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#ane 12
cube-cumb3r · 4 months
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i will never not go crazy over 12s run being just completely permeated by donna. shes not even there and hes got his face because of donna, hes navigating moral dilemmas with her voice echoing in his head, he has to face having to erase a companions memory again AGAIN. TWICE. and walks out of it a humbler, more grounded and kinder version of himself just like he was when she was next to him. how am I supposed to be normal about this
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haec-an · 2 months
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haechan & mark, old school vs new school challenge
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Ok, j'viens de recevoir un message me disant que mon blog a 12 ans. Tout va bien. Le coup de vieux.
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sabraeal · 7 days
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Remedial Lessons, Chapter 2
[Read on AO3]
Written for @kaedix's birthday!! Last year Kimber requested what become the first chapter of this fic, back when there were only a handful of people in the fandom who had even watched Soul Eater. But last summer the discord ended up watching Soul Eater as its summer shonen, so I was all too happy to continue it when she asked for a continuation this year!
This is hardly the first sepulcher that Shirayuki has been lead into since she started her time at Shibusen, but she’ll grant the professor this: it is the nicest.
“So what?” Obi huffs, parka hunched up around his ears as he takes in the bank of computers stretched along the walls. His breath mists in the air as he speaks, like swallowing souls in reverse. “You get like, four? Five G in here? Or did you just like…roll some fiber out here? You know a guy? There’s some people who could really use this kind of set up—”
“Etiquette demands that a host graciously welcome his guests into his residence, whether that be a professional office or personal home,” Lata informs then with all the enthusiasm of a wet blanket. “However, since it seems that you are determined to wear it out as fast as humanly as possible, I think we’ll skip over all that.”
Obi presses a hand to his chest; his parka lets out a soft pffft under the pressure. “I’m just showing interest, sir. Showering you with compliments. Really—”
“Asking for proprietary information.” The professor glances over his shoulder, glowering at where she lingers in the doorway. “Come here already. We don’t have all day.”
‘Here’ happens to be a marble slab; one large and smooth enough to accommodate Mitsuhide from head to ankle, the way most beds do. There’s quite a few of them in the room, most serving as flat surfaces for Lata’s equipment, but this one has clearly been left free, sterile as an exam table, though with the way it fits into that carved bier beneath it, Shirayuki suspects—
“Is that a coffin?” Obi coughs, circling it like a cat around a bath. “Just what are you gonna do with her on that, doc? Hoist it up to the ceiling? Let lightning hit her? Hate to break it to you, but she’s already alive.”
“Obi.” If there’s one thing Shirayuki has learned about Shibusen faculty, it’s that you don’t go around giving them ideas.
“What? I just want to get the scope of the work or whatever.” His hands slide into his pockets, slowing his stride to a casual creep. “If we’re going to have to run, I’d like to start now rather than after he’s got your all hooked up to his Doom Canon.”
“Oh, really. I’m not about to perform surgery on her. Or mad science,” The professor grouses, rummaging around in a drawer. “This place is hardly sterile. But you can’t possibly think I’m so naive as to take your word about her bloodline, do you?”
Shirayuki wrinkles her brow. “Why would I lie about that?”
“Why does anyone lie, girl? To get what you want.” Lata straightens, the honed edge of his body angling toward the stone. “Now take off your coat. This won’t take long.”
She glances down at the cold marble and suppresses a shiver. “But you haven’t taken your coat off.”
“Of course not. It’s freezing in here.” Clouds steam from his sigh as he turns to her, strung tight with impatience. “And I hardly need to take blood samples from myself.”
The tag of her zipper digs bloodless gouges across the fleshier bits of her knuckles. Two year ago this would have all come as a shock, but after a few semesters at Shibusen, she’s only thankful it isn’t a weirder bodily fluid. “Blood? Couldn’t you just—?”
Obi steps right between them, shoulders not squared to shield but hunched, potential energy all coined in his spine like a spring. “Uh uh, no way, doc. We said we’d let you poke around, not actually put a needle through her. Just because she’s a weapon doesn’t mean you get to treat her like an ob—”
“I wasn’t asking you,” Lata informs him, bored. “Now are you going to take off your coat, Miss…?”
“Shirayuki.” Obi angles a look over his shoulder, half are you kidding and half don’t feed the animals. As if she were some child sticking her hand through bars at the zoo, daring a tiger to chomp them off at the wrist.
To be fair, it’s earned. But this particular tiger is their best best for surmounting this resonating problem, and Shirayuki’s willing to risk far more than a nibble to keep from collecting another ninety-nine souls. Twice is more than enough. “And yes, I will.”
The professor doesn’t quite smile, but there’s a shift in his eyes as she bares the skin at her elbow; a deepening of the crinkles at their corners, a widening of his pupils. There’s a part of him that likes this, that looks at her twining path of veins and sees something beyond flesh. That devours this stretch of skin the same way she might a grimoire’s pages, reading fell knowledge in every drop of her blood.
“Good.” She’s barely set herself on top of the sarcophagus, wincing at the chill that seeps through her jeans, when Lata strides right around Obi and grips her wrist. Klaxons ring between her ears, telling her to dig in her heels and twist, but there’s only air beneath them now, an awkward angle between her and the nearest flat surface, and—
Just a pinch, a squeeze, and he’s stepped away, glass slide gripped between his fingers.
“Wha….huh?” she murmurs, watching as blood wells up from the prick. It lasts hardly more than a blink— Obi hands her a tissue, and by the time she’s wiped the bead away, it’s like her skin was never broken at all. A perk of the lineage, Lord Death had always told her. “You just needed a drop?”
“As much as I would love to sequence the entirety of your genome, I would prefer not to wait for the results— or waste the resources.” He hums, much more chipper now that he’s placed that slide into one of his machines. “Not when a specimen sample is much quicker and negligibly less accurate.”
The reasoning is solid, but still— “Then why did you have me take off my coat?”
"To see if at least one of you could obey an order.” The professor jerks his chin toward Obi. “Or if you were as much of a lost cause as that one.”
“Hey! I can sit and roll over as good as anyone,” Obi sniffs, dropping his coat over her shoulders. “If I wanna.”
They’ve hardly known each other a quarter of an hour, but already Lata is sending her long-suffering looks. “That’s the entire—”
His machine beeps, once, twice, like it’s impatient, eager to have eyes on the data flying across its screen. Attention Lata’s quick to give, scrolling through faster than even she could possibly parse, turning familiar words into flipped-bit gibberish. The professor, however, hums.
“Well, you are from Carnwennan’s lineage, it seems.” Shirayuki can’t help but notice that he doesn’t say daughter. Like somehow a hidden bloodline was probable, but direct progeny a stretch. “You’ll forgive me for doubting you. I’ve met Excalibur” —he grimaces— “and there’s not much resemblance. In either of your forms.”
Obi cocks a hip against the sarcophagus, making himself one long, lean line. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Lata fixes him with the same sort of look a stern kindergarten teacher might give their most difficult charge. “Carnwennan was a dagger. And from what I’ve seen of Miss Shirayuki’s shape, she is most certainly not.”
One of these thing, his look says, is not like the other. “I suppose your father had his own lineage? Or should I assume he was a meister rather than a weapon?”
Her mouth opens, then shuts. Opens again, only to say, “I don’t know.”
There’s the vaguest twitch of that stern brow, the softest hum of intrigue. “Interesting. It was always said that Carnwennan was particular with her meisters, one must assume she would be even more so with a romantic partner. So who is he?”
“A deadbeat.” Obi says it like punctuation, the period at the end of a sentence gone on too long. He shifts too, crossing his arms and angling his shoulders, breaking line of sight between her and the professor. It’s effort she appreciates, even if it’s unnecessary.
“My mother is the legendary weapon,” she asks, each word weighed and measured, the perfect split between firm and fair. “Is my father really pertinent to your research?”
“Look around, Miss Shirayuki. Do you see a water cooler anywhere? A break room, perhaps? Coworkers?” The look he levels at her is downright withering. “Do I really look like the sort of man who would make small talk?”
Obi's smirk glints the way her blade does before it cuts. “He’s got us there, kid.”
There’s an inertia to overcome when it comes to her father; it’d been so much easier to not talk about it, to let everyone believe she thought he was dead. But now that he’s dredged himself up out of her memories and into reality, becoming more than just a character from the childhood she can’t remember, it’s…hard. Separating what she knows from what she feels is a job Shirayuki’s pretty sure she’s under qualified to handle.
“I don’t know much about him,” she admits, because that’s true. Maybe he raised her for four years, but she’s lived another thirteen without him, and that doesn’t make him any better than a stranger in her book. “He left me with my grandparents when I was little. I barely even remember his face.”
Also not a lie, even if it earns her some side-eye from Obi’s direction. She’d seen him for a day nearly a year ago; not enough to commit more than broad strokes to her memory. It’d be a miracle if she could even pick him out on the street.
Not that she’d tell the professor that. She’s already in danger of clucking tongues and piteous looks; something about parental abandonment bloodies even the hardest of hearts. There’s quite a bit Shirayuki’s ready to weather for this training, but if she has to endure yet another ethically dubious mentor trying to empathize with her, well—
“Hm.” Lata’s fingers clack across the keys, not even sparing her a cursory glance. “Interesting.”
“So.” Obi wraps his mouth around the sound, stretching it as long as the look he sends her. “That’s it, right, doc? You’re gonna help us?”
“I didn’t say that.” Lata steps back from his screen, one rigid line from the heels of boots to the whorl of his cowlick. “I study legendary weapons. As intriguing as it might be to study one of their progeny— however direct— Miss Shirayuki is not her mother. There’s no guarantee that her biometric data will provide any meaningful contribution toward my—”
“So you have other half-mythical weapons lining up to be a part of your experiment?” Obi perches on the sarcophagus like a particularly mischievous gargoyle. “Is Caliburn’s great-grandson going to walk through here? Excalibur’s ex-roommate? Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to find a guy who knows a guy who saw Kusanagi-no-tsurugi buying cabbages once.”
Lata’s mouth pulls thin. “Caliburn is—”
“—the same sword as Excalibur,” Shirayuki finishes, hurriedly.
“What?” Obi squawks, nearly toppling from his perch. “But wasn’t that the one in the stone, and then that lady in the lake or whatever gave that guy another one…?”
“That was a translation error,” she murmurs, flushing as Lata lifts his brows. “From when the troubadours in France began singing Arthur’s lays. Exacalibur was the sword in the stone. He just, er…broke. And the Nimue” — ah, she’s starting to sound like her uncle— “never mind. It’s a common mistake. He was still sleeping when it happened.”
“A better time.” Lata glares as if they were the ones who woke him.
“Huh.” Obi shakes a hand, like that might clear the air. “The point is, does how many legendary weapons is doc gonna meeting hanging around in some dusty ass old ruins? You’ve gotta need us as much as we need you. Maybe even more.”
If the professor was glaring before, he’s glowering now.
“You make a compelling point,” he admits, begrudging them every word. “Fine. I supposed it would be beneficial for my work if I helped you both with your resonance issue. But you’ll have to help me with my research,” he warns, as if that soured rather than sweetened the deal. “And not just your own contributions to my data— I need legendary weapons if I’m going to get anywhere, not just their…relations.”
“Well,” Shirayuki hums, struggling to keep her voice so even, so innocent. “I could always ask my uncle, if you really needed—”
“We can start with your training first,” Lata grits through his grimace. “I’m hardly that desperate.”
“Sounds like you’ve got yourself a deal, doc.” Obi sprawls himself across the top of the coffin, tapping at the marble slab. “Now which one of these are ours? You got a couple lined with Egyptian cotton or something? Maybe some memory foam? I don’t need a lot but I’ve got to be able to snooze in full Nosferatu.”
His eyes close, arms cutting up to cross over his chest— full Nosferatu, indeed— but Lata only grunts, “None of them.”
One eye peels open, skeptical. “What, the Cryptkeeper’s got guest rooms down here? A Best Western? It takes three hours to get here one way, there’s no way we can hike out and back every day.”
“Of course you can’t,” Lata scoffs. “I’m coming back with you.”
*
“Just like that, huh?” Obi’s no longer playing vampire, but he’s still sitting on the sarcophagus,  shoulders stacked beside hers. “You’re not even going to ask us what the problem is first? What if it’s just a five-minute fix, and—?”
“If it were really some ‘five-minute fix’ then that idiot Shidan would have been able to handle it,” Lata grouses, already sifting through books to take with him. “And there’s certainly no point in asking your opinions on the problem. If you neither of you have managed to devise a solution by now, then I doubt that you have any meaningful insight to provide me.”
Shirayuki would have protested— if the professor didn’t have a point. Locating a reclusive academic was hardly the sort of option a reasonable person took as their first step. But after two years of reaching for resonance and having it slip through their fingers, Shirayuki was willing to try anything. Short of braving one of her uncle’s lectures, of course.  “That’s not very nice.”
Obi tucks his chin, keeping his grimace between the two of them. “He’s not wrong.”
“Still,” she sighs, “he doesn’t need to say it.”
“Hey, what did he mean anyway?” She cocks her head, questioning, and Obi clarifies, “About how you don’t look like your family.”
“My uncle…” It’s her turn to grimace now. “Well, my mother doesn’t take after him, that’s all.”
“That gives me at least one answer about your father,” Lata grunts, heaving a trunk up onto his back.
"Really?" Obi drawls, rubbing at his shoulder. "I feel like I didn't get anything from that at all."
"I'm sure," the professors hums dryly, "that you're used to it. Now, are you two ready to go? We have quite a ways back, and thought I am experienced at traveling in the snow, I'd prefer not to do it in the dark.”
Obi heaves sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Get a load of this guy, kid. Spends all this time packing up everything that isn't nailed down, then ask us to hurry up and--"
"Today, if you would." The words echo down the hallway, ghostly in the empty room.
"Yeah, yeah. We're coming." He rolls his shoulders, shifting his weight like a fighter right before a match. "Welp, you heard him, kid. One-way trip to Lilias, leaving now. You ready?"
Shirayuki doesn't spare a glance for the sepulcher behind her-- but she does pause for a shiver. Really, she'd thought she'd left these sorts of trips behind at Shibusen. "More than."
"Love to hear it." He holds out a hand as she starts up the rise. "Let's get out of here. Ladies first."
There's no hesitation as she takes it, hand fitting in to his like her haft snugs into his palm. "Let's."
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apollotronica · 7 months
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went to the neurologist today they told me i have brain cancer and i need brain surgery on my brain
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victoriartdrawings · 3 months
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Est - ce qu'il y aurait des fans du couple Tara Duncan et Caliban dal Salan ici???? 👀
Je pensais à créer un serveur discord spécialement pour ces deux là (et aussi pour parler de la série) mais surtout pour eux😅donc même si on est que 4 ou 5....si vous êtes partant pour ça, envoyez moi un dm ou rebloguez ce post que je vois si je suis pas seule haha🤡
Are there any fans of the couple Tara Duncan and Caliban dal Salan here???? 👀
I was thinking of creating a discord server, mostly focused on these two (and also to talk about the series) but especially for them😅so even if there are only 4 or 5 of us….if you're up for that, send me a dm or reblog this post, to see if I'm alone in this or not haha🤡
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comflexing · 4 months
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if it wasn't for my college timings I'd be nocturnal by now
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wonderbandersnatch · 25 days
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[Je préfère prévenir ça va être un peu long et ça va parler batterie en mode fanboy donc un peu obtu comme post, voilà]
Mario Duplantier, l'incroyable batteur du groupe de métal français Gojira, a sorti il y a peu son solo de batterie annuel, cru 2024 donc. Mais je vous ai mis ici la version 2022 qui pour moi est la plus folle.
Je pense que pour les personnes qui ne jouent pas de cet instrument, ça ressemble juste à un type qui tape vite et fort sur ses fûts. Sauf que non. Ce qui se passe dans cette vidéo c'est hallucinant pour plein de raisons. Que ça aille vite et fort, en soi, c'est à la portée de plein de gens. Joey Jordison par exemple, feu batteur de Slipknot, frappait vite et fort. Mais pas avec cette précision, pas avec cette musicalité. Ce qu'on a là, c'est clairement un cran au-dessus, et je pèse mes mots. Chaque coup de baguette, chaque mouvement, chaque temps est maîtrisé du début à la fin, non seulement dans la qualité d'exécution mais aussi dans l'intensité de chaque coup qui est donné. C'est simple y a pas un coup de baguette à côté ce mec c'est un putain de métronome, il a TOUT dans sa tête : le détail, et l'ensemble. Et c'est là, je trouve, la marque des plus grand.e.s. La cloche qui tape sur tous les temps, invariablement, sur la quasi totalité du solo 😱 ça a l'air de rien mais c'est monstrueux de retomber à ce point sur ses pattes du début à la fin sans faux pas.
Au-delà encore de la propreté ahurissante de son jeu, est-ce qu'on peut s'arrêter 2s sur sa musicalité ? Parce que ça groove ptain ! Les petites cymbales qui viennent ponctuer le jeu en permanence, l'inventivité des rythmes et des sonorités : le gars exploite au max les possibilités de son instrument pour en tirer quelque chose de très musical, c'est impressionnant.
On a beaucoup tendance à taxer le métal de musique brutale alors que pour moi ce qui définit le métal c'est avant tout la technicité. Pendant longtemps les meilleurs batteurs ont été des batteurs de jazz, et on chiait (et on chie encore) allègrement à la gueule du rock en disant que la technique et la rigueur ne seraient jamais à la hauteur (le film Whiplash en est un bon exemple, aussi bon que soit ce film). Bah vous savez quoi j'emmerde Buddy Rich, voilà. Parce que quand on a un Mario Duplantier qui nous pond un truc comme ça, ou un Ken Bedene qui, en live, joue un blast impeccable à un bpm surhumain dans la détente la plus totale, excusez-moi mais j'emmerde le jazz : la relève est là. Eh oui. Le métal supplante le jazz en technicité. C'est en train d'arriver.
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brainbuffering · 1 year
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12 Days of Manga (2022)
Day 1: Favourite Ongoing Series - Snow White With The Red Hair by Sorata Akiduki from Shojo Beat (T: Caleb Cook L: Brandon Bovia E: Karla Clark)  
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[ID: English cover for Snow White With the Red Hair Vol 19 by Sorata Akiduki. Kiki wears a burgendary psudo-european-medievial style dress with long flowing sleeves. In on hand she holds a wine glass, and in the other she gently clasps her sword. She sits sideways but looks knowingly at the viewer. Behind her, a festival at dusk is in full swing and we see the backs of Hisame (left) and Mitsuhide (right)]
This year (as of writing) the UK has been gifted Volumes 17 - 19 of SWWTRH*, covering the Bergat Arc which finally gave some more time for our beloved Kiki to shine and the return of everyone’s (read: my) favourite beloved arsehole Hisame Rougis. This more action and romance based arc was a nice return to form last year’s Orimmallys arc. As wonderful as it was to see the STEM elements of SWWTRH come to the forefront, with no doubt Cook’s experience on Dr Stone helping him translate all that psudo-science, I’m a simple Blogger who likes to see some swords and swooning.
That said, this combination of genres and themes really does highlight what makes the series so good. Anyone who tries to tell you that Shojo is all the same really needs to read this series because it will swing from mystery to romance to action adventure to science explainer in only a few chapters. I’ve said it elsewhere but I will say it again: it i also just so nice to have a manga I can confidently recommend to literally anyone! It’s a great starter for those looking to get into Shojo, be they a 10 year-old who has some book tokens to use up, or a 40 year old who wants to finally branch out beyond the Shonen Jump Sphere of Influence.
The series is also beautifully unintentionally queer, and that was highlighted again this year. Well, I say unintentionally. Some of SWWTRH’s contemparies in LaLa include explicitly queer stories such as Ouran High School Host Club, so who is to say how it will end? I can hold out for my bisexual polyamorous ending in which Obi, Zen and Shirayuki end up married with 2.5 children, right? With lines like this, it’s starting to feel more like text than subtext. 
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[ID: Zen smiles widely. “You might have a trio who lived completely separate lives... ... but came together in the palace... ... to now spend their lives together, side by side.”]
But I digress. As I said! This was the year of the Kiki. We got to get more of a glimpse into her role as heir to the Seiren Family, and what expectations that holds. She got some closure on her relationship with Mitsuhide that, without spoilers, was very afirming from an Aro/Ace perspective, and started to see her take new steps with Hisame in a way that allows them both some character development and encourages world building! We also got to see her beat people up with a sword, although perhaps not as much as I would have liked. She did get her own dramatic “I’ll be shooting for my own hand” moment, with all the paralels and metaphors of working hard to choose your own fate and your own destiny, and to not get thrown by romantic rejection but rather remain to stay true to yourself no matter what. So I suppose I can’t really complain. 
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[ID: Two manga pages of Kiki shooting arrows in the middle of the night, the range lit by fire light/beacons. The first ten arrows have missed the center of the target completely. Kiki looks disapointed and uncertain about everything. Then she appears to center herself and manages a bullseye.] 
I’ve said many times before, that I don’t think there is any reason for a series to go beyond 30 volumes. I can’t imagine any story that needs to go on for that long without it becoming far too repetative. However SWWTRH is one of those series that I will happily be buying for the next ten years! For one, unlike a lot of ongoing series, SWWTRH is not restricted to a time scale (e.g. three years of high school) or singular goal (e.g. entering the olympics). Shirayuki and Zen confirmed their romantic feelings early on, and whilst we want to see their relationship develop the pace it is going at feels realistic for people of their age, and in their situation.
Why should they get married at age 19? Shirayuki becoming a well respected court herablist will help her standing in marrying him, sure, but it’s also the goal she wants to achieve without romance being on the line either. Heck, even if her only goal was marriage, it’s perfectly reasonable to want to finish your studies before settling down! The story is not lessened by its slower pacing, but rather enhanced by it. Much like real life, it takes its time with each arc, meandering rather than steamrolling. Yet it doesn’t feel repetative, it doesn’t feel as though Akiduki dragging things out for the sake of it, but rather just allowing the characters to take moments to breathe inbetween events.
The characters are allowed to grow and change with the narrative, and have that be reflected within the story. There’s a whole time skip that takes place without it feeling like some big terrifying event, rather just the nature of what happens in adult life where you just spend a year focussing on your work and your studies, and so naturally don’t get up to the sort of major adventures that you might tell your grandkids about.
The series finds strength in the age of its characters, young adults growing into themselves and finding a purpose in life without fear of falling and failing. Obi is allowed to find comfort in the mundane, and not having to go on life changing ninja adventures all the time. Shirayuki’s focus on her studies living away from Zen doesn’t mean that their romantic relationship must come to an end, and she is allowed to develop completely independently of their love whilst still having that love be incredibly important to her! Mitsuhide is happy to live a life without marriage and kids because he cares more about the platonic relationships in his life, and wants to put his time and energy into those. Kiki is still working out what to do next now that her initial plan for life has turned side ways, and that’s good too! She has a support network in place to help! Zen meanwhile continues to be the perfect prince, the white haired anime boy all white haired anime boys should aspire to be, and I hope that he is able to move back in with his girlfriend and boyfriend full time. 
The joy here is in the journey, not in the destination, and i’ll happily continue on with these characters for years to come!
*The Americans have up to Vol 21, but the ongoing supply chain crisis and paper shortage are out to get me personally.
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persephoneflouwers · 11 months
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glygriffe · 3 months
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The Christmas Question
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This time of year, a lot of people debate if Die Hard is a Christmas movie.
Same thing in Quebec as anywhere in North America I guess. People like the question but there is no definite answer. Opinions differ.
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But in Québec there is no debate around the movie Les 12 Travaux d’Astérix: everybody knows it IS a Christmas movie.
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anes-tesia · 1 year
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En este jalowin yo jalo a donde sea, pero que sea contigo.
Misteriosa como el mar.
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cryptic-michael · 1 year
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I really genuinely am thinking about Werewolf Micheal.
Like he knows he's a werewolf, and feels horrible for it. Just the idea that he loses control and well can rip people apart really gets to him. He's massive and it's a miracle he hasn't killed anyone yet...as far as he knows he hasn't.
So you have him, a MASSIVE but such a sweet thing.
He's, "House trained" as Lucy puts it.
"Grandpa!! Sman and Micheal can't help it!! And besides they're house trained and people trained! They won't do anything!! They just need to run around and eat more! You have plenty of wood and things for them to scratch on!!!"
"house trained? Werewolves?!! Lucy how comes your still fine!"
She doesn't answer that.
Obvously grandpa let's them stay and live.
But the lost boys have no idea that Micheal is a werewolf.
"yeah I'm kinda a dog person..."
"oh so you like dogs huh? Cool...." And they generally think he just really likes dogs is all.
Like he's not agressive towards them.. he "Acts like a dog" but so does Paul.
He smells "Like a dog" but after mentioning that he owns a dog well that's fine...he probably plays with it a bunch.
Not like the lost boys haven't seen Sam and Nanook around a few times.
But after a while we'll....he drank the blood and they didn't see him for today's, assuming he was very sick or taking it poorly.
"that wine was awful, it tasted wonderful but made me so sick you need to refrigerate that stuff or ice it you know..." He tells them and well they notice some changes or maybe Micheal is letting lose more.
It's not until around a full moon that they notice, which isn't far.
"A full moons coming up, and we do love a good full moon..."
"Oh I love full moons there so fun!!!!" He gets very excited not knowing the boys are vampires.
And well he gets a bit more....something alright around a full moon.
He's starving constantly, he needs to waft down so much food. He gets a bit more agressive but still so sweet, he's sooo clingy and demanding of head rubs and they just assume Micheal is going though...weird changes.
Until the full moon hits and Micheal is nowhere to be seen.
"Where is he??"
"dunno...said something about having to acutely need to babysit his brother...his mom's on a date with-"
"max yeah yeah we know max won't shut up...."
So they out for a hunt...
It was ment to be normal, and was, and they feed like usual, gorged a little bit it's allowed from time to time....but then a low howl, and just well....they expected a lot...a lot that night...
Not a massive wolf, a beastly feral creature, huge thing. It's snarling, growling, on all fours and yet on its hinds a lot as well. Huge it has them genuinely petrified with fear until it growls and let's out one last howl before barreling towards them...or well a body near them.
Must have been starving...
"FUCK ME!!!" Paul screamed and flew off, Marko was to follow and Dwyane...
David....he was stuck of all fucking things.
"DAVID! DAVID DONT MOVE!"
"EASY FOR YOU TO SAY YOU DONT HAVE THIS THING NEAR YOU!!" he's screaming.
He's pretty sure he's gonna die...but he doesn't.
The werewolf is massive but a beautiful sort of colour, even as it's sniffing the bow corps and searching for something, food probably. Which was funny because normally he'd assume most werewolves just got their own food....unless...
"Some get domesticated or refuse to eat humans unless starving or not enough food, those are still strong but weaker and often children and never make it far in life-" well David will be damned, he remembers something max lectured him about when he turned...
"H-He-Heey....hey...you hungry? Hmm? Hungry little fella? Starved huh?" Just some snarls and a very gross sound and look. It's not attacking him...thank god, since it's taller than him on all fours.
"Yeah~ yeah you're just a hungry boy huh?? Starved? Mommy not give you enough food-" a growl and it snaps at him, he see sits face. It has beautiful eyes that glow, and the fur is curly, or has a sort of curl to it, it's odd seeing it's mouth..snout? Mouth snout thing have blood near and around it...
It looks like a starved animal...its obvously just hungry, he remembers being that hungry..
"yeah just hungry huh? Good little doggie....good boy...yeah? Harmless? Want some pets hmmm? Yeah!! You like that?? Yeah...yeah hungry and want some loving hmm??" A low howl, and a little bark of approval as it lays down to get pets from David and he just eats it up.
David gives the hungry beast the slip and is sick. He thought he'd die. Everyone thinks he's some kind of "Werewolf whisper" now.
"Where the hell even is Micheal?! We gotta tell him! He's one of us now!"
"yeah he is...."
They go to find him....but well when they get to the Emerson house.
"We're friends of Micheal, is he in-" a loud crash and howling. "I'm sorry he's busy right now, and Nanook our dog is uhh sick so that's the howling....I'm sorry you'll have to come back in two da-" another low howl the same howl they heard the other night.
"....we won't be a bother ma'am, we swear, we can give him some help too."
"I really must insist boys, you have to go, I'll let him know you were here...I promice."
They do but don't leave, they leave far enough to see if any werewolves come out.
"David this is dumb don't they own a wolf? It's gonna sound like a fuckin' werewolf!!"
"Paul shut up! What if Micheal is a werewolf! We're dead!"
"Nu-uh Marko! David here is the wolf whisperer!!!"
David stays quiet and just watches before he calls it a night and heads back with everyone to the cave.
The next night is the same, although more howling and things of three different kinds....maybe the Emerson's have three dogs....
Then..the fourth night. No longer a "Full moon" it's starting to change on them all.
"So Micheal, your one of us, so be on the look out for a werewolf-"
"wait you guys aren't wolves?"
"......WHAT?!"
They feel dumb as hell, Marko is yelling on how he called it, David is just starting at him.
".....I let you while you are a sure Nazi's insides."
"oh god that's disgusting please never tell me that again, I'm on a stick diet of mostly a like freezer full of meat form the meat market god that's gross....."
"...then tell me Micheal....why'd you eat him?"
"....because Sam ate all the food-"
"SAM'S ONE TOO?!"
"...yeah....mom had to rush to get some meat but it only holds back some of my hunger....I spend last night starving me and same howling like neo tomorrow..."
"....do you remember anything? When your all...wolfed out?"
"....hmmm...yeah but I tend to.....try not to remember things....I rember being hunrgg...a soft voice, and someone rubbing my head, I take it that was you...what are you guys if not wolves?"
"....Vampires dipshit!"
"MARKO SHUT UP! HES A PUPPY BE NICE!"
"I'm not a puppy! I'm 18!"
"he's an old man in dog years!! Ancient!!!"
Micheal is starting to get why vampires and werewolves don't get along...
That and he cns let lose and drag David around, and rub up on him and roll around....
Just lots of thoughts.
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personally i think its really funny that the di angelo sibs fandom is so desperate to even have (1) visual crumb of them that people are like:
*points at a darked haired boy and girl, both of them way older looking than even the 12 yr old main cast* IS THAT MY CHILDREN?????
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sabraeal · 1 year
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Remedial Lessons
[Read on AO3]
Written for @kaedix‘s birthday! Kimber has a gift for picking niche AUs, and this one she gave me a little unexpected challenge along with it: writing Obi as the meister and Shirayuki as his weapon. Not my natural inclination on a Soul Eater AU...but then it worked out SO much better than it could have the other way.
Blue flame licks up her fingers, pinched like a clothespin right on the tip of its comet tail. It struggles, a squiggling pendulum attempting one last heave toward freedom, but it’s no use; the thing might be all fire, but it’ll never burn that kid’s small hands.
“All right.” A real flame might dance that close to her sigh, like a birthday candle thinking about if it’d give up its wish, but this one doesn’t even flicker. Obi’ll never get used to that, no matter how many of these souls he sees. “Down the hatch, I guess.”
The kid’s jaw opens-- practically unhinges, really, like something you’d see on National Geographic, or maybe something drawn by Junji Ito-- and she wraps her mouth around it whole, slurping the thing up easy as soba. It’s weird to see, honestly; kid’s usually got silverware and napkin perfectly applied to every meal, as neat an eater as she is a note-taker, so when blue wisps out from the side of her mouth, caught by her tongue--
Ah, well, it does something for him. A little. Not because he’s got a thing about food or whatever; he doesn’t just watch videos of cute girls eating like that stupid monkey does, it’s just...her. He’s got a thing for her and, yeah, it’s starting to get real inconvenient. “Do those taste good?”
Shirayuki blinks up at him, everything about her completely normal in size, and swallows. “Excuse me?”
“The soul things.” He waves his fingers, trying to make them flicker the same way as her last meal. “I always thought they’d be spicy or something. Burn on the way down. But you can’t even handle a Red Hot Cheeto, so...”
Her mouth pulls thin. “That’s because they’re unpleasant. The, um, cheetos, I mean. Not the souls. Those are--” her head tilts, eyes drifting up like they might find the answer somewhere past her eyebrows-- “sweet. Or, well, not really. I’m not sure they really have a taste, but it’s like...eating your favorite meal until you’re full. Satisfying, I guess.”
“Oh.” He clears his throat, one hand creeping up to his shoulder just so he’ll have something to do. “Sounds...nice.”
“Mostly.” She grimaces. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the way they...squiggle when they go down.”
Obi’s eaten something like that; last time Zen took him overseas he’d paid a handful of yen to some guy with a bucket to try a tiny octopus on a stick. Its little suckers clung to his throat as he swallowed it down, and well--
Probably not the time to tell her he’d thought it was fun. “We should get headed back,” he says instead. “What was that? Eighty-eight? Ninety-one? Shidan’s gonna have something to say about it.”
Shirayuki hums, that face of her taking a worried bent. “I’m sure...”
“Ninety-seven.” There’s a pen between the professor’s fingers, the kind that usually has a little boat or a ski-lift inside, moving to and fro. This one’s got a small soul, traveling down the length of it to Death and his scythe before scurrying back across. “You’re at ninety-seven souls, Shirayuki.”
The guilty twist of her mouth says the kid knew the count too. Better than he did at least. “You’ve given us some very good opportunities over the last year.”
It’s a diplomatic answer, and by the way Shidan slumps behind his desk, it’s not the one he wants to hear. “Garak wanted you back at Shibusen at ninety. If you were so close, you should have said--”
“I don’t want to go yet.” It’s just like her to let the truth fly right out, landing with all the subtlety of a bomb. One that catches her in its blast by the way she pinks up, just a few shades lighter than her hair. “I mean, we’re not done here. We’ve only just scratched the surface of what the Olin Maris is, let alone what it means for our system of weapon classification, or whether there’s other mythic weapons we haven’t even considered because--”
“Shirayuki.” Obi’d thought Shidan was a bit of a scrub when they first met him, a scraggly excuse for a professor with even scragglier facial hair, but nothing makes a guy grim up faster than having a team of kids thrust upon him and told to keep them alive. Especially when one of those kids is Shirayuki. “I appreciate that this project has...meaning for you. I do. But I also know that if you guys fumble your last soul on my watch, Garak will wring my neck and serve me for dinner.”
That hauls the kid up short, all her passion careening into a pile-up. “Ah...”
Those big eyes roll his way, looking at him like he’s the one with all the experience of talking them into trouble and right back out again. “I dunno, kid. Master’s going to string me up too if we blow this smash and grab a second time.”
Her mouth bows into a frown cute enough to send a little thrill up his spine. “He doesn’t like it when you call him that.”
“And he can scold me about it straight to my face,” Obi says, grinning down into hers. “When we get shipped back to Death City.”
The determined jut of her jaw would like to argue, but before the kid can work herself up past, “No,” Shidan swings in with a weary, “You’re not ready to catch a witch soul.”
“That’s not true.” Shirayuki’s half out of her seat already, tiny hands braced on its arms, ready to spring. “Umihebi--”
“Umihebi is what you can expect from an experienced witch.” Shidan’s not the kind of guy who does resolution, let alone conflict, but he stands his ground, albeit with all the enthusiasm of a cliff face in a storm. “But not a powerful one. Garak hasn’t seen fit to furnish me with the details of that little excursion, but I doubt you’d manage much better if she took you on today.”
Technically, Obi agrees. Hell, that’s the meat of the argument he’d been trying to have only a few days ago, back when the kid had gone off and signed them up for this last glut of souls.
There’s going to be a witch to wipe the floor with us whether we get all our souls today or two years from now, he’d told her, flicking the end of her tiny ponytail. Not because it made his chest squeeze to see how long it had gotten since that raggedy boy cut, of course, but because it was there. No need to rush things. After all, who’s the meister here?
But he watches her face crinkle up, freckles disappearing into the peaks and valleys of her discontent, and-- and it’s stupid, but he can’t just stand around watching it happen.
“We’re stronger than we were then.” Big eyes turn toward him, shining and surprised and hopeful, and he can’t keep this up but he can’t look away either. “Better.”
It’s the truth, it is, but also: it’s a low bar to clear. He wasn’t a stranger to this whole weapon business, even wielded a few a time or two when the job called for it, but this kid was something else entirely. Not his style, for one, and for another, well--
Shirayuki wasn’t for the faint of heart, that’s for sure. He’d nearly passed out that first time she fell into his hands, and staring down Umihebi’s goon squad with her in them had his knees and heart weak.
“He’s right.” The kid quivers with conviction, the way dogs do at the end of their leash. “We’d hardly been partners more than a few weeks at that point, and now--”
“Right.” Shidan’s chair squeaks as he shifts, just as uncomfortable as its occupant. “But can you resonate?”
“ He’s right,” Ryuu says with his signature bluntness. “You can’t.”
“Well, sure. But...” It’s just like the Shirayuki to search for the silver lining in every cloud, but this one even makes her come back empty-handed. “Just because we haven’t managed it doesn’t mean we can’t be good collectors! I’m sure there’s plenty of weapons and meisters who can’t, they’re just--”
“Not Death Scythes?” Suzu offers.
“Thanks, Suzu,” Obi drawls. “Real helpful.”
“What? I’m not saying you’re not skilled.” Bony shoulders shrug, poking up through his jacket like a wire coat hanger. “Clearly you’re better than me and Yuzuri. But you can’t get into the upper ranks without having a Death Scythe, and you can’t get a Death Scythe without fighting a witch, and you can’t fight a witch without some serious firepower, and you can’t get serious firepower without--”
Obi waves his hand. “Soul Resonance, we get it. Trust me, we’ve gotten this talk before.”
“Then what’s the hold up?” Suzu finally looks up from his little science project, face all consternated, like it’s any of his business. “You guys are totally simpatico here. What’s going on in the field?”
Baggage, he doesn’t say, at the same time Ryuu observes, “I think it’s complicated.”
“Complicated?” It’s just his luck that Yuzuri’s halfway through sticking her neck in, drawn to gossip like a moth to a flame. If moths came naturally flame-retardant, that is. “Is there something going on between you two?”
“Ah, no!”  It’s unthinkable that there could be something, he knows, but it stings a little, how quick that scythe of his is to jump in. “It’s just-- there’s someone else who’s supposed to be my meister. But that’s...”
“Complicated,” Ryuu reminds them again.
She’s got the grace to flush. “There’s other duties he has to see to, important ones, and since I’m so new at this...”
“Oh.” Yuzuri snorts, unimpressed. “I see. The kind of guy who can only give you the time of day if you’re a Death Scythe.”
“No! Well, yes.” Her hands wave, as much of a jumble as this whole situation. “It’s not his fault. But Obi has experience with weapons, and he’s able to wield me, so we thought...”
One extremely judgemental eyebrow hikes up to Yuzuri’s hairline. “He might not be Mr. Right, but he’s Mr. Right Now?”
Hands clap to her cheeks, like it does anything to hide what’s going on underneath them. “Well, it sounds terrible when you put it like that! It’s not like-- we’re not-- plenty of weapons train with different meisters!”
“Right,” Suzu sniffs. “But they’re not making them do all the work.”
Obi holds up a hand. “It’d make more sense if you knew who it is. Trust me.”
That catches Yuzuri’s attention, quick. “Why? Is he important? Is it someone I’d know? You’d tell me if it was someone--”
“In any case,” Shirayuki says, pitching her voice to be heard over this mess. “Shidan told us there was someone who could help. A colleague of a colleague, I guess.”
Ryuu glances up. “Really? Who?”
“Some guy,” Obi grunts, right as the she replies, “Rata Forzeno.”
“Why is it that all these genius types always live out in the middle of nowhere?” His complaints mist into the air, blunted by the cold. “If they were so smart, wouldn’t they live somewhere with central heating? A grocery store within a twenty minute drive? Wifi?”
“Some people really enjoy their privacy,” the kid says, like that’s any sort of explanation at all for why they have to hike through this stupid forest.
“Most people just delete Twitter.” The snow’s high enough he’s got to lift his legs to clear the next step, and each time he puts his foot down, twigs crunch. Like a special surprise at the bottom of a shit sundae. “Wasn’t he supposed to be some important scholar? Don’t they all live in Death City, or something? Or at least keep a PO box?”
“He did once. Live in Death City, I mean.” Shirayuki grimaces as he helps her over a rocky outcropping hidden beneath the drifts. “There was some accident? Yuzuri didn’t know the details, but she thought it might have to do with some assistant of his.”
“Accident.” Just what he needs, another professor who thinks safety regulations are guidelines rather than prosecutable laws. “And this is the guy who’s gonna figure out what’s wrong with us.”
“There’s nothing wrong with us!” It’s cute how heated she gets, gripping him through their thick layers, all flushed. “Everyone has trouble resonating at some point!”
“Right, well, most of them are at Shibusen,” he grumbles, tugging her close enough to dodge the snow the tree beside them dumps. “And the ones that aren’t don’t go around collecting all those kishin souls, only to bungle the last one because of it.”
“We hadn’t been working together that long.” Her elbow pushes into his side, luring his gaze right down into the trap of her smile. “Did you tell Shidan we were stronger now? Better?”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t realize he was going to send us out to bumfuck to see some crazy hermit--”
“He’s not crazy.” It’s insane how calmly she can say that when her knees are soaked through with snow. He’s got to lift her up every other step to keep from losing her in it. If he thought she’d tolerate it, he would have called her weapon shape and carried her already. She’d be a hell of a lot lighter that way. “He’s just-- oof!”
It comes out of nowhere; one minute it’s snowy forest and then next the kid’s tripping over tumbled-down stone, a whole ruin jutting out of the snow like teeth in a kishin’s maw.
“Where did this all come from?” Shirayuki cranes her neck, like somehow an answer might pop out of the drifts if she looks hard enough. “A soul barrier, maybe? But to make this look like a forest instead of...?”
“Welp.” He pops the ‘p,’ plucking her attention away from the mystery. “I think we can say for sure that this guy is off his rocker.”
“Obi.”
“I appreciate how fair you’re being, kid, I really do, but normal people don’t just go around living in busted down temple stuff, throwing up barriers and--”
Snow splatters him, just the way solid things shouldn’t, cresting over him like a wave on a breakwater. It takes him a minute to blink, to clear the snow off his eyelashes enough to see a rock’s sitting between them, carving a crater out of the snow.
He leans closer, catching the way grooves are worn into it, images. No, not a rock. It’s a whole hunk of marble, with one sightless eye staring up at them, half a grimace stretched beneath it.
“Is that a statue?”
“No,” the kid murmurs, pale. “It’s a...a bas relief. That means they carved it straight into a block of stone, not--”
“Sure.” His lips are numb where he licks them. “But it got thrown at us, right?”
Her mouth rounds. “Ah--”
“You know.” A voice echoes through the ruins, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. “It’s not polite to wander into someone’s home and call them a crazy old hermit.”
Another hunk lands inches from Obi’s boots, and he stumbles back, hand outstretched. It’s enough to brush her, and that’s all the signal the kid needs, the metal heft of her shaft fitting into his hands like it was made for him. “You’re supposed to call ahead first, at least.”
“Call ahead?” Obi squawks, spinning Shirayuki to deflect the next chunk. “Like you get service out here?”
A man leaps down from a boulder-- no, another one of those frescoes or whatever, looking just as stressed as the face at their feet. It’s an older guy, slender enough that he shouldn’t be leaving the crater he does in that snow, a worn lab coat whipping around him.
“You’d be surprised.” Another hunk of marble breaks itself off; a screaming face, by the looks of it. “Now get off my ruin.”
Obi crouches, ready to deflect the next throw, but with a shout as sharp as her blade, the kid cries out, “Wait! Shidan sent us!”
“Shidan?” The man-- Forzeno blinks, not dropping the marble, but losing his menace. “Why would that idiot send you out here? Not on one of his hopeless quests, is he? That man is made for fool’s errands...”
“You used to be a teacher, didn’t you?” Shirayuki’s not a Death Scythe, not yet, so her transformation is all or nothing, scythe or girl, and for this, she finally decides on girl. “At Shibusen?”
“Yes.” The marble churns overhead as Rata adds, begrudgingly, “I had to be in order to use their facilities.”
“Right.” If Obi were her real meister, he’d be able to tell if that kid was really as confident as her words, but he can’t, so he’s stuck here, having to believe she can brazen it out, just like always. Just like she couldn’t with Umihebi. “Shiden told us that if we were looking to resonate, you were the one to ask.”
The jerk frowns. “That’s not under the purview of my research.”
“But you used to do it,” she presses. “Shidan said you used to be the best.”
“I was,” Rata agrees, like it’s fact. “But I wrote that paper.”
It’s too much. “Are you kidding me?” He can’t take these nerds and their stupid papers anymore. “We came all the way down here to talk to you, and you won’t even--?”
“Shidan told me that too,” the kid says, which is news to him. “You’re interested in mythic weapons now, aren’t you? In...Legendary Resonance?”
If anything, this makes the guy less comfortable. “Yes. Though I don’t see why he would waste his time telling that to a weapon that isn’t even--”
Shirayuki lets out a hiss through her teeth, loosening her jaw just enough to say, “My mother was Carnwennan.”
The marble drops. Just tips right over, inched from that guy’s heels. “Carnwennan? The dagger wielded by Arther himself? The sister to--?”
“Excalibur.” She grimaces. “Yes.”
He hesitates.
“Fine.” Forzeno turns his back to them, heading deeper into the ruins. “Come into my office.”
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i-donot-forget · 2 years
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guys... the whole scene of Erika, Lance and Nevra sharing Erika's room is so beautiful no matter what you choose, the 3 of them admitting they are scared and don't want to be alone while giving each other comfort and courage about their kidnapped companions... it's the kind of companionship I've been waiting for from the Guard of Eel this entire season ☹️☹️☹️
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