#seriously though what the fuck its not actually pronounced like that is it?

[aclownsclownery]

I KEEP GETTING THIS SPOTIFY AD THATS PRONOUNCING TOUHOU LIKE TAHOE

IM LOSING IT

#touhou #spotify #tahoe #seriously though what the fuck its not actually pronounced like that is it?

[casual-socks]

HI IVE BEEN MASSIVELY HYPERFIXATED ON TMA FOR ABOUT A YEAR AND IVE SEEN MAYBE ONE (1) SINGULAR PERSON TALK ABOUT THIS and i am not even kidding when i say its been a passionate topic of conversation for that entire year. people know me for this. it comes up and my entire friend group SIGHS AUDIBLY because they know the 20 minute tangent i Will be taking

WHATTTTT IS GOING ON WITH GERARD KEAYS NAME. what. what???? okay i

youre telling me jonathan sims went to oxford college (relatively prestigious if my memory serves me correctly) for RESEARCH. for, to put it simply, READING. and he looks at the name gerard and goes Yeah looks like jared to me lets go with that!!! HELLO?? NO?? not even mentioning the fact that he is being what could easily be called possesed when reading these statements which leaves us with two options

1. the ENTIRETY OF ENGLAND CANNOT PRONOUNCE THE NAME GERARD.

2. jonathan sims is so monumentally stupid that he is somehow breaking this possesion for the 2 seconds it takes to say the name gerard (i love him i swear i will sound so so hateful for this entire post but its out of love)

and like??? its not even that EVERYONE is calling him jared? elias and gertrude have both called him gerard and thats just off the top of my head. i also think jon said it correctly ONEEEE SINGULAR TIME. Just the once.

now i feel it necessary to mention jared hopworth here as well. because why, why on gods green earth, would you name a character gerard. pronounce it jared. TURN AROUND AND GO. lets make another jared but this ones made out of meat and is sort of implied to not be too fond of gay people. Yeah he steals peoples bones. Yeah.

SO LIKE GERARD KEAY IS THE OBJECTIVELY SUPERIOR JARED EXCEPT HES NOT JARED HIS NAME IS LITERALLY GERARD?? FUCK YOU SO MUCH

so okay. sure whatever this podcast is sooo british that a bunch of people are just completely failing to pronounce gerard. sure. whatever you say.

GERRY?????? HIS FUCKING NICKNAME IS GERRY???????????? NO!!!!

NO. no. LOOK ME IN MY EYES. LOOK AT THE NAME GERARD. GER-ARD. AND YOURE TELLING ME YOURE GONNA CALL HIM JARED. SND THEN YOURE GONNA CALL HIM GERRY WITH A G???? gerry with a g. that is utterly ridiculous i cannot even believe this that is monumentally frustrating i cannot even begin to describe to you all the anger i have experienced over this particular bit because why on earth would you take that particular extra step??? gerard -> gerry. sure. thin ice, but sure. jared -> jerry. sure! yeah! makes sense! GERARD -> JARED -> GERRY? you must be playing some sick joke jonny sims. seriously. you are a cruel and usual man

now this is when i start to wind down, but far from where i finish. lets take a moment to really pause and soak in his actual name here.

gerard.

that is so unfortunate already i mean really, gerard is such a…. a name…. i mean his mom skins people and puts them in books and the cruelest thing i think she ever couldve done is honest to god name her son gerard.

keay.

now dont get me wrong. theres nothing seriously wrong with spelling it keay on principle. but god, really? youre gonna shove all this gerard gerry jared business in front of me and tell me his last name is just key but gone the extra mile. really feels like the cherry on top of a shit cake.

now if you consider gerards character i truly feel as though thats the deepest disservice here. gerard keay is an incredible character whos short appearance is so memorable and charming, and despite his VERY little screen time he still has an intriguing and well fleshed out character. really, gerard keay is so excellent character wise. But, every time i think about him for any more than 5 minutes, almost this exact rant is being told to whoever is unfortunate enough to be near me at the time.

another thing i think also really adds to this is just the nature of gerard keay. everything you can say about that guy could be ended with “and everone calls him jared for some reason”. hes emo and everyone calls him jared for some reason. his hair dye job is so miserable that EVERYONE mentions it and everyone calls him jared for some reason. he has mommy issues and everyone calls him jared for some reason.

okay i need to wrap this up before i start just repeating WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY for thousands of words but heres a graph i made for my friends in october 2022 when i was going on about this in the middle of my spanish class 👍👍

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #gerard keay #gerry keay #im so passionate about this #fun fact about the spanish class thing #my teacher honestly thought i was angrily ranting about gerard way for like 20 minutes #the people need to know about this. #jon sims #please excuse how messy this is i am so tired

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

what do you like about cars?

I think you knew, upon asking this, that I could only ever have answered with either an ironic one-liner or a dozen-part novel. And unfortunately, this is already the second line, so novel it is. So then, without any further ado than the literal half year that’s gone by since this was asked, let's go.

1. Engineering matters

At the end of last year (aka when I started writing this, yikes) my dear old iPhone 6S moved on to a new home because it simply wasn't keeping up with me anymore. (And again, I was using an iPhone 6S in 2023. If I say a phone is too slow, it's too slow.) I had plenty of criteria for the replacement: a smallish screen not overboard on resolution, ideally a physical media control button and/or vibration toggle, repairability, a FUCKING AUX JACK... Something like the Sony Xperia 10, whose only real issue is marketing so trash you've only just now learned Sony never stopped making phones.

And yet...

This fancy wallpapers-sporting foldable is a Motorola RAZR 5G, a phone whose too-big screen already broke (though at the edge due to adhesive issues) and those who dared try warn repairing it will be as hard as phone repairs get. Why the fuck did I buy this? Well, because it has something more important than the aux jack, proper sizing, and good cameras: it made me go “That’s so cool!”, and when’s the last time a phone made you say that? It's the cusp of a new technology, and whether it becomes the future of phones, a future of phones, or just a weird footnote, it is an island of interesting in a sea of boring. And sadly, even this island is rapidly sinking. The drive for new form factors has already boiled down to the same two phones and their evolution is sinking into the usual millimetric proportion tweaking, camera rearranging, touchscreen expanding, case material switching, fingerprint sensor moving, and spec improvements not even manufacturers can come up with use cases for. I mean, seriously, how does the iPhone 15 differ from a software-updated iPhone X (which is apparently not pronounced "x", so I guess the iPhone Twitter)? Nothing is new. Nothing is tackled differently. The user experience does not differ. And why should it, when iPhone users will get a new one out of habit anyway and many are so tech illiterate moving a button could hospitalize them? Five generation newer and 150% faster are numbers you basically have to trust, because they don't make a difference that matters.

But in cars? 150% faster will matter alright. Even just looking at it. Cars are a visceral experience to even witness, let alone ride in or drive, and the frantic engineering pursuits for performance and overall capability actually have impactful real world implications beyond "some pockets will bulge 1mm less". And their engineering involves so many fields that there’s always a breakthrough going on somewhere - which leads to another reason their engineering is so interesting: there’s simply so much of it that anyone interested in engineering will find something for them, no matter their level or sector of expertise! Interested in mechanics? Well, obviously you’ll have a field day! Aerodynamics? Don't even get me started! Electronics? You're getting more goods by the year! It spread from engine management to safety assists to infotainment to ergonomic adjustments to even suspension and aerodynamics! Sound design? Even just working on the way engines sound is a profession of its own, let alone making these barrels of metal and glass propelling themselves at triple digit speeds through hundreds of explosions a second things you can comfortably have a conversation in - and that's not even mentioning horns and chimes! Hi-Fi? We’ve spent most of a century trying to get concert hall sound from a tiny tin can where everyone sits off-center and everything bumps and shakes around and you have maybe room for two components* a third the normal size and speakers can only be in a handful of places you wouldn’t want them which may well be the next room over**!

And this is just engineering.

*Like everything in the car world, there are exceptions to that

**For those unfamiliar, subwoofers, the speakers dedicated to, indeed, sub-bass, due to their frequent humongousness are often installed in the trunk.

#stay tuned for part 2! #sony phones *are* great btw #they are sold in actual colors and they're full of cool features #their aux jack can double as a stereo input!!!

[candycane969]

✨🎧🌆ROTTMNT DONATELLO HEADCANONS🌆🎧✨

made by me! candy! :3 no major spoilers

A quick guide!✨

💜 - Supported by canon (things that are pretty sure out there, maybe not confirmed 100% but yeah)

❤ - Kind of supported by canon (things that happened in the series that miiiight lead to some other stuff)

🧡 - My source is that I made it the fuck up (still trying to fit it into the character tho)

⭐ - Not sure if I'm taking this headcanon or not, but I do think It's pretty neat

💋 - Kinky! DISCLAIMER: Ive always seen the rottmnt boys (and April) in the age group from 17 to 19 and thats what I headcanon them as (as it is my own age group!). Ive seen the show and was fucking sure theyre my age and then a month or two later I was slapped in the face with thier actual age lol. I dont support any pedo shit, I also dont think minors can consent. Just putting it out there

Lets go!🌆💜🎧⭐✨

The 'Tism

• 💜 I think Its pretty fucking obvious that this boy is autistic, pretty much everything in the show supports this.

• ❤ Donny's headgear also works as noise cancelling headphones! He's often overwhelmed by background sounds and his gear makes it easier for him to live his life (either on missions or just spending time with his brothers and/or April). He still loves blasting his music on the highest volume tho. It's different when you consent to hearing your jams then when several people are talking at once and youre going crazy.

Tagging as kind of canon because he might have audio sensory issues because of his autism and you can reraly see him without the damn googles.

Different stims

❤ Foot stomping

❤ Hand flapping

🧡 Repeating a song/part of song over and over (yes, even if it has no words)

❤ Spinning on chairs

🧡 Pacing around the lab/the lair

• 💜 He knows ASL! Though It's never said in the show why he learned it, I believe that because he goes nonverbal often. Everyone in the lair can sign a bit because of that, but not everybody is too good at it. Donatello can communicate in ASL fluently.

Gender

• 🧡 Donatello never really felt connected to being "a men" and categorising things as "for boys" and "for girls" always seemed dumb to him. Shortly after Leo's coming out as a trans men (SURPRISE LEO HEADCANON) he went to talk to him about his gender experience. After some thinking and digging, Don came to the conclusion that he is in fact nonbinary. He still uses mostly male pronounces but always appreciates gender neutral pronounces coming his way.

Sexuality

• 🧡 While realising his own gender he also figured out that he doesn't really sees gender that seriously in others either. Men or women, its pretty much whatever to him. He doesn't like to label himself much when it comes to his sexuality, he accepts reffering to him as a pansexual or bisexual.

• 🧡 When it comes to dating Donatello doesn't imagine himself with anyone, really. He finds himself attractive, but doesn't think anyone would fancy him in a romantic way. He's not interessted much in dating either way. But he doesn't exclude dating someone in the future. It's just he won't go out of his way to look for love.

• ❤/🧡 Its obvious Don is a men of science, he's a genius when it comes to coding, math, engineering, I would say chemistry as well. Thats the field he feels the most comfortable in, but he loves learning new things in general. As long as there is interesting knowledge he can obtain, he will be there, soaking it like a sponge. He likes listening to info dumps, and probably listens to long ass video essays and/or podcasts.

• 🧡 Don likes to learn about others people hobbys and takes interest in learning about it. He likes showing others that he cares about something, even though Its something totally indifferent to him. For example, he knows lot about art making process from Mikey (Angelo even made him paint with him a couple of times!) even tho he doesn't really likes drawing and/or famous artists. No many people appreciate his work so he wants to show his appreciation to others.

• 💜 He is pretty low empathy most of the time. It's hard for him to relate to others, and can often feel like someone is overreacting. It's also challenging for him to put his feelings "out there". Which often makes him look unloving or unfriendly. And it couldn't be farther from the truth. He loves his brothers even though they bother him most of the time. And he loves April as well (though she never really troubled him much). He never really thinks that his low empathy is a flaw (more often he thinks about it as a blessing) but there rare are moment when he feels helpless because of it. He is glad that his family knows that he truly cares about them (and accepts any effort he puts in to express his feelings, even if it seems small).

• 🧡⭐ I've seen people headcanoning Donny as a baker and honestly I like it a lot. Cooking is Mikeys domain, and it suits him well, as it allows a lot of freestyling and just overall feeling. Baking and pastry making is very calculated and one miatake can ruin the whole thing. It reminds Don of engineering in a sense. Also baking is an easy way to get love and appreciation from his family because, cmon, he just made the most angelic fruit tarts in the whole universe, of course they're going to praise him. It also works as a stress relief. When feeling stumped and/or overwhelmed over a project or a situation he'll make something easy like brownies to get his mind of it.

• 🧡 He's very sentimental. He loves receiving gifts and will cherish and use them (even if he doesn't like it). He still has every "gamers dont die they respawn" Tshirt and every "dont fuck with my brother he was born in october and has autism" mug. Sometimes he REALLY wants to throw something away but god damn it this is painting Mikey did when he was ten and is just five splats of paint and thinking about him somehow finding out and crying about it might destroy him forever.

• 🧡⭐ This bitch reads fanfics, thats it. It started when he was around 13 or smth with Atomic Lass x Reader and now he knows all the fanfic lingo. He still might read something from time to time and writes very long and well written comments (with constructive criticism).

• 🧡 Speaking of which, Don writes perfect sentences while texting. All the correct spelling and punctuation. He also communicates with emojis and gifs like a millenial.

Food, TW: drinking!

• 🧡 He has a rather strong head, you cant make him drunk that easily. But when it finally happens, youre in for a ride. Shutting him up is near impossible, he will talk non-stop but with much less eloquence then while sober. Its extremely easy to make him laugh, so Leo absolutely loves it. He often looses track of what hes saying and starts completely different rant. Overall a chaotic mess. Really fun to witness it at least once. His beverage of choice is either fun cocktails or beer (tho rarely and/or only with some kind of juice because he doesn't like the fizziness on his tongue).

• 🧡 And that takes us to Donatello that hates fizzy drinks. He hates carbonated beverages, no matter if its cola or champagne. The feeling on his tongue and in his mouth makes him really uncomfortable. When there is no other choice but to drink up some bubbless, he leaves it open for as long as he can to get rid of them. His brothers despise him for that.

• 🧡 He doesn't like weird food combos either and is rather picky. When ordering food Don sticks to what he knows not to risk an uncomfortable texture touching his mouth. Texture is the most often reason for him not liking a specific food. Donnys pretty strict to preparing food as well (the way he does a thing is The Correct Way and no other exception is acceptable). Also he puts milk first so his cereal doesn't get soggy.

• 🧡 I feel like he likes fruit juices in boxes and fruit mousses but this is pretty random 🤷

• ❤/🧡 He wears contacts! We've seen little Donny with glassess, so I assumed he wears contacts now. When he knows he will be spending all day in the lair (for example because of an injury) he still has a pair of glassess he uses. And yes, he tapes them to the head. Because he rarely ever wears them, he never came up with a solution for not having ears and needing glassess.

• 🧡 ABSOLUTELY hates smoking. Will go on a rant if he sees someone he knows smoking. He absolutely despises the smell and WILL take it out of someones mouth/hand and throw it away. Appreciates the fun smells of vapes but still hates them. Will call vapers losers (maybe not exacly in these words but he will for sure).

• 🧡 Really good at makeup, but not as good as Leo is (ANOTHER SURPRISE LEO HEADCANON). He spend years perfecting his eyebrows of course. He also wears eyeliner because serving cunt is important even on the battlefield. From time to time you can see his nails painted as well.

• 🧡⭐ While being flustered or simply distracted he stutters a lot, mostly in a way of repeating whole words or parts of a sentence ("Its good because- Its good- Its good because I um- Its good-")

• 🧡 Enjoys taking very long baths, and actually prefers them much more then showers. Can stay underwater for a rather long time as well!! Being fully submerged calms him down a lot and its overall very relaxing for him.

• 🧡⭐ Ive seen a lot of takes that without his battle shell, he is really flexible (due to having a soft shell). And I like the idea. I think, that before sitting infront of a screen (or a desk in general) to do his work for several hours he stretches deeply so his back won't be so sore later. Also a reason to draw Donny in yoga poses and thats always cool.

• ❤ Makes up shit to fuck with his brothers. Like just spreading misinformation and gaslighting them for shit and giggles. Or to get them to leave him alone for a while. Also will gaslight them if they somehow find out that he was lying ("what? you must have heard me wrong then 🙄💅")

• 💜/❤ Loves singing and dancing!!! Aint the best singer (tho I love his songs in the show Im kissing him as we speak) but is a gorgeous dancer! He finds it incredibly fun and feels fabulous while doing it. Also Im pretty sure dancing counts as stimming so add it to the list. Dances solo like 90% of the time but really enjoys dancing in pairs (dances with April a whole lot when they get the chance!).

• ❤ He rarely laughs out loud, but when he does it is loud and messy. A good joke can make him think about it all day and continue laughing for a long time. Not my og take, Ive seen this headcanon before and I love it so so much :3

• 🧡 From all his brothers, he kind of wishes to be human the most of them all. Its not a big big wish, he does think of himself as very unique individual and takes pride of being a mutant. But sometimes while hanging out with April he can get lost in his thoughts of "what ifs". Maybe in the process of making a cloaking accessory.

• 🧡 His handwriting is god-awful. All scribly and fucked up like Doctors writing. Unfamiliar eye would not decipher a word out of it, but Don knows exactly what everything means. But he mostly writes digitally.

• ❤ Dons dislike of hugging is canon, but I do believe he likes being touched on his head and face (head pats, cheek rubs, scratches). He enjoys hand holding when it's appropriate as well.

• 💋 Im headcanoning the boys to go through mating season once a year (except mikey cuz he small) everyone at a different time. It would be similiar to an ovulation but much more horny (with also fever symptoms). Don would be the second after Raph to get it. While in heat he doesn't go feral or anything, but after a few days stops working because he cant focus on his craft. Waves of sudden temperature changes (mostly high heat) with really horny thoughts and hypersensitivity to pretty much everything...yeah not the best work environment. He spends his  most intensive days closed off in his lab or room because he really doesn't want his family to see him like this (the rest of the turtles are in thier rooms during thier mating time as well for the same reason). Also add being possessive while having a SO, and also veeery easy to irritate.

• 💋 Donny takes on a more submissive role while being intimate, even though he loves to be in charge all the time. But he isn't a bottom either, I would put him perfectly in the middle as a switch (more leaning on that sub part tho).

• 💋 His biggest turn on is smell. Like someones natural smell, no perfumes and all. He likes to snuggle in the crook of the neck and take it all in. This becomes cranked up to eleven during mating season, as he absolutely cannot stop sniffing. Would love his significant other to leave him clothes with thier smell on it and sleep and/or snuggle with it.

Might add more later but thats all for now :3💜

Hope you enjoyed it⭐✨

#If you think Ive misrepresented him or something is clashing with canon let me know #going to make Leo headcanons soon cuz I have a lot I love him #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #tmnt #donatello #text #rise donnie #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #donatello headcanons #headcanons #donnie headcanons #rottmnt headcanons #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt donatello #writing #rise donatello #rise headcanons

[sofiiel]

Trucker!Eddie x Landlord!Reader thing: (it's been sitting in my google docs drafts. It's just a unfinished opening scene. I wouldn't expect to see this fic posted soon. But to fill my inactivity, here is this.)

Hello, nobody ever told you how hard actually falling in love was going to hit you. Everything says it's like falling and you never really spot it until bam it happens. Love is as fast as Life is short, or that was the theory.

It was the sole thing you'd pinned for your entire life.

But you know what? Life is typically fucking long. And love?

It's slow. You're staring up a steep slope, watching that lumber truck grinding slowly towards your stalled little jalopy. That bad boy is carrying 40 short tons of lumber, its brakes are failing, and it's fresh out of fuel.

Love's great, but it will leave you feeling like roadkill that's seen the bottom of one thousand wheels.

Love comes with a name too, Eddie Munson.

"It took me fifteen years and an overdose to get you to admit it."

--- Eddie

He rolled into your shotty motel & weekly. Tracking all the mud and permanent stains right in with him.

"You know after all these years they finally pronounced that Munson guy as innocent." your cousin Marsha smacked over the phone.

She'd been going on for two hours while watching the local news, chomping on that stale piece of week-old gum. But even the smacking a popping of inhumanly hard, tasteless candy was better than night shift alone.

Shoving a yawn back down your throat, you sighed. "Seriously, Marshie? You're still following that old story?" You ask her.

The clouds thundered like an angry drummer, and the wind whistled with the sharpness of a referee. Your eyes struggled to stay open, lulled by the hypnotic rhythm of the rain beating against the ceiling.

"Of course! That was back in our hay-day _____!" Marsha cheered.

Her grin could be felt through the phone.

"Your hay-day, Marshie. Not mine. '86 was the worst year of my goddamn life." you murmur.

Marsha gave a jittered titter, "Oh you're so modest, and a drama queen. So what, it was the year you got cold feet and ran out of the wedding and-"

You tapped your black boots against the worn brown carpet.

"That wedding was bullshit, but that's not why it was the worst year of my life." Your words don't reach Marsha's ears, she's gone in her recounting of the event.

While you loved your cousin dearly, her jittered laughter was now picking at your nerves.

"skussssssh! Oh-oh no....mar-......marshie?" you stammered, recreating the sound of static with your vocal cords.

"I....skushhhh! I think the singal is - oh you piece of - skuuuussssh! sorry, Mars- I better call back - skuushhh-t-t-bzt-t - in the morning!"

Hanging up the phone, you slumped into the chair and covered your face with your hands.

In your grand act, you did not notice the shadow darting across the parking lot. Sopping wet with a drooping playboy mag for an umbrella.

You had not heard the door chime between the desperate hisses, and now you were blind to the wet rat of the man lingering before the front desk.

He watched you for a moment, his heart out, thundering the storm. Caught in that agonizing moment which for each of you, though for many different reasons, felt like an hour.

When his hand reached out for the golden bell next to the brochures, a bright 'ding' echoed past the whistling wind.

You hesitantly slipped your hands away from your face, your dry expression swiftly switching to a stunned gawk.

"Um... I saw that vacancy sign a mile down the road." said your guest.

A smile inched across his lips, "Boots!" he gasped after a good hard look at your face.

The force of the scowl, that contracted your brows, was received like a punch. Your guest quickly threw his hands into the air.

"Nobody calls me that and walks away without a mauling." you warned.

He laughed warm hum, "I remember well."

"That was an awful fake-out, by the way. You sounded like a dying robot from an early 1960s horror film." he added.

Your eyes thinned into a glare, but fixed on his smile. It was the eve of the anniversary to the worst day of your life.

"Says the Freak of Hawkins High and the only student in Hawkins history to fail Drama class. Twice."

Your words were sharp, but still he smiled, and for an awful minute your chest ached at the brightness of it.

"Eddie fuckin' Munson....of all people..." you sighed.

#i am description heavy-handed so sue me #trucker!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #short intro thing #one-sided enemy to lovers #eddie's soggy playboy mag #sfw #got so many unfished scenes and bite sized blips of these two #rotting away in my docs like 'let me die or write me plz'

[majorbaby]

Is Twin Peaks like the NGE for Americans? Sad gay traumatized twinks in horror monster series with iconic opening themes and evil dad figure looming over the main protagonist

I'm sorry I can't always tell if someone is joking or being sarcastic esp in writing so my default response is to take things seriously.

I'm not American but close enough to answer this question. I could probably find lots of similarities if I thought about it seriously and they might actually be fun to compare, but I'm inclined to say no for a few reasons:

Cut for references to CSA and rape. nothing beyond what actually takes place in both shows.

- NGE was far more popular than Twin Peaks and I think also more influential

- the saddest and most traumatized person in Twin Peaks is a teenaged girl and that's very relevant to the plot of the show and its legacy (whereas I think it's more incidental when it comes to Asuka, though there are instances of it being more pronounced such as the adam/eve thing in EoE)

- "horror monster" hmm I wonder if that's a fair way to characterize the angels in NGE even to someone who hasn't seen it, and that's including the lilin. whereas the big bad of Twin Peaks is a manifestation of evil, even though they + the angels probably both qualify as eldritch abominations.

- they both deal heavily with themes like depression, isolation, teen angst to the power of a billion and "adults are useless" but "child soldiers" doesn't really apply to Twin Peaks as it does in NGE imo because while NGE has a messiah (Shinji), the messiah of Twin Peaks (Laura Palmer) is very much on her own, no other eva pilots/holy soldiers in it with her. Her story plays out the way it does because she is utterly forsaken by everyone. By the time someone intercedes on Laura's behalf (Dale) it's too late.

- the other main theme of Twin Peaks is sexual abuse. NGE does play with that (Asuka's mind rape, all the fucked up stuff that happens to Rei, the metaphor of "using" children's bodies like that, the overall sense that no one not even the adults are in healthy relationships and everyone is being somehow coerced and manipulated) but it's more explicit in Twin Peaks and treated seriously. A major criticism I have of NGE is how Asuka's sexuality is portrayed, her abuse to me seems almost decorative or used for shock value.

- I can't think of an NGE equivalent to Twin Peaks' protag, Dale Cooper. Like Misato might be the closest thing but she's far too complicit whereas Dale fights tooth and nail to save his Shinji. This is really where the comparison fails - without Dale there is no Twin Peaks story

- in an even bigger way than with Dale, there is no Twin Peaks without Laura Palmer and it is so important that she's a teen girl. If the protag of NGE was Asuka (and in my heart, it is) then I might be more inclined to see a parallel because Asuka and Laura have a lot of similarities. But Asuka, though she's a major character, still doesn't carry the weight of NGE the way Laura does for Twin Peaks

- I think you are picking up on smth re: the parallel of the isolation of growing up in a small town in semi-rural america vs the isolation of being a Japanese youth in the 1980s - 1990s and it is worth mentioning that both series are from the same era and Lynch and Anno are both curious about loneliness and fraught familial relationships... but I suspect there are elements of Japanese that don't carry over well to Twin Peaks. I'd have to think about it more and do a lot more research to see what kind of line I can draw, if there is even a line to be drawn. I'm saying this because I don't think it's completely bonkers to see similarities

- gay stuff [all cheering]: the plot-relevant homoerotic relationship in NGE is Shinji/Kaworu and in Twin Peaks it's Laura/Donna. Shinji and Laura have some similarities (but also major differences like, Shinji ultimately survives his story) but Kaworu and Donna are completely different. Donna is helpless where it comes to Laura's eventual fate - in fact I would argue Laura's love for Donna has more of an impact on Laura's actions than anything Donna actually does. Kaworu meanwhile directly fucks the passive Shinji up.

- the biggest similarity I personally see (aside from the doomed homoerotic relationships lol) is that both stories try to impart that ultimately love endures, humanity endures, even after all hope is lost. but in spite of that audiences do tend to resonate more with the darker themes and motifs.

#again sorry if you just meant it light heartedly #re: twin peaks #re: NGE #thank you for putting this thought into my brain tho i had a lot of fun writing her #replies

[an-atlas-or-other]

So I’ve seen a bunch of people annotating movies and stuff so I thought it’d be fun to do myself. Here we go, Battle of the Supersons (2022). I’m… worried.

Why does Krypton look like a green hellscape?

And why are we going through Superman’s origin story? I thought this was a supersons film

Oh that’s why

Does that mean Starro was the reason Krypton was destroyed in this universe?

Ooo comic book art

Martha and Johnathan Kent are dead?

Speaking of, they really can’t pick who lives and dies between them. I’ve seen versions where they’re both dead, where they both live, and in that old as balls Superman film I’m pretty sure they only killed John. The only combination I haven’t yet seen is one where only Martha dies

Jesus Christ Jon’s hair is so messy, it puts mine to shame

Oh here comes the theme of the movie

Why are they always out for video games, leave them alone

Not just of the year, Lois has won the Pulitzer??? Why didn’t they mention that instead

Okay so Jon clearly doesn’t have his powers yet

They’re on the farm? I thought they lived in the city?

COSPLAY LMAO

Yess hide the evidence boy

CLARK WHAT THE FUCK

His voice is so wrong and he looks so weird, everyone else has normal proportions and there he is using cartoon logic to have a Dorito shaped chest and a tiny ass head and legs

Father-son bonding, adorable

Oh nice shoes

Yeah he even looks weird as Superman also why is the ISS falling out of orbit

Nevermind it’s the Watchtower

Yeah let’s just ignore that that’s nothing like a debris entry hole (on that note, something jarringly similar happened with the Soyuz capsule on the real ISS a while ago and now like three astronauts are stranded there for another six months waiting for the replacement to get there, which is a weird coincidence)

Why does every version of Arrow look so different like seriously

I like his design though, he looks cool

Do they really announce who’s batting at baseball games? That’s so lame, no wonder he’s getting bullied

SWING MY GUY JUST SWING THE DAMN BAT

Clark’s packing some mad man-tit game

Dude where are you running to it’s your dad’s property for miles out

The boots pft

Jon’s so cute omg

Yes just let random people see your son flying with you in public Im sure that’s fine /sar

I would be going insane rn I would not be as elated as he is

Sideburns

Superboy’s taken? Does that mean Kon exists in this universe? Why isn’t Jon asking about him?

GOTHAM STINKS LMAO

Batman looks cool also Penguin has a ponytail and it doesn’t look as bad as I thought it would

The Cave looks awesome wow

Damian why are you so immature?

Rah’zz? RAH’ZZ??? THE OL’ RAH’ZZ’L DAHZ’LL?? NO it’s pronounced RAY’SH like from the Hebrew word resh do you really think the (most likely white, let’s be honest here) creators of the Al Ghuls knew about Arabic anything? They probably just went with Hebrew and said “eh, it’s close enough.”

Damian you’re so cruel

NURSING MY BAT-WOUNDS

Oh Cassie she’s so cute

The eye twitch

BAT COW

Small-town hick

So he did let him milk her (also its a bat-bucket with bat-milk- WAIT NO-)

Well at least South America exists in this universe

Batman and Superman look like mini figurines omg I want one

Nerrrrrrds with good grrrraaaaaaades

Ooo great burn Kent he really felt that one (I’m lying)

That’s mildly horrific

Well its better then that one fight scene in Batman v Robin which isn’t saying much but at least it’s average

Ooo long knife

He ded

Melvin don’t deserve shit

I love how scandalized Jon looks

Damian should have punched him

Starro’d Lois is kind of creepy

Should have done that earlier Einstein

Why does he know about STAR Labs? Actually his mom is Lois Lane nevermind

How’d he turn it if he can’t fly

Krypto?????

Well he can float now

Yeah, why did you come here?

Good boy

How’d their noses change so much between two generations

Why does Damian only talk in whispers it’s kind of weird

Jimmy is so cute 100/10

MONOLOGUES LMFAO

Oh he’s got his complete costume now

WHY WOULD YOU SEND THEM OFF WITHOUT TELLING THEM THAT SOME GRANDPAPS YOU ARE

That spaceship is so adorable why is everything so cute omg

Hacked? It’s your computer, you just looked it up (I bet he just said that to look cool)

Oh yeah Luthor’s the president for some reason I got it in my head that it was her father

Also his voice is so wrong again

“Nah you ticked me off you can die instead”

Awe Dami that’s sweet

She said bitch on live television

OH SURE SAY YOUR SON’S FULL NAME ON A NATIONAL ANNOUNCEMENT I BET THATS NOT GONNA COME BACK TO BITE YOU IN THE ASS

Poor Wally, ran straight into a wall

MMH looks awesome

I love how you can see the small differences in their fighting straight away

Awe Dami watching his friend’s back

Tall bat ears

That’s not how Kryptonite works but whatever at this point

I’m debating whether or not the writers even knew much about the comics to begin with at this point if they got something to basic wrong

That was an interesting editing choice

Also what happened to Alfred they didn’t even show if he got Hive Minded or what

Why does Damian’s hair stick up like that can he even put on the hood or is it just for decoration?

There’s a subtle but rather jarring change in how Mama Starro is animated and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one irked about it but still

Thats not how things fall out of orbit

Also the perspective makes the station look about the size of Argentina and how did no one notice this during production

Yas stab the president with the flag

There’s symbolism in there somewhere but I’m not bothered enough to dissect it

I would have written this “resigning to death” scene differently but it’s a kids movie so I’ll let it pass

I love how Batman’s face doesn’t change at all when he spoke to his own child (who almost fucking died)

Awesome but also nooo don’t bat it randomly into space throw it into the sun or something

How do all the adult men look so weird and then Bruce looks so… normal

OMG HIS HAIR IS COMBED BACK AND HES IN A SUIT THATS FUCKING HILARIOUS

Oh and now that Damian’s actually in full lighting you can see he’s been whitewashed (again)

At least it’s not as bad as Ian

That’s not how physics works but whatever

HAHAHA poor Jon

At least Damian’s got the perfect sort-of indestructible friend for him to bully

Overall, good movie. I enjoyed it thoroughly even if the story seemed a little off at times. Sometimes I wondered if the writers even knew much about the DC universe to begin with save for surface level knowledge. 7/10

#dc #batman #bruce wayne #superman #clark kent #kal el #damian wayne #dc robin #robin #superboy #jon kent #jonathan kent #battle of the super sons

[panthera-tigris-venenata]

What did I read this year so far:

Harrow the Ninth

I don't know what is going on and I love it. Seriously, this book is such a trip!

Cannot wait to reread it with the perspective, because nothing, nothing is as it seems

Rise of the Isle of the Lost

Yeah, I'm here for Sea Three and Lonnie

Fuck Mal and especially her time magic

„Discuss?“ Harry asked innocently, „Is that the word for tying someone up and threatening them with my hook?“ Uma smirked: „Don't worry, Harry, you will have your fun.“

These idiots are in love, your honour.

CJ Hook's Treasure Chase

CJ is my chaos gremlin child and I love her

And as everything Descendants, it's fun until you stop and think about the implications for a minute. Then it's depressing.

Cemetery Boys

Idk, fun read? Spanish vocabulary in the back of the book would be appreciated though.

Also, how does one pronounce "brujx"?

Jane Eyre

No more, please and thank you. I read this first when I was like, thirteen. I didn't think it could get worse. It did.

And Jane? Go touch some grass.

Eugen Onegin

There is no plot and I hate it.

Also, someone tore out Tatiana's letter to Onegin from the library book I was borrowing.

One Last Stop

Ok, turns out I have two favourite [romantic] relationship dynamics to read. One of them is "slightly feral lesbians with dubious relationship with death"

Saturnin

Not bad for a book from first Republic. Actually, no, Saturnin is awesome and national treasure. Both the book and the character.

Also, yes, I do like these chaos-prone characters a normal amount.

The Galaxy and the Ground Within

There is no plot and I love it

Also, it's fascinating seeing the differences between English and the translation I read. For example, there is one character that uses pronouns xe/xir (at least I think so), while the translation used it/its: neopronouns do not work in my language, this is as close as one can get. Also, a child (said character is a child of its species) is grammatically a neutrum, so there is that.

The existential horror of cheese

The Taming of the Shrew

Didn't they say comedies are supposed to have a happy ending?

The Poppy War

I actually forgot I read this-

But it has insane magic system and actual war with not so much romance, so of course I read it.

„Well, fuck the heavenly order of things.“

And of course, too many fanfictions to count-

#books #disney descendants #rise of the isle of the lost #CJ Hook's Treasure Chase #the galaxy and the ground within #cemetery boys #eugen onegin #jane eyre #the taming of the shrew #i had to read these for graduation #which is why i read so little otherwise #one last stop #Saturnin #harrow the 9th

[killemwithkawaii]

No better way to word this so Imma just say it: as a fellow peets enjoyer, I would enjoy reading your takes on the SFs Gangs feet. So if you ever need a excuse to talk about it… gestures

(Also calling it. Larry is ticklish as fuck down there which makes most of the kinky stuff one may want to do impossible because he already feels phantom tickles when you just wriggle your fingers in that general direction and becomes an absolutely giggly mess instead. Which also has its charm mind you)

Anon, it is such a pleasure to be reminded that there are persons with impeccable taste, such as yourself, lurking in the fandom and on my blog, and it's even better when said persons encourage me to be as self-indulgent as you have with this ask. Please accept these headcanons that I thought about way more seriously than I probably should have lmao (I did my best to not let my personal preferences influence them, but a few maaay have sipped through the cracks, and so did yours 🙈💓💦)

What are the Gangs Feet like?-

[CW: Grapefruit (though this is 99% sfw), unsanitary, tickling]

Sally:

-Big feet for his height, greek shape, pronounced metacarpal and ankle bones, arches are a little high.

-Wears shitty off-brand high tops with zero arch support and doesn't seem like the type to own a pumice stone, so there's some callusing on his feet where his shoes rub, but the rest of the skin is relatively soft.

-Typically keeps his nails trimmed purely for comforts sake

-Smell varies from very minimal to strong, depending on whether he's been playing video games or hiking around the woods all day, and whether or not hes had the spoons to change and shower recently.

-Wears soft cotton ankle-length socks (sensory friendly and cushions his very exposed achilles tendons), occasionally with novelty prints. He keeps them on most of the time because his feet get cold easily.

-Sometimes paints his toenails (badly)

-Not ticklish unless you really, really try.

-Hesitant to accept a foot rub, but once you've assured him that you actually want to give him one and he gets used to the feeling, he'll slowly melt into his seat... 🥴

-Blushes if you play footsie with him. 😳

Larry:

-Big ol flipper feet, roman shape, a little wide, average arches.

-Wears sturdy, ankle length work boots with good support, so there's minimal callus, though the skin is overall a little tough.

-Might forget to trim his nails sometimes, and the smell can get pretty ripe if hes been working real hard all day... 😬

-Wears moisture-wicking, mid-crew length socks with strong elastic because he can't stand the feeling of his socks slipping down and bunching at the toe. He has a bad habit of stripping off his socks when he's lounging and leaving them on the floor.

-Has some moles on his feet (just like he has on the rest of him).

-He's ticklish as hell, so touches have to be predictable, deliberate and firm (unless you want to see him reduced to a giggling, thrashing wreck, in which case, do so at your own risk ⚠)

-Would lean back and 'feel like a king' getting his feet rubbed (once it's clear you're for sure not going to tickle him). 👑

-Taps and shakes his feet if he's sitting still for too long.

Ash:

-Larger than average, narrow, greek shape, low arches.

-Used to be that kid that always walked around outside barefoot, but her current use of cosmetics and shaved legs suggests a beauty regimen that would keep her feet looking presentable. She periodically uses a pumice stone, regularly moisturizes, keeps her nails trimmed and occasionally uses nail polish (purple, black or clear).

-Wears supportive, cushioned athletic shoes, and thin, no-show socks, generally in solid colors, but may choose to forgo socks altogether.

-Usually smells like her moisturizer or has a pretty mild scent, unless its especially hot out 🌸

-Average ticklishness

-Could be convinced to have her feet rubbed if it was a mutual thing, or she was especially sore and really needed it.

-Will totally do mani-pendis with a friend! 💅✨️

Todd:

-Average size, egyptian shape, average arches.

-Wears white and grey crew socks and sandals with shorts, so he has a noticeable tan line on his calves. He spends most of his time seated, so they're pretty soft, but the skin can be a little dry in patches.

-Generally keeps his nails tidy, though he can neglect them if he's become hyperfocused on a project, in which case Neil has to remind him to trim them after hes had enough of getting scratched while they're lying in bed togther. 🛌

-Not much of a scent, since the sandals let them breathe.

-Basically impervious to tickling thanks to his parents.

-Will accept the occasional foot rub from Neil, but is more likely to give them, and is pretty good at it, since he's learned a few techniques and pressure points over the years.

-Keeps his socks on most of the time (including during sex) unless it's very hot out. He's just more comfortable that way 🧦

Travis:

-Smaller than average, square shape, low arches.

-Wears mid-crew socks in various colors, sneakers, and dress shoes. Average amount of callous.

-Trimmed nails and almost no scent (he has to shower every day), but that likely changed when he became more involved in behind-the-scenes cult work, and he became increasingly disheveled as he began neglecting his personal hygiene.

-Ticklish to the point of kicking (and will not hold back) 🤬

-Does not like having his feet touched at all (hes touch averse in general), and you probably could not convince him to give a foot rub to anyone under any circumstances without blackmailing him into it. ❌

-Always has socks on unless he's changing or bathing, even when he's sleeping.

#k.e.w.k. answers #k.e.w.k. writes #sal fisher #larry johnson #ashley campbell #todd morrison #travis phelps #the gang #grapefruit #sorry steve #tickling #tw feet #tw unsanitary #i am labeling this as mature just to be on the safe side fkljaldjla #I LOVE MY KINKY KOUHAI SM 😭💖💖💖 #such a bonus when the kink is mutual and i can just Get Into It 😤👌 #I hope you enjoyed these anon~

[kaen-ace-of-diamonds]

Okay, “Midnight” is The Devil Is In The Details: The Episode, but I’d argue that nowhere is that more evident than with Evil Zack and Cody the stepsisters.

There’s already been a lot of focus on how much the specific incident we’re shown of them bullying Cinder says about them —

— but seriously they just get creepier and creepier the harder you think about them. 

To start, they were older than Cinder. Not only are they noticeably taller than her —

— which on its own could be explained by their growth not being stunted by malnutrition, when they first meet, Cinder’s eyes are bigger and her face is rounder than theirs:

While I’m not the greatest at gauging age (related point: is flashback!Cinder actually really tall for a ten-year-old or have I just not seen any ten-year-olds in a while?), I’d estimate that they were at least three years older than her?

Second, they have fairly distinct personalities for how little we see and hear of them. Much as I would love to keep going with the Suite Life joke, for the sake of convenience I’ll be referring to them with headcanon names from here on out; because they’re voiced by AmaLee and I am Very Creative, I’ve been calling them Amanda (straight hair) and Leigh (curly hair).

The first glimpse we get of it is their differing reactions to Cinder asking for food when she’s brought to the hotel:

Amanda: “ugh we actually have to feed her?”

Leigh: “oh my gods she thinks we’re going to give her food that’s hilarious”

When Cinder tries to take a strawberry from the cake, it’s Leigh who smacks her and snatches the cake away, but only to present it to her sister, the one who actually gets a bite to eat out of it:

And later, when they’re fucking up the carpet, it’s Amanda framed as taking the lead, and Leigh’s mocking laughter that gets the most focus:

Amanda is the idea girl, probably the smarter one by a bit (and if they’re not actually twins, I’d bet that she’s the older sister), while Leigh is more carefree and markedly the more sadistic one.

We see it again when they report to Madame about Cinder’s sword:

Amanda is the one sounding the alarm, visibly worried about the danger an armed and vengeful Cinder poses, while Leigh’s expression and body language is just screaming, “oh yeah fuck her up mom fuck her up fuck her up.” She doesn’t think for one second that she could be hurt, she’s just here for the fun they’re going to have punishing Cinder.

(I also find it interesting that Amanda is the first one in all the flashbacks to actually say Cinder’s name, especially coupled with the fact that in the versions of the story that use that name, “Cinderella” is a cruel nickname given to her by her stepfamily. It again calls into question whether Cinder was her original name at all. I could easily see Cinder saying her name is Ye Xian telling them her name and them being like, “yeah we’re not even going to try to pronounce that, we’re just going to call you Cinder.”)

Which leads me to the realization I had the other day: what the fuck were they doing creeping around in Cinder’s room in the middle of the night?

It’s well past 11:30 when they come running out to snitch to their mom, oblivious to the stitches they’re about to get, and this is not information they sat on for a second, they definitely were just there. And there’s no way that Cinder would have left the sword out in the open, so they had to have been actively digging around in the room...for what? They’re clearly shocked when they realize she has a weapon, so that couldn’t have been what they were expecting to find. 

My best guess? They made a habit of searching Cinder’s room to make sure she wasn’t hoarding food and didn’t have a single possession to herself. I doubt they cared whether they woke Cinder up in the process: in fact, they probably enjoyed fucking up her nonexistent sleep schedule even more. Imagine Cinder being startled awake at some ungodly hour and seeing them standing there like:

“Come play with us, Cinder.”

(Seriously, though, between their rude awakenings, night training with Rhodes, overlong work hours in general, and Random Atlesian Asshole #17 wanting room service at 3:00 AM, how many years was Cinder running on zero sleep?)

Which then leads me into the fifteen minutes that still haunts me: I think if Cinder had been awake to realize her stepsisters had gotten their hands on her sword, she would have tried to stop them from going to rat on her, knowing what the results would be. So how much do you want to bet that Cinder was electrocuted awake that night, and then immediately forced to deal with all three of her abusers backing her into a corner (literally and figuratively) and trying to tear away the one thing that was keeping her sane, that was giving her hope?

like I don’t have any actual conclusion to this post, it’s just 

fuck those kids

#rewatched midnight the other day and i had Thoughts #cinder fall #rwby8 #kaen rambles

[aquilaofarkham]

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought. 

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️  Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity. 

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.” 

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

--

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician. 

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

 “I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough. 

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

#castlevania #castlevania spoilers #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #greta danesti #trephacard #trevorcard #my writing #*cvfic

[avaritia-apotheosis]

Phantom Children Ch. 8

What's this? An update! Massive thanks to my betas for helping me get through this chapter <3

In Which: A few answers are given to the family and Danny is rudely awoken

[Side note: If you wanna know the general ages of the batfam, its listed in the AO3 version. I also talk about katanas in the end notes ^-^]

AO3 | Prologue | 7 | [ 8 ] | 9 DAMIAN INFORMED TODD—and Drake when he arrived on his bike sometime later on—that the boy whose face is plastered across the monitor was neither a picture of himself nor of Father.

Drake took one glance at the monitor and sighed, pressing his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “Just when I thought this day was getting better.”

“What, did that café on 5th finally let customers supersize their drink?”

“God that would be the dream, wouldn’t it?” Drake sighed wistfully. “Nah, but I did get a lead on where some of that stolen Cadmus tech might’ve ended up. I was gonna spend the night following up on it, but I guess we have to deal with,” he gestured to the monitor, “whatever this is.”

Todd leaned against the edge of the computer, arms crossed over the red bat insignia on his chest. “What are we dealing with this time, brat? A clone? An alternate universe counterpart? Magic shenanigans?”

Maybe. Perhaps. All of those were perfectly valid conclusions for the enigma that was Daniel James Fenton. (Why Fenton and not al Ghul? Or even Wayne?)

Damian, too, was a genetic experiment; a ‘test tube baby’ as Drake put it at times. Damian was born for greatness, created to be perfect. The perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. The perfect heir. Was this boy—Daniel—like him as well?

A failed one, then. Perhaps the precursor to Damian’s own existence. But that would not explain why the boy was allowed to exist for so long. His grandfather demanded perfection, especially from those of his own blood. If the boy was a failure, he would have been eliminated immediately, not sent to live with some eccentric scientists in the Midwest.

Damian was not naïve enough to think that his mother and grandfather did not keep secrets from him. On the contrary, he expected it. The League of Shadows dealt in secrets as often as it did in death. Certain information was worth its weight in gold, whether it was given or buried away.

But he could not help the sharp pang in his chest. A lightning strike, quick and electrifying at the notion that they kept secrets about their family from him.

His father’s face flashed in his mind. The shock turned into a slow, dawning horror. That flicker of light, of recognition, as he scrutinized the contents of the flash drive and cross-referenced it with a public database.

And grief.

Damian recognized the grief.

Alfred, too, nearly dropped his tray of fresh-baked cookies when he stepped in front of the monitor. His usual unflappable demeanor was momentarily broken at his father’s whispered “Sixteen years. Alfred— he’s sixteen years old.”

His father knew of the boy. He was allowed to know of Daniel when he was not allowed to know about Damian.

------

Grayson returned to the cave with a distinct lack of energy in his step. His mask dangled off the tips of his fingers, chin angled downwards and covered largely by his hand. For a split second, their eyes met. Grayson shifted his gaze away, scratching the back of his neck. Father told him, then. Damian wondered how much Father revealed to his favorite son.

Damian clucked his tongue and buried himself deeper into the chair, arms crossed and pointedly looking away. If it was not for his accursed ankle, he’d have headed out to the training ring to take his frustrations out on the dummies.

“Oh, thank god you’re here, Dickface. Damian’s completely out of it.”

Damian shot him a look. “Shut up, Todd.”

“Leave him alone, Jay. Is Tim back yet?”

Drake emerged from the changing room in a dark green shirt, a fresh cup of coffee in hand. He took one long sip before exhaling. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“O-kay…” He pressed his hands together, mouth thinned into a grim line. “Uh, hey Tim, glad to see you back safe. Bruce is coming down soon to explain some things.” He let out a deep sigh, carding a hand through his hair. “This kind of thing would probably be better with the girls around, but I—god, I don’t know.”

Todd raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know whether to call Steph and Cass in Hong Kong, or don’t know what’s going on?”

“Yes.”

------

When Father arrived, Pennyworth following dutifully behind him, it was with an aching slowness in his gait. His steps measured and precise, preternaturally quiet as he made his way to stand by Damian’s chair. Damian sat up straighter, shoulders squared and back an inch away from the backrest. The rest, even Todd, stood at attention; an ingrained habit among Robins and an amusing instinct even among the senior heroes of the Justice League when it came to facing the Batman.

His father kept a steady hand on Damian’s shoulder, and Damian, shamefully, leaned into the touch; his head inclined towards his father’s hand so much so that he could feel the ends of his hair being pushed up slightly as he brushed against his father’s forearm.

He spoke with his usual monotone, as if he was heading a Justice League meeting as opposed to unveiling the secrets surrounding that boy. He brought forward the few photos they obtained from the flash drive. “A few weeks ago, we were alerted of suspicious movement from the League of Shadows in Amity Park, Illinois. Their objectives are, as of now, unclear, though it appears to be tied to the death of Amity Park resident, Daniel Fenton.”

One photo was a standard ID picture people get for their driver’s license, the lighting deliberately horrible so that any attempt to look decent would always end in failure. Another photo was a little better; a candid scene of him chatting with two others his age, a Caucasian girl in gothic-style clothes and an African-American holding a sleek, but still very outdated PDA. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, hand reaching up to his face to stifle a laugh. There were other photos like this, some candid, others posed. At the forefront of each, a boy that looked too much like his father, too much like Damian.

His father glanced at the photos. He shut his eyes and when he opened them again, he fixed them on some distant stalactite in the Cave. “Around six months ago, Daniel was pronounced dead in a vehicular accident. A body was present, but according to police reports, he was identified via his driver’s license as opposed to any kind of DNA profiling.” He leaned over Damian’s chair to pull up a profile of Masters. “Our source—Vladimir Masters, mayor of Amity and a friend of the Fenton family—indicated his belief that Daniel is actually alive. I am inclined to agree.”

“He’s your son, isn’t he,” Drake said, more of a statement than a question.

Father gave a curt nod. “I cannot say for certain until I can perform a DNA test, but I highly suspect that to be the case.”

“First the demon spawn, now this. Great.” Todd made a hand motion towards the screen. “You know, Bruce, not knowing you have a kid once might be a coincidence, but twice? How do you do that?”

“As of three hours ago, I was still under the impression that my son never made it to term.”

“What?”

“Over sixteen years ago I was involved in a mission that put Ra’s and I on the same side. During that time, Talia and I entered a relationship that resulted in a pregnancy. Though initially ecstatic, she eventually led me to believe she miscarried the child and pushed me away. For what ends, I do not know, but trust me Jason, if I knew—” He paused, the hand that was not on Damian’s shoulder curled into a tight fist.

Father pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why she hid it from me then doesn’t matter. Why Talia wants him back now is important. Judging from Daniel’s records, he was adopted into the Fenton family as an infant and has since lived a seemingly normal life as a civilian. His adoptive parents, Jack and Maddie Fenton, are brilliant scientists and engineers focused on the field of paranormal studies. Eccentricities aside, they have zero connections to the League of Assassins or any other concerning parties.”

“So why now?” Dick asked, shifting his concerned gaze from Bruce to the static picture of Danny’s tired smile. “Why, after all this time, decide that now would be the best time to recover him?”

------

Danny’s experienced plenty of rude awakenings before, but waking up at the ass-crack of dawn to avoid his kidnapper-slash-assassin-slash-biological-mom launching a surprise attack takes the fucking cake. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but thank god for all those late night ghost attacks that conditioned him to be a light sleeper. And, of course, the League’s insistence that everyone be in optimal condition regardless of how little sleep you actually got.

Danny kicked Talia off of him, ripping his blanket away before scrambling to his feet. Seriously, if the universe decided to spontaneously give him powers again, he’d really like an upgrade to his ghost senses, please and thank you. Something that works on humans and not just ghosts. Like spidey-senses. He’d really, really like some spidey-senses.

“Your reaction times have improved considerably,” Talia said.

He eyed the katana sheathed beside his bedroll. “Thanks. Who could have guessed that constantly challenging someone to a spar in the unholy hours of morning would make them paranoid to sleep too much? Really, how am I supposed to grow taller at this rate? ” If he could just get it--

She smiled, taking a step forward. “Prepare yourself.”

“Heh.” Danny stepped further away from Talia, keeping his back to the mouth of the cave. One hand stretched in front of him and the other, coated in a green light, was kept hidden behind his back. “Am I actually gonna get some answers today?”

“Let us make it interesting. Last 10 minutes against me and I shall tell you more about your brother.” Talia twirled her blade. “If you happen to draw blood, you may ask any one thing of me.”

“Anything?”

“Within reason.”

His face caught between a grimace and a smile. He’d rather be sleeping right now, but if he had to be awake, then he’d better make the most of it. “Deal.”

Talia’s smile dropped. She veered her body to the right, barely dodging the streak of bright green that whizzed from behind her. The ectoplasmic energy that surrounded the katana bled away as the handle connected with Danny’s outstretched hand.

She quickly glanced back at Danny’s bedding. Beside it lay an empty sheath. “You have telekinesis?”

He shrugged. “It comes and goes.” Yeah, no way was Danny gonna admit that seven-out-of-ten-times he forgot that he had telekinesis. Besides, that shit was hard to do when he wasn’t Phantom.

“A surprise attack from behind is a sound strategy, Daniel. Though it’ll take a lot more than that to harm me.”

Danny pointed to the side of his cheek. “Are you sure about that?”

Talia frowned. She reached up to her face. Her fingers brushed against her cheek and came away with a thin streak of blood.

Danny grinned, pointing his blade at his opponent. “First blood goes to me.”

------

Fact: most fights don’t last long. An average street fight could last anywhere between 25 to 40 seconds, and sword fights rarely last over a minute. Like Talia said, the goal of a fight was to end it with as few injuries to oneself as possible. Humans, even the most skilled ones, can rarely last long in a fight. Prolonged combat is suicide; it makes you tired, makes your muscles heavy. It’s nothing like what Hollywood would have you believe.

Even with Danny’s own enhanced stamina and Talia holding back, he couldn’t last a full ten-minute spar. If Talia didn’t finish him within twenty-five seconds, then he’d fall by his own human limitations.

But the goal wasn’t to spar continuously for ten minutes.

He only had to last that long.

Danny sprinted out of the cave. The sun barely peeked out of the horizon, a thin line of deep orange breaking apart the wide expanse of blue-black sky above. He couldn’t see shit; great news since that meant there’s a good chance Talia couldn’t either, but that doesn’t fix the fact that he can’t see.

Nearly stumbling on the ice, Danny veered to the left. The edges of the lake stopped at towering rocks twice Danny’s height, leaving little room for cover. Though if he remembered correctly, there should be a few crevices here and there to hide in.

“You’ll have to be faster than that, Daniel.”

Shit—

Danny stopped. He brought his sword up to parry Talia’s strike and twisted away, putting distance between them.

Well, so much for just avoiding her for 10 minutes.

He adjusted his grip, keeping his sword steady and eyes trained on Talia as they circled each other. Danny lunged with an overhead strike. Talia used one hand to block the downswing by gripping his wrists. She thrust her sword forward, the tip harshly poking Danny’s abdomen.

“Less than three minutes.” Talia let his wrist go, Danny’s arms slumping to his sides.

He sighed as he sheathed his sword. “Damn, I thought I’d last longer than that.”

“You made a good effort,” Talia assured him. “Putting as much distance between us at the beginning was a good strategy. You recognized the win conditions immediately and attempted a battle of attrition.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am very proud of you habibi, especially as you managed to draw first blood.”

A warmth grew in Danny’s stomach at the words, heating his cheeks. Sheepishly, he scratched the back of his head. “I wasn’t entirely sure that would work, honestly.”

“It was clever; half a second later and you might have even killed me. You are an al Ghul through and through” She brushed his hair out of his face. “What would you like as your prize, then?”

Danny’s heart clenched. He frowned, dropping his arm to his side. If I was such an al Ghul, then why didn’t you keep me? The question lodged itself in his throat, stifling his thoughts. It was something he’d been wondering for a while, actually, in the moments of solitude he had at the compound. Talia, during their training, would always remark at his potential. How talented he was, how adaptable he was, how much greater he would have been if he had been trained at a younger age.

Well then, why wasn’t he? Why did she give him up?

But each time he tried to ask, his tongue would turn to lead and the moment would pass, the question still left unsaid and simmering at the back of his mind. A Pandora’s Box that held none of the world’s evil but all of Danny’s possible shortcomings.

He could ask the question now.

He could.

He didn’t.

“Why did you take me?”

Talia tilted her head. “It is because you’re my son.”

“No. Not that. It has to be something more than that. You had sixteen years to come back for me—or, hell, you could have just never left me.” His breath hitched, fingers mussing his hair and hiding his eyes. “Why else did you take me?”

“It is true that there was more than one reason why we decided to retrieve you from Amity Park. One of which is because you are my son and an heir of the Demon’s Head.” Talia stilled. The dark skies of dawn made it impossible for him to read her. “The second reason was to protect you.”

“You kidnapped me…to protect me?”

“Knowledge of the ghosts of Amity have spread through the more insidious parts of the world. There are many out there who would pay exorbitant fees to study one of you or to use you.”

Use him? What did she mean by—

Oh.

Ghosts—Amity Park’s brand of ghosts—were a new element that the world had to contend with. Amity Park might have a crime rate of zero but that wasn’t the case everywhere else. Theft, assault, murder; the world was rampant with crimes and criminals clawing their way to the very top. Having ghosts, even ones with the most basic powerset, would be a huge advantage.

“There’s no way that would work,” Danny insisted. “Most ghosts just want to be left alone, and the ones that want to wreak havoc would never work with humans. The only reason they even work with halfas like me at times is because they still consider us as ghosts.”

“If my sources are to be believed, ghosts might not even get a choice.”

Danny’s blood curdled in his veins.

No.

Someone’s found a way to control ghosts.

#danny phantom #batman #danny phantom x batman crossover #dp fic #phantom children.txt

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

30. Scared, potter ?

Prompt used- Grabbing onto their arm | FLUFF | Draco finally reveals how he fell in love with harry | can't believe I've already reached 30 days with these prompts.

Laughter cackled into the room with people draco had enormously grown to love. It's weird how fast time flies when you are surrounded by people who care about you regardless of how many shit days you may have and draco was a happy victim of it. All his life he had never cared for anyone else, treated them as if they were nothing untill he himself felt like one of those people, what it felt like to be nothing and he hated every second of it and when finally life gave him a second chance by a simple act of fate, he rose out the person who was completely opposite of who he used to be and he was proud of it and more proud were the people who once had hated him. It was a miracle how draco was sat amongst these people now, but he could not be more happier to reach where he is today and everyone he have right now. 5 years of learning, progress, trying to clear his name, he had finally became the person he wanted to be and love, it was just a small Miracle that happened by his side, so unpredictable but exactly what he needed and if there was one person who struck through it all was none other than, harry james Potter. His so called arch nemesis.

He met harry by a very simple mistake actually. One day he was serving coffee in a muggle coffee shop to pay his rent and the next day he knew he had almost been fired for spilling coffee over someone, and obviously that someone had to be harry. They got to talking about how different lives were, how difficult and yet they had the most complex similarities. It took harry exactly 9 months and 3 days during draco's final trials to get a job for him in the auror office, claiming if they didn't take him it would one of the most stupid choice they'd ever make because they'd lose a brilliant mind. Draco's first instincts were obviously disliking harry for doing something like that for him and maintained distance as much as he could but showed his gratitude in different ways like anonymously sending harry his favourite deserts every Friday and cup of coffee every morning. It wasn't until they both had been paired up for a mission related to a death Eater that they collided once again. According to the recruiters, it was important they had someone who was familiar with the death Eater ways, draco and a person they feared the most who vanquished the dark lord, harry. One scene to another, the tension building up one day led them into fighting and eventually resulted in them not talking until during the end of the mission when Draco got fatal injury, not because of the case but because of a muggle driver basically hitting draco. Eventually harry had to assign the mission to officials under him and draco being on bed rest, since it was a muggle injury and treating it the wizarding ways could've possibly been a hindrance in his 100 percent recovery.

And now this is where they are, sitting on top of the grimauld place, on its roof , lit up by almost 70 golden fairy lights, sheltered by a silver tent with a bunch of their friends and families assembled for the rehearsal dinner, or so the muggle called. It was just a last party from harry potter and draco malfoy.

Neville clinked his work lightly on his champagne glass raising it " Time for toast"

Draco cleared his throat grabbing attention from everyone across the table. Harry looked at him, bewildered since he definitely didn't knew Draco planned this.

" I'd like to take a few moments from all of you for this. I- I am blessed to have you all in my life and I met most of you when my life hit rock bottom and through it all, you guys have supported me unconditionally and I'm forever in debt for that"

They all raised their glasses in appreciation.

" and to you harry, tomorrow morning I will be pronouncing my vows and I know we've practically written them together, I can assure you no words are ever enough to what I feel for you. I've met you by a simple act of fate and it is my choice to choose my destiny to spend the rest of my life loving you just like you love me.

I met harry 6 years 3 months and exactly 25 days ago. I was merely counting the days of my life to make it through all of it and by far that day had been a huge blessing. A lot of you have asked me when did I realise I was in love with him and I've Always said that it was somewhere along the way but the truth is I have been saving this answer my whole life for this specific day. 3 years ago when I got hit by a car and had stitches up and down my body, 2 fractures and almost a broken nose, thank goodness for that though, I love my nose, harry being the absolute gentlemen he is, dropped the damn case to take care of my lousy ass. So this one day during my 1 month bed rest, harry had been late and I was absolutely glad he was because of ego issues, I heard my bell rang, I got up and took sometime to reach the door and by the time I had even checked who it was, the person had left, leaving a parcel in my letter box. Being me, I went downstairs to pick it up and just as I started to go back upstairs, a floor below mine I almost rolled down the stairs and guess who was the knight in shining armour, harry. He ranted the hell out of me for choosing to do that and simply grabbed my hand, put it around his neck and carried me back up. The entire day he kept bashing on about what would've happened if he wasn't there. That's when I fell In love. It wasn't magical or something as people describe it, I felt what I had been deprived of my whole life, care and love. The way he just went on and on about it, just showed me how much he cared and the same exact night he stayed over claiming he is never leaving my fucking ass alone, guess he took that too seriously by the way, I fell in love that night of him scolding me. And that's the answer I've saved up all these years. And I'm pretty sure harry is still never leaving my fucking ass alone if in future I get injured, just the consequences and situations would be far different " and draco raised his glass again.

" to harry and draco " Ron grinned, his arms wrapped around Blaise's waist.

" to harry and draco " everyone cheered

" to us " they silently whispered smiling at each other, with a look in their eyes, that was simply just their own, their love.

" I actually can't believe you took an entire minute to make this speech with basically no phrases such as electricity running through or how admirable harry looked. I means it's all sorta sparky " Ron joked. A few people around him laughed too including harry and draco.

As time went on, when everyone was almost done with dinner and simply hanging away slow dancing, chatting, making jokes, harry intertwined his fingers with those of draco's under the table and rested his head against draco's shoulder. Draco looked on his side to see his fiance finding his comfort in his neck. Smiling to himself, draco pressed a long kiss on top of Harry's head, bringing their hands to his lips and kissing over Harry's knuckles before resuming laughing at yet another one of Ron's jokes.

By midnight everyone had started to go downstairs in the house to crash over and a few of them leaving. Finishing up with the cleaning harry and draco too finally departed to their seperate bedrooms as per before marriage rituals. It was almost half an hour later when Draco heard a soft knock on his door. He opened the door cautiously to find harry standing there with a small smile.

" breaking the rules as usual " draco smirked as he turned around to let harry in behind him.

" well, that's just who I am. Besides your room have a nice balcony. Could use it " harry said as he shut the door softly and followed draco.

Draco finally turned smiling at his fiance, just staring at harry until he pulled them into the balcony, letting the moon wash over their bodies, making Harry's eyes sparkle more and draco's hair looking softer than usual.

" can you actually believe, we're getting married in less than 24 hours " draco said as he looked at the sky.

" it doesn't seem so different, does it ?" Harry asked as he stepped closer to draco and grabbing his hands to intertwine their fingers again.

" it doesn't " draco smiled as he kissed Harry's forehead. He too smiled at Draco and finally hugged draco, his arms hanging loosely around his waist , his head rested against draco's chest to hear the faint loveliest sound of his heartbeat. Draco put his chin on top of Harry's head, his arms too hanging loosely around Harry's back and just staying there like that.

" can I ask you something ?" Harry finally asked after moments of silence while watching the moon, different memories, different thoughts running in their own heads.

Draco hummed in response. Harry looked up at Draco, staring blankly as if he was trying to find something, but there was no freckle or a mole or anything left on draco's face yet for him to discover. He knew Draco better than he knew himself and it was just a small proud achievement.

" during that speech, you said something about saving your answer for this day, did you know we'd ever reach this far ?"

Draco pouted looking behind harry deciding on how to phrase it.

" I didn't. If this were to ever end, the secret would've died with me but I knew the only time I'd ever reveal it would the day before our marriage. And I did "

" so you Always wanted to get married ?"harry asked curiously in a Playful way.

" I think yeah. I never had anything close to having what we have, I'd had been a fool not to imagine whatever comes next " draco smiled at harry fondly, his hands tightening around his waist.

Harry looked at Draco amazed. Despite being together for so long, being with each other was Always a different adventure each day and this was their kind of adventure.

" when did you knew you loved me ?" Draco finally asked not looking away from harry.

" well- I think it was during the time you joined DMLE. Those deserts every Friday and the cup of coffee, they had the same handwriting on the Little notes you put into the desert box and on the coffee cup, I knew they were from you long before you told me, courtesy of stalking you all around 6th year "

" So you were obsessed with me " draco teased smirking.

" whatever helps you sleep at night " harry chuckled before he pressed his head against draco's chest again and stayed there in silence until harry had finally gone to his own bedroom, as silently as he had came.

The next day when harry and Draco finally stood against each other on the alter, after the vows, the ring ceremony, the speeches, the minister finally claimed

" I now pronounce you husband and husband, you may kiss each other "

Harry smirked at Draco holding his hands

" scared potter ?"

" you wish, Malfoy " draco smirked back.

And then they kissed, promising an eternity of love that even this life wasn't enough..

Requests open. This might be one of my favourite ones.

Day 29- sweet, sexy and practically fainting | Day 31- would you come back to me

#drarry #harry potter #drarry incorrect quotes #draco x harry #hp fandom #harry james potter #drarry prompt #draco is gay #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy #drarry incorrect posts #drarry ao3 #drarry au #drarry fic rec #drarry fest #drarry ficlet #drarry fluff #drarry fandom #drarry stuff #drarry squad #drarry ship #drarry drabble challenge #drarry drabble #drarry fic #drarry oneshot #drarry headcanon #draco lucius malfoy #harry potter text post #harry potter fic #harry potter headcanon

[hange-zone]

May I please have some Eremin Hades/Persephone au? With Eren as dread Persephone and Armin as the overworked king of the underworld?

SIX MONTHS IN THE GARDEN OF HADES

i.

In a strange twist of fate, the lord of the underworld was five foot five and had a shock of blond hair. 

“You kidnapped me!” Eren sounded incredulous. He scowled at the person -  barely older than a boy - whose office (realm?) he had just been thrown into. The blond boy, seated at the ornate desk, looked up from his paperwork with a bored expression on his face. Eren stood up, brushing the dirt off his clothes and collected himself, managing to sound incredibly composed despite having just fallen through a crack in the earth and tumbled right down to hades. “That’s so wrong. Wait till my sister finds out - you’ll be dead.”

That sounded like a threat, but it struck Armin as terribly ironic. He laughed. “I’ll look forward to it.”

If looks could kill he guessed that the glare that the other boy had shot him might have actually struck him dead, but he was the god of the underworld and of the dead and honestly? Trifle things like that didn’t matter. 

So he dismissed the glowering boy with a flick of his wrist and went back to poring over his spreadsheets.

 ii.

When they next meet Eren’s hands were sticky and he wished very hard that he could cough out his last meal. 

Armin glanced up at him, then back to his work. “I’m guessing you had some of the fruits from my garden?”

“I was hungry,” Eren protested. “You don’t even have -”

“Six months.” Armin interrupted. He didn’t look up, still scribbling as his eyes scanned over the reports and administrative data. Why do people keep dying? he wondered, briefly, before turning his attention back to the boy before him. “You don’t even need food. But you’ve eaten them,  you do the time, that’s just how it works, et cetera. Besides, didn’t anyone ever warn you?”

“Fuck you,” Eren replied.

 iii.

Wandering around the palace grounds, which were not entirely to his liking, being all dark marble and jagged rock - as well as gaudy displays of gemstones and glittering metal that made his eyes hurt - Eren found himself settling by the shallow pool and watching his reflection in the black water. 

It seems like a cruel trick, to make the earth open up and take him here and then just...leave him alone? What was Hades even thinking? And why was he a lanky teenage boy? That was possibly more confusing. 

Suddenly, a mop of blond hair appeared behind him. He jumped. “You scared the shit out of me,” he said accusatorially to the figure, frowning.

“Sorry,” Armin offered. Up close he looked far less intimidating - beneath the grand robes his shoulders were rounded and he was skinny and rather small. His clothes seemed to overwhelm him. His wide blue eyes were deep-set and there were tired, dark circles against the pale flesh of his face.  He drew in a long breath and sighed. Eren noticed that he was biting his dry lips nervously. 

“Walk with me?” the lord of the underworld asked. Despite himself, Eren obliged, nodding slowly and letting the boy help him to his feet. 

They made their way through the sprawling grounds in silence, trodding through the soft earth. They walked past abandoned gazebos with doric columns, round a winding path with dead and rotting trees and grey leaves which crunched underfoot, away from the black obsidian building which loomed across everything in the landscape. The dead fluttered around them. 

Eventually they came to a pier. Armin leant against the railings, gaze fixed on the river. The water was dark as it rushed and churned underneath them.  Eren watched him for a second then looked away. Off in the distance he could see the glowing lights of Elysium. 

Slowly, haltingly, the other boy began to speak.

“Sorry about…” Armin trailed off. “It was stupid. I should have just asked - we could be friends properly. But now - it’s the seeds, you see. Six of them, six months. We're bound by precedent, unfortunately.”

Ah, there it was again. Who knew the god of the dead was such a stickler for rules?

And then he was off again, turning away and moving through his realm. Eren followed, and they walked on in silence. Eren looked upon the craggy rock and trampled flowerbeds and the overgrown hedges on the edges of the estate, and frowned.

“Your palace sucks,” he blurted out, characteristically blunt. 

It was Armin’s turn to be startled. In fact, he looked positively scandalised. “Excuse me?”

“You’ve got like, all the gold and precious metals and stuff but it’s just too much,” Eren supplied. 

A pause.

“Also the palace looks evil and the gardens are dead,” he added.

Armin opened his mouth to object but closed it again. 

Eren, ever the opportunist, quickly followed up: “I’ll forgive you - and your terrible taste - if you let me just have the garden,” he said, gesturing around meaningfully. “By the time summer comes I’ll have it all fixed up.” 

Armin dithered, but picked up the pace, widening his strides. 

“You owe me,” Eren pressed breathlessly, running to catch up. “You were the one who started it.”

Armin seemed suitably chastened. “Fine,” he huffed out. 

Eren couldn’t help but smile to himself, even as he was careful not to let the boy see. 

It was getting late - a mist had descended upon the land and it was beginning to get cold. Eren found himself shivering in his thin clothes, goosebumps creeping across the length of his arms. Armin must have noticed, because he pretended to stifle a yawn and said, “We should get back.”

And then, before he could protest, the lord of the underworld - Hades himself - draped his thick coat across his shoulders, and was already ahead of him, bare shoulders stark against the night as he turned on his heel and moved briskly in the direction of the ugly, evil palace. Eren clutched at the velvet that clung to him. It was surprisingly warm against his skin.

It became a routine of sorts, walks in the morning and at night, bookending their days. On one nighttime walk, when the precious stones embedded in the cave’s ceiling had glinted like stars, he’d strayed too close to the blond boy and the backs of their hands had brushed. His heart had skipped a beat, but the other boy didn’t seem to notice, or even if he did, he didn’t say anything. And anyway, they’d gone back to their separate chambers as usual - Eren right to bed and Armin back to his office.

 iv.

They’d just finished their morning walk, which had led back to the mess of the office, when another one of the servants had unceremoniously dumped yet another pile of papers on Armin’s desk. Eren could see the veins starting to stand out on his forehead, the thick pulsing blue under his pale, luminous skin, before he buried his face in his hands and sighed loudly. 

“It’s clearly stressing you out,” Eren said, perched on the corner of the desk. “Here, let me,” he reached for the sheet right on top, marked ‘URGENT’, and for once Armin didn’t try to stop him. 

“It’s the review cases,” Armin groaned into his palms. His voice was muffled but indignant. “I’m really not convinced we should change their sentences every thousand years, but since they’ve developed the constitution and instituted rights there’s apparently no such thing as eternal fate anymore.”

“This one?” Eren pulled open a scroll, scanning it. “Another king. Oh - this guy’s seriously fucked up. Cooking his kids?”

“Yeah - which is why I thought it’d be poetic justice to have the whole ‘water he cannot drink’, ‘food he cannot touch’ schtick. But apparently he’s shown some potential for reformation so that’s now out of the window. As are cruel and unusual punishments.” Armin groaned again and let his head flop to the side, blond strands shifting about the jet black table. His cheeks were pressed onto the countertop and it was almost comical, Eren thought - and in fact, deeply humanising, watching Hades moan about his job and suffer from overwork. He felt a pang of feeling - something - for the small blond boy, caught up with the entire mess of processing souls in the afterlife. 

And so it might have out of a fit of compassion that he dropped Tantalus’ file, letting it flutter to the floor, and came up behind Armin to rest his hands on his tense shoulders. And it was probably out of a swell of sympathy then that he let himself press his thumbs firmly right into the space between Armin’s shoulder blades, fingers splayed out across his narrow back and warm neck. Working at the tense knots, until he felt the other boy relax into him. 

 v.

It was the tail end of winter, while a blizzard tore across the surface of the earth and frost marked the ground, when Armin had summoned him for dinner. This was something new; he had made no mention of food - much less a meal - before, except for the second encounter where he’d pronounced Eren’s fate. Besides, he was right: they didn’t exactly need to eat, though Eren supposed he’d appreciate a good dinner if it were offered to him. And Armin had explained that the rest of the food wasn’t binding, so he also supposed it wouldn’t hurt to see what fruits of the earth the underworld could offer.

As the door to the dining hall swung open he was greeted with an opulent sight. His let his eyes scan over the candlelit room with its long table piled high with more food than he’d seen in his life. There was a literal cornucopia as the centrepiece. Armin was at one end, waiting expectantly. His head was resting casually against his fist, blond locks soft against his features. For once he was without paperwork, the entirety of his attention focused on the boy who had entered the room. 

“Is this a date,” Eren said, voice rising, but not quite a question. 

Armin shrugged noncommittally. “Your time here’s nearly done. It’s been five months - I thought we should commemorate it.” His voice was even, but in the dimly-lit room it would have been impossible to tell if he were blushing anyway.

“Soppy,” Eren said, under his breath, but he let the servants offer him a chair and settled into it, hands already curling around the outermost set of cutlery before him.

After a full dinner of winter vegetables and hearty stews - plus much, much dessert - they retired to the drawing-room, warming themselves by the glow of the crackling fireplace.  Eren had shifted himself to the floor and was slumped against the legs of his chair, while Armin sat in a big armchair, leaning right into the cushions. Cerberus lay between them, heads resting on Eren’s lap and tail wagging lazily across the carpeted floor. He let his hands brush over the dog’s smooth coat and scratched him behind his many ears. He looked up and realised Armin was watching him quietly. The soft light danced across his features and his blond hair was like a golden halo. He looked the furthest thing from an imposing god, the lord of the dead. In the orange light he just was: a slender boy, almost-man, with bony knees and silky hair, large eyes heavy-lidded and half-closed. Body relaxing into his seat, basking in the warmth of the fire and filled with a good meal, enjoying the moment and the presence of someone else.

Armin caught his gaze. “Thank you for today, Eren,” he said softly. 

Eren scoffed. “Sentimental bastard,” he whispered, and by the firelight, he swore Armin’s blue eyes had crinkled at the corners and his round mouth had curled into a slow, soft smile. 

 vi.

The plants that Eren had carefully, lovingly sown were coming to fruit, putting out rosy apples and dark velvet figs. They hung low on bended branches like teardrops and had to be harvested quickly before they turned soft and overripe. Eren was spending longer days in the garden which he’d carved out for himself, tending to his crops and reaping the bountiful harvest which he piled around him: lush and speckled gourds, bright fuchsia pomegranates, waxy yellow lemons, tender red berries and grapes in frosted hues, which all lay languidly in wooden crates waiting to be savoured. His favourite were the peaches, which were round and ripe in his hands and whose blush matched the pink in his cheeks as he worked tirelessly at the land. And of course he had a soft spot for the grain in its multitude of forms. The long stalks tickled his face and he brushed them away absentmindedly, even as his hands worked to pick the tiny seeds from their dried heads and shuck the full ears of corn that filled the rustling fields around the obsidian castle.

He was digging up the jewel-toned carrots when Armin found him. He had rested a foot on his worn shovel, pressing it into the soft earth, and had paused to wipe the sweat from his brow. From the corner of his eye he spotted a blond figure approaching the edge of the plot, black robes rustling against the freshly tilled dirt. 

Armin slowly made his way up to him. He’d grown, somewhat, in their time together, but he was still small and lithe and he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he spoke:

“Um. Today’s the day. You can leave if you want. I mean…it’s been half a year, hasn’t it?”

Eren watched as he shifted his weight from left to right, and then back again. He’d been thinking about this a lot. They both had. And he had decided. So he merely laughed, turning slowly to wipe his hands on his slacks. He reached for the fruit piled high around them. The ripe pomegranate bruised easily under his fingers as he twisted it open.

And its juice was warm and sweet, trickling down his mouth and lips, as he bit into the soft flesh of its ruby red insides and swallowed its seeds. 

--

here you go, anon! you've asked and i've tried my best to deliver. this was tremendously fun to do so thanks for it:") i’ve put it on ao3 where i might tinker a bit more with it...so watch that space. 

and please feel free to ask more :”)

#Eren Jaeger #eremin #armin #armin arlet #eren #snk #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #greek myth retellings #hades and persephone #fruit & homoerotic undertones lol #askbox prompts

[pollylynn]

Title: Circuit Breaker WC: 1100 Episode: Disciple (6 x 09)

She is used to flipping internal switches, from one emotional state to another, one way of thinking to something at right angles to it, one facet of personality to its polar opposite. They all have their switches. It’s part of the job, though she knows it’s always been a little more pronounced for her—in her. 

She prides herself, though, on the fact that these days it’s on the job itself that she has to throw the switch, whatever it is. There were long years when she’d had to work to remind herself to flip things back on when she was out of uniform, off the clock, out of the precinct, and she’s proud to say that’s behind her. She has her home life. She has her real life and she doesn’t exist in any kind of in case of emergency, break glass kind of lock down any more. 

She can roll up to a crime scene, still bickering with him about Albania and Finland, still alight with a sappy glow at the memory of his ridiculously complex breakfast-fruit composition. She can hit the dimmer switch on all that simmering home life, real life, love life energy and still do her job with all the seriousness and focus she needs. It’s a hard-won truth about her life, and that morning, she’s smug about it. In retrospect, she realizes she was smug, and what comes next may just be her punishment for that sin of hubris. 

What comes next lays waste to her carefully cultivated equilibrium. Ryan pulls back the corner of the black body bag. She sees Lanie’s face. In a violent reflects that feels forceful enough grind the vertebrae of her neck to dust, her head snaps around to where Lanie—the actual, alive, not-in-a-body-bag Lanie—is leaning quite literally on Esposito. 

There should be a rush of relief. There should be a silent offering of ambiguously directed thanks. There should be a moment she takes before she throws the switch and lowers the that is my fucking friend blast shield, but the moment doesn’t come. The moment isn’t necessary  because she is already walled off, absolutely. She is hyperaware of her thoughts as she steals another look at Lanie—actual Lanie—out of the corner of her eye. Esposito embraces her. Lanie lets his body take her weight for a moment longer, and Kate’s mind hisses how unprofessional. 

It’s shocking even within the confines of her suddenly armored walls. She’s jarred badly enough by its insidious wrongness that she manages something that sounds kind—that sounds human—when Lanie and Esposito join their debrief about the life and death of Pam Hodges. Lanie, we can deal with the preliminaries later. But Lanie has thrown the appropriate switches of her own, and Kate finds this emotionally powered down version of herself nastily grateful that she wants to work through.

Pam Hodges’ snotty building manager is a paradoxical godsend. He’s exactly the kind of officious, obstructive twit who’s bound to deserve some of her emotionless wrath. And sure enough, the man does—he is mightily affronted by everything. Castle is there with the irritating set, and she comes in for the spike. And if anything felt good—if anything felt like anything at all—that might, right up to the point that Castle shoots her a flirty smile and say he loves it when she gets angry with someone who isn’t him. 

She wants to snap save it at him. She wants to snarl at him to focus up, get useful or get out, but it’s . . . distant. It’s like the real her is trapped on the other side of everything, furiously flipping switches,  frantically mashing buttons, trying to mount some kind of actual emotional reaction to any of this. 

It gets worse from there. It all gets worse. Lanie calls, shaken to her steely core by the secrets the corpse of her stranger–twin gives up. Kate manages nothing human in the entire course of their conversation. She tells her friend—in tones hardly suitable for coaxing a wounded animal out of a dark, cramped space—that she’s overreacting to coincidental similarities between herself and the victim. 

She pushes for names of men who could have known about the tattoo. Without so much as a comment, she brushes callously by every terrible possibility for how someone could have seen the tattoo with Lanie consenting—maybe without her even knowing—until Lanie herself, too stunned to even register the monster that Kate is certain she’s being, says in small voice that she wants to give her statement to Esposito. 

She is annoyed that Castle is too caught up in his empathy for their friends that he can’t even spin a decent story. He has no wild scenario that would explain why someone—anyone—would want to create a doppelgänger of Lanie in such detail. He’s too caught up to give her anything. 

Useless, her mind seethes. Useless. 

She goes from bad to worse. She’s an inch from clawing out the eyes of Kelly Nieman’s curb appeal in scrubs. She’s less than an inch from going across the desk at Kelly Nieman herself. 

She’s screaming inside, she’s pounding her fists, willing someone to notice that she’s not okay as she clings to her Kelly Nieman theory even when it’s obvious that he’s right—that it makes no sense for a killer that on top of her game to suddenly order herself a door-to-door Daniel Santos in a highly identifiable town car. 

She’s screaming, but her body—her professional persona—is going through the motions. It’s going from bad to worse to whatever comes next until the next switch flips. 

It’s not hers. It’s Castle’s. It is his rage unleashed on the cracked asphalt of the hotel parking lot. It is his blank, deadly contempt when he tells Carl Matthews that he was hoping for double digits in the rib-breaking sweepstakes. The words are made of an oily, barbed-wired darkness that reminds her of Douglas Stevens, of the total absence of every aspect of the man she loves in that moment—I appealed to his humanity. 

The horror of the memory jolts her. It launches her into the present. It liberates her from wherever she has been since Ryan pulled back the corner of that body bag. 

She is not okay. He is not okay. 

They are, all of them, careening madly through this terrible thing. They are not supposed to be okay. There is no switch any of them can flip here. 

A/N: This episode presents a special challenge to morphousness. A hard one. 

images via kissthemgoodbye

#Castle #Caskett #Castle: Season 6 #Castle: Disciple #Kate Beckett #Richard Castle #Lanie Parish #Javier Esposito #Kevin Ryan #Fic #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fan Fic #Fan Fiction #Writing #Tell Me More

[jackedspicer]

C.B.H.!

new chowder oc dropped. Youre gonna hate this guy so much

first of all, corned beef hash is a character that my siblings @collectiveazaelas​ & @castingcomets​ and i have collaborated on making. from the bottom of our hearts, we hope you hate him as much as we do

at first glance, corned beef hash serves as a narrative foil to ms rhubarb. his initial conception centered loosely around antagonizing her, but his personality quickly grew beyond that. he is a beast unto himself and others. his only goal is to be self serving and (intentionally) get in the way of others in his life, primarily the other OCs kumquat and pimento, but also canon characters as well. he does this not out of spite or dislike for others, but rather it’s just because he can, and it is often times the fastest route to his goal. he is the freudian id, if the id had a sense of self control and awareness (though he does occasionally blip out on the latter). 

cbh's age isnt exactly clear. he exists in the comically broad adult world that most of marzipan city seems to: anywhere from 25-2500; whos to say? he graduated valedictorian from law school. around this time, he terrorized his dormmate (and future "friend"), pimento (a ram-like man with a few loose screws), to the point of dropping out and going into the culinary field, as "a kitchen during rush hour is still less stressful than sharing a living space with cbh." cbh is at times a petty thief, and at times a criminal mastermind - it depends on his current "schemes" and what is funny at the time. he knows the law to the letter and sometimes uses it to his advantage. though others sometimes think he is a temperamental idiot, most actions are done through thought-out choice and by utilizing his own strengths.

He has a stand in the farmer’s market at which he sells an assortment of mysterious wares and occasionally baked goods that are Evil & Wrong. The quality of his stock ranges anywhere between genuine artifacts to actual garbage from the dumpster, which he will then try to “spruce up” and sell as something more. He’s a hustler no doubt, and he earns his supply through meticulous dumpster-diving, talking down prices at thrift stores, and general vaguely-illegal tomfoolery. At times, he’ll get his hands on elusive items, and how he accomplishes this is seldom explained (he once was arrested and jailed for 12 days because he “accidentally” was selling illegal dognip). He frequently enlists in Kumquat’s help in his various endeavors and typically has her do the dirty work. For example, one of their foraging techniques involves his hooking her onto a fishing line and casting her out to sea; it’s usually just junk, but sometimes she’s clutching a few shiny souvenirs when reeled back in.

He does move the physical location of his stand around a lot, both to “drain fresh pockets” and to avoid growing too known and hated in one area. That being said, he’s been at this for a while, so every vendor at the farmer’s market knows him and is all too familiar with his cycling. The clientele are just unfamiliar enough to fall for his beguilement, though, save for a few skeevy regulars who seek him out for his stuff.

yes he was valedictorian. yes he was a frat boy all throughout college. yes he does beer kegs by pouring the beer directly into his head. yes hes a criminal mastermind. No its not a big deal

being a “bottlehead” (as he calls himself), he doesnt know what sex is (why would he need to?) but he doesnt know that he doesnt know. he loves the culture of it and he’ll hit on anyone. he doesn’t get vocab, but he’s raunchy without hesitation (see quotes section)

he has his eyes on the front of his skull because hes a pursuit predator

his tragic flaw is that he has no flaws. likewise, his lack of complexity is what makes him complex. He has no insecurities. This guy is a black hole. He is everything, but most importantly, he is Nothing.

It’s typical for him to throw around callous, vulgar, and at times offensive references. Case in point: his favorite nicknames for kumquat are Cumsquat and Cumsquirt. Likewise, his nicknames for pimento are Pissmentos, Bimento, Bitchmento, etc.

whenever he does something to boast about, he pounds his chest, turns around, flashes the back of his jacket, and chants C.B.H.! the way a frat boy chants his college's name

he's largely inspired by the way chris fleming characterizes the massachusettsian frat boy. in our minds, he also shares a voice with him.

he feels no shame and he does not hide himself. He may be a bullheaded, grandiose individual, but that doesnt mean he'll withhold his words of affirmation. he'll say something and really mean it - he gives and withholds performances for no one, as he only serves himself.

He devotes no time to introspection. it’s debatable that he might not even know how, but it would be time squandered as there’s not much to introspect On.

it’s a mistake to misinterpret kumquat as his little buddy whom he feels affection for; in his mind, they’re on the same team is all. hes gotta protect his own. It’s as if they’re in the same frathouse. that being said, hes not a good team player. he gets along with kumquat and at times pimento because they’re both socially passive, and the same goes for any relationship he’s ever had. Working with someone of his caliber would guarantee the butting of heads and stalemates on stalemates. A disaster

he’s heavily inspired by 3OH!3

his other inspirations include grunkle stan, brucie kibbutz, and caesar from big top burger, in equal parts

his species is potion

his mother is a lava lamp, his father is a science flask, and he has several siblings, with one of which being a bong named Oregano.

Cannot stand being called Corn

QUOTES

“C.B.H.!”

“You wanna go? You wanna start some BEEF with the HASH?!”

“By the power vested in me by the state of marzipan city i now pronounce you FUCKED PWNED”

“I’LL SUCK YOUR MOM’S DICK, BRO, DO NOT FUCK WITH ME!”

You want to know if his potion liquid is adhesive so you ask him if he has a meniscus and he thinks that youre asking him smth dirty so he says “hey hey i’m on my day job right now. Come by after 8 and ask me then, see what happens”

“If it’s not broke, we don’t sell it!” (motto)

“You wanna throw rocks at this glass house?”

 “Oh i’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was politically incorrect to have my TITS OUT”

“Broskis can you keep it down, im trying to get my wicked sleep gnar gnar on”

“I’M GONNA COME UNCORKED. IM GONNA COME UNCORKED. IM SERIOUSLY GONNA COME UNCORKED”

“Bro, i can’t deal with you trying to kiss me & shit. I’m not gay. Like, yeah, i’ll fuck a dude, marry a dude, but i seriously can’t be seen smooching someone with horns that big, you dig?”

“MY MOM DOESN’T LIKE YOU, STOP PRETENDING SHE DOES!”

“Yeah, no, yeah, yeah, i’m looking at the fucker right now.”

“Whose bottle do i gotta brush to [XYZ] around here?”

his uncieknuckies-type shitpost blog: @corndbeefhash​

and finally, his difficult person ranking:

#cbh #chowder oc #chowder #draws #weve actually had this guy since september but it took us a long time to organize everything... it's bonkers #anyway most of the written section was written by my siblings! theyre brilliant and super funny and so good at making characters #I FORGOT TO SAY THE WORDS ON THE SECOND DRAWING ARE A 3OH3 LYRIC