#why is that title so long

[characterdevelopmentobsessed]

Fall 2024 Anime

I am watching WAY to many of the fall anime shows, some will have to get the axe as I simply don't have enough time to watch them all :( BUT for now this is the list of shows that I am watching in the Fall Anime season

Another Journey to the West

As a Reincarnated Aristocrat, I'll Use My Appraisal Skill to Raise in the World S2

Blue Miburo

DAN DA DAN

Demon Lord 2099

The Do-Over Damsel Conquers the Dragon Emperor

The Healer Who Was Banished From His Party, Is, In Fact, the Strongest

I'll Become a Villainess Who Goes Down in History

Let This Grieving Soul Retire

The Most Notorious "Talker" Runs the World's Greatest Clan

Nina the Starry Bride

Re:ZERO S3

Seirei Gensouki S2

Tower of God S2

Yakuza Fiancé: Raise wa Tanin ga li

[shiverhohojiro]

the slightly unsettling realization that your ex-boss is also a person with wants and desires, and that those wants and desires are closer to your own than you might previously have imagined. aka "why does DJ Octavio get to be at the Grand Festival can you imagine how the octolings must feel about this"

Bonus doodle:

[redinthesea]

"The Unlucky Groom" or "Have You Fulfilled Your Dream Yet?" or "Back Where You Started" or "Why Is He Cinderella Though" or "I Still Think He Needs to Be Put Down" or "Smoking is Bad"

[obssessive]

[illmoraineakoi]

As much as I adore the idea of Alan being like a dad to the Color Gang, I am absolutely feral for interpretations where that’s not really the case.

Or, more specifically, when those feelings are very one sided.

The CG look up to him and adore him as a parental/guardian figure, loving him almost like a father, especially Orange in particular who 110% sees and loves Alan as a father figure, while Alan himself sees himself more as a tolerant friendly landlord; just a dude who’s letting five stick figures live on his computer and not really interacting with them (except for Orange) very much beyond playing a few games for them or sparring with them. And even with Orange, it’s more of a friendship relationship than a parent-child one. Just generally pretty emotionally detached/distant towards them, not really feeling very strongly about any of them. Sort of how IRL Alan speaks about them as characters; fond, but not loving*. He still largely just sees them as stick figures. Like smart little living desktop pets.

Which makes all of the potential scenarios where they meet on more equal grounds (Stick!Alan AUs and IRL!Sticks/Human!Sticks AUs) potentially very juicy.

The CG and Orange in particular are always very excited to meet and actually interact with Alan, and Alan just feels overwhelmed and awkward by all the affection/attention. Or perhaps even confused about why they seem to like him so much.

Which can very quickly turn into a situation where the Gang notices that Alan doesn’t seem very comfortable around them, that he’s not nearly as excited and enthusiastic about finally being able to touch and hug them as they are with him. That he seemed to be kind of distant from them, withdrawing away from them. Oh, he’s friendly and polite, and he’ll talk to them, he’s not being mean or ignoring them or anything, but it’s not really like how they always imagined meeting him would be. It’s not as happy and joyous. He doesn’t interact/engage with them on his own. Doesn’t offer hugs or pats or much affection at all. He’ll do it if they initiate or ask, but he never gives anything of the sort freely.

Perhaps they think it’s because everything is so new and fresh, that maybe he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed. Maybe he just needs a little time to get used to them.

But when they give him that time…nothing seems to change. And they’re just left even more confused and concerned. Why was he acting like this? He was never like this before… (or so they think.)

Or perhaps a situation occurs where it’s revealed that Orange sees him like a father, or perhaps Orange even calls him his father, and Alan denies it. Corrects him. Tells Orange that he’s not his parental figure, that he always thought they were just friends. That all of them were just a bunch of sticks he was letting live on his computer. He wasn’t their dad, where in the world did they get THAT weird idea from? He was just Alan, the owner of the computer they made their home on. He barely even knew them.

And the Gang is both shocked and heartbroken. They hadn’t known Alan felt that way, just as Alan hadn’t been aware of how they felt. It was so easy for misunderstandings and misinterpretations to happen between them when they couldn’t really communicate very well.

But Orange, Orange is devastated. It hurts, so bad, because Alan literally created him. Alan was his creator, the closest thing to an actual parent he had. And yet Alan didn’t want to fill that role towards him, didn’t want to be his father. He could have seen and understood Alan not considering himself the others’ parent, since Alan hadn’t made them, but Orange was undeniably his.

But Alan didn’t want him like that. Didn’t see him like that.

He was just a stick figure who frequently helped him animate and lived on his computer. The fact that Alan made him appeared to be irrelevant.

So Orange puts on a smile and accepts it, apologizing for misunderstanding. But inside, he’s raw. The rejection feels so awful.

And it stings just how relieved Alan looked after his apology, like he was grateful that they weren’t arguing about it.

Because they don’t. What more was there to say? Alan had made his feelings on the matter very clear, and who were they to try argue against that? To challenge him, and demand he change his feelings towards them? To demand he love them? No, that’s not how things worked. That wasn’t how love worked.

You can’t try to force someone who doesn’t love you to love you.

Instead, Orange goes to his room, and sobs. It hurts so much. It feels like a chunk of his heart has been ripped out, leaving a giant empty gap where it had been. He can’t stop thinking about why Alan didn’t love him even though he made him. He can’t help but wonder if it’s because somehow he wasn’t good enough. Or if he’d done something wrong.

Or if it was because he was just a stick figure. Not human. Not a “real” person in Alan’s eyes.

He doesn’t know, but it hurts all the same.

The others, too, mourn the loss of the only parent-like figure they’ve ever known. They never knew their own creator, whoever the person who actually made them even was, they only ever knew Alan. It stings, how all of his weird recent behavior now makes sense. He hadn’t needed time. He had never loved them as much as they, apparently mistakenly, thought he did in the first place. It leaves them feeling empty and bereft, at a loss for what to do with themselves now.

And Alan is left totally oblivious to just how badly he’s just hurt them all.

And totally oblivious to what he himself has just lost, the potential for what could have been.

…At least, until he goes through some Character Development and inevitably has some Realizations that “Oh shit, those actually ARE my kids, oh fuck what have I done?!” And he needs to claw back the gangs’ love and affection and trust they’d since given up on.

* - [Or at least that’s how it always felt for me, watching AvG reactions, though that could just be because IRL Alan just sounds kinda bland and introverted in most of his commentary on his own animations lmao “I mean I like Orange.” Bro that is your main character that has been spearheading your entire career for a literal decade, why do you sound about as enthusiastic about him as if someone just asked you about your favorite weather type lmao jk jk]

[thatonechocogirl]

bers sleeping :)

[unordinary-diary]

Thinking about how Blyke is actually insanely strong, even by the standards of his world, yet he gets his ass kicked for the entire story.

From episode one...

To the first actual fight he’s ever been in... (ch. 15) [Edit: second actual fight]

... to the approximate middle of the story... (ch. 197)

... Up through the very latest chapter as of me writing this— (ch. 345)

— Blyke repeatedly gets pummeled.

Over,

and over,

and over,

and over.

It’s really no wonder he gets insecure about it.

I mean, these screenshots were all taken from different fights. The amount of fights he’s won, on screen, without backup is... once or twice against Zeke, once against Gou (Agwin’s Jack from turf wars), and once as a vigilante solo act. That’s four, max. There could be more that I’ve forgotten, but I’ve read this series so many times and I really can’t think of any. (No, I don’t count firing a warning shots to get people to behave as “winning a fight”.)

compared to all the fights he’s been outmatched in? You’ve got Rein from turf wars, Volcan, John, John, John, Lennon from his vigilante solo stunt, John again, the fight in the Rowden amusement park, the attack on Rowden hill, Ember, and now the authorities in general. Possibly more that I forgot. That’s 11. He didn’t necessarily lose all those fights, but they’re fights where he was way out of his depth and/or would’ve lost without backup.

Anyway, point is: Blyke is no stranger to getting his ass kicked. In particular, he is no stranger to getting kicked while he’s already down.

In fact, I’m gonna take an example from the turf wars match in chapter 15: Blyke has already lost the fight with Rein, yet Arlo hangs him out to dry. Arlo is the one who’s supposed to call him back to get healed, yet he just smiles while the others look at him expectantly, and Blyke gets more and more injured. Even Rein is questioning it.

I could and honestly probably will do a whole analysis on just chapter 15, but eventually Seraphina calls him back for healing. The way Blyke was treated in that scene was kinda heartbreaking.

GOD chapter 15 is my favorite episode but it leaves me with so many questions grrr I wanna talk about it but that’s another entry.

Putting that aside, Blyke is very protective, and compassionate to the plight of others when he’s aware of it. After he sees the situation in Branish, he is immediately, rightfully pissed about the way society is. It opens his eyes to a world he hasn’t experienced, and it reframes how he thinks of John (still a “cripple” at the time).

To the actual point of this diary entry (other than rambling about Blyke, that is), John is another character who gets repeatedly kicked while he’s down. I don’t think I need screenshots to prove that. However, in my current reread of the series, I recently came across a certain panel that I do wish I had a screenshot of. It’s either Blyke or Seraphina who asks John “Why are you always kicking people while they’re down?” And John responds: “Because everyone kicked me when I was down!” And I think that’s a vivid contrast with Blyke, who has been kicked while he’s down, and chooses to protect people who are weaker than him. In particular, I want to point out that in order to protect them, Blyke is willing and actively chooses to get beaten quite brutally.

Mind you, this ^ is to protect people who he barely knows. He and Sera aren’t close, and the others are practically strangers.

It’s pretty much the inverse reaction. John says “Others kicked me while I was down, so I’ll do the same on everyone else tenfold.” Blyke says “I was kicked while I was down, and goddammit I will keep getting kicked if it means other people don’t have to.”

It’s such a cool parallel, and the fact that when John was getting kicked, Blyke was trying to help, but when Blyke was getting kicked, John was doing the kicking adds so many layers to it.

[toxintouch]

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat.  A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way.  Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs.  “Your lips are so cold.”  He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering.  His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.  

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?”  He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours.  “Not that it matters.  It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to.  Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building.  I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling.  You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.”  He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things.  However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?”  He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.  

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore.  Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable.  A pity.  By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday.  Good wine, music, dancing.  There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces.  But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself.  Some of the dances were very scandalous.  You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer.  It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say.  He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud.  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share.  In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage.  Though, I admit.  I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you.  Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?”  He purrs.  “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes.  It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady.  Dizzying.  

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up.  It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den.  He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist. 

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth.  The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you. 

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet?  You really do try your luck…”

[funsizedshark]

having genuine chest pains thinking about kiriona asking "do you love her?" because she just wants to know if harrow is alive. and if harrow's frozen girl loves her back. because even though she has teeth now where her heart should be as long as harrow is safe and has what she wanted thats all that matters to her

[itsalwaysforyou]

I AM FOREVER YOUR MOST DEVOTED BELIEVER

kenny ortgea, descendants 3 / katy prickett, medieval 'love motto' gold ring found near frinton / x / x / x / 墨香铜臭, heaven official's blessing / mitski, geyser / dove cameron and khalid, we go down together / mitski, i'm your man / anne sexton, 'a letter to w. d. snodgrass' / x / florence + the machine, heavy in your arms / x

[skyloftian-nutcase]

The Many Languages of Love - February event!

Hi lovelies! February is often themed with romance because Valentine’s Day, and I, a sad little lonely peanut who has never had romance in my life, finds it quite annoying that the only love anyone in our culture cares about is romantic, emphasizing it to the point that it makes you feel like your life is incomplete without romance.

SO.

February is now the month of love, BUT it covers all the kinds of love - romantic, friendship, familial, and selfless/sacrificial. Because love is a beautiful thing and NOT just pigeon holed to romantic partners! I can’t write something for every day, but I will be dividing the themes into each week and will hopefully write a couple per week. Enjoy! :)

[brandnewdress]

there’s not a single bad song on ttpd

[deanpinterester]

i just realized one of the songs i've been listening to is about. turning into a werewolf

[tristan-bug03]

being a Will Wood fan is a weird experience, like how do I tell someone my favorite Will Wood song is "ideas only spread because people like them, the "free market of ideas" is not a meritocracy, it's a set of unhealthy coping skills and a corporate oligarchy, wake up man! don't let the lies dim your light! anyways this one's black box warrior."

[atomicradiogirl]

dennis reynolds | there’s a good reason these tables are numbered honey, you just haven’t thought of it yet

[asmotheavatarofhorny]

Clingy 💛

• Mammon x GN!MC

• Lots of cuddles described in great detail

• Slightly suggestive

⚠️ CW: describes MC with gorgeous, pretty, adorable; I personally see these terms as mostly gender neutral as of current, however I can see how some people could not! Enjoy :)

Mammon is hot.

And no, I don’t mean just his looks.

He runs warm, noticeably so, and unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with his clingy ass climbing into your bed every night.

Around 3:00 every night without fail, you hear the soft tapping of footsteps on the hardwood floor outside your door, the metal bolts creaking as they shifted to reveal a tall figure (to a human at least). The candlelight burning softly in the hall perfectly framed the boy in your doorway, his fluffy hair and lack of a shirt apparent.

You left your eyes closed. If he wanted cuddles, he would ask. You found that with Mammon, it was best to just let him take what he needed. If he wanted you, he would take you. That’s just how it was between the two of you.

And that’s what he did.

Carefully, and lightly, so lightly as to not make a sound on the floor that he’d memorized so well after the last few years he’d spent walking to and from your bed, just like this.

He towered over you, you were gorgeous. So pretty. He wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, or just the overwhelming awe at the sight of his human. His adorable human. The one he loved so much. But you were the most breathtaking thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

Slowly, he grabbed the comforter from on top of you and pulled it back just enough for him to slip through. He slid into the nest of sheets you’d made yourself, still moving with caution to not wake you. He couldn’t have you seeing him like this. Not now.

He wrapped his arms around your torso and felt his face light on fire. How could he be this lucky? How could he have the nerve to hold such a sacred being such as yourself? How could you allow such a thing from him?

He buried his face into the back of your neck and breathed in your smell. Your essence. He felt himself longing for more. He needed more of you. He couldn’t bare it any longer, as he slowly creeped up under your shirt and rubbed the palm of his hand lightly across your torso.

A leg draped over your hip, and the other went in between your thighs. He found himself kissing your neck, almost suffocating at how sweet you tasted. How soft your skin was, how he longed to merge together with you. He wanted you to be his. He wanted to be you. He wished to crawl up into your skin and become apart of you for the rest of eternity.

You found yourself blushing at the second born’s antics, unable to keep up the disguise any longer. You turned to face him, burying your face into the soft part of his neck. He smelled sweaty, but you didn’t really care. His bare skin was warm, and you reveled in it. He was like your own personal sun.

He repositioned to make you more comfortable before holding you tighter. So impossibly tight you struggled to breathe. You could only smell him. You could only feel him. He was so close you could almost taste it. His soft breath beat down on your earlobe, making you shutter.

He had pulled your shirt up to your shoulders now, and you considered just letting him take it off for a moment. Soon enough though he was rubbing your back, so sweetly. So lovingly. It was almost sickening. His fingertips were like a magic spell, binding you together for the rest of time. And to be perfectly honest, you were okay with that.

This. This was your heaven.

In the morning you would surely be drenched in a thick layer of sweat and a half an hour late for school thanks to Mammon’s stubbornness, but it was worth it for this moment. This bliss that you called your first man.

You hoped deep down, that he would come back tomorrow and do it all again.