#w:3k

[percabetn]

i can’t stop thinking about how annabeth e-mailed percy the photo of her at dc but this doofus decided to print it and put it in his notebook to stare at her whenever he could. talk about dedication

[susie-dreemurr]

Btw are we not gonna talk about how Falin immediately smiles like this when Marcille calls out to her?

Her mind may be in shambles right now but I think a part of her was like: “oh… gf :]” and then got distracted by all the killable humans in the area.

[grandadtwelve]

I know that donna was like “haha yeah doctor you’ve always been kinda gay” but it’s better 2 me if the doctor actually meant “oh I say that shit out loud now” the same way he said that about verbalizing his feelings/saying “love”. bc do I think the doctor was completely unaware of any and all attraction they’ve ever had to men? nah not at all. do I think the doctor has ever seen an attractive person and immediately gone “yeah. smash.” out loud? no sir

[pippynsworld]

Undercover mission (& taking a well deserved break)

[tiffycat]

I remember seeing some fans suggest "Cardinal" as a hero name for Tim a while back, so I tried my hand at what I think Cardinal Tim Drake would look like

[portraitdelajeunefilleenfeu]

@metaldamage ! #Avatrice #WarriorNun #SaveWarriorNun

[tangledinink]

5K DTIYS! I cannot believe there's so many of you now!!! I am positively flattered and tickled, so I wanna give out some prizes to thank y'all! Winners will be randomly selected-- Artists and writers alike are welcome to participate and get added to the raffle pool! Further details/rules below the cut.

Not an artist? That's OK! Write something that you think could be in this magazine-- an article, an interview, a quiz, etc-- and that will count as a submission!

Deadline is Halloween, 'cause it's fun. 10/31/23. There's no deadline for participating-- that's just the deadline to be added to the raffle pool to get a Fun Prize.

I'll draw two winners ('cause Gemini, get it?) I'll draw a small comic (2-5 pages) for 'first' place, and I'll do a sketch for 'second' place! I do reserve the right to decline any requests that I'm not comfortable drawing.

Submissions don't stack. Drawing AND writing something won't get you in the raffle twice, though you're welcome to do both if you feel so inspired!

Please tag me and use #gemini5kdtiys ! Otherwise the submission may not be counted. If you tag me and it doesn't seem like I've seen it (I don't like and/or reblog it,) feel free to nudge me!

You gotta be following me to be added to the raffle pool!~

THANK YOU GUYS FOR THE SUPPORT AND FOR 5K FOLLOWERS ; w ; this is a rule.

[atlabeth]

congratulations on 3k!!! could I get a cute lil 🧸 hurt/comfort with nikolai where reader is grisha (maybe heartrender or inferni) and she gets jurda parem in her system and nikolai stays with her while she waits it out (like nina and matthias??) also drink water <333

by your side

pairing: nikolai lantsov x fem inferni!reader

summary: you end up as collateral in a plot against nikolai. he helps you through the aftermath.

a/n: so sorry this took so long but that’s going to be the case for all of these lol !!! oops. but i love this man and i hope you enjoy it

wc: 1.2k

warning(s): reader goes through parem withdrawal and is kinda mean to nikolai for a bit. mentions of kidnapping and drugging. hurt/comfort, nikolai is the sweetest

“Nikolai—”

��I know.”

“It hurts, Nikolai,” you breathed.

“I know, milaya.” He brushed loose strands of hair out of your eyes, matted to your forehead by sweat and blood, his heart breaking more with every passing second. “I know.”

Nikolai couldn’t stand to see you like this. You didn’t even want him to—you asked him to leave so you could go through it on your own, but he would sooner die than leave you alone. You had an iron grip on his hand, but he hardly felt it. After what had been done to you in the name of getting to him, Nikolai owed you this much.

“Everything burns,” you moaned. “My— my bones—”

You were cut off by a sharp gasp of pain and your grip on Nikolai’s hand tightened. The action made you grimace as your eyes screwed shut, but you didn’t lessen your hold.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to ease this pain for you. He understood little of jurda parem, if a cure even existed, but he did know that you were strong enough to weather what was meant to be an insurmountable storm.

“You can end it,” you said, your voice shaking. Bloodshot eyes met his own, wide and dilated and full of unimaginable pain. “You’ve got to still have some here.”

“You know I can’t do that, my love,” he murmured.

“Please, Nikolai,” you begged.

“It will only make it worse,” he said. “There is nothing we can do but wait. You are strong enough to get through it, milaya.”

“Then what are you good for?” you snarled, your voice rising with the sudden flash of anger. “You’re a damned king, but you can’t even stop this?”

You tried to rip your hand away but Nikolai wouldn’t let you. He laid his other hand on top of yours.

“Look at me, Nikolai,” you hissed. “You say you love me and you leave me like this.”

“It is because I love you that I cannot give anything to you,” he said. “I can’t imagine how this feels, but I will be here for you every second of the way.”

You shook your head as another pained gasp escaped you, and somehow your grip tightened even more.

“I just want it to stop,” you begged. “Please, please make it stop.”

You were drenched in sweat, the bedsheets and the undergarments you’d stripped down to soaked through, and yet you hadn’t been granted any reprieve.

You’d always found comfort in the blazes you could create—able to fight with unbelievable ferocity one moment and make a harmless, beautiful show out of it that summoned all the stars in Nikolai’s eyes the next—but now it threatened to consume you.

Nikolai couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault.

You should have never been involved in the first place. He should’ve done a better job at protecting you, should have kept your name hidden, should have never let anyone have the chance to do something like this in the first place.

It was his fault. Nikolai knew he had enemies, more than he could ever imagine after ascending to the throne. Some stupid, naive part of him hoped that you wouldn’t become a part of that, but that was all it was—naivety.

You were kidnapped to get to him. Drugged to get to him. The bastards must have hoped you would go up in flames once you were done, but they underestimated you. Your foes always did.

You didn’t deserve any of this. Those criminals knew one thing, at least, because Nikolai would have taken all your pain as his burden for the rest of his life if it meant one second of reprieve for you.

But he couldn’t. His enemies wanted him to suffer, and the best way to do that was to make you suffer.

“I know,” he whispered, and he raised your intertwined hands to press a kiss to the back of your palm. “I know.”

Your skin had all but ignited from the inside out, more intense than anything an Inferni could muster on their own. You could have plunged to the depths of the Isenvee and still burn the whole way down.

And it continued on.

You hurled every curse at him in your native Zemeni, and when you ran out you turned to what you knew in Ravkan. You tried to throw him off or get him to leave a hundred times, tried anything to make him hate you. He could never hate you.

You sobbed through your pain, begging Nikolai to make it end. You gripped his hand so tightly he thought it might break. You asked him to kiss you to distract you for even a moment.

You endured every hellish, torturous second, and Nikolai stayed by your side through it all.

“Nikolai.” The sudden whisper was so soft he had to lean closer to hear you.

“Yes, my love?”

“I’m so tired.”

“You can sleep,” he assured. “I will be right here with you.”

“Hold me.” Your voice cracked, and his heart twisted. “Please.”

“Are you sure?” Every part of you had been so sensitive, practically ablaze, and he didn’t want to worsen your already sensitive condition.

“I… I feel so empty.” You blinked a few times, but he saw the tears shimmering in your eyes. “Like— like I lost a part of myself, and I need to feel something.”

Nikolai’s throat bobbed, and he nodded. “Of course, lapushka.”

He climbed into bed next to you and laid down, gathering you up in his arms as gently as possible.

“Is this alright?” he asked softly as he pulled you close.

You nodded. He could feel each beat of your heart with your back pressed against his chest, and he’d never been more grateful for the sound. Your skin still burned, but he welcomed the blaze.

“It’s perfect.”

“Good.”

For a moment, the two of you laid there in silence. Only your heartbeat and your breathing interrupted it, yours still slightly harried.

“I’m not hurting you,” he asked, “am I?”

“…No.”

You paused before you answered, and Nikolai frowned as he said your name.

“It doesn’t matter,” you interrupted. “Everything hurts right now—I’m not going to let that keep you away from me.”

He let out a wry laugh, and he pulled you even closer. “There she is.”

He could almost feel your smile in the shift of energy, but another moment passed before you spoke.

“I’m so sorry about everything I said.” Your whisper came out as a rasp, your throat scratchy from your ordeal. “I love you, Nikolai. More than anything. You know that, right?”

“I could never forget,” he said. “Not with all the love I hold for you.”

“…Good.” He felt you swallow hard. “I’m so sorry.”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Nikolai said. “It was my fault all of this happened.”

“It was their fault,” you insisted. “You saved me, Nikolai. I owe you my life.”

“And I owe you mine,” he said. “So shall we call it even? No apologies necessary?”

You let out a soft laugh, followed by a grimace. “Even.”

Nikolai smiled and nodded. “Good.”

“…I’m tired,” you repeated, even softer this time.

“Rest, milaya,” Nikolai said. “I won’t leave your side.”

“You swear?”

“On every saint, new and old,” he said. “And every vlachka in the Lantsov coffers.”

He waited for your response, but there was nothing apart from your gentle, even breathing. He allowed a soft smile before he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

Nikolai would never let anyone hurt you again.

[mittsushi]

lab work

[kittycatcorner]

shows up to give you the coffinchain challenge

Please be more careful when you cross the road You’re a perfect arrangement of rickety bones

Stray cats.

Peter had always likened the apprentices to a group of stray cats, in his mind.

At first it was out of distaste. They were a nuisance; a band of drifters slinking around the alleyways, catching their quarries unaware. The quick, sharp jab of a hypodermic needle might as well have been the efficient killing bite that a cat might deliver to the throat of its prey. They worked in the shadows, occupying all of those lonely abandoned buildings and reworking them for a new, twisted purpose. 

Then, begrudgingly, he’d found himself wrapped up in Mark Hoffman. Chasing him, hunting him, hellbent on bringing him to justice, then on killing him, then on understanding him, then…

Well, Peter didn’t know what he was doing now. 

All he knew was that sitting in his apartment, in varying states of composure, were three of Jigsaw’s disciples. 

Dr. Gordon sat on his couch, eyes trained down as his hands worked on bandaging a fresh wound on the arm of his younger accomplice. Stanheight sat quietly and allowed for the medical attention with little fight. Hoffman himself sat on the floor, back leaned against the couch close to the other two. 

Peter remained standing, trying not to buckle at the absurdity of his situation. In true stray-animal nature, he had made the mistake of allowing Hoffman into his home once, twice, thrice, and now he’d come back with friends. 

‘Don’t feed the strays’, indeed. 

Accept that he did know the other two, at this point. The polite Dr. Gordon was well-spoken and direct; Peter had found him infuriating in the beginning. He was a hard man to interrogate and an even harder man to intimidate, as level and unflinching as he was. Unlike Peter, he never seemed to let his anger get the best of him, and he seemed to know that. Dr. Gordon was a man who always seemed very aware of how much more control he had in the conversation. It was enviable. 

Then there was Adam Faulkner-Stanheight. Mouthful of a name. It was strange enough for Peter to wrap his head around the fact that the kid was alive, let alone working with Jigsaw. He was angry- had more rage in his scrawny little body than what felt possible. Stupid and impulsive, Peter had found him annoying. Just a petulant adolescent who had gotten himself into bigger trouble than he yet realized. 

They’ve come a long way since then. Both apprentices had grown on him, maybe because they reminded him of himself in their amalgamate qualities. The cold, callous bluntness of the doctor. The white-hot temper of the kid. The way he had never seen the former so gentle nor the latter so complacent until now, as they patched themselves together on his bloodied furniture. 

Peter had been reluctant to welcome them all inside. It was bad enough to shelter one serial killer, but now three? It reminded him that everything he’s been doing as of late is against what he once stood for. Fuck, it would solve a hell of a lot of his own problems if he didn't care. If he’d let them all rot, make them regret thinking that Peter would risk his own hide just because he's been friendly with them. Dr. Gordon and Stanheight had seemed to understand this too. Their expressions had been apprehensive, looking ready to flee like the animals they were. Peter wonders how long ago he would have given chase. 

Hoffman had spoken, then. 

“I didn’t-” His voice was shot and exhausted. “I didn’t know where else to go, Strahm.” 

And just like that, Peter took them in. Those words were all it took. Hoffman limped inside on a bad leg and described some sort of police-raid, premature. John Kramer and Amanda Young hadn’t even been there, so it had just been the trio, and they were forced to flee. Unable to go far on foot in their current state, Hoffman had brought his injured companions here. To Peter. 

Why did that make something strange stir within him? 

The three of them were soaked to the bone from the rain. Peter watched Hoffman sluggishly attempt to remain alert, but every so often his head would lull and come to rest against the soft thigh of Dr. Gordon. If the doctor noticed it, he didn't say a word as he continued to diligently work. He looked tired. Stanheight was putting on the best brave face he could manage, but Peter’s keen eyes caught his shoulders trembling, only eased when Gordon’s hand came to rest on one and rubbed gently. They all looked so tired. 

Unable to watch any longer, Peter finally broke the silence. 

“So why are you still doing this?” It took everything in him to not fidget idly as he spoke, brows furrowed at the three men. 

All eyes were on him quite suddenly, sharp as they regarded him. Three clever pairs of observant eyes that all screamed out ‘I know more than I’m letting on' to Peter. He held their gazes, muscled arms crossed over his chest. 

“You know what I’m talking about.” He scoffed, lip curling. “What’s the point of doing the old man's dirty work when he just lets things like this happen to you?” 

Silence.

Hoffman broke first. He laughed, eyes closing as he rested more fully against the couch. It was good-natured but ultimately dismissive. 

Dr. Gordon frowned at Peter, one brow quirked as if he had asked them something incredibly naive. Like he expected Peter to know already. 

Stanheight didn't react. Not outwardly, anyways. He only stared, something new and strange glittering in his eyes that Peter couldn't place.

“What,” Peter grit his teeth, an edge to his voice. Less of a question and more of a prompt. 

“Nothing, nothing. Apologies, Mr. Strahm.” Gordon sighed, turning his attention back to his handiwork. He appeared to nearly be done with the worst of Stanheight’s injuries now. “It’s just… not that simple.”

“Not exactly the kinda job you can put your two weeks in for.” Hoffman corroborated, a smirk tugging at his full lips. 

Peter felt his face burn hot, and he huffed in frustration. “You fucking- Don’t play dumb. Don’t act like it’s a stupid question. I’ll throw you back out onto the fucking curb.” He jabbed a finger at Hoffman in particular, who for his part did indeed shut his mouth. “You listening? Good. What I’m saying is that John Kramer is one demented old man. What is actually stopping you?” 

This time, the quiet was punctuated by Hoffman and Gordon exchanging an uncomfortable glance. After a moment, Hoffman shrugged and ran one hand through his damp, messy hair. “I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of, uh, checks ‘n balances.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow skeptically. Hoffman continued. 

“Information is power, etcetera. Kramer keeps basically everything on a need-to-know basis. Including, I dunno, who you’re workin’ with half the time. Hell,” He rolled his eyes, and lazily raised a hand behind his head to pat Gordon’s arm. The doctor made an annoyed noise in response, shifting away from him. “He only told me about these lovebirds when he needed help lookin’ after ‘em.” 

“I’m still mad about missing out on a trip to Mexico.” Stanheight quipped. His voice was softer than normal, but Peter supposed it was a good sign that he was speaking at all. He wasn’t used to the younger man being so quiet. 

Gordon straightened up a moment later, gently patting down the new bandages and brushing some of the hair from Stanheight’s face. “There you go.” He sighed. The warmth in his tone was so palpable that Peter had the distinct feeling it wasn’t meant for his ears. Despite being in his own apartment, he somehow felt he was intruding. “Get comfortable, alright?” 

Peter watched as Stanheight pulled himself to his feet, stopping short just a little ways away from him with an awkward shuffle. Gordon patted his thigh and spoke his next words like they took all of his energy to say. 

“Your turn.” He didn’t even bother to look at Hoffman. The detective grinned anyways, wasting no time in clamoring up into Gordon’s personal space and slinging his leg across the man’s lap. Gordon shook his head disdainfully, but carefully began rolling back Hoffman’s torn pant leg anyways. 

Peter guessed he wasn’t the only one that Hoffman lived to irritate.

“Christ, Mark.” Gordon sucked in a sharp breath, and Peter’s shoulders stiffened as he took a step forward to look. His stomach sank despite himself; from where he was standing Hoffman’s calf looked like a bloody mess. Peter’s a man who’s seen more gore in his line of work than anyone should hope to see in their lifetime, and yet here he is, staring in alarm. It was unlike him, and woefully he could only attribute his own uneasiness to the owner of the calf. 

As if he could read his mind, Hoffman looked up towards Peter. “Hey, it’s just-” He winced, hissing in pain as Gordon began to clean the wound. “It’s no big deal- no bullet inside. Just grazed me.” 

“You were shot?” Peter balked.

“Grazed,” Hoffman corrected. 

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose in a quick-rising frustration. Hoffman was impossible. 

“Don’t be an idiot.” Gordon’s voice was little more than a growl as he spoke through gritted teeth. “You took an unnecessary risk. Do you think I enjoy patching you back together? Honestly, if I didn't know any better I’d assume you were trying to get your sorry self killed.” 

Dr. Gordon’s tone left the detective bristling. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” He scoffed. “Hell, I don’t bother you when you’re workin’ in the sickbay. Why don't you just- fuck!” 

Hoffman yelped at the unceremonious splash of disinfectant. Gordon gave him the sort of well-practiced fake smile that only a doctor could.

“My bad,” he murmured, unapologetic. 

Peter decided he’d seen enough. He turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen, telling himself that he was just stepping aside to get ice in case the doctor needed some. He knew it wasn't the truth, though; he scolded himself quietly as he leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his graying hair. 

The truth was that he couldn't keep standing there, staring at Hoffman’s leg injury. 

It’s ironic, because it feels like not too long ago that Peter would have done anything to put a bullet in Hoffman. Now the thought makes him feel… queasy. And a bit confused. 

Peter found himself comparing the apprentices to strays again.

He couldn’t get the image of roadkill splattered on the side of the highway out of his head. 

From what he knew of John Kramer and his cult, the apprentices were expendable parts. It doesn't even sound like they can trust each other half the time. One wrong move or fatal mistake would be all it took. Peter wasn't even sure how long it would take him to know something had happened. 

His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps so quiet that he knew exactly who they belonged to before turning around. Stanheight stood at the entryway of his bare-bones kitchen, watching him. He’s probably spent the least amount of time alone with him. 

“What is it?” Peter’s frown deepened.

The kid didn't answer immediately, instead coming to lean against the wall beside him. He was quiet for a moment, and then shrugged. 

“Wanted to check on you, I guess.” He answered simply. 

“Check on me? In what way do I need checking on?” Raising a brow, Peter gestured towards the living room. “Look at you three, for fuck’s sake.” 

Stanheight held his hands up defensively. “Hey, hey, I just- I get it, alright?”

Peter didn't know what that meant. He stared down at the shorter man, scowl ever-present, silently prodding him to elaborate. Stanheight’s expression was… almost sympathetic, but his eyes had that same strange look from before: the one that Peter couldn't place. 

The kid was easy to underestimate, Peter knew it from his file and from his current involvement. He wasn't about to make that mistake with him. 

“Sucks, doesn't it?” Stanheight finally said. He was muttering now, glancing once over his shoulder to ensure they were still alone. “One thing to know what they're doing and another to see them come back with blood and bits of their skin hanging off.”

Peter felt his stomach turn. “No,” he lied. “If Hoffman’s gonna be reckless and get himself killed then so be it.” 

“No matter what you or anyone else thinks, I’m not stupid.” Stanheight laughed dryly. “You don't gotta lie to me, okay? I’m on team Peter here.” 

“Are we forgetting that you’re one of ‘them’ too?” Peter steeled his gaze, unamused. 

Stanheight grimaced. “I mean- kind of. Not really.”

“‘Not really?’ What’s that mean?” 

“I- like- like I’m with them but I’m not one of them. Old Johnny-boy has never and will never give a shit about me. Not exactly in the running to be his heir or whatever the others think will happen.” Stanheight huffed, rolling his eyes as he explained. “Pretty sure he wouldn't even notice if I went missing if it weren't for the pictures ‘n schedules I go and get for him.”

Peter is quiet for a moment. 

“Why stick around?” He asked softly, already knowing the answer. 

The kid just snorted in lieu of answering, and the two fell into silence once more for a couple of seconds. 

“Glad that Mark has you.” Stanheight suddenly murmured, thoughtful. 

“He does not ‘have me’.” 

“Maybe you can knock some sense into him.” 

Peter scoffed, looking elsewhere. “You’re frustrating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Stanheight laughed, “I’m not kidding, though. It always freaks me out how Mark gets when he’s like…” 

Raising a brow, Peter waited for him to sort out his thoughts. 

“Like, when he gets hurt, right? He just- just runs off. Or he’ll go and get hammered on the other side of town and when we find him he’s a mess.” 

At that, Peter’s shoulders went rigid. He was aware of Mark’s habits, his unhealthy coping mechanism. He hadn't thought about who else might know, how deeply it might run. He hadn't thought about how often Mark must be alone. 

When he looked back at Stanheight, he realized the kid was staring at him intently. There was concern in his expression, but also something fierce. 

“John’s really messed him up. Worse than he was before all of this.” His voice was low, almost cautious. “All of them. Lawrence, Mark, Mandy, none of them deserve this. You know that, right?”

Peter’s mouth felt dry. “I…” 

Straightening up again, Stanheight stepped closer to Peter. Before he could see it coming, a smaller hand took his own and held it, inspecting it. “I think Mark needs you.” He said, “maybe all of us do. So you gotta take care of yourself too.” 

Something confused seemed to bloom in his chest then, an uncertain warmth that he could feel rise up to his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again when he couldn't decide on anything to say. 

“Just think about it, ‘kay?” Stanheight let go of his hand again and started to leave the kitchen, pausing for just a moment to look back at him. “Oh, one more thing.” 

“What is it?” Peter’s voice was hoarse. 

Stanheight gave him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. “Welcome to the family.” 

Then he was gone, Peter’s protest to that statement dying on his lips, and Peter was left to think on everything he said. 

Hoffman needing him. Hoffman hiding himself away in dark corners to nurse his wounds. Improperly set bones and too much bandage. 

Stray cats.

Peter’s family used to have cats. His sister’s cat had been an old, white, raggedy thing that she named Alfredo. When Alfredo passed away, he had hidden under the bed and refused to come out. Peter thinks he remembers reading somewhere that pets do that on purpose, so their humans don't have to see them die, but it's been years and his animal knowledge is limited. 

Peter wondered how hard it is to socialize a stray cat. To reintroduce it to domesticity. 

He stepped out of the kitchen, lingering at the entryway, and watched the apprentices from where he stood. Gordon seemed to have finished with Hoffman’s leg, speaking to him in a quieter tone than before. To his surprise, Hoffman looked like he was listening. Stanheight was on the couch with them now, leaning his head onto Gordon’s shoulder. 

Peter found that he wished he could freeze this moment with the three of them in it. The bubble of safety that was his living room felt far away from everything Jigsaw. Maybe they were always meant to be here, on soft furniture, and not crouching amongst rusted pipes and jagged metal. 

Tamed. Domesticated. 

He sighed through his nose and walked around the couch, three sets of clever eyes on him again as he caught their attention. Now that he was there, he could see that Dr. Gordon had just begun to wrap up Hoffman’s leg and he silently motioned to ask for the gauze, kneeling down between them.

Understanding the gesture, Gordon handed it over, smiling at Peter warmly enough to raise his body temperature by a degree. 

“Strahm-” Hoffman started, bewildered, but Peter simply began wrapping his leg neatly. 

“Shut up.” He grunted. “Let me help you, stupid.”

[castielsprostate]

sammy season 1 <3 // for @ghostsam 's 3k event!

[grecoromanyaoi]

gd i hate american (and americanized) leftism so much jesus christ you lot are so stupid. ''omg the houthis are pirates just like one piece!1!!" theyre a heavily armed, religious extremist, powerful radical militia. actually. so not just like one piece. the world isnt a marvel movie where there are strictly good guys and bad guys and the "good guys" have no ulterior motives or underlying ideologies whatsoever. i think tv has rotted your brain

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

Please tell me more about your human welcome home au 👀

!! gladly!!

i don't remember what i said in the first - and like... only lmao - post about it so if i restate some things! fuckign oopsie! (a lot of this is just Barnaby &/or Wally asbdjasj im sorry) also this got! so fucking long!

~ (im gonna talk about their middle/highschool years a lot so keep in mind the time frame is late 90s / early 2000s. they graduate high in either 2006/2007. so. yk. obvious warning for homophobia, transphobia, etc)

fun lil thing no.1)

so Barnaby & Wally briefly meet for the first time in the summer before 7th grade. the town Barnaby grows up & goes to school in isn't tiny, but it's not huge either. - i don't have a very good frame of reference for how many students are typically in a school, bc in both my middle/high there was at least nearly 2k of us. - so we'll just say it's smaller than that - a respectable, normal size, however many students that is. but Barnaby's school rarely, if ever, got any new kids.

so Wally randomly appeared on the edge of the Beagle farm one day, staring directly at Barnaby from across the fields. before Barnaby could go say hi, Wally vanished - but! on the first day of 7th grade, they wound up sharing a class. ofc within the day Wally was known as not only the new kid, but a weird kid at that. for the first week he sat next to a kid who had zeroed in on that and was an ass about it. Barnaby - already having an established rep as class clown & also widely well-liked by his peers - would try to stand up for Wally (from across the room) whenever that kid was being a dick to Walls in front of the class

by the end of that first week, seating arrangements were shifted, and Barnaby was seated next to Wally for the first semester instead. ofc the moment Barnaby sat down, he tried to strike up conversation and cracked a killer joke. and Wally, as we all know, doesn't laugh. he doesn't even blink! it rattles Barnaby to his core - not everyone laughs at his jokes, but there's always some kind of reaction!

class begins before Barnaby can be like "hey that. that was a joke. you're supposed to laugh". the whole hour all he can think about is the strange new kid next to him Who Didn't React To Barnaby's Joke. when the bell rings, Barnaby lingers as Wally (very slowly) packs up to go to his next class and walks him there. on the way he explains the joke, and Wally does the whole "oh. ha ha." thing. this all makes Barnaby very late to his next class (he's usually very punctual and never late - he doesn't want to disappoint his mama!) but for once he does not care.

Barnaby has been struck with this soul-deep need to get a genuine reaction out of Wally. he needs to make that guy actually laugh. it's all he can think about. he seeks Wally out for lunch, tries to find him after school (can't), looks for him in the halls. and to be clear! this is all very platonic! well, ok, these two kinda muddle the line BUT they have no romantic interest in each other. Barnaby just... really wants to be the new kid's friend. he wants to make him laugh. it's a friendship crush! platonic yearning! an inescapable desire to please & be accepted! he wants Wally's approval so so badly!

basically, Barnaby says "you're the weirdest person i've ever met (affectionate, intrigued, entranced)" and Wally replies "thank you (proud)"

fun lil thing no.2)

in my mind, Barnaby was a small kid. he was one of those kids who seemed like they were either gonna stay short, or just barely reach average height. he got his main growth spurt when he was like.... 16. it was very sudden. he lived the classic trope of "teen gets way taller over the summer and startles everyone on the first day of school". im talkin he goes from around 5'7 to 6'3. shoots right up like bamboo! and he's still not full height yet! mf is gonna cap out at 6'6!

on the flip side, Howdy was always just. so tall. he was that kid who towered over his peers from the start! ofc he got teased relentlessly for it (along with the transatlantic accent he started talking w/ at a young age and refuses to stop - among other eccentricities), but yk. he already got constant comments from his huge family about it, so he grew a thick skin pretty early on.

Poppy, on the other hand - the last of the three giants - had it worse than both of them! she wasn't outright taller than Howdy, and didn't have a sudden growth spurt like Barnaby, but steadily grew over the years until she was the tallest teen in town. this hit her hard bc not only did it draw unwanted attention to her & make her a target, but it made her dysphoria way worse (Poppy doesn't realize she's trans until highschool, and then doesnt medically transition until her early 20s)

but! once she started getting super tall, Howdy essentially glued himself to her a la "we tall guys gotta stick together!" a classic 'extrovert adopts introvert' thing. Poppy had no say in the matter.

fun lil thing no.3)

everyone's family sucks - except for Barnaby's, Howdy's, and Eddie's. well, mostly Eddie's. in my head they meant well but just... didn't really see the harm they were doing to him. he never spoke up, and they never saw him deeper than surface level.

but Frank's family? horrible. eugh. he was the school's "out gay kid" - not of his own choice! his peers picked up on it because it was very obvious. then the teachers heard, and let his parents know because of course they did, etc etc. Frank's home life was already shitty, and then getting outed (without any real proof or confirmation) made it a hundred times worse. he was a pretty depressed teen (emo Frank lets go) with mild anger issues & a habit for picking fights. but anyway on his eighteenth birthday he packed up his essentials into a backpack, escaped out the back, and never returned.

and Julie's siblings were alright, but their parents and grandparents were all very ~traditional~. it wasn't as rough as Frank's - it was more of a neglectful, passive-aggressive "you're all disappointments' household. ex: Jonesy was known as the local pothead & dealer, and his parents essentially pretend he's not part of the family despite him living in their basement. Bea had a bad (untrue) reputation, Franny was the goth weirdo who people blamed for their problems, etc. and then Julie was always different from "normal girls", and so her parents chalked her up as a mistake as well. but hey! at least the sibs were in it together! and the parents didn't care if Frank stayed over!

Poppy's family was great up until her parents caught her trying on a skirt Sally had made for her. it was a horrible, terrible downhill slide from there. they forced her to join the basketball team, made her keep her door open at all times, etc. for a while she couldn't even see her friends, though eventually they started sneaking in through her window & passing her notes in class. messaging in a 'secret' chatroom yk how it is. Poppy never directly stood up to her parents (very understandable & valid) but she rebelled in small ways. lying about having an after-school thing so that she could be with her friends, convincing her parents to let her go to a study group when in reality she'd be having a girls' night with Sally & Julie & Julie's sisters @ the Beagle farm.

Sally's family was similar to Julie's in that they were more lukewarm towards her than outright abusive. they thought she was too loud, too flamboyant, too expensive, too obvious, pretty much too everything. they wanted her to be normal - Sally wanted to stand on the roof and wax (loud) poetic about damsels. she wasn't outright bullied for being gay like Frank was, but it was certainly a common rumor that she was a lesbian. as a result, most of the girls at school wanted nothing to do with her, and the guys loved to provide commentary on the subject. her parents tried their best to ignore that truth and acted like she was totally straight. sure. still, Sally always refused to compromise on who she was, and treated it all like a mild annoyance. totally didn't hurt her at all. yep. (sarcasm)

there isn't anything known about Wally's family. not even Barnaby knows about them. the group tossed theories around (amongst themselves) over the years - was he an orphan? foster kid? was his family / home life so horrific that he doesn't want anyone to know? all they know is that he became an emancipated minor as young as legally possible and started living in Home, his (admittedly very spacious & high quality) RV. and they didn't even know about that until their junior year except for Frank

on the other side of the coin!

Ms. Beagle was the friend group's favorite adult growing up. the Beagle Farm was a common refuge & hangout spot for them, and Ms. Beagle let all of Barnaby's strange & delightful little friends know that there's always a guest room open for them, should they ever need it. and as a respected member of the community (and provider for the best chicken eggs in town), anyone who tried to speak up against the kids was Immediately shut the fuck down. Ms. Beagle took no shit. if people were talking ill about that "group of depraved teenage fuckups" and Ms. Beagle turned the corner, all conversation would cease until she was well out of earshot. she likes to say that she has 6 kids, all of whom she loves dearly and is very proud of <3

Howdy's family is too damn big to care. not in a neglectful way, just in a "oh, you're friends with... who was it again? Franz? invite him over to dinner someti- STOP PUNCHING YOUR BROTHER-" there's too much chaos, too many things to keep track of to care if Howdy's friends are gay, or trans, or absolutely fucking bizarre. they'll blend right in! Howdy could bring them over for dinner without telling his family and none of them would blink twice! Howdy mentioned that his friends have bad home lives Once and his parents immediately insisted that he bring them over for next week's thanksgiving so that they don't have to deal with that during what should be a holiday. thus began the All Six Of Us + Ms. Beagle + Franny/Bea/Jonesy Attend The Pillar Family Thanksgiving. its incredibly chaotic every time. there's so many fucking people. they're too busy fighting for survival (bread rolls) to bother with manners or awkwardness. every time they leave feeling like they fought a war. none of the friend group has missed a single year.

fun thing no.idontremember!

Wally & Barnaby have had three fights. each are catastrophic and threatened to tear the friend group apart. because those two are closer than anyone - they are each others person. they would both rather chug rat poison than willingly hurt each other. and while Barnaby - a pretty easygoing guy - can get riled up, Wally... really can't. he's never angry. even things that Should make him angry only make him confused or sad. he's too kind, too earnest, a bit of a pushover. he'll just take it with a smile.

so when Wally stands his ground, they all know shit is going tf down. code red, everyone brace. and if he stands his ground against Barnaby? pack a fucking go-bag and ditch town until the storm blows over.

the first time was when Barnaby found out that Wally lives in a damn RV. Wally got weirdly defensive about it, Barnaby was upset that Wally never even told him but somehow Frank knew (he had a bad night & couldn't go home, Julie was unavailable, and Wally found him and took him to the RV for the night) & that Wally is living alone in an RV at all, etc etc - it was a huge fight. & it just kept getting worse. when Barnaby tried to get Wally to move to the farm - that was the first time he's ever heard Wally snap at anyone, let alone him. and since the friend group is fully established at this point, and they're all hopelessly entangled in each others' lives, it affects all of them. sides have to be chosen - there is no neutral party on this. Wally ended up vanishing for a week without a word, and his RV vanished from where it had been parked thus far. the group was in shambles. when Wally turned back up, he actively avoided them all. it took Barnaby tracking down the rv and not leaving until Wally talked to him to have a conversation and fix things. but hey! the disaster actually helped them get even closer!

the second fight was when Barnaby had to go back to the Beagle Farm for their second year of community (Ms. Beagle had a minor accident and needed his help running the farm). Wally wanted to drop out too & go with him, and it turned into a big deal of Barnaby trying to get him to stay while Wally gets unusually pushy & upset about it. the fight wasn't nearly as bad as the RV one, and was more just sad/distressing, but it was still a fight. they parted on less than stellar terms, which they both felt horrible about. Wally has to go through the last year of community alone - he hasn't been alone in many years at this point, and since they met he's never been without Barnaby.

the third fight comes many years later, and this one is the worst. the friend group has all graduated university(those that attended), they're living in the same town, Barnaby & Wally (technically) share a house, Eddie is part of the group now. once again, its over everyone's favorite RV, Home. Home is very old at this point - Wally has had it for around 15 years, and he didn't get it new, and it's been through a lot. Wally is still half living in it, even though it's starting to fall apart. Barnaby brings up the notion that maybe it's time to send the old thing off to a dump, or find a way to put it in storage. they can't keep up the upkeep. it's time to say goodbye to it. Wally flips his fucking lid - or his version of it, anyway. because, uh. no. absolutely fucking not. it's already a very touchy subject, and emotions rise fast. Wally initially shuts down the conversation immediately. over the next week or so, few weeks maybe, tension between Barnaby & Wally simmers. the entire friend group is holding their breath. Barnaby wants the RV gone, as sad as he is about it. Wally won't allow it. of course they reach a breaking point - Barnaby pulls the "i own the property its parked on" card, Wally threatens to leave. of course that scares Barnaby, but that fear mixes with the anger and he fully yells at Wally for the first time. and then Wally shoves him. or tries to - it does nothing physically, but emotionally? it immediately drains all anger from the situation. Wally has never purposefully raised a hand against anyone ever, for any reason. and yet he tried to shove Barnaby. Wally immediately turns tail and runs - he locks himself in the RV, and Barnaby goes to Howdy's.

at Howdy's, Wally calls Barnaby. at first Barnaby jumps at the chance to apologize and try to work something out, but then he recognizes the background noise - Wally is driving Home somewhere. that RV is absolutely not fucking safe to drive anymore. the conversation immediately derails and goes from 0 to 100 within a second. Howdy is off to the side nervously sipping at his beer as Barnaby argues w/ Wally. the phone call abruptly cuts off, Barnaby says "the little bastard hung up on me" and starts Ranting. he says things he doesn't mean, obviously, and Howdy is trying to get him to chill tf out. he's just too angry/scared/hurt/worried yk?

but don't worry Barnaby! Wally didn't hang up on you! yeah so a while later (a little over an hour i think), Barnaby gets a call! it's from the town hospital! yeah so he's Wally's emergency contact, and apparently Wally "hanging up on him" was actually Wally getting into a horrendous accident. it wasn't his fault! there was a drunk driver! but it's... bad. the drunk driver had died in the crash, and since it was night and no one was around, help was a long time coming for Wally. its a miracle that someone found him & called an ambulance in time! so Barnaby realizes that the whole time he was talking shit & being angry, his best friend was slowly dying in a ditch somewhere, alone and in pain. and that's a whole thing!

time for some fun "facts"!

the first time Eddie went over to Frank's place, he immediately fainted when Frank turned the lights on & Eddie saw that he was surrounded by pet tanks filled with Very Large Bugs. then he fainted again when Frank removed the tarantula from its tank to clean said tank.

Wally & Barnaby's cat is named Welcome! she's usually small & pitch black with a permanently bristled tail! she's actually Barnaby's - he found her in a park as a kitten, and her unnerving stare reminded him of Wally so he took her home. Wally would like a dog! Barnaby would not! the cat is their only pet and will remain their only pet, no compromise. Wally retaliated by gluing googly eyes & dog ears onto a rock he found, then painting it. its name is Barnaby. Barnaby has beef w/ it a la Elmo & Rocco when Wally isn't looking

one time, during a group trip to the annual Pillar Family Thanksgiving, the gang stopped at a cabin-themed diner. Sally gasped at stopped Barnaby at the door "We must leave - you can't eat here". when everyone asked why, she pointed at a decorative sign on the wall: Don't Feed The Bears. it instantly became a smash hit inside joke that sometimes backfires (like that one time they go camping and Barnaby acts like he can't open the bear-proof dumpsters & locks & coolers). Howdy once got a "dont feed the bears" sign to put up in the store's diner section as a joke, but as soon as Barnaby saw it he left and refused to come back until Howdy took it down. he'd stand outside the store window and gaze at Howdy from afar w/ the biggest, saddest puppy eyes. it was incredibly effective

speaking of Howdy's store! they all built it together! Howdy managed to get his hands on an abandoned shell of an old building, and they all refurbished/renovated it! they all had the collective skills to get it done. Wally helped draw up blueprints & directed the color-scheme / painting portion, Sally and Barnaby used their carpentry skills, etc.

when Eddie "reconnects" with everyone, he feels like he's going insane. 'cause he keeps running into people who are familiar enough that it bothers him, but he just can't place where they're from (most if not all of them look very different from the last time he saw them in highschool). it drives him nuts! and then he meets Wally and Wally's like "oh! Eddie! it's you!" and Eddie's all "uh... how did you know myna- OH MY GOD IT'S YOU". he has a small crisis because he's over that time in his life, he's in a much better place, he's grown as a person. then he realizes that it's not just Wally but the entire fucking friend group he agonized over wanting to befriend for years and years. the group that (unintentionally) made him feel completely alone and like he was living a lie. and he keeps. running. into them. so Eddie, who just moved to this town, starts looking at mail carrier opportunities elsewhere bc he is Not doing this again - only for Julie to show up and drag him to a friend group function. because they all got together and went "oh, you caught up w/ Eddie too?? so we're in agreement? great! he's ours now! Julie, go get him". and then they accidentally break Eddie's wrist in a zealous game of soccer-baseball-corntoss & from then on won't leave him alone <3

Wally keeps his hair consistently dyed a rich royal blue - even his eyebrows! he continuously touches it up so his roots are never showing! Barnaby keeps his hair dyed blue in solidarity, but to a lesser extent - his roots show, and he doesn't dye his eyebrows or his sideburns/beard

on that vein, Wally has a very extensive hair-care routine he does every morning. he straightens his natural curls out, manipulates his hair into that absurd swirl, and hairsprays it to death. & gels down everything else. shit's Airtight. then at night he has an equally elaborate routine of washing the hairspray/gel out, treating his hair with high quality shampoos/conditioner/oils, and blowdrying it with impeccable technique to keep it Healthy

continuing on that vein - one time Barnaby was makin' breakfast when he heard a crash from upstairs. he sprinted to go see if Wally was alright, but Wally had locked the bathroom door and refused to open up. after Barnaby convinced him to, the door opened to reveal a very miserable Wally still in his towel. his hair was green. "the bottle said dye-safe', he said. the bottle lied. he wore hats for a while.

ok im gonna stop here! this is an absurd amount! i got carried away!

[beatcroc]

turns out i have to make an unnecessarily wordy thoughtspost about doombox too bc there is nothing about this character that isn't fucking ridiculous and also really funny and i'm kind of really obsessed with all of it. ordinarily i would just start firing but in this case I need to just. paste his bio and then go through it step by step because every phrase here is absurd when looking at how he's handled along with the other characters and the world as a whole. here we go

first sidenote: i should also add 'nonsensical' to the list of descriptors up there, because this is a fighting game and no doubt has the typical Bad Fighting Game Writing at play that doesn't really hold up when put under scrutiny as i'm about to, but understand that this is something i've come to love about the genre and its typically batshit lore, and it further enhances the experience for me. it's all utter nonsense and its my favorite shit ever.

the biggest thing to me that makes his entire shtick ridiculous is that he was explicitly made to be a weapon. like his express purpose is destruction and/or killing people, and he certainly has the disposition to be doing that. except that he is not doing that. he's out there playing Ball Game, evidently of his own volition.

i feel it is also important to highlight that he was not originally or intentionally a boombox; he just kinda lives in there. his own bio frames it as happenstance, but sonata's dlc skin lore** implies he isn't permanently stuck in there and can kinda just hop out and take control of whatever he wants whenever he wants. there is an entire goddamn tank just sitting there in the background of one of these stages. he is a weapon. there is heavy artillery readily available to him that he could be commanding if he wanted to, but he's not doing that either. he is still a boombox. i think he likes it in there. *there's an argument to be made that maybe he's not powerful enough to control something that large, or maybe just that switching hosts is really tiring or risky. im just saying though there's like a bajillion host devices better suited for A Fucking Weapon than a boombox, but he seems really committed to this for some reason. while im here btw it's fucking terrifying that he apparently can possess thing that are Not tech as well **as a side note from that the specific mention of her boomhammer is interesting. i don't think it's an intentional implication but i enjoy the idea he has an affinity for sound-based devices; i like to think the boombox left an impression on him with its being the initial thing he possessed and got used to

and then there is the berserking. the 'rampaging', as it is otherwise called. not exactly strange on its own given his temperament and designation, but strange for the way it's characterized as only a tendency. it's only that he's prone to rampaging. he rampages often, but not all the time. just often! what is he doing he is not rampaging? getting a custom trimmed jacket with his own logo emblazoned on it? like a nerd? and on the flipside, what exactly do these rampages even entail? because it's apparently not anything destructive or disruptive enough for anyone to care about stopping him under normal circumstances.

like how are you a giant angry "not exactly stable" weapon of a guy and everyone's like 'yeah that's fine. that's our doombox!' toxic's specific wording regarding his getting unfucked postgame is "back to his old raging self", which implies to me there's almost a certain fondness, or at least amusement, at his being like this. i know one of the core themes of lethal league is letting these oddball misfit dudes do their thing and freely be who they are, but like. is doombox sincerely just not a threat for that? like really? dice's interactions also sort of imply that his actually trying to kill someone is really out of the ordinary for him so truly like. db my man what ARE you doing out there. * re: toxic and dice's talking about him; i do also find it amusing that one of his defining traits is just being pissed off all the time. again, not surprising given his purpose/designation as a weapon, but funny in that it's like. how he's KNOWN; in the sense that it is immediately noticeable and a cause for concern for other characters to see he is Not angry. fuckin social barometer of a guy. local angry guy isn't angry, something's wrong.

the "reasons for playing in the league unknown" bit also strikes me as a little odd even though it REALLY shouldn't. i'm like 97% sure it's just written like that to make him seems mysterious and unpredictable and dangerous, but it's a weird thing to call attention to when you consider that...less than half of the other characters' reasons are known? raptor is there trying to get info on his dad, that one's well out there. dust & ashes i think have some kind of implied reason for being there as well but it of course isn't elaborated on, and grid is like trying to impress "the youth" and establish a profile or something. nitro seems like he might not actually be IN the league as an official competitor? it's just helpful for him to know how to ball for the situations he gets into with his investigations. everybody else's "reason" pretty much seems like they're just out there to have fun. and toxic says as much in the story mode intro! the game was developed for people to escape the monotonies of shine city! so to imply doombox has a separate, non-recreational reason for being here is weird. the easiest read on it for me is just that he was drawn to it cause it's intense and destructive but at the same time.... if all he wants is an excuse to wreck shit....why are you competing in a structured sports game with rules and shit my dude. you are a weapon. just go attack people. except that we've established that he doesnt really do that. so. once again. what IS he doing out here

----

aside from the bio though, there's of course random little tidbits of characterization throughout the game itself and they are all also likewise ridiculous.

he refers to himself in third person, which is always an amusing choice for a character in general. it carries with it a certain sense of ego, an awareness of and and pride in one's presence and gravitas. this was mostly just surprising to me bc before i started looking at everything, i'd assumed he was more or less mindless and, yknow, robotic; without much personality/reason for being there beyond being the Biggest Baddest Best At Ball Game Guy doombox is already very imposing, so this is frankly a well-earned sense of pride for him to have.....but it still doubles back to being funny again because, as i've established above, he could stand to be a hell of a lot scarier! but he doesn't seem to notice or care that there are many readily-available options for becoming more powerful and/or establishing himself as unquestionable top dog. so instead he is a boombox. third-person is also often used for characters who are a little dumb, and i think this applies to doombox as well. he is a weapon, and clearly a brute-force-over-precision type of weapon at that, he doesnt need smarts. i think this is also sort of hinted at with his voice lines; where the other characters have some kind of snarky phrase or one-liner for their kill/score voice line, doombox just goes "bye-bye". Which is still appropriately Disrespectful, but it's also very, uh... simple. again i just think there are... more imposing things a guy like him could be saying there, but i guess he hasn't got anything more than fucking. bye-bye.

anyways the ego thing i think is well-echoed by his stupid fucking jacket. none of the other characters have their logo as part of their design and i'm pretty sure the rest of the symbols are just game abstractions and don't exist in-universe, but like. doombox is just going around wearing a jersey with his own damn face on it. ok. to be clear i love his jacket but it is literally so silly for him to have that. imagine being the guy having to custom-fit a fucking boombox. did db pay for it? how? we're getting into unproductive territory here but you could ask a million questions about that jacket and they all have hysterical implications. while im on the topic of designs i'd also like to say that while i don't count any of the other blaze redesigns as "canon" like actual events the characters went through between games [like raptor in particular would have already had to have the stitches since that's his backstory, it's just they weren't a design point before], doombox is in a weird spot since the first game's design for him was very specifically referencing its HUD in a meta way for his flavor and that was pretty much the entire extent of his flavor; while in blaze he and the HUD are very much separate distinct things with their own flavor. there's more to talk about here later but as it pertains to design what im saying is i think he just went out and found a better and cooler boombox to be in between games. and also got a funny jacket. *actually i have no idea if there's even a Timeline here. the gut vibe i had been running on was that blaze happens a couple years after the original, but looking at it now that doesn't seem right. does blaze Replace the timeline of the first game? are there even Events in the first game to count as a timeline? do they run concurrently?

alright anyway the last point here is the 3rd-person thing is even moreso interesting to me though bc i was under the assumption that 'doombox' was something akin to a codename he was given when other people saw this big fucking Thang rampaging through the streets. but seeing as 1. he's definitely aware of it, and 2. not even the damn scientists who made him knew he was in a boombox [as implied in his dlc skin lore], i'm led to believe he came up with the name himself. the fucking tape in his cassette player does just say 'doom' on it so i am choosing to believe that's either where he got the name, or that he put that on there himself.

MOVING on, another really good thing is that he does this

i just think it's funny he's continuing to use the thing as an actual boombox; i feel like that isn't something he necessarily Has to do. obviously he's susceptible to certain quirks and limitations of being a boombox re: mind control tape, but i don't think that means he has to play out its every function. i think he's doing that on purpose and i am filing it under "he likes it in there". hes listening to his jams.

also on a similar note,

this is also not important and i realize it's mostly just a quirky videogamey way to get around saying the robot kinda character is "asleep", but i do enjoy the implication that shine city's biggest terror is like out there running on 4 D-cells.

also i'm making this guy out to be a city street menace, and the vibe i had assumed for him before was like, a random encounter in the back alleys that you super do not want to run into; but his associated stage/hangout seems to be the desert/scrapyard? which i don't really have anything interesting to say to that, but it's definitely a different vibe for his character if he typically hangs out in more desolate areas.

---

i think maybe the most baffling thing doombox has going on is the apparent "rivalry" with dice. this is also bizzare from dice's side of things. what the fuck does it even mean to be "rivals" with doombox? what are they competing for? what kind of things does dice get up to that doombox would even give a shit about in the first place, let alone to be considered a rival in? i mean, like, the league, probably, but why dice specifically, out of everyone? would doombox's league rival not just be whoever's the [second] strongest there? i believe dice when he says they're evenly-matched, but there isn't really anything that implies dice is of particularly high prestige within the league so it feels like he shouldn't hold much interest as a target. to be fair dice doesn't seem like the type that would care about prestige, but again, if he's not out there flaunting his shit or trying to claim he's the best or whatever, why does db care? this would be a lot easier to understand if it was a one-sided thing on doombox's part like okay maybe dice pissed him off one day and he's still mad about it. whatever. that's the vibe they go for in story mode, but then there's dice's dlc skin description, which seems to run entirely counter to that and has dice as the aggressor:

when deprived of his usual sense and restraint, dice's first thought is I Gotta Go Fuckin Kill Doombox? even if he's over it under normal circumstances, it's clear both of them have some deeper-rooted beef in this exchange. there is yet another layer to this in that doombox is, weirdly enough, not really shown to be the kind of guy that's interested in revenge. again, going back to his own dlc description, he- and i quote- "couldn't care less" about the guys who made him capturing him and chaining him up. his only interest there is breaking out and getting back to doing his thing. if you want to be really generous, you could also read this vibe from the story mode epilogue: doombox was not the one hunting down the safety league, that was nitro. doombox was simply, as stated before "back to his old raging self". both of these to say, he simply does not seem to give a shit about people who have directly wronged him and only wants to Do His Thing. so. once again. what the fuck is going on with dice that they both have lasting beef here. i truly cannot fathom what either of them did to be so mad specifically at eachother. this rivalry is something they reference a LOT too like it's a big deal in-universe, or something otherwise really important to portray. like

lore so strong you gotta put it on an achievement!!!!! really!!!!! and there are no details whatsoever about this????? * while i'm here i'd just like to say have more questions about dice than fucking anything else in this game. sadly there's practically nothing to intuit from the game about any of his situations so i don't have much for coherent thoughts to post on him, but my god. what the fuck, dice. this rivalry is arguably the single strangest thing doombox has going on but it doesn't even break top 5 weird things about dice.

anyways, the final section and MOST interesting thing to me in all this is that, coming out of the first game, i was really under the impression that doombox is just the arbitrary final boss monster you gotta kill; no real purpose or personality his own to speak of, and most importantly just synonymous with the game itself and its aesthetics re: mirroring the HUD design. he certainly still holds the role of big scary final boss monster in blaze too, but blaze 1. has him much more fleshed-out as his own Guy, and more importantly, 2. doesn't really consider him a Problem like your typical big angry final boss monster. or at least not moreso than anything else going on in the game. he's not a threat to be eliminated, he's respected as a character and as a competitor in the league; and more than that he just seems to be... liked? as in, liked by other people in-universe? and he's liked enough that they'll readily help him out so he can keep doing his thing? i do think latch fixed him up postgame mostly bc he felt bad about being the one responsible for getting db brainwashed in the first place but like. the game could have just as easily gone "and then doombox was defeated yay" and left it at that. instead, they seem to have a vested interest in keeping him around. most transparently this is likely just a "we can't get rid of any of the playable characters or else story mode would be noncanon", BUT the point of this post is trying to read cohesive narrative sense into places there probably isn't any, and my read here is that doombox is a sort of inadvertent guardian of the league. for 1, he does still very much embody a lot of what the game [both The Videogame and the league itself] is about, but more importantly i think his presence is just really good at keeping a lot of the more minor threats at bay. if you try to fuck with the league, you will eventually be squaring off with doombox, most likely having freshly pissed him off in the process, and i can't imagine that goes well for who or whatever is in that situation. there's probably not much that wants to stand up to him by himself, and there's even less that can challenge the league as a whole unit; he's really just a good guy to have on your side like in general when you are running an illegal sports operation. i think at Worst toxic might see him as the league's funny little mascot but realistically i think she has more respect for him than that. either way i don't think he's going to care and it doesn't affect him much regardless. for this, doombox simply gets to keep doing his thing, whatever the fuck that may be. there are certainly still forces beyond his control at play here [as demonstrated in story mode by the safety league], and when these come into play, the league in turn looks out for him and keeps him on top of his game. i'm not sure if he has the, uh.... kind of cognitive ability that he could be grateful for this, but if nothing else, we know he seems to enjoy playing in the league, so he probably at least recognizes that he's not going to meet a lot of resistance in it and/or that it's a good environment to keep doing as he pleases. i don't mean for this all to sound so transactional, but it's hard to say whether he has much charisma in-universe for people to want him around for more "legitimate" reasons. likewise, there's also still a lot up in the air on how like... sapient doombox actually is. whether he can have complex motivations about anything or if he has some concept of "having friends" or if he can experience emotions besides rage; i tend to lean to "no" on those because i am really trying my damndest not to woobify this guy, but ultimately i don't think it matters much; in the end, he and the league are still mutually beneficial for eachother, and they still enjoy having the other around. and i think that's pretty cool :)

[padfootastic]

hello! i am back with yet another…thing. thank u for the tag @lovelymasks <3 (i realised, upon second reading, that this was supposed to be a sunday snippet but i’m an idiot n therefore this is now a saturday snippet mwuah)

I think you should go to a Healer, Sirius. 

Why, he’d asked, flippant. What was there to do with a Healer when you were a convict on the run? Besides, Sirius was wrong in a way that couldn’t be made right. He was past the point of return. Healers would’ve barely known what to do with him before Azkaban, let alone in the condition he was in now. 

Because you look like a stiff wind will blow you over, Harry’d answered, though the answering flippancy didn’t quite land the way he intended because what Sirius heard was ‘Because I don't want to lose anyone else.’ 

What Harry didn't say, and Sirius didn’t want to hear, was ‘Because I can’t lose another parent.’

He quietly acquiesced after that. The trembling, hopeful smile growing on his godson’s face was enough to wipe away all apprehensions after that. 

Until now, when Harry was at Hogwarts, and he was second guessing this whole business. 

Did he really need a Healer, like, really?

One look at the mirror in front of him gave him a solid, sturdy answer. 

He was dressed in his old rags and it was a testament to the conditions of Azkaban that clothes from when he was younger, before hitting his final growth spurts, were barely just fitting him now. Sirius’ back was almost constantly bent these days--all days spent curled up in a ball seemed to have reshaped his skeletal structure, who knew--each vertebrae gaining a distinct notch in the column of his skin. His stomach was a fascinating blend of too small and too bloated. He couldn’t keep anything down, but he wasn’t able to eat much either. A mystery for the ages. 

Less said about his face, the better. Sirius wasn’t vain, never had any reason to be, but there was a certain…pride he’d maintained, a level of outward appearance that was considered bare minimum for a Black, a conditioning he’d never managed to shake off. 

It was that conditioning itching at him now, turning him away from any reflective surface before he could see his distorted features, grotesque and inhuman, staring back at him. 

And ultimately, it was that, he realised with a shameful sort of guilt, that pushed him to see a Healer. Not his godson’s pleading look, not concern for his wellbeing--but leftovers from an upbringing that he hated, his mother’s words he couldn’t stop hearing, his father’s sharp commands. 

Ultimately, it was his blood that made him give in, as it always did. 

further tagging @jmagnabo92 @soopsiedaisies @groundzero-v 💜

[thisisadonaldduckblognow]

the way i rewatch any part of rottmnt and once again come away from canon leo wondering where the actual heck are people getting this “oohhhh he only thinks he’s good for self sacrifice or as a tool, he has absolutely zero self worth whatsoever” instead of the canon version who’s kind of a manipulative lil stinker and KNOWS he has stuff to bring to the table but isn’t sure how to be Seen

it’s not that he thinks he’s worthless or not wanted. i fuckin promise you that about rise leo. he does not seriously think he is unloved or unwanted or ~one mistake away from being dropped by his own family~ or whatever

what he IS is rejection-sensitive in the way that makes any time he fails feel like the end of the world to HIM (setting aside that time he messed up and it did literally trigger the near-apocalypse and near deaths of him and his family lol), so he’d rather not try than risk messing up