#or he's burned out and is doing things bc he has to not bc he wants to

[featseungmin]

chlorine therapy || bc

bang chan x reader

after an argument, you find chris at your apartment complex's pool.

word count: 1,190 genre: light angst with a happy ending warnings: hurt feelings, misunderstanding, making up after an argument

notes: thanks to @eerieedits for yet another gorgeous banner!

enjoy! lmk what you think! 💙

The thing about indoor pools is that they all have the same vibe. Humid, stuffy air heavy with the acidic scent of too much chlorine. Large, echoey rooms that feel like they belong in some indie horror film, not attached to an expensive apartment complex in the heart of a major metropolitan area. 

This one is no different. 

The key reader beeps as you swipe your fob, and you’re hit with the wall of humidity as soon as you open the door. The pool is mostly empty—it’s far too late for anyone else to be awake, let alone ready for a swim. But still, the pool has one occupant, and you make your way around the concrete and tile decking to the long edge, toeing out of your sandals and sitting so you can watch. You feel your shorts dampen with the water that clings to the edge, but right now, you don’t really care. 

The water is remarkably warm on your legs as you dangle them just below the surface. Waves from the lone swimmer lap at your shins. You watch as he goes through lap after lap, transition after transition, back and forth and back again. He used to do this competitively, used to be one of the best in his age group, but the years have slowed him, and he’s no longer in practice the way he was. 

Still, the pool wasn’t meant to be used like this. It doesn’t have swim lanes, or any of the underwater markings so necessary for any sort of serious swimming. It was built for families to spend summer evenings, for couples having lazy weekends, teens looking to let off some steam. Not for former near-pros who need somewhere to disappear to when the fire in their veins threatens to burn them alive. 

Backstroke. Butterfly. Breaststroke. He alternates between them as easily as breathing. Maybe, for him, it is. 

You clutch a towel in your lap. It was warm when you left the apartment, but now, it’s lost its fresh-from-the-dryer appeal. You aren’t really sure what you were expecting when you made the trek down to the complex’s pool. 

Whatever it was, getting ignored wasn’t part of it. 

Eventually, he slows. His strokes become more casual. He pushes himself around the water lazily, kicking his feet like a frog. And yet still, he says nothing. 

Until: “What time is it?”

“Late,” you answer solemnly. It comes out softer than you’d hoped it would. 

“You should be asleep.”

You hum. “Couldn’t. My favorite body pillow decided to have a pool day.”

His back is to you, and you can’t read his tone when he says, “There’s a body pillow in the closet you could have used.”

“I…” You aren’t really sure how to respond. Because explaining sort of defeats the purpose, doesn’t it? You always slept better with him nearby. He knows that. It’s a metaphor. It’s… pointless, apparently.

The hurt creeps in again. You’d thought that a few hours was enough time to let its icy tendrils melt, enough for him to cool down and for you to patch yourself back up. Enough for the hurt on both sides to heal. You’d thought that the pool would help. 

The pool always helps. 

Your fingers tighten in the soft fabric of the towel, and you nod quietly. Maybe tonight, the pool wasn’t enough. Maybe, for the first time in the years you’ve known him, this was something that couldn’t be patched over so easily. 

The two of you don’t fight. Not really. 95 percent of your problems are solved with rational thought and conversation. You’ve always approached things as a team, together as a united front. Even when you were slightly more than best friends. But that other five percent? It digs deep, builds thick walls, tells lies in the shadows of the mind.

He doesn’t want to burden you. You want nothing more than to help him carry the baggage he takes on. Hurt feelings take root in silence, pain builds until it bubbles over. You don’t even know it’s happening until something gives and everything explodes.

You’re not sure which is worse: that it got to this point in the first place, or that you don’t remember what the argument was even about.

You lose track of him in the water, you’re so engrossed in your thoughts. You’ve just convinced yourself to leave him be, to give him more time, more space. Your feet aren’t even out of the water yet, but a head of dark hair bobs its way over.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, voice soft. His honeyed baritone is laced with something that sounds almost like an apology, but he doesn’t say it. Not yet.

Dark eyes meet yours, and you can almost convince yourself that he’s the Chris of this morning–the one that was almost late to a meeting because he wouldn’t stop kissing you goodbye–and not the Chris of a few hours ago, who’d scolded you over a bowl of instant ramen and then told you that you were incapable of understanding what was bothering him.

“I didn’t mean…” He clears his throat, eyes darting to the towel you’re clutching. There’s a weak wobble in his voice when he speaks again. “I like being your body pillow. I just thought that maybe you’d want space after…”

You hate how you hesitate in reaching out, fingertips hovering just millimeters off his skin before ghosting across his forehead to brush his wet hair back off his face. “You’re doing it again.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to protect me from you, you know?” Your hand comes to rest against his cheek. His skin is cool from the water, and you brush some stray droplets away with your thumb. “No matter what’s bothering you. I might not have all the answers, but at least you won’t have to carry it alone.”

Chris leans into your touch, turning ever so slightly so that his lips brush your palm. “I love you.” He breathes it, like a prayer, like it’s sacred.

You lean down, then, and he pushes up to meet you halfway. Water rolls off of him in rivulets, soaking your legs as he settles between your knees. Strong arms hold him up, caging you in. Your hands cup his jaw, fingers curving along the sharp lines and soft skin. He tastes like chlorine and his favorite apricot lip balm; his lips mould to yours as though they were made to be there. It’s gentle, loving, a little desperate, as though he’s trying to tell you a million things all at once.

You’re breathless when he finally, reluctantly, pulls away, noses brushing, foreheads touching. You barely register how damp your clothes are now, how they stick to your skin.

“I am sorry. For everything.”

“I know you are. And I suppose I can forgive you. If you bring my favorite body pillow to bed.”

He chuckles, and you can feel his breath fan across your face. He leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead, just above your eyebrow. “I think I can manage that.”

[farewellcharmer]

SO, re: your latest post about foreshadowing and Jeremy hitting his knees for Jean at some point in the near future >

HOW DO YOU THINK IT'S GOING TO GO? 👀👀

making my day with your ask again i see 💛

disclaimer: no knees were harmed!! (at some point in the nearest future lol)

So I think there will be more awkward knees-hitting situations before the real thing happens (bc the yearners must yearn some more). Something similar to Jeremy kissing Jab who sits on Jean’s lap and Jean lurching away. Just this time it’s Jeremy who is shying away. He gets checked lightly during practice but loses his balance (too busy staring at some hot Frenchman) and literally falls to his knees right in front of Jean, grabbing Jean’s jersey to catch himself mid-fall. And this is so embarrassing, the position seems to be well— vulgar. And it’s Jeremy’s turn to throw himself away so quickly, he falls to his ass instead, blushing hard. So it goes on like this. Jeremy tripping at practice, Jeremy diving down to the floor to grab Jab’s toys, Jeremy on his knees over and over again, and when it happens to be near Jean he immediately backs away. So when Jeremy comes to the lofts again and falls to one knee to greet Jabberwocky, Jean is standing there waiting for him to get up. He is like… “why are you hitting your knees all the time, Jeremy? have mercy on them. if you hurt them bad, exy doesn’t forgive you”. And Jeremy suddenly gets very serious and a little sad and he blurts out “at least it’s not a linoleum.” And Jean has no idea what it means, but some months later, when they kiss only for the second time, hot and fierce, Jeremy suddenly leans away and drops to his knees. But Jean catches him right there by his waist, pressing Jeremy close to his chest. His heart is racing, or maybe it’s Jeremy’s. And as much as Jean loves the view and the feeling of anticipation and burning desire in his stomach, there’s no way he lets Jeremy do it this way. And answering Jeremy’s panicked glance, Jean kisses him sweetly and whispers right into his warm mouth “careful with your knees, Jeremy”

[franksaidso]

donnie darko headcanons ⋆.ೃ࿔*:

donnie had a lisp until he was 9, and elizabeth + speech therapy helped him fix it

you like to call him any variation of donnie, but hardly ever his ACTUAL name (donathan, donald, danny, just stuff to annoy him lol)

fucks HEAVY with mystery flavored airheads

if you’re dating, he LOVES to doodle on u. give him a pen and any skin ur showing is fair game

has a really sensitive nose???

whether or not u like to read he appreciates it when u go to the library with him, helping him pick out books SOLEY based off of the cover

lazy as fuck in class but will ALWAYS do the assigned reading

maladaptive daydreaming final boss

had vivid imaginary friends growing up, which is why when he told dr. thurman about frank she wasnt as alarmed bc like it had happened before

very quiet footsteps no matter what, always accidentally sneaking up on ppl

always has his arms crossed in that weird way he does in the movie?? like hands shoved in his pits lmfao its like comforting for him

^if you point it out hes like idk what ur talking abt

ACTUALLY hates eye contact but only with adults. with u/elizabeth/anyone his age its fine it’s only authority figures

fell off the trampoline when he was 12 and almost broke his neck

scratches behind his ears like a dog

donnie loves freshly vacuumed carpet. even though his room is usually in some sort of chaos, the floors are ALWAYS vacuumed. if he goes to someone’s house for whatever reason, he will clock if the carpets are vacuumed or not. idk

avid cd collector… burns his own mixtapes when he’s not reading

moles on his inner thighs. teehee

doesn’t BITE his nails but has a habit of ripping off hangnails

^ NEVER lets scabs heal

makes over-exaggerated faces when he eats something he doesn’t like; literally cant help it if he doesn’t like it u WILL know

he and elizabeth fight over the last toaster strudel.

always either changes into his pajamas or falls asleep fully clothed, shoes on and all, no in between

^ will fall asleep anywhere. road trip? hes out 10 mins in.

tends to go on rants/infodump about anything he finds interesting, only to forget what he was talking about halfway through

hates talking to ppl at drive thrus

absolutely fuckass posture

is really weird about the line in ur socks that like touches your toes?? ik thats so specific but hear me out #sensory issues

if he stays still for too long his legs fall asleep

if he sits in a swivel chair he will spin. the entire time or fucks with the thing that like makes it go up and down??? idk u literally cant have a convo with him if he’s in any sort of office chair

tried guyliner once and elizabeth made fun of him so he never wore it again. looked good tho

tried to pierce his own ears once to piss his mom off but it got infected

^ had a whole phase where he did shit deliberately to piss her off. constantly

has pages and pages of writing/drawings stashed in his drawers, he never shows anyone but elizabeth/you, but even then sometimes he gets too embarrassed

Since donnie and elizabeth are so close in age they fight a lot, right?? usually it’s never physical, and even then its usually elizabeth smacking him on the back of the head or something. but one day elizabeth hit him for something and he hit her back. It was more reflex than anything, but he punched her square in the face. It gave her a nasty black eye, and donnie knew his ass was toast so he locked himself in the family car for two hours to hide from her.

gets nauseous really easily but never throws up

went to a chiropractor for posture and they fucked uo his neck and his mom tried to sue

In middle school donnie stunk so bad like straight onion hot dog and elizabeth forced him to start wearing deoderant. eventually he started wearing it himself, but he doesn’t use cologne or anything because his nose is sensitive. he just smells like teenage boy now

okay dats all might add more later luv u

me talking about how donnie darko would love mystery flavor airheads when he’s fictional and dead

[aziraphales-library]

Hello lovely mods! I recently read “I am just the (new invention)” by littlesnowpea and it reminded me so much of “it’s a new craze” by attheborder and was wondering if you had any fics that you could recommend that’s kinda like those where Crowley and/or Aziraphale do “modern” things like a podcast or YouTube channel or smth and end up together bc of it. Thanks for all you do and thank you for any recommendations you make!

Hi! We've had several similar requests in the past, and you'll find all our recommendations (like the two you've mentioned) on our plentiful #social media tag (including all those popular ones people are thinking of, so check the tag before you jump into the notes!). Here are some more to add...

The Book Nook by whatkeepsusalive (G)

Crowley has never seen the face behind his favorite YouTube channel—the one with the candlelight, classic literature, and the voice that lulls him to sleep every night. Then one rainy afternoon, he walks into a dusty Soho bookshop… and hears that voice.

Sound Cheque by greatdistractions (T)

Aziraphale is an audiobook narrator with a small, but dedicated, group of fans. When his microphone breaks, one such fan offers to help. It takes him a while to figure out that his fan is famous.

The Narrator by AppleSeeds (T)

Crowley didn't even realise the audiobook he was listening to was going to include any scenes involving intimate encounters. He certainly didn't realise that the narrator, who had the most perfect voice ever, would do accompanying sound effects during those scenes. Crowley can't even get through listening to it without becoming incredibly flustered, so how will he cope when he actually meets Aziraphale Fell in person and discovers everything else about him is just as attractive as his voice?

Being a Demon by Fell_Angel (G)

Crowley is bored. And heartbroken, but he's not going to admit that; at least not publically. Either way, he needs something to do without having an Aziraphale around to pine after. So what does he do? He starts a podcast about his life as a demon. (Based on the meanwhile-at-crowleys-flat blog on tumblr)

Friends Don't by MissUnderstoodLyrics (E)

Professional advice columnists and rivals Aziraphale Eastgate and Anthony Crowley never expected to find themselves co-hosting an advice podcast. Aziraphale believes in proper channels and traditional wisdom, while Crowley advocates for creative chaos and burning it all down. Their opposing approaches create instant chemistry - and instant tension. As their podcast gains popularity, maintaining their public rivalry becomes increasingly difficult. Both nursing past heartbreaks and their careers hanging in the balance, they convince themselves that "just friends who sometimes kiss" is enough. A romantic comedy about finding love where you least expect it, learning to trust again, and the art of passive-aggressive thank-you notes.

Imaginaria by hinetti (M)

Crowley runs a popular podcast called "Imaginaria," where he talks about humanity's changing views of the universe. All is well... until it's not. He is currently faced with the task of writing a popular science book about the very things he talks about, and it's going terrible. Can an encounter with a Soho book restorer/bookshop owner help? A story about ideas, stars and soft love.

- Mod D

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

the quietest week in tusla was the week Darry bundled all seven boys up in two cars n drove them all a million miles away to the nearest beach. On contrast, the most disruptive week in tusla was the week immediately followin.

[uniiiquehecrt]

Voice actors are NOT the same as actors.

It takes a specific kind of skill-set and training to be able to warp and meld the voice. It takes a certain kind of talent and dedication to hone that talent into the ability to meld the voice and invoke emotion with one's voice alone. Actors are used to using their voice secondarily to their body language and their facial expressions. It's all mirrored back on camera. They do have nuance. But it's a different kind of nuance and a different kind of training to produce that nuance.

Voice actors might get their likeness transposed on their character's design, and maybe their mannerisms might seep into the character's animation. But when it's all said and done: their presence is in their voice. They are bringing a character to life, showing that emotion in their voice, trying to keep a specific accent, drawl, pitch, tone in that voice and keep it consistent for their recording sessions.

The voice actor is like a classically trained musician who can play first chair in a competitive, world-renown orchestra. The actor (who fills the voice actor's role) is like a moot who played violin in beginner and intermediate high school orchestra and thinks they can get into Juilliard with that 2-4 years of experience.

This doesn't mean that the HS orchestra moot can't play. They can even be really good at it. Maybe they won competitions and sat first chair. But they are not in the same league as the person who's been training their whole lives and lives and breathes to hone their craft using the instrument and all of the training they've ever acquired to perfect it. They are not meant for the same roles. They are not in the same caliber. You do not hire the HS equivalent when you want to play complex music in a competitive orchestra.

Actors are not the same as voice actors.

And furthermore, actors - especially big name actors - taking the roles of animated characters for big budget films or TV pilots makes no sense anyways when - at least in the case of TV pilots - there's not a point to hiring a big budget actors anyways. That money could be used elsewhere (like paying your animators), and the talent that is brought onto the screen for X character could then be hired on to voice said character no recasting required.

I wouldn't say voice acting as a profession is in danger exactly, but it's certainly being disrespected and overlooked for celebrity clout, and this has ALWAYS been an issue. Shoot, even Robin Williams knew that much - which is why he tried so hard not to be used as a marketing chess piece for Aladdin and got royally pissed off when it happened anyways. People shouldn't go to any movie (but especially not animated films) because "oh famous actor is in it". People should go because it's a good movie and the voice acting is good.

People who honest to god think that voice actors are replaceable because "oh well anyone can voice act" or "I like xyz celebrity so naturally it'll be good" ... Honestly I just wish you'd reassess your priorities because you're missing the point and are part of the problem.

Voice Actors ≠ Actors.

[sexycornenthusiast]

I hc that Sonia is really bad at cooking, straight up no idea what to do and every time she turns the stove on she's just guessing how high to turn it up (she's just like me fr). One time Kazuichi and Gundham watch her set a pot of instant noodles on fire -- which they weren't aware was even possible -- and Kaz is like "Wow Miss Sonia, I think that's the worst anyone's ever done it. You should get a medal" (in a genuinely awed and impressed way) and then she starts crying so Gundham steps in like "Yes, my queen, a magnificent display of your true dark powers!!"

And then they order delivery.

[feroluce]

Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.

So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!

But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.

According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.

He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!

So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.

Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.

And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.

And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.

Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.

Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.

Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...

One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.

Gepard doesn't sleep that night.

Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.

Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.

She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.

"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.

Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.

His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?

“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.

Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.

“We don't even know-”

“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.

It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.

The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.

“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-

Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”

Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”

Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed. 

Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.

“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”

“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.

From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light. 

The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.

He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.

Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.

Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.

Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.

In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.

Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.

He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.

He only hopes that it's enough.

[wxwood-official]

Genuinely so curious who Mike thinks is gonna be buying The Cage or the new DCTL GN bc with the way he tweets as far as he's concerned, it's not gonna be:

The queer people he has actively admitted he will never show any representation of in the games.

2. The POC he has actively fought against representing in his franchise. [Who he also mocked for thinking they would be represented in his franchise]

3. The Bendy fandom which has always been concerned with topics of diversity esp in the sense of queer people since its creation. Who he has responded to really poorly esp in regards to the GN.

4. The fans who critique him. [He blocked me for doing so lol]

5. His fans in general who he tweets about like this currently. [He's being vague about why people were mad at him or sent him 'nasty messages' because if you actually looked into why you'd see he was in the wrong. Either way, a very hateful way to speak abt ur own fanbase.]

Reminder while Mike is trash talking his fans he has always treated them rather poorly. The fans who won the fanart contest for Chapter 5 never got their posters actually in game due to it being rushed. Not only was chapter 5 a big slap to the face story wise, but it was literally so rushed he couldn't be bothered to add in the art his fans gave him for his game FOR FREE. [Meatly blames this on a crazy timeline, reminder him and Mike are the literal ceos of this company. The proposal of future updates here is also pretty cruel considering Mike nowadays happily admits he corrupted Chapter 5's source code and therefore literally can't update it At All currently. Because he is a moron]

At least they got to be in Boris and the dark survival, and by that I mean that was the Only game they got to be in so far, isn't that just treating your fans like you love them? Shoving their hard work into a spin off game almost nobody has played or addresses much. [Hell, who knows if with the Lone Wolf rebrand they'll even stay there. In which case they'll be in None of the games, only in the credits of BATIM]

6. The Bendy fans who just generally disagree with him on stuff. Like the new ink demon design where there is literally a public poll showing people generally prefer the old one.

7. The Bendy fans who can see he is actively lying to them. To their fucking faces.

He says this has always been the case, but screenshots and links to tweets regarding the books being canon prove it was not. Does he really think bendy fans are stupid or something? [Unless he's admitting here he lied to Kress when he told her the books were canon which sounds worse!]

8. Anyone who doesn't like the idea of giving money to a guy who laid off tons of employees then afterwards thought it was a great idea to express his anti-union views! Also brag about how good of an employer he was, according to his employees, he was not!

So in summary; Mike is an awful person who has not learned anything from the awful things he did. I will not be purchasing The Cage because, combined with this and his absolute refusal to take any kind of critique or see any differing interpretation of his franchise, I have no reason to think my problems with the franchise will ever be addressed or fixed. I probably will pirate The Cage along with any future Bendy Products [Including the movie] and will do my best to avoid giving it any kind of monetary support. Unless this changes any time soon, I can't see myself making anymore positive Bendy posts soon.

Mike has just managed to make it so hard to speak positively or optimistically of this franchise when he's so willing to broadcast how little he cares about it or its fans. I'm at the point where I refuse to pull any of my punches with my problems with it. What's the point of trying to play nice with my critique when either way the people creating it don't care?

So with this post, I want to invite anyone who feels similarly about the franchise to tell me, make a post or send an ask talking about how all of this makes you feel. It may not change how things are, but genuinely seeing other people share my feelings of anger makes me feel better. It feels nice to see when other people share our same concerns and worries. I'd also love to know if anyone else thinks they'll be avoiding purchasing Bendy products over this.

I'm not forcing anyone to participate in it nor trying to say anyone who doesn't supports mike but genuinely maybe if we can collectively decide to boycott things like the movie, graphic novel and The Cage... It might at least make the bendy devs acknowledge how much they have destroyed their own fandom's faith and trust in them.

The way Mike tweets about his actions like he had no control over why people were mad at him at least proves to me he takes NONE of it back nor regrets it. If you didn't know about his actions and only went off his tweets, you would be led to believe Mike has been needlessly picked apart by fans over things he couldn't control [or in his own words, had his words twisted and taken out of context]. That is not how you speak about your actions if you have actually learned better from them.

anyway, that has been my bendy dev callout post. This is an open invitation to anyone feeling similarly upset about the way the franchise is going to talk about it. It's genuinely nice to see how people feel about this and the more we talk about the more it's likely the bendy devs are forced to address our concerns. I don't think they will but hey, that's why I'm not gonna support them with my money anymore nor am I gonna be nice to them in any content I make critiquing Bendy. I mean I'm also basically making this post just in case anyone asks me Why I feel this way towards to bendy devs/as a way to respond to anyone who thinks I am too harsh in my critique in the future.

As always, it seems the best part of Bendy isn't actually anything about canon but about what the fan's are creating with the ideas Bendy failed to do anything interesting with.

Also the books, the books slap.

[koipalm]

what if even tho sy is just an assistant sometimes disciples ask him questions bc he's weirdly well read for some dude who just spawned in one day and he'll just Answer shit if it's innocent enough. how does x demon fight? where would you find y monster? and his little hyper fixation brain just rears its head. just a weirdly helpful little scrunkly

RIIIIIGHT RIGHT RIGHT RIGHT. to the disciples hes just this guy that their shizun keeps around that knows weird obscure facts. disciples go to him like hes their personal xianxia google. i think it would be REALLLLYY funny if when sy realized his position in the sect hed be like "oh god im failing these kids. they need moral support they need 3 meals a day they need to know what kind of plant they can use to ward off Six Legged Snow Panthers" or smth like that. im not sure hes in a good headspace to really figure out how to take care of kids actually

[girlwiththegreenhat]

i genuinely love when you can tell an older show was Not made with high quality video viewing in mind. i am watching knight rider and constantly seeing all the little mistakes they surely brushed under the rug thinking nobody would see them on their crunchy little CRTs back in the 80s, that are huge attention grabbers now in HD fullscreen on my 3 foot computer monitor

the biggest one of course is all the drivers/controllers for the (in-universe) self driving car, kitt. there's guys tucked down in the footwells who can't always stay out of the shot. there's a guy who has a Car Seat Suit to blend in and look like the drivers seat from a distance, but you can always tell when that's the method they're using for a particular shot because its so much thicker than the passenger seat next to it and the headrest is missing it's cutout section. in at least one instance he starts taking the suit off too early, on a focus shot of the damn car, so its REAL visible.

all the extremely obvious stunt drivers or performers who look nothing like the character they're supposed to be

props, such as animals, vanishing from the car interior for stunt/race sequences.

the production crew (or their shadows) being visible in the background. only at a glance, but its especially hilarious in shots where nobody else is supposed to be around

the camera panning out from a sound stage set far enough that you can actually see over the edges of the set and into the stage they were filming in. mostly this happens with their truck trailer mobile unit thing.

this one isn't a mistake but every time the car "turbo jumps" they CLEARLY hide the ramp behind another car, a prop, the environment, and its just. so charming. sometimes its blatantly on screen just for a moment. like... of Course in real life this car isn't magically leaping 20 feet, of course its a ramp, but it's still so silly and fun to be reminded of how they were doing those stunts to begin with.

also not really a mistake but related, the bracket they keep on the front of the car for stunt work.... is just left on half the time. cuz it's a pain to take on and off.

and there are more examples that are more unique that haven't cemented themselves in my head well yet, but these are the more notable or common things i see and it's really charming. if i'm not giggling to myself noticing the "seams" and flaws and so human imperfections of your show or movie what EVEN is the point. hollywood is too flashy these days i think!

[7roaches]

perfectly normal simom posting

[apopcornkernel]

batman: track and field au

author's note: i just miss track and field varsity even though i wasnt even that good... and ive been thinking about batman track and field au for FOREVER. so today i wrote a bit 📝

things u need to know: bruce is not batman. he's a coach at a school where the rest of the justice league teaches. yes, they're still the justice league. and yes, his robins still end up as vigilantes. jason is 15 in this; the joker hasn't gotten to him yet. also i added some characters ahead of the timeline bc i love them :/

Jason stumbles over from the finish line, grinning and sweat-drenched. And then his face screws up in sudden distress, and he promptly wobbles and collapses onto the hot stadium mat.

A half-formed sound of alarm—

Bruce leaps over the bleacher railing and sprints.

A poor, well-meaning race official gets there first, but Bruce shoulders him roughly aside and crouches by Jason. Jason has turned on his side, holding his right knee tight to his chest and making little pained gasps.

It tears at his heart. “Jason,” Bruce says.

Jason’s eyes are screwed shut, and he says nothing, but one of his hands reach blindly in Bruce’s direction and Bruce grasps it tightly.

“You were terrific, chum.” He squeezes, and feels the tremor that goes through his son. “Stretch your leg out for me.”

Jason shakes his head. “Hurts—”

“I know. I know. Please, Jay.”

It’s slow, and excruciating, but between the two of them they manage to get Jason sitting up, his leg extended straight against the ground. One hand of Bruce’s presses down firmly on the knee, and the other pushes his foot to flex, the metal spikes of Jason’s shoes digging hard into the callused flesh of Bruce’s palm. Jason leans back on his hands, spread flat against the ground, head tilted up to open, cloudless sky, exhaling drawn-out, shaky breaths.

The speakers blare out the next events—second call for Male C’s 400-meter hurdles, and third call for Female B’s high jump. The left side of the crowd begins clapping on beat for their star javelin thrower as she rocks back on her feet, once, twice, and begins bounding forward. Bruce makes a displeased noise. He hopes his throwers remember to pay attention.

A mosquito buzzes by Bruce’s ear and he shakes his head sharply to drive it away. The sweat has been beading at his hairline all throughout, and now it rolls torturously slow down his face. As his hands are otherwise occupied, he makes no move to wipe it, and does his best to ignore the unpleasant sensation.

At last, Jason’s breathing evens out. He tugs his leg gingerly away from Bruce’s hold, cheeks flushed with exertion and, doubtless, embarrassment. “Thanks.”

Bruce sits back on his haunches and wipes the sweat off his face. “Ready to stand?”

Jason raises a hand, wincing as he tests the muscles of his leg. “One sec.”

Bruce nods shortly. Jason safe, his attention wanders over to the bleachers. Tim, thank God, is dragging Damian away from the high railing. Dick and Cass are eating lunch with much avidity—Dick’s best event, high jump, had just ended before Jason’s, and Cass seems to have just returned from shot put. Duke and Stephanie are nowhere in sight, and for a moment Bruce is alarmed, but then he spots them at the stage and relaxes. Duke must have won his high jump—he stands on the highest podium, and even from here Bruce can tell he’s grinning—and Stephanie is clicking away on the school camera next to the official photographer.

As he watches Stephanie turn the camera backward and attempt to take a selfie with Duke, there’s a tap on his thigh. Bruce extends his hand without looking and grasps the hand that interlocks with his, pulling Jason up with ease.

Bruce glances at Jason, and notes how he squints against the glaring afternoon. “Remember to reapply your sunscreen when you get back.”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Not everyone is ghost-white like you.”

“You do not have to be ghost-white to get skin cancer.”

Jason grumbles, but when Bruce raises an imperious eyebrow at him, he raises his hands in surrender. “Fine. Whatever you say, boss.”

“Good. And, Jay...” Bruce reaches out, tentative, and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I meant it. You did terrific.”

Jason beams, bright enough to outshine the day, and something in Bruce’s chest uncurls into warmth.

[pikkish]

idk if this is a good prompt but put doomguy in myhouse.wad I think he would find it enriching

Right, so I've been mulling on this one for a little bit now, n I'm not opposed to writing something for you, I'm just not... entirely sure what to write? Because the thing is, myhouse.wad doesn't actually really have anything to do with Doom as a story. Sure, Doom is important in that it's the vessel through which the story is told and one of the connections between the narrator and his dead companion. But as far as Doom itself goes, and the story about a man who was too angry/stupid to die, fighting demons and saving earth, none of that is at all relevant to myhouse.wad and its story. For all intents and purposes, Doomguy isn't actually a character in myhouse.wad. So I'm not really sure how exactly to fit him in there.

[chaoortu]

see i do love writing and the winner is and im starting to plot out some of the stuff that happens when the kids are older and just. the way charlie is outnumbered by his orange children... it really gets me. their family photos it's just him and kitty with their dark hair and then boom. nick copy and pasting his genetics onto the rest of their kids, which is funny bc charlie swore up and down nick copy and pasted kitty but NOPE. Katherine looks the MOST like Charlie as she gets older and the rest of the kids sans Mattie look like miniature Nicks. esp Beatrice.

[pocketramblr]

more Cadmus gripe time because I just finished the last boy on earth arc and ughhhh SB was so devastated to return home and find everyone gone, and we saw that Roxy spent weeks trying so hard to find him when everyone else said he was gone and good riddance, she even found Robin's number and asked Batman for help, she even went to see if Knockout knew anything, and everyone at Cadmus knows this- and when SB comes back from spending months as an amnesiac captive and wants so badly to see his friends again, they don't use their incredible resources to track down Roxy and help reunite them, they take him to Paris and claim it's because giving him a new scenery and something to hit will do him good and get his mind off it, but then it turns out they just want to field test him and get him to work for them. SB going from being exploited by Leech to exploited by Cadmus is bridged by a story where he's literally stripped of all agency and the ability to speak for himself and I'm going to scream.