#it's an eternal cycle of suffering. bro

[cryptidcorners]

Biker!Mike Schmidt x M!Reader Headcanons

Description: Headcanons with your biker boyfriend, Mike!

Media: FNaF!Movie [ AU ]

Character: Mike Schmidt (+ Abby)

Tags: Biker!Mike Alternate Universe, Fluff, Headcanons mixed with Drabbles, Protectiveness, Established Relationship, Found Family, Cute Stuff, Semi-Domestic, Romantic, Comfort + Uses Masculine Terms

Warnings: Mentions of (Gang, Vehicle, Physical) Violence, Injury + Kidnapping, Slight FNaF!Movie Spoilers, Depressive Thoughts, Stress, Extreme Nightmares

read my TOS + Mike Schmidt Masterlist

Definitely a show-off, even before you started dating. He wouldn't boast too loudly though, he prefers to smoothly tell you how he got blackeye or some new asset on his bike. He always melts when you're impressed by his feats, even if they were from failure.

Mike's a collector. While cycling or suffering from boredom in his dull jobs, he'd swipe a few things that grab his attention and share it with you. He enjoys making chains for you and Abby. It hasn't been the first time Abby has been dragged out of school for wearing a pin with some questionable language Mike didn't notice.

Absolutely adores helping you dress up to resemble his biker wear. Loves helping you find bracelets, decorative eyeliner and rebellious-printed clothes. It makes me squeal eternally.

Gets intense anxiety in populated areas, mostly due to his trauma with Garrett. He doesn't want to think about anyone taking you or Abby away. He's stupid protective in public spaces. With his already intimidating demeanour, it's safe to say nobody bothers talking to you too much.

He enjoys using pet names, but he jokingly calls you "sir", "bro" or "boytoy" a lot. Speaking of which, Mike adores when you make up titles for him. It's something he treasures a lot. A special name for him? And him only? Makes his heart melt.

Takes you on bike rides at any opportunity. He also loves taking Abby in rides too and doing basic tricks with you watching from the sidelines. He's always careful, he could never forgive himself if either of you got hurt.

One of his favorite things to do is let you touch his hair. Nothing makes him happier than intimate moments like that. He likes it more than cuddling and neck kisses. It's just the simple things in life that appeal to him the most.

Wears the silliest shirts while he isn't at work or roaming the streets. Either quotes involving boyfriends or cartoon merchandise. It amuses all of you, but it genuinely makes him happy to indulge in a separate style. Definitely has a: "Men love me, Fish Fear Me" hat somewhere.

You're always at his aid when he comes back bruised. Like the first bullet, he'd calmly hum you an out of tune, over exaggerating story to make himself look good. Truly, Mike doesn't think he deserves you. So, he refuses to embarrass himself.

Loves kissing. That's all.

"Come on, Mike. I gotta go," you giggled as he pressed featherweighted kisses against your skin. You could feel him smiling before he pulled back with a heated sigh. "Just a minute, please? You know how much I miss you." With a playfully eye roll, you wrap your hands around his sides and hug him as he continued peppering you again while grinning sweetly.

Always referencing something. Either it's from a show or song he likes. He's always dumbfounded when you don't understand and ends up spending thirsty minutes rambling about music history.

Pulls pranks occasionally, mostly with Abby's help. A few prank wars have gone down in your household.

Has at least two tattoos based on you (and Abby), he takes his relationships very seriously.

Cried when Abby called you her "dad" once. This loser is so head over heels for you he'd sob if you were complimented him. It makes his heart throb to see you and his sister connect despite everything.

Very defensive. If anything goes wrong, he's either going to use grade school insults or result to violence. There were a couple of times he couldn't come home due to arrest. He'd come back as if nothing happened.

If you ever got into an argument, Mike would try to give you the most formal apology ever. Either by notes or heavily descriptive speeches about how special you are to him. Most of the time it was pretty cheesy, but you couldn't help but be smitten by his adorable attempts.

Much deeper voice + Slightly Childish. He's still pretty shy when he isn't in his element, so Mike is much more confident with you around. Mostly due to his need to impress you.

So much fist bumping.

Mike's bike is DEFINITELY named after you. Anyone who asks about it is immediately shot with dumps of his adoration if you. Bro will never shut up about his boyfriend. Ever.

Mike has definitely gone through those: "This is for you," and failed immediately. As much as it embarrassed him, he finds it cute how fond you were of it. His face flares up a lot around you.

"God, I'm so sorry I missed it." He frowned, face drenched with numb scarlet. "I didn't mean to make a fool out of you." Mike relaxed once you gripped his leather glove with a smile, "So? I still love you. I think it was sweet how you tried to impress me. I'm proud of you." Mike swore he was starstruck right there.

Loves holding your hand, even in public. It's one of the only forms of affection he's comfortable with displaying.

#💤 mike schmidt #mike schmidt #🚲 biker!schmdit #headcanons #writing #writers on tumblr #fnaf #josh hutcherson #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #fnaf movie spoilers #if yall want more of him ask!!! #mike schmidt x male reader #michael schmidt x male reader

[pjunicornart]

Random Thoughts About Cornelius/Lewis I think about way too often

Title is self explanatory. Mostly headcanons under the cut.

I wonder what else he's picky about? Why would he make a PB&J gun? Because he's like me. Portions on certain foods need to be EXACTLY TO MY SPECIFICATIONS otherwise I'll break down. So if he's picky about a simple PB&J, what else is he picky over? I think he doesn't like a lot of spaghetti sauce on pasta, or he just orders butter pasta. He probably never has any kind of liquid/creamy based thing on subs, like mayo or dressings. Also can't stand coconut. Just a vibe.

I don't think Neil tolerates heat very well. I feel like on really hot Summer days, the last thing he wants to do is go outside... unless it's to a pool. Because he gets heat sick very easily, and he feels like he's gonna puke but he knows he's not but because he feels like he is he's just in an eternal cycle of suffering. I'm not speaking from experience what are you talking about...

Loud/sudden loud noises are probably a sensitive thing for Cornelius. I feel like when he was younger he'd hate the sound of blenders, mixers, rumble strips on roads, lightning, etc. As well as shrill/cringe inducing noises such as styrofoam rubbing against styrofoam, crinkling/ripping/rubbing plastic, squeaky markers on whiteboards, buzzing from flies and bees, and squeaky shoes on linoleum floors.

Do you think Neil ever goes into one of those little travel bubbles and just kinda floats through the air? Like to be in a calming environment.

I think besides dogs, he also wants a pet snake. It was like that when he was a kid, and as an adult, he still wants a pet snake.

Cornelius has a very specific way of doing things, and if you mess up that system by cleaning his mess for him, you're dead!

I think in general he has sleep issues. Especially when Neil is on business trips. He's only comfortable (and used to) sleeping in his own environment, so any other environment messes with his routine enough to make him toss and turn.

In case it wasn't already obvious, I think Cornelius is autistic. Self diagnosed later on down the line. I feel like the physical symptom he displays the most (aside from fidgeting) is toe walking.

Let's face it... Lewis in the movie is kind of an irritable jerk. But I think this is explained by his past. He always keeps his guard up and he never wants to get close to anybody because they always leave him. Hence why he scolds himself for letting himself think Wilbur was a friend, rather than scolding Wilbur for lying after he found out.

He didn't like frogs at first because "Ew, slimy."

He was definitely the type to always get picked last in gym class. Neil can't catch a ball to save his life... but he is a pretty fast runner.

Another vibe I get, but I feel like there were those times when he wished Mr. Willerstein could be his dad. He was essentially the only thing close to a father figure he had in his life before he got adopted. We don't see much screen time with them interacting, but it's clear Lewis and Mr. Willerstein had a pretty good teacher-student relationship. Hell, I even feel like Lewis would prefer to spend his lunch hour with his teacher instead of in the cafeteria with everybody being loud and annoying.

If Neil is gonna play any game, it's gotta have good puzzles. So what I'm saying is he probably played a lot of Professor Layton. But because he grew up during the DS, Wii, and Gamecube era, he's probably nostalgic for those Zelda games (Twilight Princess, Ocarina of Time, Skyward Sword), Mario games (New Bros. Wii, Mario Kart Wii, Galaxy 1 & 2, Mario Kart DS, Mario Party DS, Double Dash, Sunshine, Paper Mario), as well as the Metroid and Megaman games which would've been in circulation during that time period. For some reason, I don't think he was ever interested in Pokemon. I feel like that's more Franny's schtick.

Cornelius does NOT like horror games. Unless it's FNaF, because it's not actually scary most of the time.

He either sleeps in the softest blankets known to man or he ain't sleeping at all.

Neil may be one of the smartest men on Earth, yes, but he still has his dumb moments. Like when he's trying to find the syrup in the pantry for his pancakes, and he can't find it so he asks Wilbur for help. Then Wilbur proceeds to find the bottle of syrup that was right in front of Neil's face the whole time, and he somehow didn't register its existence.

Lewis prefers longer socks to normal length socks, because he blisters easily. But also because there are more fun varieties.

Frogs he can learn to love. But small, spindly spiders? NOPE NOPE NOPE. Tarantulas? He loves them because they're fuzzy and the perfect petting size! But the minute the spiders get smaller he is OUT. He hates bugs in general, really. The minute he finds a spider, ant, bee, or any bug in his house he will bomb the residence then move to Mars.

#rosey rambles #late night thoughts #random thoughts #meet the robinsons #lewis robinson #cornelius robinson

[akkivee]

dice and kuukou have expressed their commitment to their team in a similar fashion lol

#this is vee speaking #mayhaps i took the dialogue from fp/mtr➕ and loosely styled it on the wiki drama track style to avoid using manga screencaps lol #dice’s is a little…….. cruder i guess lol??? #and kuukou’s strikes a different type of fear than dice’s but it is the same vibe lol #can’t believe dice and kuukou are also twinsies in this front lol #kuukou’s line actually kept me up last night lmao #like you just look at what kuukou said to ren about taking your own life #sends you straight to hell i mean and hell in buddhism may not be an eternal thing but it is for a VERY long time #and the whole point of buddhism is to end the cycle of suffering by reaching nirvana #so here’s kuukou just casually saying he’s willing to throw all his hard work and purpose out and spend eons suffering #if that helps jyushi and hitoya like that’s some commitment bro 😭😭😭 #c: kuukou👑 #c: daisu #c: gencha

[flowerflamestars]

Let's ask the hard questions here, baby. What do you think the series would have been like had it been Nesta Archeron under the mountain?

BABE this is it-this is the best question I’ve ever been asked. 

For one thing, chaotic. For another: I think the simple substitution reframes the whole structure of the narrative. It’s not about a journey to power that fights Evil Tyranny (abused Human to Hero to High Lady).

It’s a story about the people working around, beside, under the powerful Lords- and the difficult choices they make. Less Hero’s Journey more, Look, These Are the Real Heroes.

Let’s start with Spring. We know now that the whole you killed a faery now you have to come to faeryland thing was an insanely shitty ruse. So maybe Andras is still alive. Maybe Feyre killed him and Nesta successfully protected her sisters. Maybe Tamlin is just a twat and went that one is pretty. ANYWAY-

Nesta gets to Spring. Lucien doesn’t immediately despise her, for, you know, murdering and skinning his only friend (a handy sublimation of the anger he can’t express against his High Lord). Nesta was raised in the fucking gentry and Nesta can play the game- it’s a question of willingness.

Feyre is a lot more willing to roll with weird circumstances for caution.  Nesta is, to her bones, an aggressor. Empty manor doesn’t add up? She’s going to say something so cutting, and so infuriating to Tamtam she ends up seeing all the faeries. She steels herself, refuses to be afraid of Alis, and asks questions. (See, Nesta’s first IC dinner, zeroing in on the scariest faery and refusing to flinch)

At some point, there’s a confrontation. 

But it’s not between Nesta and Tamlin. Now, in canon Tamtams is extremely willing to drag his feet on the curse. In this version, that is so much worse- sure, he’s into Nesta (Nesta, recall, just looks like sharper Feyre), but Nesta takes one look at this fragile immortal man child and roasts the shit out of him. What’s he going to do? Kill her? Negates all the stupid trouble he went to. Punish her? He clearly needs her for something.

Tamlin cannot handle that. There are no Romantic Moments. Nes spends calanmai watching faeries do weird shit out her window. She sure as fuck doesn’t drink faery wine and dance for Tamlin at the solstice. It is not happening.

 So Nesta spends a lot of time alone, wandering around. Talking to Lucien, Alis, random-ass faeries out of sheer reckless ego, reading every book in the ugly manor.

Nesta confronts Lucien. I’m going to go with after the wingless dead faerie and the head in the garden. The stupid blight conversation.

This works differently and better than Feyre’s attempts to get more information for I think, two important reasons. 1) Lucien and Nesta speak the same language in acotar. It’s all anger babes- sharp edged, sexy, bullshit. There’s no cycle of forgiveness then softening- they are the same, too the same, tired and self-hating survivalists bored out of their minds in a gilded death trap. 

and 2) Nesta and Feyre are quintessentially perceived differently. Feyre is hopeful- tenacious, young, free. She shakes up things for these old ass faeries and gives them something to believe in. It’s youth for the eternally young. 

Nesta...is not that. She gets under your skin, forever. Multiple faeries meet her throughout the books and have very extreme reactions to that- but what matters at this point, as a mortal- Nesta reads as an adult. She’s immune to glamour. Her strength isn’t kindness or an open heart, it’s fucking steel that might take your last breathe.

And look, Lucien would respond to that. Tamlin...isn’t even talking to the girl his people died to get him. The curse is almost over and they’re all going to get tortured. Nesta, has, from day one, known something is wrong- she’s so angry, and it makes it easier for Lucien to be angry.

It’s not hunting bros who become Real Friends, it’s fire and gasoline. Empowerment.

So, I haven’t read acotar in ages- but I’m pretty sure they literally couldn’t tell her about Tamlin’s curse. But Lucien can communicate around the magical fuckery- there’s a great evil. The kids in Winter are all dead because of another High Lord. 

And look, Nesta cares about dead kids. She even, begrudgingly, cares about Lucien. She does not give a single flying fuck about the High Lords.

But Lucien, in this world, is the first one to say it: Hybern. 

Amarantha is Hybern’s general, and Hybern wants all of Prythian. All of it. 

Nesta is absolutely going to walk into the fire to keep the humans- and by extent, her sisters- safe from faeries. 

Tamlin- because he does not love Nesta- doesn’t send her away. Doesn’t crush any savage hope Lucien harbored, doesn’t do shit. He gives up.

And so Spring is dragged beneath the Mountain.

Nesta has exactly two advantages on her side: she can see through glamour, so she’s not 100% disoriented and vulnerable (just..you know, terrified), and sheer force of will.

Amarantha likes will. She likes to break it, and there are so few real contenders left after her victory. 

Nesta doesn’t bargain- Nesta doesn’t beg for Tamlin’s life and love- she asks to win her own. 

Amarantha wants to crush her like a bug. Insignificant little human- but wouldn’t it be more fun to watch each little crack form?

So she gets the riddle. Tamlin’s power is thrown in like the boring chekovs gun that it is. Lucien (probably) gets beat up because Lucien always gets beat up under the Mountain. 

Nesta has two choices: she can answer the (stupidly cliched, easy) riddle right there, and try to walk out. (Nesta knows she’s not making it out alive). Or she can wait, and play the game. (She’ll be damned if she doesn’t take that insane bitch and maybe Tamlin down with her. Her only ally is Lucien and he’s being hauled off with a bleeding headwound soo..)

Nesta lets herself be dragged away. She doesn’t fight. 

Let us remember again, that the Archeron sisters are built like a triptych. A presumable almost mother maiden crone. They look alike, especially Nesta and Feyre. If Rhysie boy thinks Feyre is hot at first glance, guess what he also thinks about Nesta?

So, yes, of course he goes to offer a deal. And let’s be clear on something- when Feyre hated Rhysands guts, what did he like about her? That she was beautiful, absolutely didn’t give a fuck, and what’s that? Fought with him.

She lets him heal her, but then- Nesta won’t even talk to him. Nothing he does works. They come to agreement (which Rhysand finds fascinating, a human with loyalty, that human heart) that Nesta will listen to Rhysand’s offer if and when, he delivers to her a whole, safe, Lucien Vanserra.

Rhys frames this as emotional torture. Incentive. He doesn’t need to play evil as well- Nesta hates fucking faeries. And she knows he killed a bunch of children. 

So Lucien gets thrown in the cell. Minimally healed. About to embark on the misery train, self-deprecating laughter at the fact he’s healed, now, because of Nesta. 

Lucien: so nice of you to make sure we’re all pretty before we die, Archeron. Final night spent huddling for warmth together?

Nesta: Shut up. Shut up- tell me why the fuck Rhysand would be trying to make a deal with me.

They come to the conclusion that, while Rhysand is a monster, he also has no control of his own. He’s completely under Amarantha’s thumb, and apparently, wants out.

Nesta, because she always goes for the jugular, has another thought: Are you really going to go back to Spring after this? He gave up. He gave up and you were rotting in a cell.

Lucien, to whom Nesta is both gasoline and mean friend catnip, but who is also a Sad Boi: where else can I go?

So they make a plan. Rhysand thinks Nesta is the key to killing Amarantha? Cool, Amarantha needs to die. Tamlin is the only High Lord who has access to his power more readily? Tamlin needs to do the killing. 

What does Nesta want? There to be no Hybern coming to burn the land where her sisters live. To go back, to go home- but Nesta doesn’t think, even for a second, she’s really going to make it out alive. And if she does, as she thinks late at night, of Feyre’s laugh, or Elain’s quiet humor- how will it ever be safe? They live on the Wall.

Nesta is known to faeries now- Nesta is infamous, and there’s nothing to stop anyone, should her presence lead them back to her home.

Nesta privately decides Tamlin should die too.

So when the time comes, and Rhysand is like, I’ll protect you, you’ll be mine and you’ll be healed- Nesta says no. Nesta, because she really has never learned to back down- looks dead in the eye of the High Lord of Night, the monster who sleeps beside Amarantha and says: safe passage.

She’ll do what Rhys wants, for this: Lucien Vanserra’s safe passage to a safe place, and for Rhysand to promise not to get in her way when she answers the riddle.

Rhys still wants her to come to the Night Court- for whatever nebulous reasons he wanted Feyre to...which only make sense AFTER she’s changed by the High Lords...which Rhysie couldn’t have known, BUT ANYWAY- Nesta says yes. She doesn’t expect she’ll be alive to pay.

Lucien sulks back to Tamlin’s side, and spends a few weeks between challenges laying it on thick. A quiet whisper that grows, a perfect stroke to Tamlin’s volatile ego. How dare Amarantha, how dare Nesta- Tamlin is a Lord, Tamlin is Spring- Tamlin, who has suffered so much more than the other Lords, deserves his power back. 

Nesta is dragged out for the final challenge.

In one of the long, dangerous hallways, her guards look the other way for just a moment- for a visitor. The High Lady of Autumn knows her son is safe because of this girl. 

She hands Nesta a knife. A small gift- all she can. Steel, not ash, small enough it will go unnoticed.

Nesta is dragged before the throne, before the High Lords, Tamlin and Amarantha, Rhysand.

Nesta answers the riddle.

And when Amarantha refuses to abide the rules- Tamlin, carefully manipulated without coordinating by both Rhys and Lucien, goes apeshit.

This does not stop Amarantha from hurting Nesta. The opposite- she’s trapped in the fight between them. When Amarantha does give Tamlin over the power, it doesn’t stop- unloved by even a human, and now she’d take any chance he’d had to win her as he really was.

Nesta doesn’t stab Amarantha. Nesta lays there, bleeding to death, biding her time.

Tamlin murders Amarantha. Rhysand doesn’t beg, but he’s there, getting growled at by Lucien as he tried to staunch Nesta’s wounds.

Amarantha dies, and Tamlin, glowing with power, makes his way to Nesta. They think he’s going to heal her- to try, but Tamlin is Tamlin, so he pulls her into his arms.

Nesta, who knows she’s going to die- Nesta, who was taken from her home, her family, deprived of her life by the choices of this man- Nesta lets Tamlin embrace her, the arrogant, stupid bastard, and stabs him in the throat.

It is the golden, desperate words of Lucien Vanserra that convince the High Lords to heal her. It is Rhysand who tries first, who gives the most. After all- Tamlin had been too selfish to try, and they’d all suffered for it. Faery justice: swift and bloody.

Nesta had died victorious. Nesta died with a bloody autumn court dagger in one hand and the grip of her only real friend in the other- but death was chaos. Skies and stars and howling wind, love and blood and war.

A thousand miles away, Cassian awoke screaming, clawing at his own chest.

She climbed through blood and battle, dreams and hope, floated to an infinite sky: and found herself alive.

Breathing, whole, an immortal monster. On her way to the Court of Night with Lucien by her side. 

[helly-watermelonsmellinfellon]

UPDATE!

9/20/2020

Okay, so I’m definitely glad to live in a house that has Doors, Closets, Walls in the Bathroom(s), a Kitchen, and no stairs. These are the biggest pluses I can think of at present beyond us having few neighbors and it being dead quiet at night(thank God).

Unfortunately, being uprooted so quickly means we’ve had no internet connection this entire time and whatever I got was from bumming off of Walmart the few times we went! My life requires internet connection for me to do fucking anything! I’m useless any other way.

I’m pissed because on September 6th I purchased a 1 Month Subscription for the PSN so I could extend my experience another month(to October 8th). I had to do surveys to get the money to even buy the thing. It was necessary if I want to be able to play Dead by Daylight(or any game requiring an online connection tbh). We didn’t get internet until October 6th. The move has rendered 2/3 of that month useless, meaning I basically wasted $10 and because I’ve had no internet connection, I haven’t been able to do more surveys to get more points to trade in for gift cards.

I do not like wasting money. I’m poor. It’s like everything I’m against.

So I’ve just been stressed from that since I don’t know when I’m gonna be able to play DbD again(or much of anything).

Add on the fact that we have so much shit but no idea where to put any of it, and I wanna pull my hair out.

Like, we needed to move things twice with the same moving truck, and then the rest was split between 2 cars several times because the truck was only rented for 2 days. We cleaned out the dining room of all the stuff dumped there on the first night, and then the second night the second load came in and we’ve barely made it through it all. [Edit: 10/6/2020 - It’s mostly cleaned out y now.]

A lot of it was my sister’s so she’s just got stacks of shit in her room with nowhere to put all of it. So there is an empty space in the dining room now, but we can’t put anything else away right now.

Why?

-There is central air, and it isn’t working. It’s been in the 90s/100s ever since we got here. I’m using 3 fans in my room alone. My room is the coolest and goes down to like the 70s at night. It’s fucking sad as hell. Anyway, dude had to come out and fix the air. It needs a part(and the landlord said if we bought it, he’d remove the price of it from the rent each month apparently). So we buy it and it gets put in. Air’s still not working for some reason? Don’t know much more about it tbh. [Edit: 10/3/2020 – We just got back our ACs and just put them in the windows. Central Air ain’t doing shit still.]

-There’s no hot water. The thing that heats it needs a part and the landlord gives the same rent option. So now there’s hot water and lower rent.

-The kitchen sink needed a final part. We got the part, put it in. The pipe broke. So we need to get a new pipe for it(with the same option about rent from the landlord). [Edit: 10/3/2020 – The sink is shit still. It clogs too quickly no matter what we do and to get a full day’s use out of it we need to pour acid down the drain each night. Wtf?]

So in order to put everything away, we need to be able to put all the crockery away first. That’s an ass load of things that are ours and then a lot that were my Nana’s. We’ve been slowly and steadily doing the dishes in the bathtub of my mom’s bathroom because we can’t use the fucking sink because of the pipe and the fact that the drain gets clogged really fast. [Edit: 10/4/2020 - We’ve finally got things working out. Most stuff is put away now.]

There’s so much stuff we have.

And no internet. I’ve been dying.

I don’t know if Taylor Swift did anything in this time.

I don’t know if I lost any followers because I vanished. [Edit: 10/6/2020 - I actually gained followers somehow.]

I don’t know what any of my fav YouTube reactors are doing.

I didn’t have any music to listen to.

I didn’t have access to Dead by Daylight.

I’ve been suffering in hot boredom! T_T

Good News:

My room is finished, so that’s nice. I didn’t have as many things as I thought. And this room is so much bigger than the other. Like, my bed is pushed up against a far corner across from the door. Lengthwise, along the back wall, it’s about 10 ft., widthwise, along the side walls, it’s about 15 ft. on one side and 18ft. on the other side where the door is.

My sister’s is the exact same size and shape but mirrored. She likes hers too.

Here’s how our rooms are shaped, just mirrored against each other.

I am glad to be away from all the shit from before, I just wish things could go smoothly for us for just once. Being poor just comes with bad luck unfortunately.

And there is still drama on all sides. The rent is not cheap. I don’t even have to pay it and I’m stressing over it. As such, I kept all boxes that held my shit, and just put them in the closet. Everything will be easy enough to pack up since I didn’t unpack a lot of things too. I don’t trust anything and am an eternal realist. And realistically, for poor people, things always get worse and never get better(or manage stay better long enough to count).

Mom and I knew that step-bro and his wife would manipulate their way into living with us somehow. That’s how these things go. He jumps in over his head, fucks up, and the moment he’s held responsible, he picks up and moves on to the next house in the cycle so he can avoid his problems. And he’ll repeat it over and over again. He’s been doing this since he was 10.

Which means them and their baby. And since he’s like an adult-sized baby, I’m none too pleased, and mom isn’t either.

And I don’t even have internet to lessen my suffering.

Edit: 10/6/2020 - We have internet! This post was something I was working on the whole time I was gone, as you can tell by the edits added.

#stuff #me

[demonfox38]

Completed - Zelda II: The Adventure of Link

Oh, my language is going to be vulgar on this one.

So, I'm a crusty millennial who likes old garbage. Most of the media I like is old enough to drink and be a member of the US congress, but probably couldn't be due to the country that produced it. Now, I'd like to think that I've got good reasons to like older media, particularly when it comes to video games. It's a bit hard for my NES to bug me for microtransactions/DLC and emanate the screams of children and man-children alike. But, as much as I like my retro junk, there's one thing I'm very, very happy about regarding modern video games. The variety of game types now-a-days is a blessing. It's rare that someone is stellar at all game types, and I sure have my weaknesses.

It took me a long time to realize that I could be good at video games, and I wholly blame the glut of 1980s platforming games on that.

Look, platforming is not a forgiving genre. Particularly, back in the day where you had characters dying in 1-3 hits before factoring in death pits. It existed then for the reason that fourteen million instakill indie horror games exist now. Instantly killing the player is a lot easier to code than, say, having to track a health bar or their new position as an enemy swats them into a different room. Sometimes, a coder's gotta do what they can to keep themselves sane.

But, from a player's perspective, this style sucks!

Getting good at a platforming game requires practicing the same levels over and over again, developing a sense of your character's inertia and limitations. Without a save state or a warp to narrow in on a particularly troublesome location, it's hard to get learning to stick. You could lose a lot of games and time trying to put it all together. And some poor little character is always suffering because of your ineptitude! Such failure feels like a fork in an electrical socket. Succeeding in these circumstances requires a great deal of emotional resilience and a contrary attitude. And you know what? That's just not something I had as a kid. In fact, one could say I had my aggression and competitive drive scolded out of me. I'm just now getting that back.

So, yeah. I had a little trouble with "Zelda II: The Adventure of Link."

"Zelda II" is part of a trifecta of NES games that get routinely shit on by retro reviewers. Like its peers "Super Mario Bros. 2" and "Castlevania II", this game is generally considered an inferior game due to an extreme change of gameplay and appearance from its predecessors. And you know what? That attitude sucks. I'd rather have a variety of different games with a cast I like than have them pigeon-holed into one genre. In "Zelda II"'s case, however? The game mechanic shift was so extreme that I can easily see the ire it raises. Hell, I felt it. I wouldn't go so far to say that it's the worst Zelda game ever, but man, does it have structural defects.

In "Zelda II", Link's goal is to save an ensorcelled Zelda from eternal slumber by picking up a Triforce chunk that was pitched into a fuck-off palace way at the edge of Hyrule. (No, not the Zelda from the first game. Another Zelda. Same Link, though.) To do that, he's got to slap six gemstones into various temples across the countryside. Naturally, that includes picking up his trusty sword, leaping into battle, and then maybe straight into a death pit.

That's right. This Zelda is actually a Mario.

Further complicating the matter is a sharp switch in battle style and item accruement. While the previous Zelda game was about room management and ranged combat (or at least, as much as that was allowed), this game is all about jamming Link's dinky sword into an enemy's face and running off as fast as he can. Now, Link can learn a few tricks to help with the slash and dash, like directional stab mechanics and spells. But, as far as getting new weapons to help you? Sorry, bud. No bombs or boomerangs here. Well, except for the assholes throwing boomerangs at you, anyway. You just can't steal them.

The game encourages polishing the player's skill with Link through a level system. After acquiring XP through good ol' fashioned monster murdering, Link can cash his points out, improving his life, magic, or attack power. As the player levels him up, stats become more costly to improve. If Link gets a total game over before you use your XP, it is wiped out. Alright, fine. Fair, I guess. But, I wouldn't recommend looking at Japanese footage of this game if you don't want to give yourself a migraine. It turns out that as a part of some rebalancing, the level-up system was stacked to try and keep players from dumping all of their points into a single stat early into the game. Particularly, attack. Considering how painful and annoying enemy logic gets in this game, it's such a drag to learn that Japanese players literally could cut their way right out of that struggle. Thanks for dicking with the game design again, American publishers.

I guess we got better looking sprites and sound effects out of the deal? Hooray for wiggly Barba.

Even with leveling mechanics and a handful of heart and magic containers, this Link feels much frailer than the original Zelda's Link. Like, it's hard to believe he's supposed to be the same guy. Even at max health and defense, you could get Link wiped out with 8-32 hits (as opposed to 16-64 hits from the first game.) Exacerbating that is a life system that can yoink those health bars at any pit's whim and Link's range/health restoration being tied to a limited pool of magic. It feels like you're playing with a ceramic replica of the original character. You can make it work in a fight, sure, but you'd rather have a sword than a shard of a broken teapot.

If you don't have a bushido-level acceptance of death, you're not going to make it very far in this game. I'm not being hyperbolic. You have to accept that you are going to kill Link. You're going to watch that little fairy boy fade to black as the world flashes around him, and you're going to see that a lot. You're going to toss his bitch ass into the river to get a game over and restock your lives because fuck if you're going to wipe out inside a dungeon and have to start your bitch ass back at Zelda's temple again. That little counter on the main menu isn't how many times you have wiped out. It's how many times you've clawed your way out of the abyss with a middle finger raised.

Oh. Minor epilepsy warning on boss and Link deaths, by the way.

Having gone full bleak there for a moment, there are a few pieces of knowledge that can help slow down the cycle of life and death:

There are towns with nice ladies in red dresses and orange robes that will heal your ass for free. You should talk with them a lot.

There are classes of enemies that will drop items after they have been killed six times. Most of the time, this is a magic bottle that restores MP. Sometimes, it's a bag of experience. No monster will drop anything to heal your HP.

Also, some enemies are literal rat bastards that steal your XP. Some also give you no XP on killing them. Yeah. I know. Annoying.

The Life spell is in Saria. The downward stab is in Mido. (I realize these are very strange sentences if you're more familiar with "Ocarina of Time.") Getting these can make a night and day difference in surviving the game. So, keep that in mind.

You do get a spell that will turn you into a fairy. You can use it to game pits and sneak past lock doors. Just don't abuse it too much. It's expensive.

The dungeons have this little statue in front of them that you can whack with your sword. In most locations, it'll drop either a magic bottle or an Iron Knuckle. Game entering and exiting a dungeon as much as possible to restore yourself to full vitality.

You can get into random fights on the overworld (represented either by a little black blob or a more threatening human-sized blob.) Staying on gold roads will mean these encounters produce no enemies.

Also, you can use those random battles to override forced platforming sections. Not that I would recommend cheating in such a fashion. 😉

The game will give you a level up after you plug a gemstone into a dungeon. If you're close to leveling up anyway, turn around and grind up to the top, cash in what you've got, and then go pitch that gem.

Link has a crouch, not a duck. You think pressing down on the D-pad will evade projectiles aimed at your face, but it does not. Crouching is only good for blocking floor-level garbage. It's best not to think of the down button as much as possible, really. Only use it to pick up crap off the ground and cheese the final boss. Otherwise, jump.

I know that I said earlier that "Zelda II" is mechanically like a Mario game, but you know what other perspective might help? Try and play Link as a Metroidvania Castlevania character. There's an attack style in games like "Castlevania: Symphony of the Night" and "Aria of Sorrow" where you walk, jump, and attack in such a way that you never stop moving forward. That's what you've got to do. Walk, jump at an enemy, bonk on forehead. (Depending on how fast you press the attack button, you may need to delay swinging your sword just a teeny bit. At least, I had a bad habit of swinging too early.) With any luck, when you hit the ground, you will be able to keep on moving. You do not want to get stuck playing "poke-the-hole" with your enemies, particularly with how turtle-y some of them can get.

So, the game's a brutal bitch, but I don't want to spend the entire time shitting on it. Let's talk about improvements.

Honestly, I like the sprite style of the side-scrolling sections better than the previous game. Everyone/thing has more room to be rendered, so they look clearer. I can't say the monster or dungeon design here is my favorite, but hey. Easy to see. Yippie. Could have used a map though. Maybe some more tile textures in the dungeons?

NO. STOP. BE NICE.

There are more people around that want to help Link out. Like, whole towns filled with helpful healing ladies and dudes that will teach you magic and the occasional sword strike. Most of their conversation makes sense (although, there's a memetastic fault in translation regarding a character being named Error instead of what I'm assuming should have been Errol.) People good. Want to help people. People help me.

Except for towns where some of the people are monsters, and one of the times they overlapped a healing lady to get text box priority, and then they killed me. Boo.

I'M SORRY. I HAD A HARD TIME.

The music variety is pleasant. Only a few tracks have escaped the game to go into use elsewhere, but there's only one that I'm really iffy on. The NA release did a fine job transposing what they could using a different sound chip, and there are striking uses of the sample channel being used in ominous situations.

But…like…I struggle to see where fighting through this game is worth it. And maybe it comes down to the final boss. Like, the penultimate one? Absolutely cool. A bitch to fight, but I can't knock how massive and intricate its sprite is. But, the final boss? I suppose it comes down to personal tastes, but I find mirror matches/rivals to be exceedingly dull. Like, good for you. You know how I fight. I do too. Come back to me when you know the weaknesses of my style and use a fresh set of skills to throw at me.

Like, it's not the worst ending in the Zelda series. (My vote for that would go to "Link's Awakening.") You do get Zelda saved. But, given that the final boss is some kind of dark clone of yourself…it begs a lot of questions. Was there any concrete plan for the forces of darkness in Hyrule, or were various monster tribes just scuffling around, being dicks without any overarching plan? Were some monsters trying to keep you out of the Great Palace for a good reason? Would there have been any threat of Ganon reviving at all if Link just…sat on his ass behind a castle for the next century or managed his anxiety in a different way? Why does the manual bother to separate Zeldas and the game does not? Oh, wait. The Japanese intro correctly distinguishes this and the American one does not. Why am I not surprised? What's the difference if you don't see the Zelda you saved from the first game, anyway?

This game is a lot of work. I had to psych myself up to play it every time, and by the end, I was rattled enough by my nerves that I literally camped in my bathroom for a few minutes just to make sure I didn't get sick on the couch. Very stressful. And I'm not sure that stress was worth it, frankly. Life's hard enough as it is right now. I literally have a stress rash on my neck from the shit I'm going through in real life. No, you did not need to know about that. But maybe you need to know that I've been having a hard time lately, and this game did nothing to alleviate me from the stresses of reality. And what's the point in checking out from reality if a fantasy world is just going to make me miserable, too?

There are better games to play in this style. Hell, there are better games on the NES in this style. You know what you should go play? "Faxanadu." It's uglier than "Zelda II", sure. An absolute idiot when it comes to basic mathematics. But it's very chill about platforming and death. And maybe I just want to chill the fuck out for a while.

#post game evaluation #zelda ii: the adventure of link

[ghostmartyr]

SnK 125 Thoughts

Things Eren’s Plan Has Made Better:

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Open, infuriated communication between people living under fear of imminent death! :) :) :)

This chapter makes me laugh. Almost nothing good happens within its pages, and it’s delightful. Eren’s stated intention of killing off the outside world is actively disrupting even the imitation of peace every society in this universe has.

He’s fighting for the protection of Paradis? See all these dead Paradis people who were just minding their own business. See also all these living Paradis people who are minding their own business into a civil war.

He’s ending the Eldian cycle of titanization? Nope, still got the inheritance problem to work out, and if the rest of the world dies, that just means nine people are forever going to be killing each other over it.

There is nothing in this chapter that is worth any of the carnage Eren has inflicted.

So I can’t wait to find out what it’s really about.

There’s a bad plan, and then there’s this.

No part of the world is untouched by Eren’s decisions, and even the people he’s claimed to be interested in protecting are actively suffering from what he’s done. Unless Eren’s sanity is such that he is pursuing a future where there is no one but him and a pile of bodies, there is no outcome here that he’s said he wants.

Which is good, because it means that we’re not done.

If this were a video game, and Eren was a character inside it with an open strategy guide, his choices would be the mark of a player looking to pick the worst possible ending.

[Eren] enters a farmhouse for the night, looking for shelter. [Eren] is discovered, and met with a warm meal.

[A] Say thank you for your meal.

[B] Throw the potatoes in the kind, elderly housewife’s face.

[C] Kick the table over and murder her young children.

[D] Commit omnicide.

Eren wants the D, so any other possibilities are out.

Paradis isn’t safe. Eren and Zeke invited global scorn at an international event.

Paradis isn’t safe. Eren woke up thousands of titans who remake the landscape by going out for a stroll.

Paradis isn’t safe. Every citizen living on the island has their own thoughts an opinions on what this is, and if they vocalize them the wrong way in front of the wrong person, they’re being subdued with violence.

Plus, at this point, the rest of the world doesn’t even know the titans are coming. The only people who are going to spend their last time on this planet in hours (days?) of petrified fear are interned Eldians, who are screaming warnings at everyone and getting beatings back. At best.

Eren announced his plans to every Eldian. They, unlike their non-Eldian counterparts, are privileged with knowing exactly how they’re going to die, and how little everyone is working to prevent this outcome.

If killing the entire rest of the world does work out, Eren’s actions have made it so that the people who have grown up in internment camps spend their last days even more miserable than they were to begin with.

Naisu.

As Pieck and Magath discuss, there is no way to stop this. Everyone on Paradis is in shock, starting fights, or pulling dying people from rubble. Staring out at the horizon in horror. There is nothing anyone alive can do about this.

Submit, and be free. It’s over.

Or fight and die.

That’s always the case in this world, isn’t it? Fight against insurmountable odds, and fall with your pride intact, or decide that this burning world is a good place to rest.

The remains of Marley’s military giving voice to that offends my sensibilities, somewhat. Magath actively pursued lighting this fire. Without his assistance, this never could have happened. The fact that he thought he was only scapegoating Paradis and eliminating his country’s military hierarchy so he could take control does not particularly make it better.

But the will to fight doesn’t belong to only people with squeaky clean morals. This, unfortunately, is not a story where only the protagonist side gets to have good philosophical views.

Landing Magath on yet more pages of this manga. Cheers.

And of course, we have the turnaround where Floch, a member of the Survey Corps, is now arguing that the fighting is done now. While there’s still titans roaming the world, causing death.

He’s never been a very good Scout.

“What’s so bad about submission...?”

Submission, Floch, is bad because it leaves fucks like you having the last word. It leaves people who smile about genocide because of how it improves their lives free to spread that poison and think that this kind of atrocious violence is a good thing.

The man Floch claims to speak for has never known how to submit to anything.

Eren’s love of the world, and of freedom, is not isolated. He doesn’t want his freedom. He wants freedom as a concept to reign. Humans are born free, and anyone who tries to disagree with that doesn’t matter. That’s been his view from the start. That’s the startlingly intense perspective that has him killing people when he’s nine.

The Paradis Eren’s current choices are making is not a Paradis worth fighting for.

So what do we get? Paradis finally, truly being the last bastion of humanity on the face of the planet? A rebellion of thought rising to object to the ideals that led to this tragedy? A final chapter where our heroes have the chance to save one island from itself while the rest of the world burns?

That’s awfully limited.

Not to mention that there are always survivors. People on the outside would always live, and they would always remember what’s been done to them.

Really, nothing done here has changed anything.

“In the worst case... we’d have to repeat the last two thousand years of conflict surrounding their power. All on this tiny island.”

Humans in this world are not particularly good at avoiding the worst case scenario.

One particular human appears to be actively pursuing it.

None of his supplied reasons currently support this being a good plan.

The only thing Eren will get out of this is death, and his public statement is against that--for Paradis.

Paradis has not been excluded. It’s just going through a more specialized kind of death than the rest of the world is getting.

So in conclusion for this part of the post, everything Eren has done has made the world worse, done nothing to progress his stated goals, and is just such a collection of bad ideas that a valid explanation is that Eren has completely lost his mind and there is no logic moving this train.

That being a boring story, we’re looking down the barrel of some hardcore Reveals to liven things up.

Bon excite.

I’m not going to bother with chronological order this month because why, but also because I think there’s a good chance I’d forget to mention Hange and Levi if I waited until the end.

So. How ‘bout that Hange and Levi. Both being alive.

Genuinely, the most surprising thing to me about this is that Hange not only located a horse, but somehow found Levi some quality bandages before he started bleeding out. How that has turned into finding it in their best interests to approach Magath and Pieck remains to be seen, but I guess the Marley-Paradis dream team is not as dead as it should be.

Like. I don’t disagree that stopping Eren is a priority.

I just really have no interest in forgetting that Marley is The Worst. On the whole, I think the manga’s been rather good about balancing the humanity of the characters with their vile chosen actions, but. I like having a clear focus of hate, and don’t feel a need for them to be further humanized?

Especially when, as Bad as all Eren’s actions are, MARLEY THREW THE FIRST DOMINO AT THE HOUSE OF CARDS, SPARE A SECOND TO THINK ABOUT HOW THAT FUCKED UP PEOPLE BESIDES YOURSELVES YOU FUCKING ASSHOLES.

They can share The Worst crown when Eren steals it. That works.

Anyway, yay Hange and Levi. They join the realm of the officially not dead.

Like Falco!

Hell. Talk about awkward. Connie and Falco are both easily identifiable through their hearts. Connie’s has just been through a few more brutalities than Falco’s. He’s worn down and bitter, whereas Falco still as his eternal fount of optimism going for him.

Sasha’s dad is right; Connie will hesitate. It’s in his nature. He’s found the one thing in the world he can bring back from this war, and he’s desperate for it, but Falco is a little boy, awake and thanking him.

Connie joins the Survey Corps back when it’s a death sentence. He doesn’t run away from the hard things. He fights and protects his friends, and that’s done nothing except break him down into someone who’s considering killing a child to save his mother.

I don’t think there’s much suspense in Connie’s eventual choice. That’s not to say that Falco’s free from danger (even if Connie decides against it, deciding against something after you’ve put too many of the steps in motion... yeah), but it isn’t even a full chapter before Connie’s being confronted with the nature of his work (protecting people) and the nature of this choice (killing person).

However, there are a bunch of people wandering around on horseback in the middle of nowhere. We’ve got Connie and Falco, soon to be joined by Armin and Gabi, as well as Hange, Levi, Pieck, and Magath.

None of them are going to wind up near the walls. All the tension will have to be derived from their interactions, but what’s there? Hange, Levi, Pieck, and Magath have the most reasons to throw down, but also the most experience to know that maybe it’s time to talk. Connie’s future decision is practically written in stone, so why bother taking Falco out into the boonies? A dramatic reunion between him and Gabi isn’t going to do much we haven’t seen already. Quality bro moments for Connie and Armin? We could have done that back anywhere.

We have a cast divided in terms of geography, but not much else. Only Floch’s gang is perfectly fine with what’s going on here. Everyone else is in favor of figuring out a way to fight it. Throwing a bunch of pairs out in the woodlands when none of them are going to be fighting seems like wasted panel space.

tfw massively secret reveal in the woods like whoa and it’s a race to bring it back to the rest of the cast and explain that not all hope is lost and things are magically better

I sense a plot.

Hopefully this part of it involves less dead children.

Also, it’s impossible to tell because non-populated Paradis always looks the damn same, but there’s a chance that any number of the horse groups could be near Historia.

She gets a whole mention this chapter.

Almost like someone cares about her.

That’s two separate people in two chapters.

Whoa.

But also there’s the whole setting sun thing, and sitting outside doing nothing but glaring at the sun is a patented timeskip Historia activity. So maybe now she’ll finally have something to do.

No one else really has that, admittedly. It’s all a lot of watching Eren’s plan, thinking, “gee that’s bad,” and dealing with the fallout of who is already dying thanks to Eren’s plan. Everyone is very busy, but not providing constructive solutions to anything except pulling people out of buildings.

Based on the world as it is explained to us, there is nothing anyone can do against Eren.

Manga please. Please give me the explanation that changes this. We know it’s there.

But yeah, that creates a very anticlimactic dead space where everyone’s solving the problems in front of them, and shrugging at everything else. What else is there, really?

I think I’ll be in the minority when I make the comment that this chapter brought back more of my pity than disdain for Floch.

He’s a crappy person doing crappy things, and someone should probably shoot him in the head sooner as opposed to later. That would not be a bad thing to have happen. He’s invested in raising an empire that no one in the world needs.

He’s also alive through freak chance that left him the sole survivor of a suicide charge, and when he managed to bring his commanding officer to the people who could save him, and bring some sense to the chaos, his actions are invalidated.

Many things could be solved with Floch if he ever was implied to feel a fraction of empathy for people not himself.

That said, it’s... very glaringly obvious that this is his radicalized response to trauma.

The volunteer he kills is left with a mangled hole in his face.

That’s how many of Floch’s comrades die in Erwin’s last charge.

For their pride and obligation as Scouts, and their belief in Erwin’s strategy, they charge. And they all die.

Except for Floch.

Floch’s turned into many things over these four years. A liar is high on the list.

But this moment, and when he talks to Jean, strike true.

Jean’s in shock. Too much has happened, and he understands far too much of it. He’s completely blank, and that is a surface Floch can speak to. Floch knows, and has never forgotten, the shock and trauma the fight can cause. He knows how to put comfort, when he talks to someone like that.

“It’s over.”

He can talk about the rise of a grand new Eldian Empire all he wants, but he’s only smiling when he’s talking to Jean. He isn’t smiling over the new beginning. He’s smiling when he tells a quiet, horrified audience that the fight is done.

Floch’s not a good person. He’s lost in a variety of ways. The war of thought between Eldians and the rest of the world stripped him bare after the battle in Shiganshina flayed him, and he let all of the rot consume him.

All because he happened to live through one of the bloodiest fights in their island’s history.

He should probably be punched in the face and killed. Whichever order.

It’s still a sad fucking story.

-glances at Armin and Mikasa-

HEY SPEAKING OF

This chapter is just the rest of the 104th who haven’t officially experienced it going through their complete mental collapse.

Armin’s in hysterics while trying to hold himself together. The fact that he can still do that second part puts him at the top of the tier list. Mikasa’s lost, with her only avenue left being explaining to Armin why him running off isn’t actually going to fix anything. Connie’s out on his own, contemplating child murder. Reiner’s unconscious and better off for it. Jean’s a wreck. Annie’s spent four years in a dark hole and can’t even win a fight with Hitch. Historia’s main contribution to this arc is being sad. Eren directly caused more than half of all this.

Our Heroes.

Armin has always been the idea guy. He’s the person you ask when you don’t know what to do next. Mikasa doesn’t know what to do about Eren. Eren is literally the most important problem to solve in this world, even outside their emotional complications, so Mikasa asks Armin, her smartest friend, what to do.

Cue the waterworks. Armin goes ballistic, and just like everyone always has, yells at Mikasa for caring about the only family she has left.

She’s taken aback when Armin says he doesn’t know what to do. For the rest, there’s only sadness. She can’t even offer comfort or a denial when Armin takes in everything he’s just said and says he isn’t the one who should have survived Serum Bowl.

Mikasa and Armin have always chased after Eren. Together. They’re the most stable part of the trio. Now Eren’s destroying the world, and the first thing Armin does is lose it with his other best friend for looking to him to be her stabilizing force like he always has.

In Trost, Armin comes to realize that his friends have never looked down at him for the reasons he looks down on himself. Mikasa and Eren love him for his own good qualities. More people start to realize how smart he is, and as the plot progresses, more and more pressure piles on, with people coming to depend on his brilliant mind.

It fails him here. The one thing he’s always been able to offer simply isn’t there. Just like against Bertolt, where all he could come up with was sacrificing himself.

If that had worked the way he thought it would, Erwin would still be here. Solving all the problems Armin can’t.

Mikasa and Armin lose their best friend, and Armin flips out on the one he has left, when what they both really need is those few days of sleep and some damn hugs. Leaving both of them rather ashamed of themselves and isolated.

They’re soldiers. Their job is to keep going.

Also Mikasa’s scarf is gone, and I’d assume Louise has it, but I’m unsure of what the Drama value of that will turn into. Put a pin in it and wait.

Probably the most ominous content goes to Shadis.

The idea that the Yeagerists have the island, so blend in until it’s time to rise up... that is a horrifying potentiality. The time it will take for the Yeagerists to have control of the island is probably slightly more than it will take for Eren to destroy his first city (assuming that’s what he’s up to). If our next climax is going to be a rebellion taking the island away from the Yeagerists... we’ll see a hell of a lot of damage first.

I guess that’s a given, with where the plot is headed, but it’s still appalling to think that Paradis has come so far only to be thrown back into cages when their walls walk away.

I really hope that Shadis isn’t pulling a foreshadowing card. I’d feel more comfortable if his scene came before the scene in Marley, so it could more cleanly be marked as a link to them, instead of a link of what might come to pass in Paradis.

Though the link still stands.

Mr. Leonhart wants his damn daughter back, you fascist jackasses. Staying in line for a decade hasn’t made him forget that.

Anything I could say about Annie and Hitch would diminish my love of their time together. Hitch joins the MPs as a selfish brat, and she lives her truest self that way, but she also saves lives. When duty comes knocking, she sighs and opens the door.

Annie’s a selfish brat too. She’s not as immune to seeing other people as human as she wants to be. She would still kill everyone all over again to make it back to her dad.

Who was a right bastard until he realized he’d done fucked up.

After the long series of poor parenting we’ve gotten, it’s painfully refreshing for Annie’s dad to apologize to express how much he cares for her to her face. He might have fucked up everything else, but he was sorry and he said it. He actually took the first step in doing better, and a decade later, he’s still waiting to complete that journey with his daughter.

Yes, okay, the bar is so fucking low, but he still jumped it. The existence of genuine love at all is a long stretch better than certain other characters get.

Lots of waiting yet to come. Nothing can be done, and Colossal Titans take a long time to travel. If there isn’t a prompt list about what x character does waiting for the apocalypse yet, there should be.

Everyone in this chapter is really just waiting for everything to die. The extinction of the rest of the world is taken as an inevitability, with the only question being how you want to go down.

The world ends with a slow scream that keeps growing louder.

Someone needs to tell Eren to stop doing that.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 125 #Armin Arlert #Floch Forster #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

[boonies]

802 reboots and there's only one thing Eleanor wants more than redemption.  Eleanor/Chidi; PG-13; 2,200 words. 

"You're like goldfish I let loose in a great big ocean," Michael complains tiredly, Eleanor 13 sitting before him with a defiant scowl, "but you just keep—but you just keep swimming in a circle." "Fun fact, Michael," Janet 13.5 lectures over his shoulder, producing a deformed fish tank, "goldfish are strictly freshwater fish." Michael gives the fish tank a bleary-eyed look. "It's just," he starts again, resigned, scrubbing at his stubble, focusing on a distressed Chidi 13 instead, "I gave you a literal eternity to do literally anything you want, and what do you keep doing." "Each other," Janet cuts in helpfully. Michael clicks the button. * Sleepy, Eleanor 16 sighs into the table, cheek pressed to a coffee-stained essay, sprawled over a scattering of dogeared books, eyes focused on Chidi's broad back. "Steven Seagal." Chidi 16 pauses to process. "Oh," he corrects her, patient, offended, secretly flattered, tapping a stick of chalk to the blackboard, "Senegal." "Steven Senegal," she nods wisely. * "You've been my own personal GPS," Eleanor 75 confides with an earnest, desperate grin, fingers digging into his arms, "recalibrating me no matter how many wrong turns I chose to take—" "Ironic," Chidi 75 mutters under his breath, shoulders stiff, eyes averted, "considering my directional insanity—" "—which is how I know The Good Place isn't really a place," Eleanor argues, undeterred, turning her face to glare at Michael with a perfectly confident smirk, "it's a person." "No," Michael frowns, head tilted in consideration, "no, it's definitely a place—" "No, it's definitely Chidi," Eleanor huffs with unholy determination, "I finally figured it all o—" Sighing, Michael snaps his fingers.

* Eleanor 121 settles on the outskirts of a deserted kebab neighborhood. "You're our first resident or something," Michael tells her and books it. She spends two weeks alone. "Janet," she sighs, bored, lifeless, looking up from her pillow when Janet dutifully pops in. "Can you get me a turtle. I kinda really need a turtle right now." One fresh turtle takes a heavy hesitant step atop her skewer-cluttered nightstand. "Janet," Eleanor calls again. "Can you get me tiny glasses to put on the turtle." Janet gets her tiny glasses to put on the turtle. "Hey, Janet," Eleanor asks, lost, "why the fork am I doing this." Janet offers her a cheerful, "Unclear." * "Lemme try... Perfect Credit Score," Eleanor 204 tells the froyo dude, scanning the menu, "And Glasses here's gonna have... how's New Socks sound?" Visibly pleased, Chidi 204 shuffles closer. * "—she lives to vex me," Chidi 321 tells Tahani 321 with a long-suffering, impatient huff, stranded in her greenhouse during a daily shrimp air raid. "Technically, buddy," Eleanor 321 defends, almost fondly, crouched behind a large fern, "we're kinda dead." "This is what I mean!" Chidi points out, incredulous, adjusting his glasses. "I mean," Eleanor shrugs, tugging at one of his belt loops to scoot closer as a giant shrimp flies overhead, "I could maybe be responsible for our shrimp kamikaze friends or I might not be, is this really the hill you wanna die on, man." "As you pointed out, Eleanor," Chidi argues hotly, fixated on the insistent fingers wrapped around his belt loop, "I'm already dead." "This is precisely," Tahani snaps, the brim of her stupidly large hat shielding her stupidly beautiful face, "why I've banned you both from seeking shelter on these premises—I shan't allow myself to become a personal mediator again like I felt obligated to when my good friends, Ben and Jennifer and Jennifer—" A severed shrimp carapace crashes through the greenhouse, nicking her hat. "Out." * "Huh," Eleanor 401 nods to herself, realization dawning, "you and me—I guess we're technically illegal immigrants." Jason 401 cocks his head at the Xbox. "That's racist." Eleanor ignores him, crossing her arms and sinking deeper into the couch. "I smuggled myself into forking heaven." She pauses for a beat. "Wow, this has gotta be the worst thing I've ever—nope. Sold bags of Zayn's breath at two One Direction concerts." Unconcerned, Jason squints at her, controller held loosely in his palms, lollipop dangling from his mouth. "If I had to pick one direction I guess I'd pick south. No, left. No, up—" "We need to turn ourselves in." "Pass." "Listen," Eleanor starts, "Chidi would say it's our moral imperative to—" "Noooo," Jason whines loudly. "Chidi would say," Eleanor persists, then pauses. "Oh." * "Look," Eleanor 599 starts the negotiations, clasping Chidi's clammy hands between hers, "you should come with me to Mindy's. Because..." she takes a shaky breath, nape and collarbones itchy, "because you're the Bonnie to my Clyde, Chidi, the Karl to my Hans Gruber, the Kronk to my Yzma—" "I... " Chidi 599 manages, traumatized, "I don't even know where to start, Eleanor, you understand that all of these are bad guys, please tell me you understand, it's very important to me that you understand—" "Chidi, I only understand that you have to come with me," Eleanor tells him, soft, sincere, scared. "It's important somehow." Chidi watches her for a moment. "Okay." * "Everyone else is forking," Eleanor 666 announces casually, breezing into the guest room, mouth full of popcorn shrimp, "so we should, too, you know, probably." "Eleanor," Chidi 666 bristles, flustered, uncomfortable, visibly struggling to keep his composure and his bookmark in place, "if everyone else jumped off a building, should we?" "Bro," she points out, kinda smug, kinda shy, gesturing at the book in his lap, "we literally just finished a chapter on how conformity makes us human." "Oh, of course," he complains, nervously adjusting his glasses, "now you pay attention to my lessons. Wait. You're paying attention to my lessons, Eleanor, that's—sadly—the proudest I've been—" "Cool," she says, tossing her bucket of popcorn shrimp aside, "but are you turned on." Chidi stares. "Weirdly," he blinks, "yes." * "Perhaps," Michael says into his recorder, perched precariously atop his windowsill, only peripherally aware of Eleanor 704, "next time I could maybe tinker with the bluetooth settings—" "Wait," Chidi 704 says, gripping his chair, glasses slipping down his nose, "next time?" "Oh, right," Michael summarizes flippantly, "yeah. Okay. So we've been through some version of this like 704 times." Unenthusiastic, he sticks his hands up in surrender. "Surprise. I'm a bad guy and so are you. Let's see, what am I missing—ah, yes." He spares them an accusatory glance. "I had to reboot you jerks, like, every couple of months." "Wait—wait, what—704 reboots?" Chidi asks, horrified, vein in his forehead pulsing. "No, what—at an average of two months per cycle," he turns to Eleanor, eyes wide, left shoe tapping restlessly, "that's... 117 years." Eleanor waves him off with a dismissive scoff, "That can't be right but I don't know enough about math to dispute it." She pauses for a beat. "Why do I know that word." Michael arranges his face into a desperate sort of condescension, thumb poised over the clicker. "Character development." * "The bad place must be frozen over," Eleanor 782 tells Nightmare George Washington, "because I definitely think I have the hots for a nerd. Like. I'm not super into him or anything." The clown painting stares back. "Fine," Eleanor concedes, "I might be super into him." She turns. "Tahani, at the risk of failing Bechdel, what do you think." Tahani 782 looks up from a Better Homes and Gardens magazine, criminally long legs crossed at the ankle, hair swept to the side like a sexy mermaid. "I think dedicating an entire article to snacks is a neoteric atrocity. In this economy?" Eleanor narrows her eyes. "About feelings, Tahani. These terrible things I'm apparently having." Tahani rises with elegance, the hem of her dress sweeping down her perfect calves. "Eleanor, I must, as the Floridians say," she lectures airily, patting Eleanor's shoulder, "respectfully stay in my lane." "Fine," Eleanor complains, agitated, unnerved, defensive, "fine, I'll just figure out feelings and how to "have" them on my own—" "Eleanor," Tahani points out, placing one of Chidi's tabbed books in Eleanor's hands. "Not quite on your own." * "We don't belong here," Eleanor 800 murmurs lazily, cheek smushed against a couch cushion, ripped bag of chips cradled in her arms. Squatting by his Playstation, monk robes caught on a stack of games, Jason 800 nods sagely. "Ya, we musta used some legit cheat codes, dog." Expression blank, Eleanor watches him blow a peace kiss at the ceiling. "Dude, we have to leave." Jason gives her a scandalized pout. "Before we get Chidi in trouble," Eleanor clarifies, coaxing, "before we get Tahani in trouble." Petulantly, Jason sprawls on the floor. "I don't wanna leave. I like it here. I like how the pizza is always deep dish and how the Jaguars air on every channel and how my budhole—" "It's the right thing to do," Eleanor eulogizes. "You and me, we gotta do what's best for Chidi and Tahani." "Noo, homie," Jason sits up, slapping the rug, "what about what's best for us, huh." Eleanor nuzzles the bag of chips. "What is best for us, Jason." "I dunno," Jason admits, looking constipated, "but I do know Tahani makes me smarter and Chidi makes you gooder, so." Eleanor opens her mouth to protest, then bites down on a chip with an affectionate, lopsided smile. "He does make me gooder." * Eleanor 802 says, "Do you think it's weird." Chidi 802 says, "Always and everything, yes, but what specifically?" "That Michael deep-fried our brains 801 times and I still just..." she gives him a sideways glance, sitting by the kitchen counter, VCR queued up. "Found you." Chidi shifts atop the stool, brows knitted, fingers anxiously clawing at his knobby knees. "Perhaps, mathematically, it was mostly inevitable, since there were only four—" "I have to show you something," Eleanor interrupts, thumb paused over the play button. "Do you wanna see? It could, you know. Totally change everything, be a total plot twist, a jumping of the shark, maybe." Pained, Chidi offers her a tiny indecisive wheeze. "Well," he starts eventually, wary but focused, "according to Thomas Gray, ignorance is bliss. But also, uh, there's Francis Bacon, who argued that knowledge is power—" "I'm not gonna lie, Chidi," Eleanor shrugs one shoulder, palm upturned. "Imma side with food, not colors." Chidi pauses, a brief hint of surprised admiration softening his features. Eleanor's heart catches in her chest. "So can I show you." "Yeah." * "Hey, quick question," Chidi says on the train, fragments of the neighborhood dismantling behind them, "and I feel like I need to qualify it with a—" "Chidi." "Right, sorry," he says, pressed to her side, studiously examining his knuckles. "I've been thinking a lot lately—" "Shocker." "—and I think—feel—think I should mention a principle we didn't have time to cover in class," he rambles, adorably sweaty, "one that closely relates to skepticism, in which we have to assume that because we can only experience our own mind, every bit of knowledge outside of it is unsure and unreal—" "Solipsism," Eleanor nods politely. Chidi pauses, almost awed, lips parted, eyebrows raised. "What," Eleanor offers defensively. "I read ahead." "Oooh," Michael calls from the back, "that's how she got you in Reboot 413." Thoughtful, Chidi turns to meet her eyes. "Wait, so you know about solipsism but not where Senegal is?" "Chidi," Eleanor whines, "I'm from Arizona. We get our maps from... 1886. Countries like Africa—" "Again, Africa is not a c—" "Haven't we left The Bad Place?" Tahani demands sternly, then demurs, "I mean. Do carry on..." Awkwardly, Chidi squares his shoulders. "It's just that, hypothetically, what if none of this is real." "The probability of that is absolutely high," Janet agrees. "Oh, my stomach," Chidi groans, then refocuses. "If none of this is real, then none of the reboots, including the one where..." he trails off guiltily, "Cannonball Run II happened, happened." "Oh no, Burt Reynolds doesn't win the race?" Jason asks, noticeably upset. Eleanor ignores him, gently slipping her hand in Chidi's. "Look. What matters to me is that none of the reboots erased what I care about." She hesitates, mumbling, "You." "Oh, dang," Jason hoots, "Chidi's a virus." Five pairs of eyes laser in on him. "Yea, Chidi's like this one virus Pillboi got that one time we tried to download Party in the USA on LimeWire but it was actually a," he crooks his fingers at an angle, aghast, "cartoon porn, yo." He nods in remembrance, somber. "He never could get rid of it after that." "Are you saying, Jason, in your... graciously simple manner," Tahani translates delicately, "you believe we are inside a computer simulation." Jason purses his lips, thinking. "Okay... yeah?" "Oh," Chidi says, seeking guidance from the train's ceiling, "that wasn't helpful at all, Eleanor." Eleanor knocks his knee with hers, smiling brightly, hand still in Chidi's. "It was for me." Incredulous, Chidi observes her for a moment. "How." Eleanor's smile grows. "I'm cool with a computer simulation or eternal damnation or even Alabama," she tells him with a kind of unshakeable trust. "As long as I'm stuck with you."

#the good place #eleanor shellstrop #chidi anagonye #♪ idk the tags for this ♫ #eleanor x chidi

[catlady1986]

THE BEST SMELL IN THE WORLD IS THAT OF THE ONE YOU LOVE.

Chapters: 1/9  Fandom: Final Fantasy XV  Rating: Teen And Up Audiences  Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings  Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/? Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia,  Noctis Lucis Caelum, Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, background characters, others to appear later  Additional Tags: ABO, Soulmates, Language, Blood, Depression, Angst Summary: Gladio has suffered from allergies ever since he was a child, eventually losing his sense of smell. That wouldn’t be an issue, except for the fact that Alpha’s find their soulmates by scent. So now Gladio has to navigate through life, watching his friends and loved ones finding and spending time with their soulmates while he is left alone, trying to fight back depression.  

Next

Ever since he was a child, Gladio has suffered from terrible allergies. It didn’t even matter the time of year, he’d either acquire a constant stuffy nose that made him sound funny according to the prince or on the worst end a sinus infection with it getting so bad once he was hospitalized. He just trucked through it and took whatever medicine was prescribed to him, them helping for a while until he became immune and wound up stuffy or with constant nose bleeds.

But then things took a turn for the worse.

“Is there any way to fix him?” his mother asks the pediatrician, her voice sounding strained, as though as she’s trying to fight back tears.

“I’m afraid not, his olfactory system has been severely damaged and surgery won’t do anything for him. I’m sorry.”

At that time, he didn’t understand why it was such a big deal for him not to be able to smell things, especially after having gotten a whiff of the diaper pail in his baby sister’s room. But in a world where you have a predestined soulmate that, if born an Alpha, you can find by their scent, not having that capability would hinder you finding them. And since the gods seem to find his misery amusing, at age twelve he presented as an Alpha.

“I don’t understand why having a dumb soulmate is so important.”

“Gladio,” his father says with a sigh and crouches down before his son. “having a soulmate is very important. It’s a person who was made special just for you as you were for them. They fill your life with so much love and joy, you feel satisfied and whole when they are with you. They are your better half and you are theirs.”

“That makes no sense.”

Clarus chuckles and pats his son’s shoulder. “You are still young Gladiolus, when you get older you will understand.”

“But I can still fall in love with someone and be with them even if we’re not soulmates, one of the kids in my class has parents that aren’t soulmates.”

“You speak of the Tamerlane boy?” he asks and gets a nod, face growing morose. “Gladiolus, his parents never married and split up not long after being together since his mother found her soulmate. They just do well in co-parenting and don’t speak openly about their home life. And you shouldn’t either.”

Gladio huffs in annoyance but just lets it go for the time being. There has to be others who are in relationships with non-soulmates that have stayed together and if not then Gladio vows to be the first. However, this will prove to be nearly impossible for him, with any boy or girl he attempts to court dumping him eventually once they find ‘the one’, as has just happened to the gloomy sixteen-year-old.

“Dammit.” he grunts out as he looks at his now ex-girlfriend’s social media posting, showing her in the arms of another, them lipped locked with the caption ‘SOULMATES’ written in pink sparkles.

He goes to pocket the device but stops to let out a large sneeze that gives a very nosey prince an opening to snatch the phone.

“Hey you little shit, give it back.” Gladio snaps before sneezing again.

Noctis keeps out a reach until he gets a good look at the screen, him stopping and staring dejectedly at the phone, brows furrowing. “Aw Gladio, I’m sorry.” he says and hands the phone back. “But if she didn’t even have the decency to end it with you in person, then she’s a bitch and doesn’t deserve my awesome bro.” Noct tells him, giving him a playful punch to the shoulder and caring smile.

“Yeah, thanks.” Gladio says and snuffles a bit, feeling his nose beginning to run. Fucking allergies.

“Gladio your nose is bleeding.”

The teen wipes his nose with his sleeve, seeing bloody mucus smeared all across. “Ah shit. Training’s on hold, go take fifteen while I deal with this.”

Noctis gives his shield a worried look but nods and pats his shoulder. Gladio lets out a deep sigh and heads over to his duffle, taking out a medical pack he keeps with him for situations just like this. He cleans up what blood he can after pinching the bridge of his nose, keeping his head tipped forward and setting a timer for ten minutes. Once that is done, Gladio presses an ice pack to his face, helping to restrict the blood flow.

“Another nosebleed?”

Gladio glances up and sees Ignis, the man’s eyes looking with concern behind his frames.

“Yeah.”

“How many has it been?” he asks and sets down his own duffle bag to check on his friend.

“It’s the third one this week and yes, I told my doctor. She said due to it being windy and dry lately the pollen levels have increased. Just have to suffer through it and hope we get a few days of rain.”

“I can’t imagine how it must be to go day to day suffering like you do. I also couldn’t fathom what it would be like to not be able to smell, I rely on it with my cooking.” he says and smiles with a hint of amusement. “Also when a certain couple of young teens think they can sneak a cigarette or two behind my back.”

“Hmm, yeah.” Gladio says and looks back down at the floor, letting out a deep sigh.

“Noctis told me what happened.”

“Geez, hasn’t even been five minutes and probably everyone we’re acquainted with knows.”

“No, just me and Prompto.” Ignis says and looks at the message. “Your sister too, from what it shows for who he sent the group text to.”

“And that means my parents know if Iris was told. I don’t understand why everyone needs to make such a big fucking deal out of my love life. This soulmate bullshit is stupid.” Gladio harumphs.

“It’s not stupid Gladio, it’s an important part of our society that ensures two peoples’ eternal happiness. And in some folklore it guarantees that when both are reborn they’ll fall in love again and be forever fortunate, continuing the cycle.”

“Hmm, maybe I pissed someone off in a past life and they cursed me. Too bad other Alpha’s can’t discern each others’ soulmates, could ask you to sleuth around for me.” the older teen says and sighs.

“Well once I find mine, I can let you know what it’s like and maybe you can figure out other ways to find your mate. Could be how they look at you or the shift in tones when they speak. You have a good knack for reading people, even better than me I’ll admit. Who knows, maybe you’ll spot mine for me even before I do.”

“Can’t say I’ve seen anyone act like that around you, no offense or anything Iggy.”

“It’s all right, we may have yet to meet them.” he says as a light dusting of pink coats his cheeks. “Or maybe it’s because they haven’t presented yet and don’t have those inclinations and I can’t detect them yet.”

Gladio just shrugs his shoulders and sets the warming ice pack aside to pick up his phone. The teen watches and begins counting down the last few seconds until the timer goes off. He carefully stops pinching his nose and waits, finding that thankfully the blood has stopped.

“Well, time to drag princess back to the dance floor. Catch ya later Ignis.” he says and waves goodbye to his friend.

Gladio scours around and finds the teen lounging amongst the training equipment, playing a game while listening to music. He gets Noct’s attention with a poke of his shoe to the boy’s rear, startling him and chuckling.

“Oh, hey, you feel better now? You sure you don’t want to take the rest of the day off?”

“So you can slack off?” Gladio asks, raising an eyebrow.

Noctis puffs out his cheeks in anger. “I was actually going to ask Cor or Ignis to spar with me, big jerk.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve been pretty good about that. But I just plan to skip my afternoon jog and go home to relax, possibly even go to bed early. Hmm?” He stops and looks down at the face shield being held out by the younger teen. “What’s this for?”

“So if I accidentally hit your face it won’t make your nose gush like a geyser.”

“Pssh, like you could even land a hit on me in the first place.” Gladio teases and gives him a nudge.

“Hey I’m just being cautious.”

“I know, thanks kid.” Gladio says and looks down at the face mask, smiling and putting it on, just in case.

But as he steps back into the training hall, he has another sneezing fit, blood splattering all over his hands and face making him look like he just got offed in a horror movie. Fucking allergies.

#final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv kinkmeme #gladiolus amicitia #noctis lucis caelum #ignis scientia #allergies suck #abo au #soulmate au #this is what that poll i made is for #it's still open y'all

[farklelucas]

Hey could you write a jaylos fic where they like each other but are oblivious to each other's feelings and no one can make them realise until chad 'comes onto'/flirts with Carlos and jay gets jealous please? xxxxx

oh anon…. u found it… my secret kink… mutual pining

the pov switches many times in this story, but it’s pretty easy to follow. i think so anyway. but i wrote it so? let me know if i did a good.

always taking fic prompts

“He loves you, you know.”

Jay glances over to Mal. She’s leaning up against the wall, and she’s staring at Carlos too. Is he that obvious? He scoffs and ignores her, going back to staring. God, he’s a creep. He wishes Carlos would just hit him or something; maybe that’d magically solve all his problems.

The problems in question? Oh, just that Carlos looks beautiful doing literally anything and everything. Dancing, singing, playing tourney, staring out the window. You name it, Carlos looks good while doing it. Take now, for instance. He’s working on homework with Evie, and the sun is dancing off of his beautiful white hair and Jay is pretty sure that if he was drunk, he’d be crying and lamenting about how beautiful Carlos is. (He’s a poetic drunk.)

Mal pushes off the wall and rounds herself to stand in front of him. “I mean it,” she says firmly. “He’s in love with you.”

He feels himself hold back a scoff. “Yeah? If he’s so in love with me, why has he never said anything?”

“You need a serious dose of common sense,” she mutters. Then she shakes her head. “Listen, can’t you just trust me for once? He’s so in love with you, and he loves you so much that he convinces himself that you could never love him and so he doesn’t say anything. And you?” She reaches out and pokes him in the chest. “You repeat the cycle.”

He swallows, hard. Somehow, he’s let his walls down around Mal so much that she sees every part of him. He has no idea how she did it.

Gently, he takes the finger she still has pressed to his chest and pushes it back towards her. “You’re wrong, Mal,” he says firmly. “Now drop it.”

She rolls her eyes, but, like a good friend, does as he asks. Her shoulders slump and she goes back to leaning up against the wall, looking at Carlos and Evie.

–

Carlos groans and puts his head on Evie’s lap. “Why,” he says. “Why, of all the people in this world I could be in love with, did I pick Jay?”

Evie smiles and reaches down to play with his hair. “I don’t think you picked him, sweetie,” she says. “I think your heart did.”

Another day, another time that Jay was wonderful and beautiful and kind and turned Carlos into a useless pile of mush. Today, Dude grew wings (potion gone wrong - long story, blame Doug) and flew into a tree. Who climbed up there to get him? Jay. Who is terrified of heights? Jay. But he still climbed up into the tree, retrieved the dog, and put him safely back into Carlos’s arms. Carlos doesn’t want to say that Jay is the best guy he knows, but…

“He’s the best guy I know,” he complains. “He’s great.”

There’s a pause where Evie plays with his curls and Carlos pouts. Eventually she succumbs and asks, “And?”

“And I’m absolutely in love with him! And if I told him, he’d be all, ‘Oh, that’s cool bro, wanna go get some pizza?’”

Evie laughs at his absurd Jay impression. “Carlos, I don’t think you’re really seeing the big picture here,” she says. “I think you might be missing that Jay really likes you, too. I mean, who wouldn’t? Handsome, heroic, good with dogs. You’re everybody’s dream boy.”

He smiles up at her, and she smiles back. “Thanks, Evie,” he says softly. “You’re really nice. But…”

She groans and flops backwards, laying her head against the dashboard. He rolls his eyes. “Carlos, I know you love to think Jay could never love you back,” she says. “But can’t you just ask him?”

If the pizza response was not a very real possibility. But it is. So he just continues to lay his head on Evie’s lap and drifts off into a nap.

–

“So, the winter ball is coming up.”

“And?”

“And… you should ask him.”

Looking up at her from his salad, Carlos glares. Mal raises her eyebrows, challenging him to fight her on it. His crush on Jay has only been getting worse and worse, and Evie and Mal think they’re helping, but definitely aren’t. “Mal, it’s none of your business,” he mutters. “Plus, how do you know I don’t have a date?”

She mulls this over for a moment. “Do you?” He says nothing, which she must take as a sign of victory, because she smiles wickedly. “Ah, I see. Just being stubborn.”

“You’re the worst,” he says. “Besides, he doesn’t even like me like that. I don’t even like him like that.”

“Well, then how do you know who I’m even talking about?”

A quick recap of their conversation reveals that she never explicitly said Jay’s name at any time. His ears burn. “Okay, so maybe I do like him,” he concedes. “But he doesn’t like me back, so it’s all moot.”

“You’re underestimating his ability to emote,” she says. “He doesn’t do it often, but sometimes, he does feel things.”

That makes Carlos laugh a little. Mal gets serious, though, and leans across the table to cover his hand in hers. “Promise me you’ll at least think about it?”

About how terrible of an idea that is? Sure, he can do that. He nods just a little and she smiles, patting him on the hand gently before leaning back to his side of the table, going back to her own lunch.

–

The winter ball, for people going alone, is hell. First of all, you have to go through the singles’ line (which is separated from the couples’ line by almost an entire football field’s worth of space). Then, you get a solo prom-type picture, except it’s you standing there looking entirely uncomfortable while the Fairy Godmother snaps a photo of you, commenting on how beautiful/handsome you look this evening. Then, you finally get to go to the dance, suffering all the while. Alone.

Luckily, Jay is not alone. Carlos is there. He came stag, too, and he’s being his usual goofy and fun self. He’s cracking jokes and bouncing excitedly and talking about various things and just being generally very adorable the entire time they’re in line. Jay always thinks he couldn’t possibly fall more in love with Carlos, and then things like this happen.

By the time they get to the front of the line, Carlos has him engaged in a story in which Carlos was chased by Dude throughout the entirety of campus, Ben hot on their heels. Jay is mid-laugh when the Fairy Godmother’s voice cuts through. “Oh, I’m so sorry, gentlemen, but you got in the wrong line. This is the singles’ line.”

Carlos and Jay glance at each other. Carlos has wide eyes and Jay sighs internally and eternally. “No, we’re singles,” he says. “We’re not together.”

She blinks and looks between them, frowning. “Oh, but I thought… Well, okay. No matter. Jay, would you like to go first?”

He steps up first, face still burning for him and Carlos getting confused as a couple, and tries to smile for the camera. “Oh, you look so handsome!” Fairy Godmother says, and takes the picture. He doesn’t bother waiting for Carlos, just excuses himself into the main dance hall.

At least the dance hall is filled with people. Mal and Evie have already made it through the couples’ line, and are sitting at a table they grabbed for the four of them. They wave him over, and he shuffles over with Carlos, apparently, right behind. “Hey guys,” Mal says, weirdly cheerful. “How was the singles’ line?”

Jay shrugs. “A pain in the butt, like most things at a school-sanctioned event,” he replies. “And the couples’ line?”

“Magical,” Evie gushes. “The photographer was wonderful. He gave us roses that matched our color scheme and everything!”

For a moment, he imagines what his and Carlos’s color scheme would have been. Red, he decides. Red and white. And roses that matched that were simply not as impressive.

“I’m going to go get some punch.” Everyone turns towards Carlos, who smiles a little and then turns towards the punch bowl at the other far end of the room.

When Jay turns back to Evie and Mal, he does not expect to see two seriously annoyed faces looking back at him. “Why didn’t you ask him again?” Evie asks.

He rolls his eyes. The amount of times the three of them have to have this conversation is awfully high. “He doesn’t like me back is the best one I can think of,” he says. “But I assume you’re tired of hearing that one?”

Evie rolls her eyes and opens her mouth to say something else, but Mal interrupts. “Uh, well, if you want to test that theory, you might want to do it now.” She points across the room. “Looks like Carlos is getting swept off his feet by literal Prince Charming.”

Everyone looks to where Carlos is practically backed up against the punch bowls, talking to Chad over a glass of punch.

Then, a weird feeling bubbles up in Jay’s stomach. It feels as if he’s gotten punched there a few times, like any moment he’s going to remember that he’s in pain and double over. It feels like a hot iron there, poking him relentlessly. It feels oddly like jealousy.

Without really consciously recognizing it, Jay walks forward, hands in his pockets, towards Chad and Carlos until he can hear what they’re saying. “I’m expanding my horizons,” Chad is saying. “Why only stick to princesses when princes are just as lucrative… I mean, charming?”

“Uh,” Carlos responds.

“So I figured it was about time that you and I resolve this… chemistry we have going on?”

“What chemistry? You mean, like, the class?”

“Uh. No.”

“… Um.”

Jay has heard enough. It’s pretty clear, even to him, that Carlos is uncomfortable. The feeling in his stomach settles, just a little, but he still needs to save Carlos. So he walks towards them and impulsively throws his arm around Carlos’s shoulder. Carlos jumps and Chad furrows his brow. “Hey, babe,” Jay says. Then he turns to Chad and smiles. “Chad, what’s up?”

Chad looks between them, frowning. “Oh, are you two, like, a thing?”

“Yep,” Jay says, “totally a thing. Right, babe?”

Luckily, Carlos seems to catch on. “Yeah, very together,” he says, nodding vigorously. “Sorry, Chad.”

After a long pause, Chad shrugs. “That’s alright. There’s other royalty in the sea looking for some Charming action.” Then he turns and heads the other direction.

Carlos turns to Jay and puts a hand on his arm. “You are a life saver,” he says. “Seriously, I had no idea how I was going to get out of there.”

“Luckily, you’re semi-intimidating boyfriend came to the rescue,” Jay jokes. Okay, he’s only half-joking.

The resounding smile from Carlos’s face is so bright and powerful it actually melts his heart. “Yeah, I’m lucky,” he murmurs.

Jay glances out on the dance floor. It looks like things are slowly beginning to wind down to a slow dance. “Uh,” he says, “hey, I don’t know if you… dance?”

There’s a pause, and then Carlos simply raises his eyebrows and says, “I do dance.”

His brain is short-circuiting. He keeps yelling at it: Ask him to dance! Ask him to dance! But all that comes out is, “Oh, cool, me too.”

Carlos laughs at that, a bright and infectious thing. “Jay,” he says softly, “would you like to dance?”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Jay says thankfully. Carlos laughs again, and Jay thinks that he could probably get pretty used to that sound.

#jaylos #otp: he's kind of like my brain #descendants #katie writes #the only thing that would be better is if someone asked me for a soulmate fic #anonymous #what kind of woman doesnt have an ask