad still tense in that chair and he files that away too. Some shelves have shelves, he finds.

Eddie's place is nice, even though he lied about his stay at first. Theres a dip in the shutters on the west facing wall and a few gaps where the caulk wasnt applied properly on the window seals and theres a drawer in the kitchen that pops put from behind the island and doesnt close properly. Both bathrooms have walk in showers and Eddie shows him these minuscule divots in the hallway where the previous owner had rails installed, removed, and covered with cheap spackle. "In case, you know, we ever need it," he says with far less nerves than Chris expected. Files that thought on the shelf. He intends to stay in El Paso.

Not ideal. El Paso is - temporary. Knew that going in. Acts on that even when he's having the time of his life with the vaguely rebellious teens from his new social circles. No plans for the summer under his watch, no sir. Hes got comraderie in chess club with this girl with green hair who's an orphan because I live with my grandparents too, it's kinda lame, isnt it? She invited him to her birthday, tentatively planned for some safari a 30 minute drive away at the end of April, and when he tells her he should be home by that time her face twists up in a familiar manner. Can see her file that information away on a shelf of her own.

So - look - he sees it all in a new light, is what hes saying. His grandparents arent hovering they're worried. Hes not just a kid who's experienced trauma hes a person with life experience some people couldnt find in their nightmares. His dads not difficult hes complex. Hes got layers.

That version of his mother he saw that night wasnt a ghost. Shannon's more than that, and so was she. He cant imagine why she was there, why she looked like a ghost, but some adults cant explain why they choose the everyday things they do - he cant expect either parties involved to sit with him and tell him with clarity why that evening was happening in the first place.

And that thought, it's not - filed away, per say, but it stops guiding his actions. He stops wishing he had an answer the more Eddie picks him up from school, stops pulling that want to understanding off the shelf to admire when he finds Eddie's face in the crowd at chess club. They play among us one night with his cousins and he doesnt even consider using yeah well you abandoned me emotionally as a retort when Eddie (rightfully) calls Chris sus for killing while lights are off. His little alien flies into the vast abyss, unbothered.

Inhibitions, released. Maybe he can learn a thing or two from that silly little alien.

And today - oh, today. Today he's roped his bisabeula into making lasagna. Its not as good as Bucks, another thought hes found on that shelf, but it reminds him of that loft and the LA air and what it's like to stick his hand out of the window to flow with the air during that short drive over. Bisabeula's house is small, two rooms the size of closets decked out with different themed blankets for each great grandkid opposite her own tiny master and a shed out back housing all her prized heirlooms to pass down one day. Last time they were all here, Eddie dug out a rocking horse for tía Sophia's aforementioned toddler.

Eddie's probably hungry. Yeah. And he'd love a reminder of LA.

Bisabeula folds easily, drives him over with a happy little grin on her face, and she idly carresses her course chin hairs - whiskers! his abuela scolds - as she tells him she's got a bridge meeting she forgot about so you'll have to take this in, and I'm sure your dad can take you home later.

Yeah, he wont wait up.

He puts the bag with the casserole dish on the swing on the porch and waves her away as he digs for the spare key in his pockets. No keyring, he just - carries it, totally normally.

Opens the door, finally, and -

Thing is, no quick abandonment on either of their ends. They promised.

So instead of fleeing, Eddie stands. Frozen. Instead of fleeing, slamming the door and therefore all the effort that's brought them here, Chris gapes.

The guy standing behind Eddie, though, arms circling his dad's chest and head buried in his neck - he seems to not get the message. His hold squeezes his father and Chris can see one of his legs between the pair in front. Theres low music playing from somewhere, a Spanish tune he recognizes from his abuelo's shows, and the guy is trying to sway with it. That must be what pulls his focus to the rest of the room, when his head dips a little lower on Eddie's clavicle and he finds the man under his arms stock still and he chuckles, deep but still finding it's way to Chris across the room. "Not giving up now, are you?" He says and then finally comes up for air and flings himself from Eddie's back.

Its quiet, the confusion, even through the hasty movements as the guy - taller than the archway behind them, curly hair cropped tight to his head and decked out in dressed-down business casual - scrambles away from Eddie and gathers his things from the coffee table. He says something and Eddie idles like he has a response but cant form the words. Chris's hold on a crutch wanes a little.

Eddie snaps out of it first - expected - because hes got this guy that's obviously trying not to get too close to either of them as he flaps his hand and babbles to the both of them what Chris can only imagine is an excuse to make this all fade away. Hes mentioning something about Church of all things when Eddie finally pulls his eyes from Chris, flushes even further, and tells the guy to "go out the back. I'll uh - I'll talk to you later."

The guy disappears out the back. The change in pressure makes the front door bounce on its hinges, knocks into Chris's crutch.

The shelf is not stable. In fact, Chris thinks this shelf in particular, housing all things Edmundo Diaz, firefighter, father, has completely vanished. Spilled all these thoughts and ruminations on the floor like a spilled lasagna. He cant stop a giggle. "So this is what we do now?"

Eddie's voice is hoarse. "Chris - I -"

Chris brushes him off, pushes into the house with pointed clicks and clacks on his way to the dining table. "Theres lasagna on the porch." He slides into a seat and shucks off his crutches and turns to find Eddie still there, looking towards the front door. Rolls his eyes. "Its not as good as Buck's but bisabeula made it so you cant tell her that."

That knocks Eddie back to life, for some reason. He retrieves the lasagna, plates up two servings, slides them in the microwave and taps his finger on the counter as he watches them dance around each other inside. Stops every few seconds, takes a breath, and doesnt turn to check that Chris is still there. When they're done the beeping cuts through the room like a bullet and Eddie takes it like a champ, bleeds out as he sets the plates and forks and cans of coke on the table between them.

His back is tense and his face is pinched and his cheeks are red and Chris knows that he wishes he could run right now. It reminds him of when he read his moms letter about why she abandoned him. Sometimes you have to love from far away. They both know how to do that.

God but hes tired of the action.

"I'm not mad at you."

"You should be."

Chris scoffs. "Of all the things I can be mad at you for, this doesnt even tip the scales." That's kind of a lie.

Theres a piece of Edmundo Diaz, father spilled onto the floor that catches his eyes. Eddie on one side, Buck on the other, Chris in the middle miserably losing a round on Mario Party. Eddie's chuckling, his arm is extended behind Chris. Not on his shoulder. Bucks couch doesnt have a high back. Wheres his hand?

"That's - um - okay. Good?"

Chris shrugs. "Its not Buck's but it's alright."

"Mijo." Eddie says it like a prayer. He prays now, sort of. He goes to the church with bisabeula and lights those tall candles around the house. Tía Addie pulled him to the table during a round of bullshit and Eddie went easily, signed the cross when he was given a hand and reminded everyone with a shaky breath that hes not competitive. Total crock of shit. He doesnt know the specifics but he remembers Eddie coming home with all those steaks that one time. Buck cooked them - Eddie was only allowed to sear them. Inside. Supervised. Beaming like he'd caught a golden goose.

"You're into guys, dad, it's not, like, prohibition times anymore. It's fine." Chris takes a long drink from his coke. "Just dont be surprised if I never use the front door again."

Eddie chuckles, rye, and pokes his hunk of lasagna. Tries but fails to look at Chris.

Edmundo Diaz, firefighter. Chris started doing laundry a couple years back, strictly one load a week. Dad caught him rewearing underwear because he had to do two loads, once, and decided he'd never live a life where he needed that again. Small closet, comfy clothes, nothing more. Dad had a small closet but still did laundry every day, rain or shine, on account of the smokey smell. Even when he was at dispatch. He said it lingered.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Chris. You deserve - "

"Can we not - "

They both fall silent.

"No." Eddie finally says. "The two of us, kid, we're better than that. I'm sorry I haven't - that I. I trust you, Chris, so much. You're so grown up and somehow you're so well adjusted and I - huh - I am doing my best to be better for both of us. So you can keep being, dios, such a kind, smart, amazing guy. And I can be someone that you trust, too."

He used to just say "You and me then everyone else." That phrase comes to him, shuffles on a shelf that does exist, then settles in the air.

"I should have told you... it was never my intention for this to happen, Chris, god. If you want to get rid of your key you can."

And that's - firefighter, who holds him tight at the end of a long shift. Wakes him up to fried eggs and crispy bacon and sugary mini waffles and still floats through the house like a zombie through it all. Huh.

"I don't want to leave you over this, dad." He runs away once, jeez.

This is all familiar, in ways it's not. His shirt is similar. Chris is ganglier, hangs his body differently, thinks more profoundly. Eddie's none of those - has a solid presence that saves lives, one that used to wrestle with him against his grandparent's wishes and hovered when they tested crutches. Has that stability in him that Chris used to cling to the moment he was home from school and found his father there, ready and waiting. Breathing. Alive. Dumb as a bag of rocks, bless him.

Okay, this is enough.

"Just... can we go home already."

Eddie takes a deep breath. "You just said you didn't want to leave."

"Not!" Chris grasps at his hair, clenching and unclenching. "Not you, dad. Not back to my abuelos and not to bisabeulas, or to tìas or Buck's or the park or where-freakin-ever! I want us to go home." He punctuates the end syllable by syllable, pounding an open palm on the table.

"You - ok, yeah. Yeah. If you're sure. We can start moving some things in, maybe get -"

"This isn't home, dad, this is a shell of a house." His voice echoes in the room.

"This is where I live now, Chris. This is home."

"No it's not."

It's a challenge. They both hear it. Good ole Diaz genes and all.

Eddie's lasagna is pulled apart like hes doing open heart surgery on that table. Chris finished his, somewhere along the line, and their forks are sat in mirroring positions against their plates. If he looks to the left - oh, right. Buck's not there. He's usually already up by this point, to be honest, offering Chris another helping. Hes not at the fridge either. It's still so odd.

Eddie follows his eyes and swallows something.

"I want to go home too, mijo."

"Can we? Please?" Eddie tears up. Doesnt look away. "Dad, please take me home."

Its quick, after that. He's quick - quicker to show and accept affection, quicker to use his words and explain himself coherently and catch onto those looks the adults around him share when they think he's an invalid or something. Its quick and easy saying bye to his friends and its quick when he tells his abuela he's going home and hes quick when he tells abuelo that yes, I'm certain this is what I want and no, dont get rid of my room and hey, maybe we'll be back for a visit this summer. He's still using his old duffle and hes quick to separate his clothes and his El Paso clothes. He hasnt grown that much. Hes not - without.

Dad's slower, but not in opposition to him. His house was barely unpacked so he doesnt need to rush. He calls Bobby just a day later and hes got the job before he's even asked, finishes the call behind watery eyes and in a different room. Buck sent him down with some kitchen gadgets he never used so he has his sisters over to take them away. They drink wine and bicker over a bread maker and say things like shame you're on your way out now that I kinda like you and now everyone in my book club has a gay brother in LA and dont forget us again.

They're almost back to LA and somewhere on the road, Chris finds that those pieces of Edmundo Diaz, firefighter, father are still scattered everywhere.

His dad is right here, though.

[multishipperbish]

storing this here cause i'll forget otherwise. i designed a tattoo for my mom (or myself if she doesn't like it) of the creepy gas mask kid from dr who in the style of Banksy because we rewatched the episode today and we got to talking about what it might look like. i fucked it up a little cause the arm was supposed to be pointing (instead of holding a hand) but i had no idea how to achieve that + he's not facing the right way to be pointing + he's not nearly as menacing as i'd hoped but whatever. i kind of really like it even though i keep finding things wrong with it. would go hard on either of our forearms i think

tw for gas masks. i know that shit is creepy as fuck so be warned. it's a transparent image so uhhh rip if you got dark mode on. i do and it's great for the night but shit for this image in particular. oh well

[mollysunder]

The Medarda arc of s2 struggled to be good, because the plot viciously smothered it. You can argue that Arcane was never about politics but you cannot say the Medardas were never explicitly a family defined by politics. So when the show shifted it's priorities from a drama steeped in political conflict where even though the setting was fantastical the stakes were grounded to a shift where magic is the end all be all threat to humanity, the Medardas are rendered largely irrelevant.

In s2 Mel's agency over her own story is both largely stripped from her and poorly communicated. Arcane has Mel abducted from the plot to be the Black Rose's captive. Even when Mel manages to free herself it's not through the traits the audience understands are her strengths, her cunning and social intelligence, it's through an innate instinct that natural to her and indecipherable to the audience.

Ambessa as a character is more or less a villain of convenience, which would be fine if she wasn't immediately following Silco's act. Once Mel is removed from the story Ambessa is largely disconnected from any emotional tension fuels conflict between the characters and previously drove the plot in s1. She's there to play the worse bad guy for Caitlyn and then give Viktor the man power for the Glorious Evolution.

It's frustrating to see the Medardas used the way they are in s2 because when they're together I can see how it could be good. When they're together Mel forces emotion out of Ambessa. In Act 1, Ambessa proved she could do circles around Piltover's court, which could actually put Mel in a tight spot.

Their final scene on paper sounds like a good idea where the true resolution to Mel and Ambessa's story was that Ambessa saw Mel's own ruthless behavior as she not only betrayed Ambessa to the Black Rose, but used her as BAIT to double cross LeBlanc. Ambessa died proud that her daughter killed her the way she did, and that's so cool and tragic, but the execution was a flop.

One, their final fight is completely unimportant to the actual Glorious Evolution, Mel's grief can't even be a highlight because it's interrupted by Viktor's mind trap. Two, their fight didn't rely on any of Mel's actual strengths, just magic and the poorly explained MacGuffin LeBlanc gave her. How did Mel even know it would do that?

It's like the writers had the bones for a great story for the Medardas, but then they're like the world's worst archeologists and fit those bones together in the worst way possible because they were convinced the bones made a stegasaurus instead of a T-rex or something.

[egophiliac]

I have a question about the jp server pickups, since I really want knight Sebek, but I’m trying to save gems for bloom malleus + the 3rd tsum event that’s gonna show up sooner or later. Iirc, after knight Sebek, the next story update’s pickup had all of the previous story cards (ie cerberus Ortho, general Lilia, and knight Sebek). Is this true, and if it is, did it include a token system like the dorm pickups where you can just do 100 pulls and then buy the specific card you want directly? Because if that is how it works, then I can wait until then and be sure I won’t have to go to 200 for him.

we did indeed get a second chance at those three when 7-7 came out! I'm pretty sure there was not a token system -- though admittedly I don't 100% remember, sorry! 🙇 I took a quick search through some past posts/videos from people who tend to include the gacha and news stuff, but I didn't see any mention of it, so I'm inclined to think there really wasn't one. :( they were all separate pickups with their own pull counts rather than a combined one, if that info helps at all.

speaking as a strict f2p who hoards keys/gems like the lovechild of a dragon and a magpie, given the choice between saving for a story card and a birthday card, I'd go for story -- it does require a lot of patience, but there are way more opportunities to get past birthday cards, both from the anniversary events and the rerun pickups! tsums is a bit harder to say anything on because Eng doesn't follow the same event schedule, but it's a longish event and those pickups let you have a free 10-roll, so I think they're also a bit easier to save up for.

(ALSO speaking of free rolls, starting with the fifth round of birthdays -- the kutsurogi my room ones -- the birthday boy/union jacket/bloom cards have had a separate pickup that you can get two free 10-pulls at by doing missions! I got a bloom Jade from it a couple weeks ago. :D meanwhile general Lilia is the only story card I've ever managed to pull, so...I'm probably kinda biased. whoops.)

[bumblingbabooshka]

Harry Kim saying Naomi is lucky to be born on Voyager and that he would have given "anything" to have her life when he was a kid...

[inmontana]

was last night real ? jeeeeeesus.

[uniformbravo]

the natsuyuu manga is so funny the volume will be like "natsume grapples with his desire for unconditional love versus his fear of burdening those around him, knowing the more he opens his heart to the people he cares about the more he stands to lose if something goes wrong; these people are the warmest he's ever known and he's the happiest he's ever been and that scares him because he can't shake the feeling that it's fleeting and fragile and could all disappear at any moment, so all he can do is fight to protect everything he loves and hope one day he'll deserve the precious happiness he's been given here"

and then the blurb on the back is like "natsume climbs up into the attic to look for some books, but... uh oh... is that a... g-g-g-ghost??!? things are about to get freaky deaky in here if he doesn't do something... quick!!! will natsume be able to handle it before the clock strikes thirteen, or will he become... gulp... the ghost's next meal?!?"

[myfanfictiongarden]

Omg…. episodes 11 & 12 The Spoils and Kalends of February is what I`ve been looking for.

I’m not kidding when I say I’m in tears, this episodes were incredible.

[ratguy-nico]

[the-best-bagel]

trying to watch ZZ right after Z gundam is actually really fucking hard. I don't think I'd mind the tone shift if there was a little more seperation between the series, but having zz pick up literally right after z is pissing me off.

Fa is so real for being mad the entire time like you just saw all your friends die, Kamille's lost it, and now the ship is being manned by a bunch of 14 year old highschool dropouts fucking around while she and the rest of the old crew are still just trying to survive.

I have no idea why sunrise had ZZ be Z's second cour its so bizzare and they both suffer for it. the zeta cast [Fa] just gets shoved to the side before they've really had a proper conclusion while the ZZ cast just feel like an annoying intrusion.

If they had just given them like a year long timeskip and had all the Z stuff come in as flashbacks once the ZZ plot actually started happening then the tonal dissonance might have been a lot milder and we'd get the opportunity to care about the new characters without the baggage of Z's ending. That's basically what they did with Char's axis stuff and i think it worked there

[tariah23]

Outside of all of… that happening to Gojo, and finishing Snowfall the other day, eek……..

[freak60000]

i CANT stop thinking about how heartbreaking simon and betty’s story really is like every time i think about it i’m so emotional because it’s so bittersweet and so beautiful and so tragic and such a perfect doomed lovers story i can’t take it i haaate them

[earl-grey-crow]

so. coyle.

[ehnrat]

i was also lookin up the full versions on the KHR songs and i saw that ponycanon uploaded one of my fav endings 3 weeks ago and HRMMMMMM