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#sorry i kept making these stuff
shit-sorry-fuck-mybad · 9 months
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Give me widower Mav who has come to terms with his husband’s death and now gets to make jokes and comments about it which makes people uncomfortable while he finds it hilarious pls
As someone who lost their father a long time ago I have reached that point where I can make jokes and comments and like to my close friends it’s funny but to someone I don’t know it’s… strange cause they don’t know how to react and it’s truly a small moment of absolute joy cause they make it weirder than it needs to be
Here is what I mean:
Fanboy: Hi Mav! I like your hoodie!
Mav: thanks, it belonged to my dead husband
Fanboy:
Mav: he’s not gonna use it so
Hangman, pointing at the ring on Mav’s dog tags: you’re married?
Mav: I was, but sadly he died on a terrible accident
Hangman: oh I’m sorry—
Mav: I’m kidding, he didn’t die on an accident
Hangman: oh thank god I thought I—
Mav: he died of cancer
Mav: my husband used to hate this movie
Phoenix: what made him change his mind?
Mav: oh he didn’t, he just died
Mav: I miss my husband
Coyote: why, where is he?
Mav: I want to say heaven but he was a weird man so honestly I don’t know
Cyclone: Maverick where is the paperwork I asked for
Mav: oh I’m sorry? I was mourning the death of my husband, in case you hadn’t noticed, the audacity, I cannot believe you would come for a widower like this—
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zappedbyzabka · 4 months
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@cksecretsanta23
Secret Santa gift for @wicked-jade (I’m so very sorry for the wait <3)
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Brats in love.
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robo-dino-puppy · 12 days
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youtube
if you want to see how i got to the field with the tree from aloy's dream, here's a quick video!
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arklay · 6 months
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RESIDENT EVIL → THE WESKER FAMILY
To the public, little is known of the families behind some of the world’s most renowned bioterrorists, but the question remains: did they play a role in causing their children to walk down the path that they did? Or are these individuals simply ambitious criminals with delusions of grandeur?
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For Diana Wesker (née Afanasyeva), her introduction into the bioweapons black market trade was upon discovering her employers were using her research into limb regeneration with salamanders to further their experiments in creating enhanced soldiers, instead of developing human therapies with which she was recruited for. Although the prospect of using biological weapons in the military did not appeal to her, the concept remained fascinating for her own selfish endeavours. Born on the 27th of October, 1963 in Sydney, Australia to Russian immigrant parents, Diana had harsh expectations placed upon her at a young age, ones that no matter how hard she tried she could never live up to. Her mother, Tatyana, was an unfeeling woman, absent for long stretches of time with little regard to how it affected her daughters, much more concerned with her craft as an accomplished opera singer. Viktor was no better. A strict man whose role as father and ballet master blurred, he pushed his girls to one day follow in his footsteps. Whilst Sofia enjoyed ballet, and went on to become a professional ballet dancer, Diana’s heart was set on going into the field of biology. She wished to make a name for herself, separate from her family – to which she succeeded.
Diana was married to former U.S. Marine, Dave Monroe, for only a year until he was declared dead in 1992 after succumbing to injuries sustained in a horrific car accident. Foul play was ruled out while Diana played the role of the grief-stricken widow, but in reality, she had snapped after years of mistreatment at her husband’s hands, and opted for something she could pass off as an accident to be free of him. For years she believed he was dead – and he was, legally – but that proved to not be the case when he found his way back into her life again in 1999. Unbeknownst to her, she had been lied to by the police and coroner, who were paid off by her employers when they took Dave’s body for themselves and used him as one of their first test subjects in developing supersoldiers. Before he could ever hurt her again, Diana’s second husband, Albert Wesker, tracked the man down, captured him and tortured him, before allowing Diana to get her violent and bloody revenge.
The origins of Albert Wesker’s involvement in bioterrorism, alongside his twin sister, Alex, are much different than that of Diana’s. The two hail from London, Canada, but unfortunately, they hold no memories of their lives there, nor what happened to their biological parents when they were eight years old. Agents of Oswell E. Spencer, an aristocratic billionaire and eugenicist, took the twins from their home and executed their parents as per Spencer’s orders. Albert and Alex were then placed in a home funded by the Spencer Foundation where they were given new names and a privileged upbringing. They had access to the best education possible, free to pursue whichever field they decided, but it was by no accident they both went into virology and bioengineering; at home, their adoptive parents – agents whom they believed to be their real parents – instilled them with the beliefs of Oswell E. Spencer, harbouring disdain for war and pestilence, and believing humans to be an evolutionary dead-end in need of a rebirth. They were only two of the hundreds of children “adopted” as part of what is known as Project W, a plan intended to develop an advanced race of human beings. The most promising candidates were headhunted by Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, the twins amongst them, where they went on to create bioweapons for the company founded by none other than the man who had handpicked them for his plan. The final stage of this was to infect the thirteen Spencer saw fit, however, only two survived; Albert received the intended effects, now possessing superhuman abilities, however, Alex was only offered more time to live due to her terminal degenerative illness.
In the summer of 1995, Diana was working undercover within Umbrella to gather development data on their projects for her company. Here, she had a chance encounter with Albert, an intelligence officer at the time, which permanently altered the course of her life. The two were never seen far from one another’s side, marrying in 1998, and they went on to become notorious in the bioweapons industry. The development of the Uroboros virus was where things took a turn for the worst. Although Diana’s infection was successful and she bore abilities that rivalled her husband’s, the plan itself did not succeed as they had hoped, and almost cost Albert his life at the hands of his former subordinates.
Now, they work within the shadows, with Diana declared missing and Albert believed to be dead. Their legacy, however, lives on with the mark they left on the world. As visionaries in their field, they influenced bioterror attacks carried out by countless individuals and organisations. In turn, they also inspired others to fight against such atrocities. One such person happens to be Albert’s son from a former relationship, Jake Müller, whose existence he was unaware of.
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#mine.#oc: diana#pair: ewskers#click for better quality cause it's large & tumblr ate it ♡#hii so happy birthday diana !! queen is 60 today :]#um. there's no template cause i made this from scratch...i couldn't find any i was vibing with so i was like you know what lmaoo#i'm sorry for the essay...it was meant to be just a short rundown of the family but well...that happened. typical leah fashion...#oh and guys. did you know that there's a limit to the amount you can put in one blockquote? that's why the rest is just left like that caus#i didn't like how it looked with a blockquote each paragraph...cause the spaces between were unever. you understand 😔#with the tree i was also going to include weskids adoptive parents but i couldn't figure out how to arrange it all & make it look nice !!#cause i also wanted to have spencer in there as well cause he's a big reason why the weskids are the way they are...was maybe gonna include#sherry as well. like connected to jake (hehe) and then do her parents too but that would've made things so wide & it's already big enough#yes. i hc that albert & alex are biological twins. just for clarification there :] i don't think i added anything else that isn't canon or#implied with canon. cause the weskids were put in homes (or at least whatever ''controlled environments'' means) where they were monitored#by umbrella but were unaware of it. so yeah. i don't think i really changed much there !!#honestly i could've kept rambling cause there's alex's whole situation. there's my lore with jake's mum. there's way more with the ewskers#but it's already so long & i can't be concise so there's that lmaoo oh also diana's grandma. so much stuff#also meant to say the weskids birthday in that ramble. it's january 15 1960 :] they are capricorn sun leo moons but alex was born earlier s#their rising signs are albert is a scorpio rising & alex is a libra rising !!#had to redo the image cause typo on diana's birth year for some reason lmao so if that messed up the formatting i will sob
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jokest3r · 3 months
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Matvey-Lukyan Volkov-Makarov ☀
or "Matthew Clarke," really depends on who you ask...
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General Info -
Name: Matvey-Lukyan Volkov-Makarov(True Identity is on a need-to-know basis)
Age: 19
Issued Identity: Matthew Clarke
Issued Age: 23
Issued Rank: Specialist
Callsign: "Kid" until Further Notice
Status: Alive
Ethnicity: Tajik
Nationality: N/A(His parents kept his existence fairly quiet, only his mentors and his parent's closest associates knew he existed for quite some time before he went missing when he was older. His parents when he was young did debate that he may exist under a different name in the legal system in Tajikistan but didn't look into it after Matvey was disinterested at the prospect of meeting his biological parents.)
Height: 5' 7
Blood-Type: O+
Weight: 145 Pounds / 67 Kg(He came weighing less than that.)
Further Info -
"All things considered the kid came out far better than anyone would have expected given who his parents are."
Matvey was adopted a little over at two months old along the border crossing between Russia and Kazachstan on a cargo road that showed little action. He never really thought about the reason why he was there or the what how, just that he would've died if not for intervention (lucky or damning) you be the judge.
He had a pretty fair upbringing if you don't bring up visiting warehouses with his father or playing with guns at a young age. He was originally raised to be just that, a son, however it would become more skewed as the year's went on and his father Makarov's power grew. Then his role went past being only a son and more of a "good soldier." Of course, what Matvey would've called his first "failure" was failing his mentors and by proxy, his father. His mentors said he would never be a soldier and neither would he be strong enough to fight. It just wasn't in his cards. After that, his father's expectations seemed to slow down to a simmer, and his approach became to hold Matvey at an arm's reach away from the Ultranationalist Party and revolving plans. He would be protected, but not without getting trained to protect himself and escape at a moment's notice.
Though Makarov obviously wasn't his only father, his extended family mostly comes from Yuri's side of the family. Matvey obtained personality traits from Makarov but was much closer to Yuri. Yuri's a sensitive topic as is most of everything in his life. Yuri and Matvey both have something in common and that is "abandoning" or in Matvey's case "running away." Yuri left, without a word or notice and Matvey chased after him, and only realised he wasn't coming back "home" after two months on the road with Lobo, his loyal guard dog. Exact details on the first year of Matvey's lone days have not been found, but not without some prying. All he has to show for it is the bloodied patch the 141 found him holding along with his belongings.
Matvey was found along the Chernobyl exclusion zone by 141 squad members bleeding out in the hospital safe house he had rigged with traps, bleeding out from a wound that a mercenary had done to him in retaliation for murdering his partner, forgetting about the long-term reward of keeping him alive and sending him back to his father. And instead attempted killing him for revenge. He said he lived well off for what he had. With his father's hired mercenaries on his tail, he couldn't exactly pick a lot of areas. They caught his scent a month before the 141 had found him, sending an SOS through a makeshift antenna but getting help when they were finally able to trace it with spare time on their hands. Matvey really hadn't intended on surviving to the end if at all.
Combat-Style: Matvey plays dirty, real dirty, most "end up killing themselves" before they even see his face. He uses traps, bombs, chemical warfare (has an inclination for using gas) throwing knives and all sorts. Usually, he keeps to having a good distance with any target and avoids close combat at all costs, if any combat at all. And tends to favor using escape tactics he's learned over his previous training. He's known by most to be very slippery and sly if he wants something over with quickly.
If with a squad on something serious he fills a support role: and (jokest3r's opinion: his support role is something similar to Elizabeth in Bioshock Infinite just without all the tears.) can find materials or target objects fairly easily since slipping through vents and getting out unseen is one of his best strengths and keeps him away from any of the serious fighting while still helping the team.
Personality: Matvey is naturally combative, moody, and "explorative" if the definition meant rule-breaking. He alternates between being quiet and isolated to being playful and rather "loud." He follows orders to a T, almost too closely like he's had past experience. He's self-destructive when it comes to most people as he doesn't want to care for much of anyone since all signs seem to point to anyone he cares for or stays with long term end up dying or disappearing one way or the other. Or abandoning him. He also tends to not understand social cues and is very affectionate even if the situation around him is dire. Warning: hugs and heartfelt conversations abound.
Allegiance: Matvey made it very clear where his loyalties lied, along with his goal to reunite with his father Yuri and gain some closure beyond bottling up all his anger and mourning for a father that doesn't seem to exist anymore. He's also seemingly gotten attached to some of the members, and would like to see them alive. When asked what that exactly meant he shrugged, thinking anyone else would've known what he meant.
As time passes the 141 hope to get Matvey out of his shell and influence him to grow and make better decisions. For now, Matvey will try to grow used to Western surroundings and hopefully, meet both his father's face to face, though he knows that it won't likely end happily. (FLAT COLOUR UNDERNEATH THE TAB)
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kanene-yaaay · 3 months
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Oh, To Die By Your Hands
Kanene's notes: IT SEEMS SO SERIOUS WITH THAT TITLE KJUHYTFRGHUJK Nah, just your normal tickle fic with not so much normal characters. Fit and Pac have been living rent free in my mind since before Purgatory and after their date??? I am dead on the floor. Get a man who will declare his feelings for you in your native language for real for real.
Warnings: Lots of nibbles, tickly kisses and raspberries in this one. Switch!Fit and Switch!Pac. Around 6.500 words. Also! I tried to add the way that Pac calls Fit because of his accent written on the fic because I think it's lovely and cute. Hope it isn't too much confunsing or strange :D
[~*~]
“Thank you for coming, Pac. Ramón really likes when you sing him that lullaby.” His voice was rough but soft, just like his entire form and self when it came to his son, his beautiful baby boy. 
Pac smiled, also following his example and lowering his voice, closing the secured door of the kid’s room carefully before they both headed to the other room where they held their first date, a prep on his step. “It’s no problem, Fitch! Actually, I don’t know why he likes that one so much, it literally talks about how a Cuca, which is like… a kind of monster? I don’t know how to explain. But how she will grab, or better, uh, snatch the kid away because the parents are out working.”
A loud peal of laughter was pried from the mercenary’s lips, staring at the other with unbelief in his eyes. “Wait, wait, that is the actual meaning of the song?”
“Yeah, yeah! I don’t know why they made it so scary. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if someone sang it to me before putting me to bed.”
“Damn, brazilian lullabies are just at a hardcore level.”
“Teaches you to sleep with one eye open, right?”
“That is right, that is right.”
They shared smiles. Arriving at the place, the air was still light, but it wasn’t difficult to see the question itching Pac’s throat, wanting to jump out of his body. It was in the way that he walked closely by Fit side and how he kept sneaking glances at him, quickly deviating them to look around the room before going back to stare, keeping the cycle for a while. Each time his steps got closer and closer until their hands intertwined in a hold.
It made sense he would be like that, of course. Fit would be just the same if his boyfriend woke him up in the middle of the night asking him to come to his place to help to calm down his kid after a nightmare because he wasn’t able to. 
Still, he was glad that no questions were asked, not when Pac arrived - barely half a minute later after he sent his message, sleep and anxiety clinging like a shadow to his form - and not now, as the storm seemed to have passed.
Shame, however, kept flowing hot in his veins. He and Ramón had been alone since… always, really. They both had dealt with each other’s nightmares and night terrors more times than they could count. This one wasn’t supposed to be different. Shouldn’t be different. He should be there the moment his boy opened the door of his room with tears streaming down his face, sobs stubbornly escaping from his firmly pressed lips and hands open for a comforting hug that Fit should be able to give, a rare show of a child that his baby boy was, but refused to demonstrate most of time.
And yet…
Fit himself hadn’t been much better. Hadn’t been better for a long time, now. Because everytime he closed his eyes the threat from Madagio filled his mind and nightmares kept permeating his every night for the past two weeks, crowding his mind with horrifying scenarios that shouldn’t, but shook his core. 
Usually, he would just wake up, push all of it - the feelings, the fears, the screams begging for their life - deep down his chest and hope that it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.
Nevertheless to say, as all the things in life, it definitely did. 
Because that night, when Ramón looked at his face - and god knows what he saw there - he stopped right in his tracks and carefully signed his name. He had been crying, he had been crying and scared and tired and all Fit could think - because words simply didn’t come out, no matter how much he tried to spill, spit them to comfort his kid - is that he could kill him. So quickly. Easily, even, with a twist of his wrist, a swipe of his trident, a pull from his bomb stacks, he could kill him and suddenly he was frozen on the spot, unable to even get closer to his son. 
If Madagio had any power like the Federation, it could control him and destroy his most precious riches in a matter of seconds. It wouldn’t need to come to the island. It wouldn’t even need to pull Fit from it to make his life a living hell.
“There is something that we need to talk, Pac. Please take a seat.”
So, he called Pac. He deserved to know exactly what he was getting into (how many times would they have this kind of conversation?) and Ramón deserved a father who would actually get his shit together and get over it.
Pac gulped and looked at him slightly startled, knowing very well what the serious tune could mean, probably with a thousand of scenarios already running at light speed in his mind. “O-of course, Fitch.”
He then softly squeezed his hand - because there was no universe where Pac wouldn’t be perfect and strong and there but sometimes Fit seemed to forget that so he had to remind him - and let it go, sitting on the blue couch Fit recently added on the room and expectantly waiting for the other to do the same.
Which he promptly did - of course, because there wasn’t any universe where he would go and Fit wouldn’t immediately follow him. 
“Wine? What about wine? Do you want some wine?” The brazilian offered, pulling glasses from his well trusted backpack and a bottle from the refrigerator nearby. 
“Already wanting to take me to bed, Pac? Wow.” 
“No! Stop it.” Pac lightly shoved his arm, both chuckling for a bit before Fit sobered, taking a deep breath and a sip of the liquid. It was good stuff, probably from Aypierre’s vines. “Thought we were here to have a serious conversation, no?”
“We are.” 
Fit stopped, pondered how he would put it in words. It didn’t matter, there was no easy way to put it.
“Pac, would you kill me if it was necessary?”
The scientist sputtered, almost choking on the wine before turning in alarm to stare at the other, his gaze zig zagging across his body as if it would transform at any moment into an enemy, a monster in disguise pretending to be his boyfriend right in front of him. 
He didn’t doubt Pac’s abilities, even if Pac himself hardly believed in them. He was an extremely good fighter, going through monsters and battles with a calm demeanor and precise, strong attacks that ended the conflict as soon as possible. Fit was very skilled, himself. But he was sure that if Pac used one of his brilliant plans and his scythe, it would take a lot, but he would eventually come down.
But, for that, he needed to know if Pac would go through with the plan.
“Why, why that, Fitch? Did something happen? Are you feeling weird? Is it…” He got closer. Fit’s heart beated louder. If it was him… if it was him it wouldn’t be so bad. “Is it the Federation, again?”
“No. It’s… the other.”
Understanding downed in his expression. “Oh. Did he contact you again?”
Fit shook his head. “No. But it did say that it would hurt you if I tried to betray our contract and I am not planning to but, Pac, I need to know if you’ll do it. If I become a threat.”
Pac bit his lower lip, thoughtfully. Fit’s muscles relaxed, glad to know he was taking this as a serious worry, not just some unfounded fear.
“We will save you. Just like we did before, just like you did to me, Fitch. I, I will be there for you too, when you need and for as long as you need, if you’re gone we will bring you back.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t, but, if I have to kill you, Fit… how will I tell this to Ramón? Or Sunny? WHo is going to be her bodyguard? And what about the morning crew? Are we supposed to just… stay?”
“You are all very strong and I am sure that-”
“No.” His voice was determined, sad. His hands gestured widely. “No, no, no. I am not leaving you behind, Fit. What about when I’m in danger, who will rescue me? Who will share the island’s fofoca with me? Or give me a refrigerator full of food on the first date? Or kill the eye workers when they attack or tease Tubbo when he goes on a date with Fred, or help us to take care of Sunny, or, or, or…” Fit held the other’s hands, squeezing it tight when he started to talk too fast, snapping Pac out of his thoughts, making him take a big breath. “No. You can’t go away, Fitche. Never. I won’t let them take you too.”
Oh.
Oh.
Yeah, that… that made sense. 
This was Pac, who the first thought when seeing his friend being drugged and controlled by the Federation was going under the same treatment so he could find a cure for it. The one who forgave Cellbit in a heartbeat when he told him he had changed. Who refused to kill him - even before the date, when Fit couldn’t even put in words his feelings for the other - during Purgatory. Who threw himself into mines and danger easily without thinking twice and would do all of it again an again if it meant keeping someone he cared about safe, even when the Federation kept taking his family one day after the other. He would do it in a heartbeat.
It made sense he didn’t want to lose another one. He was smart, strong, kind… Fit would trust him with his life into his hands in a blink of an eye.
But…
“If I hurt Ramón, Pac. If ever get close to hurt any of the eggs…”
“I will lock you, Fit. And I, we! We will find a cure again. None of them will die and you don’t need to die either.”
“Do you promise?”
Pac nodded, composure and eyes kept firm in their place, holding him down and reminding him he was no longer on this alone. “I promise, Fit. And if your boss cat comes here to hurt them… Then we will kick his butt, right?”
Fit snorted, if it was anyone else, he would doubt, throw their words away as a senseless attempt to comfort him, without true meaning. His boss was god, some kind of entity with power enough to pull him out of a world of literal destruction and throw him into a dimension where all of it never existed. However, this was Pac. Both he and Mike have proven over and over again that there was no place, no rule, no limit that they weren't able to overcome and laugh at their face when the managed to overcome it.
Maybe… If it was him.
He could believe it. Besides, Pac did promise that he wouldn’t let him hurt the children. They were always the priority, afterall
“Yes, we will. Thank you, Pac.” He took a deep breath. Since he already started, he could as well… 
Talk. About stuff.
“Sometimes I… worry about, uh, what I can do.”
(Kill. Maim. Destroy. Break it down piece by piece until there is nothing left. Watch in the shadows and continue his way quietly through all the screams.)
Pac understood what he meant. “Oh. It’s fair. I think, it must be hard, when you think about it…” He then squeezed his hand before letting them go, starting to count on his own fingers. “But, I don’t think you should worry about it, Fitch. You can do a lot of awesome things, too! You’re a really good cooker, you can make very cool bombs and explosions, you’re good at hide and seek, at saving me when I am down. You are also very good at hiking and training, which makes sense, right? With how muscular and great you are, also-”
“Pac,” Fit voice’s took a firm tune, pulling Pac from his rambling and immediately catching his attention, wide black eyes turning at him attentively. “Pac, I was made for killing. All of this is just…”
(It doesn’t matter.)
“Nah.”
Fit blinked once, twice, quite astonished at how nonchalant the scientist sounded. Stared at those beautiful, soft eyes that watched him with a playful light that somehow nothing on the Island had been able to destroy. Strong. “Sorry?”
“I don’t think you were made for killing, Fit. No one is only able to do one thing and everyone can change. Besides… it gave you a lot of skill, right? Surviving there. That is why you’re one of the best fighters on the island, Fit! The codes, the eye workers… even Cucorucho is no match for you. You’re so strong, fierce, cool, fit and,” Pac’s determined tune tripped a little bit as his words got faster and a tad more distracted, his eyes deviating from his stare, looking at his face, arms, torso… Fit would be lying if he said he didn’t like how it hovered for a little while on his chest and muscles, “and you’re good looking too! Awesome, ruthless, muscular, handsome...”
“Ahalright!” Fit cut him before his face melted from how hot it felt, the tip of his ears feeling like they were on fire. His voice seemingly broke Pac out of his mind and made him immediately attempt to hide his face on his hoodie, trying to jump away to hide and being stopped by the gentle hand still holding his, keeping him close. That didn’t prevent more embarrassed snickers from also filling the air. “Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.”
“Take it easy, big boy, take it easy.”
Fit only laughed harder when the teasy nickname made the other shout in protest, a light hit landing on his shoulder. It successfully distracted him enough so his head peaked again from the deepness of his blue hoodie, so Fit counted it as a win. Especially when a playful gleam took over Pac’s glare.
“Actually, Fitch, I think you were made for something.”
“Oh, you think so?”
Pac got closer, smiling, nodding in such an innocent way that could only mean trouble. 
“Yeah, for kisses.” He laid his head on his shoulder and Fit could feel goosebumps travel his entire body from the skin contact. His voice became lower, slower, certain. “Can I kiss you, Fit?”
Fit definitely didn’t bluescreen, half words and meaningless sounds leaving his mouth in a string of incoherency that lasted a couple of minutes before he finally managed to get himself together enough to shove an actual sentence, with a too high pitched tune, through his throat. “I-I mean, of course you can, Pac! If, ah, if you want to.”
Pac’s answer was a single kiss placed in his collarbone before the brazilian focused his administrations on his neck. Soft, warm lips leaving a trail of tingles and electricity whatever they touched. Fit could feel the care in each one and it felt… nice. 
Cozy. 
Warm. 
Tickly.
Ok, actually, it was very, very tickly.
Fit closed his eyes and turned his face around, trying to hide the beginning of a smile that grew bigger with every light - so, so, so light - peck grazing his skin. Not wanting to actually ruin the sweet moment between them, especially after Pac got the courage to ask for what the mercenary had been wanting to do for a while.
(Cuddle and kiss his boyfriend. Oh god, when did he become such a softie?)
The problem with his hiding tactic is that it only left more spots in the open for Pac to attack and bash in attention, not leaving a single patch of skin alone without a caring goodbye kiss, unknowingly breaking piece by piece Fit’s barriers.
He twitched when his boyfriend got too close to the line of his jaw, the warmth racing up to the tip of his ears in a way he hoped that Pac didn’t realized. The one with blue hoodie and attentive eyes stopped in a hitched breath. Waited.
Fit got his racing heart and tickly tingles under control. He was not going to lose to a few accidental tickles. He was not.
He squeezed Pac’s and drew circles on the back of his hands, turning at him with a teasy smirk and crooked eyebrows.
“Oh, is it my turn now?”
Pac giggled and shook his head. “Wait, wait, I still got…”
Without finishing his sentence he dived and placed a light kiss right under his chin, successfully catching the other out of guard and making one of various locked snickers wheezily flee from his lips, quickly being followed by others when Fit tried to cover his smile, turning around once again.
“Oh, god, I am doing this wrong, aren’t I?” Pac pushed himself away and grumbled, starting to search in his pockets for his warpstone, increasing the other’s snickery fit. “Ok, ok, that is it.Thank you so much for calling, I had an incredible time so now I am going to throw myself off the Cristo Redentor and then go to bed, good night, Fit. Tell Ramón I loved him and tell Richas to take a shower, bye.”
“No, no, Pac. Calma, calma.” Fit held one of his wrists, pulling Pac back to his place on the sofa, chasing his black eyes when they kept running away from his while the scientist kept shaking his head from side to other in a dramatic despair. Fit ended up resting his other hand on his cheek, guiding his look back. “I would never laugh at my brazilian boyfriend.” He tried to not grin smugly when that melted the other’s pout in a shy smile “The kisses just tickled me, that is all.”
That immediately brought Pac’s attention. “Wait, Fit… you’re ticklish?”
“It seems like I am, but I am not sure. Not a lot of chances for bonding and laughing when fighting for your life in 2b2t.”
“Oh, I see.” Silence, Pac’s wrist wiggled out of his hold and suddenly there were warm hands flying to his neck, fingertips dancing on it, blunt nails and wiggly fingers tickling the sensitive spot softly. “So, you’re ticklish.”
Fit huffed a laugh at the strange feeling, instinctively scrunching up his neck all while he tried to not pry Pac’s hands away. Same hands that now spidered their way up to his ears, tracing them and giving each one a few scratches, Pac watching in awe as their tips became more and more colored with each passing second.
“Oh my god, Fit, your ears are so red! Are you blushing? That is really, reeeally cute, you know?”
 Fit’s shoulders began to shake slightly with the effort to keep all the giggles and laughter trapped inside, the task growing more and more difficult as Pac kept his exploring. Fingers tapping their way down to the mercenary’s ribcage, making his torso twitch from one side to another as they started skittering up and down, tracing senseless drawings and forms on the spot. Another fleeing snigger escaped from his firmly pressed lips. There was no way such light, barely even touching touch could tickle that much.
“You can laugh it out, Fit. I bet it will feel much better! Besides,” the gleam in his eyes got sharper and Pac didn’t really lower his voice, but something in his tune changed, a turning point that made a shiver run down Fit’s spine. It didn’t feel like something truly dangerous but alerts began flashing in his mind when the touch became just a tad firmer. 
Fit had to push down the squirms that threatened to push the other away. “You can’t just keep all that laughter only for yourself, now, that wouldn’t be fair. No, no, not fair at all. Keeping all those giggles and snickers hidden from me. Trapped inside. They deserve to be free, you know? So everyone can see how cute they are.”
“Pac…”
But then Pac started digging and his barrier broke. Loud laughter immediately followed the hands vibrating in between his ribs, scribbling, looking for any special spot that would make Fit go insane. Not that he was very far from this, now, head being thrown backwards with how strong his crackles were, because nothing in the world could ever prepare him for the feeling that was being tickled, to have each nerve screaming but not in pain, to have each touch bring a new kind of electricity that traveled his torso and filled his heart with a warmth that made him want to jump out of the sofa and at the same time bring Pac closer.
A curious prodding in a spot in his highest ribs that was almost on his back and Fit slammed his body on the cushion, a snort being pried from his lips and quickly being followed by another and another when the fingers kept drilling and kneading on the spot non stop.
Then he heard it, low as a whisper. “Beautiful….” It came in an awed voice, and in between half lidded eyes Fit saw the one with black hair shake his head, as if getting himself together before slowing down the tickling, thumbs rubbing the remnant tickles as he stared at him. “Sorry, Fitch, I, caham, I got, uh, distracted. Are you okay?” He nodded, chuckles taking over his words and disappearing with any hope of saying something without descending in more of a waterfall of giggles. Still, he tried, the proud smile in Pac’s face erasing his embarrassment in how silly he sounded giddy like this. 
“I’m fine, just surprised that I am dating a tickle monster.”
The brazilian laughed, shaking his head and hiding his face on Fit’s shoulder. “Não, não, não (No, no, no). Mike is actually the tickle monster in our team. I just learned a lot from playing fights with him.” Pac trembled in an exaggerated shudder. “He is merciless.”
“Really?”
“Uh hum.” Pac hummed, thoughtful, before doing a little ‘pop’ sound, hands washing down to his sides, tapping senselessly there. “He had this kind of attack where he would be talking to you and suddenly he would start to tickle you and like, it would be really, really light so you didn’t actually, you know, like, died laughing? But at the same time it would be crazily ticklish! Following you around no matter how much you squirmed or snickered.”
“P-pac, come on…”
The other just hummed, still talking and hands still spidering in their resting position, taking turns in between drawing circles on his sides, feeling how his torso would shake with a new round of chuckles blossoming anew, and scratching the little dive of his hips to make them grow faster.
“Then he would try to keep a conversation going and complain like ‘are you even paying attention to what I’m saying, what’s going on?’ as if he didn’t know what was happening, can you believe?! And you couldn’t just… walk away or keep silly giggling non stop and not answer him, because you’re still in a conversation and that would be rude, right? So you’re just there, laughing and wiggling and it always drives me crazy!”
Fit nodded, knowing the feeling very well, in his opinion. His brain trying to pay attention to his words but getting totally distracted by his own attempts to not wiggle around so much because everytime his body trashed to one side, Pac would just dig his fingers on his sides and drum, which made him jump in the other direction only to receive the same treatment, creating a maddening cycle almost impossible to escape from. 
Once again, laughing began flooding the room, high pitches and wheezy giggles chasing around one or two squeals when a tentative squeeze grazed the spot before quickly jumping away, the unexpected playful attacks blending with the soft scribbles and somehow making him not being able to predict nor prepare for one or the other.
“And then, out of nowhere he would get bored and that is where it lies the danger, Fitch.” Pac’s voice took a turn to a lower tune, torn between a warning and a threat. His tickling came to a halt, fingertips just laying on his waist with occasional twitches. What was more strange, though, was how, even so, the janitor couldn’t stop the titters taking over his mind and body. He wondered if that was how he would finally die, undone and destroyed by his very lovely boyfriend. Pac snickered in mischief and amusement, breaking his mask for a couple of seconds before cleaning his throat and coming back to his persona, interlocutor voice back again.
“Because, when he stops it means that he is getting bored. You know that he is getting bored and he knows that you know that he is getting bored and that it is just a matter of time before he decided that is enough and something happens” he highlighted the word by spidering quickly across his ribs. His voice sounded like it was closer. “So you just stay there, quiet, waiting for the moment he will strike.”
Fit held his breath, eyes closed. His smile was so big that it traveled from one ear to the other. No more laughter was falling from his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with the phantom tickles that freely pricked his skin and seemed to follow his every squirm. Pac’s hands felt warm - dangerous - where they touched and he was pretty sure that his entire face would melt at some point of this game.
He waited.
Waited. Nothing.
A kiss was pressed on his forehead.
He opened an eye, muscles immediately untensing and relaxing with the scene, even if adrenaline still ran without control in his veins, of Pac happily smiling, just a few centimeters from his face.
“Oi, Fitch.”
“Roi, Pa-ACK!”
Loud, uncontrollable and unstoppable laughter filled the room, Fit still tried to finish his sentence before giving up and succumbing to the snorts and wheezing that took over his laughter. Squeezes, drumming and prodding attacked his sides, kneading on the ticklish spot before scratching their way up to his ribs, burying themselves there and then keeping their way up to his armpits - poking and scribbling and making him lock his arms on his torso - until it got to his ears, changing the loud peals of booming laughter to a hysterical string of snickers only to make he go back to crackling when he attacked his sides again and again, alternating between each and every tickle spot so he couldn’t picture where he was going to tickle next. 
Fit could even swear that at some point he felt a squeeze in his knees that fished a chortle from his lips and an uncontrollable kick from his legs.
It lasted only a couple of minutes. All the electricity and tickly buzzing teased and made him laugh like nothing else mattered, loud and free even when, between his own amused giggling, Pac ceased his mean attack and watched with a giant grin as the other tried to regain his breath, a light blush dusting his face.
“You were saying, Fitch?”
Nonsense. That was exactly what Fit was about to say. Because his brain kind of became a mush after all that attack and the airy giggles that kept flowing from his throat didn’t exactly help him to gather his thoughts nor fade the hotness running still on his face.
“I, er, huh…” and there it was, the sentence got lost to jumpy snickers again. Fit brought a hand to hide them and try to gain at least save a bit of face, but a quick poke on his defenseless armpit made it go immediately down again. He glared without any real heat at his boyfriend, who lifted his arms in rendition.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m done for real, now.”
The silence was extended for a few pieces of time, stretching across them like a cat after a nap. 
Fit was the one who broke it.
“That is Mike’s…” He coughed, cleaning his throat “special tickle attack, then? I can see why you call him merciless.”
“Nah, actually that is my own technique. Mike prefers to catch a person out of guard and tickle while taunting them until they promise to make something for him.”
The surprised, amused huff of laughter that came out from the mercenary’s mouth didn’t have anything to do with wiggly fingers this time and Pac joined him. 
“You’re such a sneaky guy, Pac, you’re such a sneaky guy.”
“Thank you. Gotta learn from the best right? Maybe someday me and Ramón will team up and win the hide and seek against you.” 
“Hmm, you probably would. But maybe I can convince Richarlyson to help me?”
“It would be good. Richas is the best in hide and seek. He would really like to. Hey! We should set up a playdate with them in our Hide and Seek arena. We can even call Tubbo and Sunny, maybe even Philza with Chayanne and Tallulah, if they are awake. The more the merrier, right?”
Fit was sure that if he was shapeshifter like Tubbo, without even wanting to, his eyes would be heart shaped. It never ceases to amaze him how Pac could accept and love everyone - him - like they were and would always be a family to him. 
“But, so?” The brazilian wiggled his eyebrows, a smirk opening in his face. “How is it the experience of being tickled for the first time?”
Maddening. Tortuous. Able to make someone go crazy, he was sure. Surprisingly tiring and unexpectedly effective. Strange. Itchy. A lot. Hard to explain.
But also, it was extremely caring. Warm. Soft. Funny. Bonding. Weird. Extremely silly. He couldn’t stop his smile and thoughts about the gleam and shine in Pac’s eyes when he discovered a new spot or how - strangely enough - light and giddy he was feeling right now.
Besides, he never was self conscious about his laughter or anything but listening to Pac calling him… beautiful, in such an amazed voice… Well, his ego really couldn’t complain.
“It was fun.” He decided to go with that, a playful grin in his face, his hands holding Pac’s and intertwining their fingers. 
“Oh, I’m happy in hear that! Actually, I-”
“But…” Fit cut him, purposely deepening his voice in a tune that never failed to catch the other of guard, sending a cold shiver through his muscles. “I can think of something even more fun.”
“Y-yeah?” Pac’s blush deepened when he looked at the dangerous, sharp, determined shine in Fit’s eyes, his entire mind getting overcomed with a choir of excited screams, burning face at realizing how their intertwined hands was both a soft gesture and a restrain. 
Damn, he was really, really gay.
“Uh hm,” his tune now was almost like a purr of a predator watching his prey wobbly smile back and hold his hands tighter together, knowing very well his fate and still not even trying to escape from it. “It’s something that back on 2b2t we liked to call… revenge.”
With a swift move he pulled their hands and lead Pac to lose his equilibrium, falling backwards on his lap, one hand keeping his arms up and the other lifting his hoodie just the slightest bit, the actual perfect amount for him to immediately shove his face on his stomach and start blowing raspberry after raspberry, quick and ruthless.
“FITCHE!” The sound that came out of his mouth could barely be called a word, the high pitched shout being quickly taken over by a hysterical crackling that made his entire body shake with each laughter. 
His boyfriend just chuckled, lifting his head just enough that his next words would be audible to the other, each one buzzing on the ticklish skin and making tiny, tickly electric shocks dance freely across it. “Oh my, Pac, what a delicious belly you got right here. One of the richest, rarest delicacies I’ve ever seen.” 
“NONONO, FITCH!” He kicked and trashed, trying to roll away from his predicament but being firmly held in place by the other, which was kind of nice, since he wasn’t sure how to explain to Fit that he definitely wasn’t going to run away if he had the chance. 
Still, that didn’t stop the fast, airy and high giggles of painting every syllable of his pleas that began flowing like a stream from his lungs, becoming more and more intelligible with each protest. “Please, please, Fitch anything but that! I will do anything you want! Do you wanna know all Mike’s most ticklish spots? Eu posso te dizer! (I can tell you!) he has this place right under his knees that if you poke he starts making ‘wee’ sounds e é muito engraçado (it’s very funny) Fitche por favor, espera, espera, wait!”
“Sorry, Pac, nothing I can do. I just have to try a little. Raspberries are so delicious and I just… I just gotta, ya know? I just gotta try a little, the tiniest little bit.” He lowered his head once again, carefully and softly nibbling on the ticklish skin and doing a bunch of ‘oh nom nom nom’ sounds as he did so, smugly relishing in how louder Pac’s laughter sounded at this, random portuguese and english being mixed in a series of incoherent talking that he couldn't even hope to understand, even with the translator. 
The raspberries and nibbles began taking turns, dancing all across his stomach and sometimes even escaping to attack one lower rib or two in a way that usually drove Ramón crazy. It was kind of funny and endless endearing to realize that both of his boys were extremely weak for the same kind of tickle attack.
All the while Pac was simply dying. There was no other way to describe it. He was utterly and completely dying, losing every tread of.. everything that wasn’t thinking about how much it tickled and laughing both because Fit (Fit!!!!! His boyfriend Fit!!!!) was teasing and tickling him and also because as it seems he was the goofiest dork that ever existed in this world while doing that and somehow that made all the butterflies flying crazy on his belly and tickly electricity following his nerves one hundred times worse and ticklish and it was amazing.
Fit enjoyed a couple more minutes of the silly attack, fondly realizing how much more hysterical and loud the crackles got everytime he added more “hmmm” and “nom nom nom” sounds.
“There we go, big boy.” He lifted his head and got a glimpse of a gigantic, dazzling smile and a red face before Pac immediately hid it behind his hands, wheezes and snickers filling the room.
“Shuhuhut up!”
Fit grinned, but let go of the teasing and took pity on his brazilian boyfriend. He could quite understand why Pac seemed so happy in destroying him minutes ago. There was just a something that made his heart beat faster just in realizing that he was the reason why Pac was so happy and giggly.
Also, the way that the brazilian’s accent got stronger, especially while saying his name in between unstoppable, uncontrollable giggling… Fit thinks he could live with that, yeah.
“Oh my god, Fitche… and you call me merciless.”
The ex-mercenary chuckled. His eyes hovered over Pac’s face, making sure that he was still breathing and alive (he hadn’t taken too far, did he?) when suddenly his look got attracted to his neck, the memory of what started all of this popping like a flashing lamp in his mind.
“Pac…” It was the low voice again, lighter, but still there. Pac’s entire body froze still for a second and alarmed eyes turned to stare Fit, who seemed strangely fixated on his hoodie. “Is your neck ticklish?”
Oh.
Oh.
Pac 100% blamed the gay screaming in his head for his next words.
“YES!” The shout was as excited as it was loud, making both of them wince at it, Fit looking at the one with black hair with a faintly surprised, crooked eyebrows. “I mean, er, assim, uh, no!!! It’s actually not! NOt even a little bit! What even is ticklish, you know? I don’t even speak english, senhor Fitch eme ce, na verdade, essa é a minha primeira vez aqui na ilha, quem é você e… Não!” (sir Fit eme cee, actually, this is my first time here in the island, who are you and… No!)
The babbling was promptly cut when, once again, Fit chuckled in mischief and shoved his head on Pac’s neck. 
Butterfly kisses followed the line of his jaw, attacked that spot under his chin, tickled the place where the collarbone and the neck met, each patch of sensitive skin getting a kiss and a raspberry as a gift, making a series of snorts and high dazed giggles quickly follow the initial surprised shriek and jump around the entire room, Pac’s arms coming to rest on the other’s chest, partially pushing him away and partially holding him, legs kicking behind them with how much adrenaline and giddiness jumped across his muscles and filled his heart.
Pac hid his face on the crook of Fit’s neck, attempting to at least survive a few more seconds from dying of embarrassment, each snort and hysterical high pitched snicker sealing even more his fate and putting another nail in his coffin.
A few curious squeezes on his sides and a final, long raspberry and then Fit finally let him go, watching as the other got his breath again, forgetting for once to hide his blush and brilliant smile into his hoodie, looking completely lost in his own laughing fit. Adorable. 
Sometimes Fit wondered how could he be so lucky.
A loud click and a flashing light brought both of them out of their thoughts. Pac almost falling from the sofa when he turned around and saw Ramón quickly hid a camera behind his back while passing three copies of the pictures to Richas, who stopped making gagging noises to hide them on his protected backpack before the adults could take it.
“Richarlyson, Me dá essas fotos!” (Give me those pictures!) 
“Ramón, what are you doing awake? You should be sleeping. It’s late.”
Ramón had the sense to look at least a tad admonished, but the expression quickly disappeared when Richas began jumping on the same spot, wiggling from one side to another like he always did when he wanted to cause more mischief. The kids exchanged a look.
“Nenê (Baby), no. Don’t follow Richas’ example, he is a little demon.” 
The sandal that went flying across the room and hit the brazilian in the face - which actually led to him falling from the cushions - only further proved this fact. Still, Richas let out plenty of offended noises while getting his sandal back, showing off his tongue when Ramón shoved him and shook his head in disapproval. 
Fit tried his best to not laugh and sound serious. “Richas, do not hit your dad.”
“Don’t worry, Fitch.” Pac tapped his arm, getting up from the floor, tsking. “There is no other way, I guess. I’ll have to kill him. Yeah, it was fun to have a son for a while.”
The mercenary laughed, knowing very well how much of a weak heart Pac had for his little troublemaker. “Calma, calma, Pac. I think I have the solution. Since the kids are feeling so… energetic, we should probably tire them out before putting them back in bed, right?” 
He also got up and gave Pac a Look, pretending to not see Ramón pulling Richas’ sleeve and exchanging warning words to him, knowing very well what that playful, dangerous shine in his dad’s eyes meant.
Pac grinned, mirroring his own devilish expression. “I think you’re right, Fit.”
Richas once again wiggled around in energy, his dragon tail tapping on the floor while Ramón threw a flower at Pac (smart boy, Fit thought, winning the melting heart from the dad that would have more mercy, very smart) and jumped on the same place, smiling and nodding in excitement.
He then pulled Richas away, starting the chase. Pac immediately following behind with joyfuls “I’m gonna catch you!”.
Fit chuckled.
Maybe Pac was right. 
Maybe life - he - was more than just die and kill. 
Well… he rolled his shoulders and followed his family in their game, laughing excitedly. He would have to enjoy it while it lasted, then.
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vasito-de-leche · 4 months
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hello!! your writing is so good i am perceiving it /pos. i'm not sure if you do familial/platonic requests so ignore this if you don't but may i request click with a reader who he sees as an older sibling? it can be headcanons or like general thoughts i don't rlly care. thank you!! <3
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;R1999 CLICK - Familial Headcanons
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Compilation of headcanons and analysis about Click and an older sibling figure.
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ty for the ask, nonnie <3 and yes, I do write for familial/platonic stuff too, not just romance! check the rules if you have any questions!
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As far as I know, there's no information about Click's family nor their dynamics, and he doesn't seem to fit any of the stereotypical youngest/middle/eldest child labels. So, going by personality alone, I'd say that for Click to consider someone as his very own older sibling figure, they'd have to be somewhat similar to him!
Not necessarily a carbon copy of him, mind you - they don't have to share his passion for photography nor agree with him 24/7! Just someone who he can relate to and who brings him a sense of security. Perhaps someone like Zima! Insightful, with a strong core and sense of self, aiming to broaden his horizons.
Someone who has also seen the darker aspects of life, lived through tragedies and come out stronger - Click is proud of his job, but he knows that talking about heavy subjects isn't everyone's cup of tea. So he'd like to know that his older sibling figure can understand or is trying to understand where he comes from, that he doesn't mean to bring the mood down whenever he happens to bring up the subject of war. It's part of his life and his experiences, and pretending that it didn't happen would be a disservice to all the things he's witnessed.
Alternatively, Click would gravitate towards anyone who shows extreme passion for their craft, regardless of what it might be - creative people who are dedicated and who experience the world through different artistic mediums are a big inspiration for him. Someone who drags him into all sorts of situations, allowing Click to capture many different points of view that he would've otherwise missed. Someone like Regulus or Diggers!
Click tends to wander and disappear a lot. It's always up to you to find him.
Younger siblings tend to either follow after their older siblings all the time like puppies, or disappear off the face of the Earth and mind their business (I'm the youngest of 6 siblings, I can vouch for this). Click fits the latter!
It's common for him to just wander around and disappear for days on end to focus on taking the best pictures across the Wilderness, with nothing but his camera and his thoughts. Somehow, he always seems to know whenever you call out to him - he'll manifest beside you right away, hoping he's not gotten into trouble. It's a weird feeling, knowing people expect him to keep in touch and come back safe and sound, that no matter where he goes, he'll still hear your voice calling out to him because he's going to miss dinner (not that he even needs to eat). But it's a very nice, warm feeling, so he doesn't mind.
I like to think Click - and pretty much any ghost within the universe of R1999 - can just become invisible to the human eye at will, with arcanists (especially those of Spirit and Intelligence afflatus) being able to sense their presence. During particularly bad days, where PTSD might be giving Click a hard time, he'll just fade away so that no one can see him. And then, he'll pick a spot to sit and wait for it to blow over.
Sometimes, you find him anyway, no matter how much he tries to hide. Sometimes, he lets you know where he is. Either way, he lets you know that he'd like for you to stay and keep him company - I imagine there's a system you two come up with, should he feel too overwhelmed to talk. Knock once for yes, two for no. Tug on your shirt if he wants to lead you somewhere quieter, pat your hand to sit down with him, etc etc.
Everyone begins to see you as Click's guardian.
On a less sad note, whenever someone needs Click for anything, they always go to you first and foremost! Either because you're the only one who can figure out where he may be, or because they want to run their plans through you first.
Vertin specifically makes sure to know if you'd like to accompany him during missions that require his presence, or if you'd like to know the details of his next solo mission. It's something she does out of politeness and as a a formality - and because Click just seems to perk up just a tiny bit if she tells him that you expect him to do a proper job. Whenever Lilya is planning to give Click a ride to take better pictures, she always jokes around, saying that she'll bring your precious brother back in one piece. Pavia always jokingly threatens Click to snitch on him and tell his "big scary sibling" that he's been taking pictures of people when they sleep.
From an outsider's point of view - those who do not belong to this group - it feels like everyone is infantilizing Click. He's 19 and a war photographer! But one has to remember that everyone in this suitcase has lost family and friends to the "Storm".
Aside from being displaced and forced into unfamiliar waters, everyone is dealing with so many things on their own, like losing their lives and all the people they once knew and cared for. So knowing that Click was able to form such a strong bond with you, to trust and see you as family, despite everything? It really brings them hope for a brighter future - Vertin's goal to create a place for those who have nowhere else to go starts to make sense for them. And hey, most of them are willing to stop with their little jokes and such should they bother you or Click!
This specific point comes from me seeing Vertin's group as one huge found family - there's no way everyone will get along, but at the end of the day, everyone trusts and relies and takes care of each other. The dynamics within this found family are much too complex for me to get into right now and for people outside of it to even understand, just know that it's a thing!
Click picks up on your mannerisms and speech pattern unconsciously.
Click isn't very talkative outside of the usual photography or artistic talk, he's more of a listener. And while he does become a little more talkative around you, opening up and whatnot, you tend to do most of the talking. And that's how he ends up picking up your mannerisms!
It's especially funny for everyone if you happen to have a very different and contrasting way of speech- the way Click just casually drops an F bomb in that soft-spoken voice whenever he fails to get the perfect shot will NEVER stop funny.
I like to think that, because of how observant he is, he also ends up picking up on your unique gestures. It's all an unconscious thing he does - if someone points it out Click won't even know what they're talking about, entirely oblivious to the fact that he now emotes and makes the same facial expressions as you do, the same gestures (at least when his hands are free, instead of clinging to that camera of his) and using the same phrases and whatnot.
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wangxian-the-zhijis · 6 months
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Lan Zhan every single time he gets the chance:
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Lan Zhan when Jiang Yanli has to die:
//Error 404: character not found// Therefore, the events:
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anotherpapercut · 8 months
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hi more drug question
I have been told many many times that using ecstasy will basically fry your seratonin receptors so that you will never be able to feel happy again unless you are using the drug. I am assuming now that this is false but I am curious now as to how false. Is it something that CAN happen if you take too much at once or too often, or is this just random Drug Scary misinformation
Also also since wellbutrin is not an SSRI does LSD work when you are on it or does it also cancel it out
lol that's kind of an extreme version of what I usually hear! you're right that basically the answer here is no. this comes from a couple different things. first is MDMA induced serotonin toxicity, and 2nd is something called "serotonin syndrome" which is a real thing that can happen, but it's really really hard to get like this. prepare for a very long answer lmfaooo
MDMA induced serotonin toxicity occurs when you take too high doses too frequently. MDMA IS slightly neurotoxic, but so are many prescription drugs so don't let that word freak you out too much! basically MDMA works by dumping large amounts of serotonin into your brain, hence why it's the happy/love drug lol. if you take too much too often, your brain will straight up run out of serotonin. obviously that's bad! it's not as simple as "never feeling happy again" but you will essentially have depression for a bit because of lack of serotonin (on its own, low serotonin levels following modest MDMA use is not damaging and resolves within a few days) but the real problem is that if you are on MDMA with depleted serotonin, your brain will continue releasing dopamine which will attach to the serotonin receptors and damage them. this is what can cause long term depression symptoms, the damaged serotonin receptors. ultimately your brain will heal this on its own unless for some reason I guess you keep taking it a lot (which would have no effect. when you take too much MDMA your brain just runs out of serotonin to dump so like. it just won't work lol)?? it can also be treated with the supplement NAC, which I would recommend taking any time you use MDMA because of this!
to sum up MDMA toxicity: it can happen but only if you're misusing it! it's generally recommended that you dont do much more than 1 dose every 3 months or so to make sure your brain has time to reset. research interactions with anything else you're using (prescription or not), take some NAC in the weeks following a dose, drink a lot of water, keep your body temperature regular because that can worsen it, and take some antioxidants like alpha lipoic acid and grape seed oil during/immediately after taking MDMA - it's when you come down that your brain is delicate and could use the protection. also this may sound counterintuitive but weed also has antioxidant properties, so smoking it as you come down helps a lot. also if you DO have MDMA toxicity taking more MDMA will not help u feel happy unfortunately it will just make it worse lol, your brain only has so much serotonin to give
now serotonin syndrome can happen with the misuse of any drug that works on serotonin including MAOIs, SSRIs, and SNRIs, usually by taking a VERY large dose (but some people are just extremely sensitive). it usually takes care of itself eventually, but the amount of time it takes and stuff is kinda hard to pin down bc it's REALLY misunderstood and tends to be overly self diagnosed. again this is like super super hard to do. you would have to take a MASSIVE dose or mix it with other serotonin affecting drugs (ESPECIALLY MAOIs. DO NOT MIX MDMA WITH MAOI ANTI DEPRESSANTS). like 5 times the normal dose at least probably (partner is currently trying to find some literature on it so he'll add that in the replies if he finds anything interesting). it will cause things like heightened anxiety and body temperature and can cause kidney problems or seizures if it's like really bad and untreated. but you'd feel REALLY bad before it got to that point, so in general like, if you take any type of drug and feel extremely bad after go to the doctor lol. mostly this will also just heal itself; your brain is pretty resilient! again usually if this does happen it's very minor. cases bad enough to require hospitalization are exceedingly rare
to give you an example of what these can look like, I have a friend who was given about 3-4 times a regular dose by a fucking piece of shit asshole she knows and, this part is crucial, it was mixed with a very large amount of alcohol AND acid (which can slightly increase the neurotoxicity. normally not a huge issue but becomes one in circumstances like this), AND coke; like she was blackout drunk and while not on a lot of acid or coke, this is just too many things to have in your body and brain at one time. the mixture of such a large amount different drugs caused her what I'm guessing was a mild case of both of these things at once. she experienced slightly worsened depression for about 6 months after, and actually had a mild stutter for almost a year. I made sure she took some NAC and other things that aid brain healing, and she didn't try molly again for a long time to be super sure she didn't overload her brain before it was ready. this is a pretty extreme case, and even with that she has fully recovered thankfully. do NOT EVER do drugs with someone you don't trust with your life. DO NOT EVER do drugs in doses you have not confirmed for yourself to be safe and DO NOT EVER mix drugs without finding out if it's safe!!! just as a small aside though: usually taking molly and acid at the same time is perfectly safe. in fact it's called a candy flip and I HIGHLY recommend it because it's fucking awesome. again, just make sure you are taking safe doses in a safe environment
OKAY now finally your specific question about Wellbutrin: I actually take Wellbutrin so I can answer this one from personal experience! Wellbutrin should not alter the effects of LSD in any way HOWEVER! both of these drugs lower your seizure threshold! I'm on the max dose of Wellbutrin (which is the max dose BECAUSE of seizure risk) so when I plan to drop acid I usually either skip my dose entirely that day or only take half depending on how much acid I'm planning to take. because of the way Wellbutrin works, this shouldn't cause you any problems as far as that goes. for me, not taking my Wellbutrin for a day mainly has the effect of making me more fatigued, and acid counteracts that really well by making me feel very awake/aware. if you don't want to skip or halve your dose though you can also take things that will RAISE your seizure threshold. so like I sometimes will smoke hemp because CBD actually will help with that. the risk here isn't huge either way especially if you have no history of seizures, but again if it's something you're concerned about you should be just fine skipping or lowering your dose for the day. acid usually lasts about 12 hours too so i personally don't even care about skipping the Wellbutrin that much because it basically does the same thing for me. I did take my full Wellbutrin dose the last couple times I've done acid though because I was taking a very small amount of acid (about half a tab)
in summation lol sort of TLDR I generally would recommend MDMA for recreational use because the risks of damage are low and it's safe if you are safe about it. and it's honestly just a really fun one! the only negative effect I've ever felt is some emotional and physical fatigue the following day, and this is largely because of how emotional and energetic you are on it. I just make sure to have the next day off to lay around and listen to music :)
taking it with a partner or loved one will give you an especially beautiful experience, as MDMA has been proven to facilitate extremely open emotional conversations. in fact, when MDMA was first synthesized it's primary use was in psychotherapy! research was shut down during the war on drugs, but in recent studies it's demonstrated amazing abilities to treat and even straight up CURE disorders like PTSD. for a personal anecdote, my partner actually completely fucking cured his alcoholism on a combo of MDMA and whippets (nitrous oxide) lmfao. like dude straight up went from getting black out drunk multiple nights a week to drinking nothing for the past year and a half without any other treatment program. LSD has been proven to have similar incredible results with treating and curing things like depression, anxiety, PTSD and addiction and is also a very fun and very safe one.
sorry to reiterate for the billionth time lol but it's important: these drugs are safe and fun if you make sure they're safe and fun! do your research and never use in an unfamiliar environment with people you wouldn't trust in an emergency! also I know this sounds like a lot, but remember I'm giving you like the absolute safest possible practices and emphasizing sort of over cautiousness because I think it's always better to be too safe. I've taken molly without nac and I've taken kinda big doses a little closer together than I should have without any problems. there's a bit of flexibility to these guidelines, but it's always better to think of them as being rigid so you don't end up too far in the other direction. like I've said it's really really hard to do actual damage that would last more than like a day or 2 max. most of the time you'll just be sleepy the next day from all the dancing so it's nice to do it on a day 1 of a weekend. also it only lasts like a couple of hours lol so it's not your whole day or anything!
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cacturne · 4 months
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“Carmine is not the worst” and “kieran is not the worst” are statements that can and should co-exist
#Its always either “carmine did nothing wrong kieran is a stupid unhinged brat!” Or “kieran did nothing wrong carmine is literally abusive!!”#No. Theyre not. Neither of them are. Theyre just nd/mentally ill and cope with it badly#Its really not that hard come on#Also as an older sister with a younger brother a lot of the mean dialogue is pretty typical#Obviously that doesnt negate the fact that for kieran it hit him in his issues but he never spoke up about it and kept it to himself#And carmine is pretty dense and a bit in her own head so it makes sense that she wouldnt notice without being directly told#And with her specifically its made clear in dialogue throughout that she does care about her brother#She thinks about how in her mind things might affect him and chooses what she thinks is the option that wont hurt him. Though obviously#shes not the best judge there. But thats understandable she isnt very good at reading people#And kieran just doesnt know how to cope with his problems. When stuff gets too much he bursts and lashes out. A normal thing for a teenager#Obviously this now frightens carmine and she starts backing down distancing herself and generally just closes up around him#Because while she is abrasive she doesnt really *realize* she is. And its easy to see kierans abrasiveness as something inherently hostile#(Because even if he doesnt really mean it it still is aggressive)#Hey wait a second why am i infodumping about kieran and carmine pokemon in my tags#This is like the worst way to do it. Sorry cutting it short ty for reading if you did#ghosts howling
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good-beanswrites · 6 months
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Could you write a drabble for Mikoto and Shidou plus Blood? This request miiight be inspired by the fact that Mikoto mentions his body hurting a lot but doesn't seem to be receiving any medical treatment, either because Mahiru and Fuuta take priority or because there's no obvious cause, and therefore cure, to his pain...
👀👀👀 Thank you, this is such a good combo ough!! It's so interesting how much focus the others get when it comes to physical health, since Mikoto has clearly complained of his condition :( It looks like Milgram is trying to push the idea that he's completely oblivious to his alters, but I spun it where he's aware, just deep in denial. So have some Mikoto angst to get us hyped for Double!
Mikoto should be grateful. He was lucky. That’s what he kept repeating to himself. He had both of his eyes intact. Both his arms. He was strong enough to walk around freely. He wasn’t on the verge of death, or collapse. Thus, he should be grateful no one was offering him any help, because it meant he didn’t need it. He repeated it again. Maybe this time he would believe it.
With a groan, his body rolled out of bed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up actually feeling rested. Everything ached. His muscles tightened with soreness. His throat felt as raw as his knuckles, though he hadn’t been using either. He had no desire to lift his arms over his head, or twist around too much, so he didn’t change out of yesterday’s uniform. Maybe the belts and buckles had made it difficult to sleep. The theory wasn’t a convincing one, but dwelling on things like that had never gotten him anywhere.
He ran his fingers once through his hair, combing out a bit of the mess. Looking in a mirror was the last thing he needed. He made his way to the dining hall. 
The others trickled in for breakfast. His appetite, at least, hadn’t suffered. He hardly noticed the others giving him wide-eyed stares. What were they expecting? Of course he was looking worse for wear, given the circumstances. He ignored them, glad to focus on the hot meal before him.
A hand weighed heavy on his shoulder.
“Mikoto,” Shidou’s voice may have remained calm, but it was urgent. “Do you need some help?”
“Huh?” He shrugged his hand away, offering a weak smile. “I’m fine! Oh, I think Kazui was saving a seat for you over there, if you --”
“-- How about we go to my cell for a moment? Or yours, if that would be more comfortable.”
What was everyone’s problem this morning? Mikoto did his best to keep his voice pleasant. “Really, man, I’m good.” 
Shidou’s expression remained unmoving. Very carefully, he informed him, “you’re bleeding. Pretty badly by the look of it. You’re coming with me.” 
Mikoto blinked. He looked over his shoulder, following Shidou’s gaze. The back of his uniform was torn across the center. A significant splotch of blood seeped into the material, growing even larger as he shifted to see it. 
“...Oh…” 
Back in Shidou’s cell, sad to have left his breakfast plate behind, he slumped into a chair. Shidou gathered together some supplies. As always, he got right to the point. “What happened?”
“I… I’m not sure. I don’t remember anything from last night. I don’t remember most nights, recently. I know that sounds crazy, but…”
“It’s fine. I have definitely heard crazier.” He smiled, something gentle and reassuring. As usual, there was something hidden behind his eyes. It was as if he already knew what Mikoto was up to late at night that earned him so much soreness the following days. He didn’t offer an explanation, though. Mikoto didn’t press him for one.
He winced as he was helped out of his uniform. Removing his shirt revealed the mysterious gash. Shidou’s eyes widened at the array of scratches and scars. Some were fresh, but most originated long before Milgram. Though he didn’t ask, Mikoto answered.
“I’m pretty clumsy, huh?” Maybe this time he would believe it. 
Shidou was kind enough to pretend to. “Here, allow me…”
Shidou got to work cleaning and dressing the injuries. Mikoto closed his eyes. Even though the disinfectant stung, and sometimes those gloved fingers pressed a little two hard, it felt nice to have things patched up. 
“Is there anything else going on? Are you feeling pain anywhere else?”
Mikoto could have laughed. He didn’t. “I’m just sore. And my head’s been killing me, but I’m used to migraines. Perks of the verdict, I’m sure.”
Shidou hummed in thought. 
“Thanks, by the way. I’ll try to be more careful.” Not that he had much choice in the matter, it seemed. But he’d do his best. 
Shidou kept his face straight, but there were traces of pain in his voice. “I will too. I’m sorry, Mikoto. If I had known… I’ve been distracted lately, but I should have paid closer attention.”
“It’s fine,” he flashed a grin. “I know the others are pretty fucked up. And I’m not dying or anything. I’m lucky, you know?”
“I wouldn’t say so. Doctors don’t only treat the dying.”
Mikoto frowned. 
It didn’t take much longer to finish treatment. Shidou gave him a few instructions about the bandages, then offered him a clean shirt. “You’re good to go. I’ll be checking in more often, now. I’ll see if I can find something for your head.” 
“Thanks. Really.”
He returned Mikoto’s torn uniform. “You should talk to Es about getting a new one. Until then, you’ll want to clean this with --”
Mikoto waved a dismissive hand, heading out of the cell. “Don’t worry, I know how to wash blood out of my clothes. Er, that sounds bad. I’m just a clutz, yeah? The blood’s always been my own.”
Maybe this time he would believe it.
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seakrisp · 1 year
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I think Modern Au Suletta would be a Glass Child
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indigodawns · 16 days
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legolasghosty · 25 days
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Kissing the homies goodnight for Willie (/Willex) because I feel like Willie would.
Ack I'm so sorry this took so long but here you gooo!
Willie ducked into the kitchen to grab the water pitcher and some glasses, praying he wasn't forgetting anything important. They knew it was just their friends crashed across various surfaces in the living room, but it was still nerve-wracking. Willie hadn't been to a sleepover in like... five years, let alone hosted one. They got why the foster care system had to check over people before they could stay overnight, but with the number of times Willie had moved around since entering the system, it just... had never happened.
Caleb had been hesitant at first when Willie asked if they could all stay over, wanting to ensure Willie was settled himself first. And also wanting to meet all of these kids before he let them have free reign of his home.
But it was finally happening. All of Willie's best friends (and his boyfriend, but they hadn't really managed to wrap their head around that one yet) were lounging in his living room at 2 in the morning, some closer to dozing off than others.
Willie wasn't sure which was stronger: the excitement or the terror of messing this up.
He was pretty sure he hit all the main bits on all the 'how to throw a slumber party' lists he'd found online: pizza, way too many types of ice cream toppings (they're not entirely sure how many of those canned cherries Luke ended up fitting in his mouth), random games (he'd never heard of turning pictionary into a drinking game with shots of soda, but apparently that was a thing his friends did), and a movie with lots of popcorn and cozy blankets.
So they're pretty sure they've done alright thus far.
Still, it'd been a long time since Willie did this.
He re-entered the living room just as Alex managed to grab the TV remote and turn off the rolling credits of Legally Blonde. Flynn looked to already be asleep, lying across one of the air mattresses with her feet up on Julie's stomach. Julie had propped herself up a bit on her elbows and was debating...something with Reggie. Both of them looked closer to dozing off than winning though. Luke and Carrie were both sitting upright on one of the couches, madly swiping on their phones and hissing at each other.
"Do I even want to know?" Willie asked Alex quietly, setting the water and cups down on the coffee table and rejoining him on the loveseat.
Alex groaned. "I made the mistake of telling them there's a PvP mode on this tower defense game they both play."
Willie tried to hold back his giggle. He failed.
Alex attempted to glare at them, but mostly just looked sleepily confused. "I'm serious, we're gonna have to take their phones away now if we want them to sleep," he sighed.
Willie winced. "Any chance the game will kick them off after a few rounds?"
Alex shook his head, then leaned over to rest his head on Willie's shoulder. "And they're both too stubborn to give in, I already tried it."
Willie rested their cheek against his hair, letting their lungs adjust to expanding and contracting in time with the light huffs of Alex's breath against their collarbone. "Is it online?" he asked.
"Yeah, why?" Alex responded, blinking up at him sleepily in the dim light of the lamp.
Willie smirked and pulled out his phone. Okay, so Caleb hadn't technically given him the password for the router, but like... it hadn't been hard. He opened the app on his phone that connected to the electronic and started typing.
Twin cries of annoyance erupted from the pair on the other couch a moment later, informing Willie of his success.
"It just kicked me off!" Luke complained.
"Same here," Carrie griped. "Willie I think your wifi died."
Willie looked up, attempting to look innocent. "Oh yeah, I think you're right," they agreed. "Ugh, this happens sometimes, it will probably come back in an hour or two, but we just gotta wait it out."
Both Luke and Carrie groaned, but seemed to buy it and tossed their phones aside. Carrie peeled off her sweater and tossed it down next to Flynn's head, before pulling a blanket up and over herself and stretching out along the couch. Luke slid down onto the air mattress beside Reggie, koala cuddling against his back. Reggie laughed and shifted over so Luke could share his pillow, still discussing... Okay Willie was pretty sure they were trying to figure out who in their friend group would be whom in Legally Blonde. Fair enough.
Willie felt Alex's tiny sigh of relief against his neck and shivered. It felt nice, being close like this and knowing it made Alex just as fluttery as it did them.
Alex brought his fingers up to his chin, then let his hand move forward, palm up. Thank you.
Willie tucked his phone away. "Don't mention it," he whispered, daring to brush his lips against Alex's forehead.
Alex's cheeks turned pink, but Julie interrupted before Willie could tease him about it.
"Hey, no PDA unless you're willing to share with the class," she mumbled, eyes heavy.
"You're one to talk," Alex pointed out, glancing pointedly between her and Flynn's feet still resting on her abdomen.
"Oh you wanna wake her up?" Julie snarked back, the words slurring together a bit.
"I don't think any of us have that death wish," Willie chuckled. They tapped Alex lightly on the shoulder in warning, then stood up. "And I don't mind sharing." Before Julie could respond, he ducked down and pecked her on the forehead. "Sweet dreams, Juju," they added, throwing a spare blanket over her and heading back toward Alex.
"Hey, we're part of the class too," Reggie called out. When Willie turned, he was sticking his bottom lip out, the puppy eyes mostly hidden by his drooping eyelids.
Willie glanced back at Alex, a little startled, but Alex just shrugged and gave him a sleepy smile. So Willie picked his way around to Reggie and gave him a goodnight kiss too. And then Luke perked up a bit and wanted one. And Carrie said she should get one on Flynn's behalf, since her girlfriend was asleep.
"I guess I should have warned you how clingy we all get this late," Alex murmured when Willie finally made it back to his side. "I kinda forgot you haven't been able to be around this before. Just feels really natural."
"All good," Willie promised around a yawn. "Just tryin'a be a good host."
Alex leaned over and hit the button on the side of the love seat to make it lean back, the extending footrest turning it into more of a bed. "It's perfect," he stated, pulling Willie in to lay beside him.
Willie let out a happy sigh and cuddled in closer. Alex's cool arms soothed the nervous energy that was always humming along their skin. He felt Alex's lips brush against his hairline.
"G'night Lex," they mumbled, eyes slipping shut.
"Good night, Willie."
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thsc-confessions · 8 months
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"Rupert Price & Reginald Copperbottom are divorced British exes." submitted by anon
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gobstoppr · 2 months
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and btw im in my hater arc rn. as time goes on the more i find a lot of 'fandom' stuff insufferable (i like art n stuff. just the way that fandom refits every media to fit a single mold and set of boring archetypes is exhausting.)
i just get really easily annoyed lately. and have been unfollowing people on a whim a lot. its not personal i promise
#fandom culture has made me actively dislike shit i was fixated on a year ago. looking at your ninja turtles#its not even like what they were doing were particularly offensive it was just exhaustingly boring#im sorry i just really dont care about ur 2 million fics about leo being a sadboy. or one million seperated aus.#theres definetly a part of the whole situation in general which has been me coming to terms with my own internalized misogny#actively re-examining my tendencys to gravity towards male characters#idk maybe its making me dislike art more. but idk. ive always analyzed why i react certain ways to certain things. this isnt new for me#anywaays. i had been following a bunch of ninja turtle blogs and they sorta kept messing around with shows like ninjago too#and at some point i was just like. i dont know if these shows are actually that good guys. i think youjust like shows for little boys#and fandoms tend to shaft female chars so it sure helps that their casts are 98% male .#maybe theyre not your blorbo maybe theyre just Guy McAverageMan. thats not inherently bad but you have to consider it.#guys rottmnt is isnt even that good . its not that good ok. its alright/pretty good. and the movie does a few neat things#i feel like ive become one of those people that turn 18 and then immediately go 'minors dni'. im not there yet but i just.#we're watching kids shows. its ok . you can say it.#you may have noticed ive been reblogging a lot of dungeon meshi stuff. i read it all over the past week.#but here's the thing. i thought it was mid/good for like 70% of it.#i think its got some really really cool worldbuilding ideas and stuff#but i think a lot of the writing was sorta. uninteresting to me.#my discord friends have been raving over izutsumi for months.#but i found her presence in the story to be weird and underdeveloped. she felt out of place and her introduction felt clumsy#i felt when the story was ramping up the manga got a lot better. because again theres some rlly cool ideas at play#all the shit with the lion? incredible. the way all the infighting led to more problems bc the elves refuse to explain anything? rlly good.#marcille landing in power? reallly good shit. (i still thought it was a lil undercooked still tho)#i cant stop thinking about laios in that climax scene. i think he shouldve been feral a lot more often#uhh. i got distracted. fandom bad and annoying.#saw a post talking about marcille realizing izutsumi is only 17 and then describing how 'omg shes a mom now' and i wanted to throw up#im done. i swear. im done talking for real. aagh#text
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