#from a series of batshit insane dreams

[thewiglesswonder]

Ah, first snow of the season. We meet again.

[oxydiane]

sns is so fucking unhinged and nobody will ever be them i’m sorry. you start the series and it’s like oh haha look at these goofy angsty rivals! they hate each other! then sasuke dies for naruto thirty chapters in giving up his dream of revenge and naruto goes batshit insane. now you’re like ah they’re friends i guess that’s cute! and sasuke is trying to kill naruto because he’s the most important person in his life which is . ok and it becomes the driving force of everything or something. sasuke leaves and naruto dedicates the rest of his life to bringing him back and you’re still a casual fan so ur like he’s doing it for the promise right? then orochimaru says sasuke is his and naruto goes batshit insane feral homicidal (again) and after that sasuke reappears and they have ??? like five different panels dedicated to them staring at each other??? and he jumps off a mountain and hugs naruto for some reasons just to whisper some gay shit in his ear kishimoto frankly needs to be jailed drawing this and keep that best friend nonsense going. anyways. you have sasuke become a convicted terrorist to which the normal people response is “ok we need to hunt him down” and when naruto learns they’re gonna hunt him down he starts screaming crying throwing up he has a panic attack he can’t breathe he’s falling in the snow he gets on his knees and begs them to spare his BFF. after having a meltdown over the thought of sasuke dying what may possibly be the natural coping mechanism any stable person would adapt? of course realising that if sasuke dies he can die too. so he sees sasuke again and after he attempts murdering sakura twice and expresses the intent to murder kakashi he’s like. i will bear the burden of your hatred and die with you hehe and if we both die you won’t be an uchiha and i won’t be the jinchuuriki to the nine tails and we’ll be able to understand each other better in a different lifetime! WE’LL MEET AGAIN IN THE AFTERLIFE BECAUSE NOT EVEN DEATH CAN DO US PART! and sasuke (just as insane as him) doesn’t even flinch he’s like what the fuck is wrong with you but then ok let’s fuckingggf die together on my god i will kill your first anyways . then they find out they are soulmates and get cute matching tattoos on their hands and decide to fight to the death once more because sasuke is back on his i will shoulder all the hatred of the world alone and i need to kill you because i love you more than anyone else in the world actually you’re the only person i love so you need to DIE and naruto is like I WILL NOT LET YOU SHOULDER THAT HATRED ALONE I WILL FREE YOU FROM THE PAIN and they fight and despite all the whatever weapons used in the war it’s a fuckinggg fistfight in which just as sasuke is about to inflict what he thinks is the last blow says “farewell… my one and only…………………. (very long pause to accentuate how heteronormative this next word is gonna be) FRIEND” and fucking stops using his sharingan because not even then he can record the image of naruto dying especially by his hand but naruto STOPS HIM LIKE A f cHAMP and they end up blowing each other’s arms off (rip the matchies) and as they’re bleeding to the fucking death sasuke is like you’re the only person that has never tried to severe their ties with me why do you go so far for me and naruto from the depths of comphet hell is like because you’re my FRIEND and sasuke being absolutely done with this bullshit is like ok what the fuck does that mean to you then and this is where it gets even gayer and relatable because naruto is like i don’t KNOW i just know that when you hurt i hurt and i just can’t take it and isn’t that the most gay experience thing ever? naruto knows what it feels like to have friends but what he feels for sasuke is so bone deep and unconventional that he cannot make sense of it and can only describe the pain it brings. after that sasuke CRIES LIKE THEYVE GOT ME SOOO FUCKED UP but you know what got me even more fucked up?

naruto waking up bloodied and battered and half alive with one arm missing but still wondering if that was heaven because sasuke was next to him. sasuke looking so happy and peaceful when saying “i lost” as a stark contrast to him looking and feeling like half of his body was being torn apart when he “won” against naruto in vote1 and left him. the bitterness of victory vs the sweetness of losing if you will. AND HIM COMPARING WHAT HE FEELS FOR NARUTO TO PRAYING MY GODD. did i forget to mention that then we learn that Ohhh it was never a stupid shallow rivalry as we all thought! they have actually been watching each other from afar since they were little freshly traumatised children and have longed to hold each other’s hands since then! what was it sasukeeee you felt warm and fuzzy when you saw naruto to thought of it as a weakness? these two are so astronomically hopelessly desperately obsessed in love with each other it’s ridiculous i’ve had ENOUGH free me from this mental prison

[turtle-loving-enby]

The greatest thing about a franchise that is as long-running as TMNT (Almost 40 years at this point!) is that some of the most batshit insane things will happen at some point. My favourite examples:

At the end of the first 90's movie, Shredder gets thrown off a roof and into a garbage truck. Casey Jones pulls the lever that sets the trucks machinery into action, therefore crushing the Shredder.

In one episode of the 2012 series, Mikey has to rescue his brothers from a Mutant pizza that is zombiefying people. At the end of the episode, it is left unclear whether this actually happened or if it was just a dream caused by eating too much pizza.

Also in the 2012 series, Raph can talk to pidgeons. It is never explained how exactly this works.

In Rise of the TMNT, the turtles are trapped in an 80's movie makeover montage by a hippo magician. They escape it by smashing a speaker that plays the hypnotising music keeping them trapped there.

In the first episode of the '87 iteration, a woman pulls out a gun from a baby carriage and tries to shoot the turtles.

This is all I have for now, but feel free to add on!

[bzurk]

what gets dirtier the more it cleans?

series masterlist:

thursday, week two:

cw: dubcon dubcon dubcon, noncon voyeurism

This is batshit, irredeemably insane. Absolutely morally reprehensible on every level, completely intolerable on every level of your consciousness. The guilt only hits you when you’re at home, greeting your friendly elderly neighbours who have no idea that you just got barebacked by your impossibly hot boss in the house that he shares with your three other bosses, two of whom you have also had inside of you in some way.

You’ve managed to make a decent living for yourself. It’s not exactly rewarding to look at your bank account knowing that a decent portion of the reason you’re still able to live on your own is thanks to your depraved son-of-a-bitch bosses. But now, for the first time in months, you have enough money to cover rent and all your expenses and still manage to bolster your accounts. Is this what savings is?

You wake up on Thursday with an unfamiliar lightness in your chest. It's the kind of morning where everything seems possible, where the world outside your window is filled with sunshine and the promise of a better day. For the first time in what feels like forever, your bank account isn't a source of dread but a symbol of something you've never truly had before: security.

You laugh to yourself as you get ready for the day, feeling like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

You get into your car, humming along to the music playing on the radio, and head to the mansion. The drive feels shorter than usual, the sun's rays warming your skin through the window, and you allow yourself to relish the momentary bliss.

As you pull into the driveway, you notice something new - a sleek, unfamiliar car parked in the open garage next to the vehicle you recognize as Price’s. The sight brings a smile to your face, a tiny spark of hope that today might go smoothly. The new car must belong to either Kyle or Johnny, or a visitor. With two people in the house, they won’t try anything, and you find comfort in that.

You park your car and step out, the gravel crunching under your feet as you approach the garage. The mansion stands tall and inviting. Today, it feels more like a sanctuary than a place of unease.

The moment you step inside, you’re greeted by a wave of warmth and the heavenly aroma of baked goods and freshly brewed tea. It’s a welcoming scent that wraps around you like a hug, dispelling any lingering worries you might have had. The house feels alive, humming with a gentle energy that puts you at ease, filled with the incoherent buzz of the television in the next room and feet against the floorboards.

The kitchen is your first stop, where you find a plate of freshly baked scones on the counter, their golden crusts still warm from the oven. A pot of tea sits beside them, steam curling invitingly from the spout. It's a scene out of a cozy dream, and you can’t help but smile at the unexpected sight. Your list for the day sits neatly beneath the plate, and when you reach for it, the first task is:

"have a scone. freshly baked :)

- johnny"

Followed by the neat, loopy scrawl of Price, underlined multiple times:

Dishes.

The sunlight streams through the large windows, casting playful patterns on the polished floors, and for once, you allow yourself to enjoy the beauty of your surroundings without the usual undercurrent of tension, the buttery, light dough melting in your mouth.

As you wander from room to room, tidying up as you go, you catch snippets of conversation from the living room. It’s Kyle and Price, their voices a comforting backdrop to your chores.

“Did you see the match last night?” Kyle’s voice carries through the hall, filled with excitement.

“Yeah, can’t believe they pulled it off,” Price replies, his tone light and airy. “Simon nearly had a heart attack.”

Their voices are low, relaxed, and for once, devoid of any hidden innuendo aimed your way. You take a deep breath, letting the normalcy of the moment seep into your bones.

As you clean, you find yourself humming a tune, the tasks that usually feel like a weight on your shoulders now light and manageable. The mansion is alive with warmth and laughter, and you soak it in, grateful for the reprieve. The hours pass by in a blur of domestic bliss. You clean, organize, and dust.

By the time you’ve almost finished your duties, the setting sun paints the mansion in a warm, golden hue, casting long shadows over the polished floors and elegant furniture. The light reflects off the clean surfaces, making them gleam in the sunlight. The cool breeze brushes against your skin, rustling the leaves on the trees and making them whisper their secrets. With your trusty mop and bucket at the ready, you move through the rooms, erasing any evidence of your presence with ease.

When you open the door to the living room, it’s bathed in a honeyed light, illuminating Kyle's relaxed figure on the lounge, his smile genuine and inviting.

“Hard at work as usual,” he says, a genuine smile on his handsome face as he tips his beer to you in greeting.

“Just finishing up. I’m almost done for the day.” You wave around the mop head, eager to get his eyes off you. His eyes never leave your face, but it offers little reassurance, not since Johnny offered you a peek inside his head. A kind facade. “I can come and do this room later if you’d like.”

Kyle chuckles and shakes his head, setting the beer down on the table beside him. “Nonsense,” he insists, gesturing to the empty seat beside him with a pat to the cushions. “Take a load off. You've been on your feet all day.”

You hesitate, a flicker of uncertainty passing through your mind. The last thing you want is to be alone in a room with him, not after everything that’s happened. Still, it seems impolite to outright refuse, and there’s a part of you that longs for a moment of rest, a chance to sit and breathe.

“Thank you,” you reply, though your voice carries a note of reluctance that you can’t quite mask. With careful steps, you move to the couch, setting your cleaning supplies aside before lowering yourself onto the cushion, your posture stiff and wary.

Kyle watches you with a relaxed air, leaning back into the couch as if this were the most natural thing in the world. You can feel his gaze, the weight of it pressing against your skin, and it takes all your willpower to meet his eyes without flinching.

“See?” He grins, his tone easy and conversational. “Isn’t this better? You’ve been running yourself ragged. You deserve a break.”

You nod, forcing a polite smile to your lips. “I guess so. It’s been a busy day.”

His laughter is soft, almost affectionate, and it sends a strange shiver down your spine. “Busy, sure, but look at this place. You’ve done a brilliant job. We’d be lost without you.”

There’s sincerity in his words, a genuine appreciation that makes your heart stumble in your chest.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, broken only by the distant hum of the house settling around you. You keep your gaze on the floor, on the intricate pattern of the rug beneath your feet, anything to distract yourself from the awareness of Kyle’s presence beside you.

It’s when you least expect it that you feel the warmth of his hand, a gentle weight settling on your leg. Your breath catches in your throat, panic fluttering beneath your skin.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and find a playful smirk dancing across his lips.

“There, now. Is this so bad?” he asks, his voice a low murmur that makes your heart race.

You swallow hard, trying to summon the strength to speak, to set a boundary that seems impossible to enforce. “Kyle, I- ”

“Relax,” he soothes, his fingers trailing softly over the fabric of your pants before leaving with a soft pat. “You can trust me, you know. I just want to talk, to get to know you a bit better.” The words are honeyed, smooth and coaxing, but there’s a shadow behind them, a subtle promise that leaves you on edge.

“I appreciate the gesture, but I really should get back to work,” you say, your voice shaky but determined. “Still on the clock and all.”

Kyle's smile remains fixed, but his eyes narrow slightly, a hint of hurt flickering before it's quickly masked by his charming facade. “I understand,” he says, his voice smooth. “Work ethic is important. But don’t forget to take care of yourself too, yeah? You’re allowed a break, y’know.”

He gently squeezes your knee before tugging, a sudden, smooth motion, and he pulls your legs into his lap.

You tense up, your heart skipping a beat. This feels like crossing a line, a boundary you hadn’t realized you’d been holding onto. The sudden change in your position sends a ripple of unease through your body, and you instinctively try to pull away.

“Hey, relax,” Kyle says, his tone soothing and cajoling. His hands begin to knead your muscles, thumbs pressing into your calf, working out imaginary knots. “You’re tense. Let me help you a bit.”

Your instincts scream at you to get up, to leave, to flee. But you’re also keenly aware of the delicate balance in your job, your role here. Despite the alarm bells going off in your head, you can’t afford to make things uncomfortable - any more uncomfortable - between you and these men.

His fingers press into your muscles, and the massage is surprisingly deft, the pressure firm enough to momentarily distract you from your swirling thoughts. He focuses on the screen, occasionally glancing at you with a lazy, comfortable grin.

It feels surreal, like you’re floating outside your body, watching the scene unfold. You try to ground yourself by focusing on the game playing on the television. A soccer match, the sound of excited commentary mingling with the muted clinking of ice against glass as Kyle takes a sip of his drink.

“You watch soccer?” Kyle asks casually, keeping his eyes on the game.

“Not really,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been much into sports.”

“Shame,” he says, his hands moving to your ankle, thumb circling your joint with surprising tenderness. “Could get into it. There’s a lot of beauty in the game, y’know? Strategy, skill, passion; all the good stuff.”

His touch, though unwelcome, is undeniably skilled, and you have to fight the instinct to relax into it. You can’t let yourself fall into complacency, not here, not now.

Kyle seems to sense your discomfort, glancing at you with a playful glint in his eye. “Am I making you nervous?”

You manage a small, tense smile. “Just not used to... this.”

“Well, we’re all friends here,” he says with a reassuring chuckle. “No need to be nervous. We look out for each other.”

The words linger in the air, a double-edged sword that cuts through the tension. With an effort, you pull your legs back, sitting up straighter and forcing a light laugh. “Thanks for the break, Kyle. I really should finish up my tasks for the day.”

You begin to stand, attempting to extricate yourself from the situation with as much grace as you can muster, but Kyle’s hand darts out, snagging your wrist with an unexpected firmness. Before you can react, he gives a gentle but insistent tug, and you stumble backward, landing squarely in his lap.

The world tilts on its axis, your heart hammering wildly in your chest. The air feels thick, laden with tension, as you find yourself ensnared in an intimate closeness that sets every nerve alight.

“Hey now,” he murmurs softly, his voice a low rumble that vibrates against your back. His arms circle your waist in a loose embrace, fingers brushing against your sides with a feather-light touch. “No need to rush off just yet. We’re having a nice chat, aren’t we?”

Your mind races, grasping for the right words, the appropriate response that will let you navigate this precarious situation without igniting further conflict. “I, uh- Kyle, this really isn’t-”

His breath is warm against your ear, sending shivers cascading down your spine. “Don’t worry,” he says, his tone still light, almost playful. “I don’t bite. Just thought you might like a little company after a long day.”

A flicker of annoyance rises in you, mingling with the discomfort that knots your stomach. The presumption of his actions, the way he dismisses your boundaries with such casual ease - it’s infuriating.

“Company is nice,” you reply, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. “But I really do need to finish up. I’ve still got a few things left on my list.”

Kyle’s grip on you doesn’t loosen; instead, his hand moves in slow, languid circles over your hip, a touch that’s meant to be soothing but only serves to amplify your nerves. “Thought you said you were almost done. All work and no play, huh?” He chuckles, the sound low and indulgent. “You need to learn how to relax a bit more.”

The suggestion hangs in the air, thick with implications, and you shift slightly, trying to create some space between you. He’s just inches from you now, his gaze sliding from your reddened cheeks to the pink tongue that pokes out to wet your lips.

“Now isn’t the time to relax,” you grumble, turning your head away to avoid the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. You shift your hips slightly in an attempt to create some space between you and the man who is clearly enjoying making you flustered. But your movements freeze as you feel his hardness beneath you.

Noticing your stiffening, Kyle chuckles and rolls you in his lap. You still can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, feeling a bit embarrassed as arousal starts to build in your stomach.

He laughs again, and your heart skips a beat as he reaches up to tangle his fingers in your hair, forcing you to look at him. With a quick jerk, he pulls your head forward and captures your lips with his own. You gasp, gripping his shoulders tightly, but he doesn't let up. He wraps his arm around your back and pulls you closer until your bodies are pressed together, and his erection is pressing against the heat between your

“Wait- But Price-” you manage between heated kisses. Kyle’s teeth nip at your bottom lip in annoyance, and before you can blink, he has adjusted your position. You now find yourself with your back pressed into the couch cushions, Kyle caging you in with one of his arms as the other reaches toward-

You squeak in surprise, attempting to press your legs closed, but Kyle’s hand is already there, his fingers pushing against your clothed pussy, and he doesn’t miss the way your thighs clench around his hands.

“I- You-” you stutter, frustrated in more ways than one. His teeth skim your throat, fingers rubbing circles into your clit.

“Three other men not enough for you? Greedy princess.”

“Stop talking,” you whine out.

Your breath catches as he curls not one, but two digits into your tight heat, sinking them as deep as he can.

“You’re so wet, princess...”

He presses a kiss against your skin, teeth nipping at the unmarred flesh, and you give his hair another tug, but when Kyle pulls his fingers out of you and shoves a third in without warning. A heady groan bubbles in your throat, hips instinctively pressing into the couch cushions to adjust the angle of Kyle’s fingers. He chuckles, his hot breath fanning across your collarbone, and his cock strains against his slacks, becoming impossible to ignore.

Without warning, Kyle’s fingers slip out of you, and you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. Your pants slide down your thighs as Kyle gets a good look at your sopping pussy.

He pulls you to your knees, using his thumbs to spread apart your folds and reveal everything you have to offer. Your face flushes with embarrassment as more blood rushes to your cheeks.

As you half consider reaching back to slap him, two sounds catch your attention.

The first is the sound of Kyle's zipper sliding down, his erect member brushing against your dampness as he positions himself behind you.

The second is the creaking of the floorboards, signaling Price's return to the room.

Before you can react, Kyle thrusts forward and fills you completely with his cock. You let out a surprised cry that causes Price's eyes to widen in shock before turning into a satisfied smile, his blue irises dancing playfully. Your heart races as you grip onto the couch and bury your face into the cushion beneath you. While Kyle remains focused on his movements inside you, Price's watchful gaze only intensifies your pleasure.

However, amidst all this arousal, you feel a hint of shame knowing that Price is watching you so closely. The only thing keeping you sane is the fact that Kyle still hasn't touched your throbbing clit or found your sweet spot inside you.

“Here,” suddenly, Price's voice breaks through the haze above you as he firmly presses down on the centre of your back and raises your hips higher up. As Kyle continues to move inside you, you let out a sob at the overwhelming sensation.

Kyle stops momentarily, and in embarrassment, you blindly flail your fist out and manage to hit Price in the thigh. He chuckles and comforts you by rubbing your hair before retreating to an armchair across from the couch. Without skipping a beat, Price takes a sip of tea he had prepared earlier and refocuses his attention on the two of you.

"Well, don't stop," he says with a loud slurp before returning to his observation.

Kyle grins wickedly, and without bothering to warn you, he doubles his pace.

The slapping of skin echoes through the room alongside muffled moans and heavy panting. The thrust of Kyle’s cock between your walls unravels you a bit further, your sanity feeling like it may slip away, and you desperately continue hiding your face from view.

Apparently, Kyle isn't a fan of shyness.

"Come on, honey," he says, his fingers snarled in your hair as he pulls your head back. "No need to be shy in front of the captain, right?" He deliberately tilts your head towards Price, whose gaze has turned hazy with desire. "Or," Kyle adds, thrusting harder, making you gasp and whimper uncontrollably, "you're just trying to hide how much I'm turning you on?" His laugh is breathy and smug.

You release a shuddering breath when he lets go of your hair, his chest pressing against your back as he leans his weight on top of you, pinning you to the couch.

"Move," you gasp, pushing your hips back against him. He responds by nipping at your exposed skin, eliciting a whine from your lips. But he complies with your request.

As he leans back, his grip on your hips tightens and he resumes thrusting into you. You moan in pleasure, arching your back and tightening your muscles around him. His breath catches in his throat.

"Damn," he pants, his gloved fingers sliding up to grab onto the soft flesh of your rear. He furrows his brow and clenches his jaw as he feels himself approaching climax. His movements become frantic, hips thrusting faster, and although you're also close to reaching release, it's clear that he won't last long enough to see you through it.

Shifting your arm back and wiggling your hand between your thighs, you attempt to stimulate your clit. But just as your fingers make contact with the bundle of nerves, Kyle forcefully smacks your hand away.

“Cum on my dick or don’t cum at all,” he tells you sternly, causing a sound of protest to escape your lips.

Desperately, you clench around him once more and arch your back in search of that sweet spot. “Please...” you pant, feeling his cock sliding over your g-spot.

Your pleading only turns Kyle on even more, and he eagerly fulfills your wish by driving into you again and again until you're moaning and cursing under his touch. Your climax hits hard, extended by Kyle's enthusiastic thrusts, and he groans in response.

Breathless and satisfied, he continues pounding into you a few more times before finally reaching his own release. With a satisfied sigh, he releases his grip on you and lets you slump against the couch cushions.

You grumble, clearly annoyed by his lack of gentleness, but Kyle simply sits back and gives your ass a friendly pat.

You can already see the numbers in your bank account rising.

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: "Julith et Jahash" - Part 1

In the past, I said that I would wait for a translation that is currently in the making in the russian fandom. However, because I am weak, and want to keep this blog going asap, I lied. (This liveblog will be very slow due to this, so be warned.)

This comic will let us understand Joris better... while literally all of his personality, morals, body language, and tastes, are a product of Kerubim, — this might shed light on A. family history, that might dictate his physiology (what if Julith randomly says she has an allergy? This isn't real, but it would be big for Joris lore), and the things he went through after the movie: what experience he would have with the huppermage culture, which he was cut off from for his entire life thus far.

Question: is there a single member of this family who DOESN'T fish??

Kramdam is a part of Rok Island, the name of which will be familiar to you if you're A. a player of the MMOs, B. batshit insane about Joris lore.

It might be silly, for me to point this out, but listen: the movie, the series, they all happen hundreds of years before the Dofus MMO, — so to have confirmation that Rok Island is that old, is very interesting.

I had previously said that huppermages aren't very fond of cultures outside their own, and I want to elaborate, so that my words aren't misconstrued: Huppermages culture is, in a lot of ways, a mixture of different classes, — because a lot of huppermages aren't born huppermages, but instead, people who convert to this class, and a lot of their spells are inspired or taken from other classes. However, not assimilating fully is... very unwelcome.

Having a history of oppression and at least one genocide in the years after the movie, made huppermages very understandably conservative and closed-off. But this culture, as we'll see from this comic, had some pretty toxic traits even before those scars.

HOLY FUCKING SHIT. Like I already knew about this, but I want you to understand: the stupid fucking log thing is a family trait.

Do you think Joris told Bakara "I hate magic, I hate magic, I hate magic. I HATE WANDS. I HATE STAFFS. I KEEP BREAKING THEM. LET ME OUT. LET ME OUT OF THE ACADEMY. STOP HAVING ME BE ENROLLED!!!!" and the next day she brought him a fucking log. Do you think this is what happened.

So small, and already sure that she'll never be as good as her brother... man.

Also... Bakara and Joris looked very similar as kids. At least that's my opinion.

I didn't think this comic would make me emotional, but the Jurgen family having a thing for logs is making me violently ill.

It probably was Bakara who gave him that bright idea. And Kerubim was probably like "ok son, I am someone who also uses blunt weapons, I can teach you how to do this."

There isn't some "i like to use logs" gene, it was all just Joris preferring to use melee, Bakara's memories of Jahash's melee skills, and Kerubim's skill in melee fighting.

It is just... insane to me, how Joris ends up doing this one thing that his biological father liked to do, despite how different they are as people. Despite Joris likely feeling absolutely nothing towards the man.

Well, that, or he fucking hates Jahash, though probably not as much as Julith.

Think about it this way, — Jahash and Julith ruined his childhood by their reappearance. They ruined his life for the next few decades too, probably. And after? They would always be a shadow over his life, for as long as they are remembered. It's always either "you're evil and we don't trust you because you're Julith's son" (even though he knows that Julith was framed,) or "you're not good enough, even though you're Jahash's son. How come?" (even though he knows from Bakara that... Jahash was just a man. Even if it is hard for him to put together the almost-holy image of his father as seen on the stained-glass in a temple, and the image of him that Bakara talks about, — a human person, who had fears and dreams.)

The only way for Joris to live his own life, without any judgement or comparison, without being reminded of how shit his childhood was, is to wait for the World of Twelve to forget who the fuck a Julith and Jahash even are. It's logical for him to have some irrational resentment.

And yet he brings a log to a nuke fight in season 4. Jahash would never do this, because he got good at magic, but he WOULD approve.

His parents would have loved him a lot, if they had the chance.

List of things that Joris and Bakara share:

Neurotic perfectionist who struggles with self-hatred about their skills and their body.

Cute ass behaviours and expressions as children.

Alcoholism (this is my fanon for Joris. It came to me in a vision. He's just like Kerubim and Bakara, — needs to get shitfaced to cope.)

Haunted by Jahash's success in life, even though Jahash would NEVER have wanted either of them to be haunted.

Thin grabbable waist and twinkish/waifish looks as adults. (Joris is already a twink, despite his 3ft stature, but NEVER forget the official concept art of how Joris would look if he wasn't possessed by a dragon as an infant. He would be a tall, blonde, anime twink instead.)

Whisperers have, historically, been used as servants by Bontarians and Huppermages.

Though by Waven times, they are enemies of the state (at least dissenting ones), and Joris wants you to beat the shit out of them, for the sake of his beautiful nation. (because they're dissenting)

Jahash and Bakara grew up with their dad, Juvence Jurgen.

By huppermage standards, they lived in very unusual conditions.

"All huppermage towers are super-protected, we WILL die if we don't take precautions, so I will go ahead, and deliver the message myself."

Yeah, no, they're not typical huppermages. I guess Joris has a lot in common with Bakara and Jahash. (I keep making myself sad, thinking about this.)

He thinks that Jahash and Bakara are some local hicks/rednecks that the huppermage has been experimenting on, which raises many red flags. Like the fact that apparently, human experimentation is a thing that some huppermages do. Then he thinks that the huppermage is experimenting on his own kids.

The headcanon that Jahash might have had some learning disabilities that he gave to Joris as one last "sayonara you weaboo shit" genetical move, and that it was REALLY hard for him to learn magic and impossible for Joris, stays winning.

By the way, I guess this is a good time to give you the next, very funny piece of trivia:

Joris's name literally means "George George the Farmer Farmer".

I think it's likely that, historically, before Jahash's success in life, their family were just some random poverty-stricken farmers, who happened to be huppermages.

I'M SO FUCKING SAD ABOUT THEM.

Grandpa Jurgen is literally so fucking real.

THE HEADCANON THAT JAHASH MIGHT HAD LEARNING DISABILITIES THAT HE GAVE TO JORIS AS ONE LAST "SAYONARA YOU WEABOO SHIT" GENETICAL MOVE, AND THAT IT WAS REALLY HARD FOR HIM TO LEARN MAGIC AND IMPOSSIBLE FOR JORIS, STAYS WINNING.

Juvence really cares about his kids.

"If you don't do as master says, he will kill you and all your loved ones."

Guys I'm starting to think, that between this, the political intrigues, the bullying, the "using Bakara for PR while she becomes a teenage alcoholic and not giving a shit about her" thing, — that the huppermage academy and temple, are um.... not actually Good, as an institution.

To most this is "an honour," and yet, this random selection process chose a teenage huppermage who, by all accounts, can't do magic and doesn't know a single spell.

I'm so fucking sad.

You know what else these two quotes can apply to? Haha. well. I ask you to imagine Jahash's funeral, and—— [i collapse on the floor weeping]

"He was always more like a father to her, than an older brother."

I am going to crash my car into the sea. And I don't even have a car.

[armands-cuck-chair]

Personally, I love spoilers for The Vampire Chronicles because I'll see someone casually reference the most batshit insane thing I've ever heard, and somehow, when I finally get to that part in the series, it's even more buck wild than I thought it was going to be.

I get it now. I get the hype of the books. They're the most self-indulgent books I've ever read, like Anne Rice really just said "yeah, sure, this might as well happen," to every crazy idea her brain could come up with, but she writes it all with such fantastic prose. Every book is a wonderful, bizarre, sometimes deeply troubling, pyschosexual fever dream. About vampires. I'm hooked.

Anyways, I'll be starting Merrick soon! I think I've had enough time to recover from the emotional and psychic damage that The Vampire Armand dealt to me. 7 books to go!

[modernsuperhero]

Saddest thing in the world is that in an in-universe sense it is absolutely insane that Cleo is technically the sixth victor. Others have pointed it out but I thought the fact that their addition means all the victors are SOULMATE PAIRS WITH EACH OTHER, even including the CHOSEN SOULMATES, should make everyone batshit insane. And i would LOVE to uphold the time-honored tradition of taking something silly that doesn't really mean anything (like an april fool's prank "series") and drive blood from the stone making lore out of it. Also? Cleo was one of my top picks for people to root for victor the next season ANYWAY. DREAM COME TRUE. And yet, alas, as someone severely prone to migraines who already struggles to watch the minecraft videos I have, not only do a) Cleo's shaders make it impossible for me to get more than 2 minutes into any of her videos before my brain starts self-cannibalizing but b) it's VR. Which ALSO gives me migraines, without fail, no matter how cool it is and how often I try to force myself to gain an immunity through exposure. I've seen animated clips and references to Real Life but I PHYSICALLY CAN'T WATCH IT, in ANY pov, and this feels like my own personal hell. Like I want to nerd out and be meta and shit and I cannot. Dog on a leash with a treat just too far to reach

[plaguelily-art]

Artwork completed for @ferarepairweek. This was for Day 3, and I went with "Dreams". Okay, hear me out, I swear I can explain. So both Hubert and Ignatz wish they could fly on a pegasus, and Hubert compliments Ignatz's strategy in Ch6 of Scarlet Blaze in Three Hopes, and that got me wondering why they never got a support chain, which then led to me trying to figure out what that support chain would even look like, and then one thing led to the next and here we are. This is absolutely a crackship, and whether it turns into a ship I'm actually serious about remains to be seen. But hey, it wouldn't be a rarepair project for me if I didn't draw at least one batshit insane crackship that makes sense to me and no one else. Everyone should have a little chaos, as enrichment.

—————————————————————————

2023, Fall Digital (Adobe Photoshop) Ignatz and Hubert are characters from the Fire Emblem series, and belong to Intelligent Systems. Artwork belongs to me.

This image (published by the artist to deviantart.com/plaguelily, plaguelily-art.tumblr.com) may not be reproduced, copied, edited, republished, reuploaded, distributed, or redistributed in any way, and I do not give permission for the creation of any sort of derivatives of my work including the use of the work in datasets used for generation of AI art or any other sort of procedurally generated image program or software. Thank you.

[ozonecologne]

So, I love animation history, and I've been watching a lot of forgotten animated films for the last couple of weeks...

Fire and Ice (1983): the rotoscope thing is very interesting. I love Darkwolf's design and how hot Teegra is in those early scenes, but not much else. It looks too much like He-Man and the plot drags. 2/10

A Troll in Central Park (1994): charming at the heart of things. Especially with Dom DeLuise as Stanley -- what a comforting voice from my childhood. "Anything that's real starts with a dream." I do very much wish I could live in an underground garden paradise like a little socially awkward troll. 4/10

The Princess and the Goblin (1991): a little bizarre and not very compelling, but I love the bits with grandmother Irene. The way that the attic is animated to transform into an Edenic homestead is so beautiful. 4/10

Quest for Camelot (1998): have you ever wondered what Sinbad would have looked like if they had like half the budget and story? Eric Idle is going to hell. I want to fuck the griffin. 3/10

The Ringing Bell (1978): it's considered a classic for a reason! The idea that you create what will destroy you, and love it for doing so... the idea that when you force yourself to grow up you can never go back... There will come a time when you don't fit into your old life anymore, and you did that to yourself. You destroyed what part of you was innocent and belonged here, but you've also turned your back on the world that changed you. So where do you go? What are you now? What good is a strength that requires you face the world alone? 9/10

The Sea Prince and the Fire Child (or, The Legend of Sirius) (1981): a Romeo and Juliet retelling that kind of dragged, to be honest. I love the way that the fire is animated and the underwater backgrounds; they're whimsical but there's a real primordial quality to them that I like, because the ocean is weird! The sea god design is excellent and there are some sea creatures that are truly delightful, like the bunny fish and whatever Mabuse is supposed to be. Sirius is offputtingly noodly though, and he's 80% of the movie. Didn't love this one. 5/10

Faeries (1981): I cannot believe how they pronounce "Niamh" in this. The folklore designs are really cute though. 2/10

Freddie as FR07 (or, Freddie the Frog) (1992): terrible. I should make a video essay about this film because it is batshit insane in like the worst way. Completely not worth your time but I'd love to tell you about it sometime. 0/10

Felidae (1994): what is it about violent cat series that get at me!!!! A gory noir film made about cats solving a series of cat murders? Some of the imagery really was wild here; I loved the nightmare with Mendel and the puppet corpses. Trauma and eugenics and vengeance at the heart of this one too, the villain was without a doubt a monster but you still felt for them anyway. Decently scary and well-paced, a great tribute to the source material. Also, uncomfortable cat sex scene. 7/10

The Last Unicorn (1982): all of my female friends apparently decided to watch this one at the same time, and we all got weirdly emotional about it. To escape a fetishized genocide your body is violated and turned into something that will no longer interest the conquerers. You do not want this change because this is not your body. Every day is a torment knowing that you slip further and further away from what you know you are. Every day you forget more and more of what you used to be. Eventually, you wouldn't want to go back even if you could remember. Even if you are not happy, you are safe. You are alone, all alone with the ghosts that haunt your footsteps. 9/10

The Plague Dogs (1982): GOD ok. These poor things. These poor dogs haunted by pain that they don't deserve -- "I'm a good dog." "I don't think they're doing it because they think you're a bad dog." -- and are just trying to live a good life once they escape their captors. One of them even remembers life before the torture, when he had a comfortable home and love. But now he thinks it's his own fault he's lost it. They wander the wild, hopeless, unloved except by each other, and what can they do? The world is so much bigger than them. Every decision that shapes their lives is out of their hands, and has nothing to do with them. They're cursed by the narrative. They didn't ask for this. They don't even know what they're doing out here, or where they're meant to go; they have no purpose and no reason to keep fighting for their own survival except that it's the only thing they know how to do. You start this life treading water and you end it treading water. The water swallows you all the same. 10/10

Rock a Doodle (1991): Elvis chicken???????? 5/10

Happily Ever After (1989): truly one of the most bizarre films I've ever seen. A sequel to Snow White that quite literally no one asked for and no one saw coming. I am forever haunted by "dwarfelles." I do love the prince's grubby little creature design though, he's so cute! 1/10 for him only.

Once Upon a Forest (1993): I remember so vividly watching this one when I was home sick from school one time. I don't why it stuck with me; it's not very good. 3/10 because cute animal designs

Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland (1989): gorgeous. adorable. such beautiful paintings and incredible character design! there were so many people connected to this project and it's such a labor of love. it has such a ghibli style and feel about it even though that's not technically the studio that produced it! 8/10

I also tracked down some of The Animals of Farthing Wood (1993-1995), but I'd love to watch the whole thing sometime. The Redwall series is also on my list, I loved those books as a kid.

Definitely taking recommendations! Have you seen any weird animated films you need to inflict on others?

[whiskeysmulti]

🍉 🍌🍓🍈 for shoichi~

Random Headcanons- accepting!

.Whiskey. 🍉 - What is something they have done that they feel the most guilt over? How do they handle this guilt?  Does the guilt ever get resolved? As seen in the series Sho has a lot of guilt in him and I feel some of it's over nothing and just his anxiety getting to him. But there's also the guilt he has in knowing every parallel world he visited had been destroyed before and in those universes he probably blames himself for not doing anything to stop it. I feel it is resolved by the end of TYL as we've seen in the end of the series their universe is still standing and Byakuran isn't batshit insane and trying to rule the world then.

🍌 - Who is someone that makes them feel uncomfortable? How do they handle interactions with this person? What is the source of the discomfort? Lambo, believe it or not. Because it was because of meeting Lambo and learning about the 10 year bazooka that Sho even got knowledge of time travel and parallel worlds. He probably avoids Lambo now or at least tries to. It's awkward being around Lambo, I feel, post TYL and knowing what he knows now and it comes from knowing he had something to do with the world being destroyed then because of the course of study he took and the events it led to.

🍓 - What allergies or intolerances do your Muses have? How do they handle them? Is it something potentially dangerous or just inconvenient? How do they avoid triggering these intolerances? I don't think he would have any allergies or intolerance to foods. But it is canon that he gets really bad stomach aches from anxiety so there are probably times when he won't eat at all because he's stressed and feels sick.

🍈 - How do they calm down when they are upset? Would they act differently trying to calm down in a group setting versus all alone?

I headcanon that he listens to music to relax because his dream career was to be a musician and it's probably a CD of his favorite band, Blood & Peppers. In a group setting though, he probably has someone there to calm him down, Byakuran, Spanner, or even Tsuna in some cases.

[pictureofdoriaaaaaangay]

chaotic book ramble so I can stop spiraling into the abyss: my childhood favorite books that I've been thinking about lately

I start college in four days, where I'll be pursuing an English degree. I've been both a reader and by extension a writer my whole life. lately, I've been thinking about the books I loved when I was younger that fueled this passion and thus helped me along to where I am now <3

The Land of Stories series by Chris Colfer. I still have my old copies of these books, and when I tell you they are well-loved, I mean they are well-loved. they're sort of fairytale retellings, and take place in the Land of Stories, which exists as a parallels world to this one where fairytale characters are real and living beyond their happily ever afters. the books follow twins Alex and Connor, who find out (spoiler?? lol) that their grandmother is the fairy godmother. all sorts of stuff goes down, and honestly I only remember half of it like a fever dream, but I remember really loving it in book five (?) when they get to meet the characters from stories Connor wrote. honestly, I probably read the entire series over fifty times, and that's not an exaggeration. first read them the year the third book came out, when I was nine. waiting for the rest was, I recall, absolute torture.

the Spiderwick Chronicles by Holly Black and Tony DiTerlizzi. this is so funny to me, because these books basically set me up for my later teen years and loving the Folk of the Air series by Holly Black - but I digress. I first read these at age eight in a high-stress time of my life, and as a result they were likely deeply formative. they follow twins Jared and Simon (more twins ??) and their older sister Mallory (thinking back, she was absolutely part of my bi awakening). they move with their mother into the old Spiderwick mansion, and soon discover a fieldguide all about faeries and different fae species that live in the woods surrounding the house. I honestly think that the plot of these books is batshit, but I still sort of love them. there's a movie, but it's terrible, and aggressively condenses the plot into something completely unrecognizable.

Harry Potter, by... Harry Potter. isn't it great that, after his time at Hogwarts, he decided to write a seven-book autobiography?? so funky of him!! anyways - I read these at the ripe age of ten, and stuck by loving them since. HP was my first fandom, and maybe the one I'm fondest of (actually, thinking on this, no), and Hogwarts in general holds a lot of nostalgia for me. this being said, I still love the books, but I have to say that I reread them last year for the first time since I was maybe 14/15 and um. wow. Mr. Potter you are?? problematic??? someone please tell me why the adult man who was allowed to abuse children in a position of power for sixteen years got a redemption arc but the literal CHILD who was born into an abusive and power-hungry family didn't. also why is Dumbedore hailed as such a bloody saint?? he's worse than fucking Voldemort. I said what I said. also it's super confusing that Harry never mentioned in his autobiography that his Sirius and Remus were happily married and living at Grimmauld place. weird storytelling choice I guess!!

all those damned Warrior cats books by Erin Hunter. I swear to god these books had crack in them I ATE THEM UP from the ages of like. eight to eleven?? maybe??? genuinely, I must've reread them a hundred times, but I could tell you NOTHING about the plots. a few vibes, maybe, but zero plots. did they even have plots?? were plots a thing in those books??? how was I so obsessed with them???? funniest part is the fact that I see people talking about them on the internet now and it's just. insane. actually insane.

Lockwood and Co by Jonathan Stroud. full transparency: I read these for the first time at age eleven (around the time the fourth book out of five came out) and now remain an active member of the fandom. I love these books, and these characters, with my whole heart and I want nothing more than them to be happy. the Netflix show, though I have some pretty severe gripes with it, is still really amazing and absolutely deserves a second season. the books are set in London, where ghosts are real deeply dangerous, and follow the main trio of Lucy, Lockwood, and George. I reread them at the start of the year in preparation for the show, and they're genuinely just incredible works. I sobbed a lot reading them. they're absolutely comfort reads for me; 35 Portland Row is home.

wow. that was a lot. there's honestly several more I could talk about (School for Good and Evil, Percy Jackson, etc), but this is a long enough post for now, ha. love you all <3

[natdrinkstea]

tagged by @chiropteracupola and @dxppercxdxver :3 time for you all to judge my taste in books!

rules: list ten books that have stayed with you in some way, don’t take but a few minutes, and don’t think too hard - they don’t have to be the “right” or “great” works, just the ones that have touched you.

putting this under a cut because I hate making long posts. the rules up there say "don't take but a few minutes and don't think too hard" but I don't know how to do Either of those things. this post is Long. you've been warned.

1. is, of course, The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland In A Ship Of Her Own Making by Cat Valente. It's a wonderful, clever story that absolutely ruined the way I view fantasy, devotion, and girlhood at a young age. It's beautiful and magical and devastating AND I LOVE IT!!!!

2. The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater. I post about this series all the time but I never really express how much it means to me? It's about a friendship that's so strong it defies all odds, it's about finding magic in the mundane, it's about being a weird little guy with anxiety who's trying to be braver.

3. The House in the Cerulean Sea and Under The Whispering Door by TJ Klune (they are tied). SORRY FOR THE BOOKTOK MOMENT LOL but these novels are about finding love at an older age in an unexpected place!!! about relishing little moments with people you care about in a world that's beautiful! and the way klune writes introspection really feels like how I Think. it's like a magnifying glass into my brain

4. House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. another one I post a lot about that seems very out of left field considering the rest of the list! but it was recommended to me at a hard time by one of my closest friends, and the incredibly intelligent and thoughtful way it uses Words and Language to express both Horror and Humanity has had SO MUCH influence on how I want to write

5. Hell Followed With Us by Andrew Joseph White. This novel captures queer rage in a way that feels deeply personal and wildly cathartic, and the desperation and passion with which Benji views the world and the people he cares about feels the same. Also it helped me get over my fear of meat 👍hooray, meat!

6. Now this is getting hard. um. Nona the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir <3 sorry to put a popular book again but listen. it's about humanity and how ugly and brutal and full of love we are. it's about being so painfully Normal and Alive in a world that's trying to keep what you love from you. It's about eating breakfast and petting a dog and swimming in the sea and it's UNAPOLOGETIC IN IT'S HONESTY. IT'S SO HEALING TO THE INNER CHILD TO SEE NONA LOVE SO FIERCELY

7. Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli. listen. it's not a great book. it's stereotype-y and gross and kind of boring but. when you're in fifth grade and very neurodivergent but trying very, very hard not to let yourself show it, reading about a girl who is proudly Weird and Impulsive and Kind and Creative is like finally getting to see what you could be if you were a little less afraid. she was a manic pixie dream girl but she was mine, y'know?

8. (at this point I'm getting up to look at my bookshelf)

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison. Again, hugely different from the rest of this list, but probably the book I read in high school that I felt was most worth my time. Stunning, earnest writing and a deeply human story. I could go on for probably an hour about how clever Ellison's imagery is, and how powerful a choice as small as leaving your protagonist nameless can be. If anything on this terrible list is required reading, it's this

9. similarly, The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt. I read this book for school, but by choice, and I kind of hated it! Not gonna lie! But something about how batshit insane it is left a huge impression on me. While it's wildly unrealistic and often frustrating, there are little bits of earnest grief and uncomfortably close-to-home interactions that make it feel like it Could happen. The way it describes parent-child relationships makes me want to escape my mortal flesh due to feeling Too Seen.

IF YOU READ ALL OF THAT WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!!!!!! anyway @haijinks @neonphoenix @human-sweater-vest @lasaraleen @samwisegamwise I'd love to see your ten books but there is No Pressure :3 love u !

10. FINALLY THE END! FUCK YOU! PERCY JACKSON!!! it's so funny and clever and diverse and ACCURATE! twelve year olds are little shits who want desperately to run away from their parents and make friends and have adventures! it made my sense of humor what it is, it introduced me to a blonde female protagonist who was INTELLIGENT AND BRAVE (things I always thought I was but was afraid to be)!!!!! and, most importantly, my first thought upon receiving my adhd diagnosis a week ago (it's been about five years since I last read pjo), was "wow. I'm one step closer to being a half-blood".

EDIT: there are bonus books in the replies that my dumb brain forgot ab until rn if u wanna see :]

[yourfavouritelaundry]

HII I just wanna say I love every single thing you put out so much and Twin's Voyage actually inspired me to create a series of my own. I think voyage just has a special spot in my heart because the first thing I saw on your yt channel was the untrust meme. Just wanna say tysm for being my biggest inspiration :)

Its made me very giddy when ppl tell how something i made back when i was batshit insane made them inspired. You should take whatever aspects you like from my twin’s voyage and cocktailed it with all the other stuff that inspired you and then dump your opinions into it too.

Twin vovage’s was a story i dreamed up while stucked in a 2 hours traffic everyday while having my thumb jammed from volleyball, pls make something better than mine lmao. maybe try rping idk

[kokorodachidanii]

So I finally managed to 100% KRTDLDX (in only 3-4 days– go me! ♪), and the Magolor Epilogue in particular got me thinking…

What if Kirby Super Star got another remake with all the bonuses from Ultra, the scrapped “Kagero Mansion” subgame, the minigames from Merry Magoland… and a Marx Epilogue for your extravagant effort completing the True Arena!

Just think about it: Bandana Dee, Dedede, Meta Knight, Rick, Kine, Coo, Gooey, Adeline, and Ribbon were already Kirby’s friends; Dark MK just wants to be batshit insane; Daroach had to repay Kirb for saving him from Dark Nebula (that and the Jamba Hearts were Shiny™); Magolor finally got his closure last week; and Taranza, Susie, and the Mage-Sisters all got in-game closure (even if the Mages wouldn’t get theirs for a couple months). Marx is the last dream friend left who doesn’t have any proper redemption!

(Believe me, there is NO WAY “he’ll be your buddy if you keep him well-fed” counts.)

So here’s how I think it’d go:

-After crashing into NOVA, a barely-breathing Marx (with his Soul colors bc yes) awakens in a mysterious black void.

-The Dark Lord (who may or may not be Necrodeus) offers to give him another chance at life (yes, Marx is literally in Space Purgatory right now)– that is, if he can pass a series of tests akin to what Magolor has gone through recently (technically 15 years later)!

-But the poor thing doesn’t even have his jester ball, so all he can do is kick everything! Fortunately, the upgrades system is ALSO Magolor Epilogue-esque.

-The area bosses are what’s basically Forgo Dark-Matter Macho-Jamba Shadow Dedede, whatever you’d call Purgatorial Dyna Blade, Wham Bam Platinum, and NOVA-flavored Morpho Knight!

-At the very end, it turns out that– surprise, the Dark Lord really WAS Necrodeus… and the only way for Marx to defeat him is to atone for his misdeeds! (Again, just like Magolor.)

-And finally, Marx returns to Popstar, makes amends with Kirby, and everything is okay forever!!! (Or at least until Dark Matter casually smashes the planet’s rings…)

… Oh, and beating all previous modes nets you the True Arena Deluxe, featuring a fresh (if painful) new Marx Soul fight akin to Magolor Soul’s updated True Arena battle!

TL;DR: KSS should get reremade with a Marx Redemption Arc.

[tinygumdrops]

so i read the prologue for the thtnw's sequel and i loved it so much, you truly never disappoint with your world building and plot set up. since in your previous work you mentioned you were inspired by dororo, kabenari of the iron fortress and journey to the west, i was wondering if you were inspired by anything for this part? i only recently finished watching dororo and i loved it so much, will probably start kabenari next!

I am also a huge fan of mythological stories so I'm really excited for what's to come next, but regarding that too, did you take inspiration from any mythological related media?

Hi, anon! And *SCREAMS* a fellow mythology geek omg, so nice to meet you, hello hello!!!!!

For the sword, the sea, and a dream yet to be fulfilled (man, I should stop making these titles so long), I had to go back to the classics! I read some passages from Nihon Shoki and Kojiki then binged documentaries about them. Can I just say tho that the legends based on Susanoo are some of my absolute faves ever cuz that guy is just wack lmao. He's not Sun Wukong type of crazy (pretty hard to beat that level of batshit insanity) but Susanoo-based myths are really entertaining!

I also took inspiration from Greek & Roman myths (Orpheus and Eurydice, through this fic I shall avenge you, my tragic pookies!!!), Dante's Divine Comedy (cuz their depiction of hell is my fave), and classic poetry (I have sticky notes of some of my fave stanzas from William Blake's The Marriage of Heaven and Hell and Songs of Innocence & of Experience on my fic outline).

I also read Shogun by James Clavell way back, like waaayyyy before I even started writing the heart that never withers, and I guess it kinda informed my own writing (especially the military/politics part). There's a Netflix series that came out recently based on the book! I haven't watched it yet but from the reviews I've been seeing it seems just as great! Maybe you can watch it sometime if you'd like :D

Thank you so, so much for this ask btw! That fic is a really niche story ik, so I'm always over the moon hearing that somebody enjoyed reading it!!!! Hope you had a pleasant day!

[retrosabers]

THE ART OF STARTING OVER.

a moonknight x fem!avenger! reader story

CHAPTER ONE: A SIMPLE FAVOR

summary: when a new masked crime fighter appears, it’s time to call an old coworker.

warnings: slight mentions of violence

word count: 2.4k

gif by @salome-c

a/n: this is somewhat a self indulgent fic that contains some non canon events/changes to the storyline of the moonknight series and to the mcu in general. i also feel it’s important to note i am not an expert on disassociative identity disorder. if there’s anything misrepresented in this work please let me know.

________________________________

there's only so much daytime television a person can take before they start to go insane.

most people would've reveled in government pension letting them live comfortably in an apartment that wasn't the size of a shoebox. some people would've been thrilled to have access to all the chinese take out that manhattan had to offer. even fewer people would've been okay with the fact that they were practically unemployed.

there's only so many soap operas and egg rolls you can consume before you start to miss the supernatural.

to miss a world where people lived in constant fear was sick and twisted in every sense of the word. people woke up every day with knots in their stomachs over the wonder of "what batshit crazy being is going to fall out of the sky today?" or "what kind of irreparable damage will i find to my car, my home, or my family?" it was no way of living, not even in anyone's wildest dreams, yet you found yourself missing it.

these days, thrill came in the form of seeing if you could outrun a red light. a feeling that used to course through your veins on the daily had compacted itself into a corner so deep you didn't know when you would see it again. something that was once quintessential had become a distant memory.

it would've been a pathetic sight to see; a former avenger cooped up in a fourth floor apartment with nothing to show for her accomplishments except a lousy medal and knarly scar that made its home down her spine. sometimes just the glint of that hunk of metal in your peripheral made you want to toss it out the window and never see it again. years of hero work watered down to a lousy thank you from the government that couldn't be bothered to really pick up the pieces of what thanos left behind.

it was a fact you faced every day, that the life you once had was gone. the people that were in it, the things that you did, were all moments, in the past tense. it wasn't just the end of a chapter, it was closing the book entirely.

there was a part of you that clung on to that time for dear life. to provide protection for people that wouldn't have otherwise had it, was a responsibility you still carried, especially now that most of the earth's greatest were gone. the weight of their legacy now fell onto your shoulders, and there wasn't a damn thing you could do to continue it.

the world outgrew the avengers, and thus the world outgrew you.

so now, your days consisted of bouncing between medical dramas and cnn, watering plants that you were certain would end up dying anyways, and trying your best to keep your head above water. sometimes you could float in the waves, and let the tide take you wherever, and other times it felt as though the undercurrent was going to drag you down. it was a never ending cycle of hope, grief, and every single emotion in between.

after rearranging the succulents on your windowsill, you plopped yourself down on the couch. there was a small dent on the cushion from where you sat far too frequently, the other side practically untouched. with your legs tucked beneath you, late afternoon sun leaking through the blinds, you scrolled aimlessly through the television channels.

the pictures had a habit of merging together into a relatively indistinguishable mix of faces, advertisements, and landscape. it was a rare occurrence for something to peak your interest, having tortured yourself with just about everything cable had to offer already. today though, there was an image that caught your attention. you frantically rushed back three channels, worrying it vanished in the ten seconds that passed since you last saw it.

photographs of the metropolitan museum of history were displayed as opposed to the news network's typical propaganda. you scooted to the edge of the couch, eyes scanning repeatedly over the headlines and the completely empty displays. as the reporter continued on about the rich history of what had been stolen, your curiosity peaked and you opened the laptop that sat atop your coffee table.

an overwhelming amount of information was presented to you with just a few clicks. there were pages upon pages of articles about not just the met heist, but the countless other museum robberies that had taken place across europe and north america. there was debate about whether or not the crimes were linked together, or if the assailants were hired by egypt's government to reclaim pieces of their history. the buzzing sensation in your chest only grew stronger as you started bookmarking tabs to review later.

history and mythology wasn't your strong suit in the slightest, but there was something about the circumstances of the situation that had you weighing some slightly irrational options. at the end of the day, thievery, especially of priceless historical items, was wrong, and more importantly, a crime. was this a shield wielding, web slinging problem? of course not. was it something that could've used a different approach than what investigators were doing?

maybe.

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the impulsive part of your brain was winning. it had been hours since the breaking news report, the soft glow of moonlight replacing the blaze of the sun, and your eyes never left that computer screen. each path you started on lead to another, burying you neck deep in police reports, an international wanted list, and a crash course video on the history of ancient egypt. there was something you were looking for; something that would tip you over the edge and plunge you in the epicenter of this whole scheme. it was a desperate tactic, scouring every corner of the web to find even the tiniest crumb that would get your any closer than the authorities, but there was a feeling in your gut that you couldn't ignore.

this was going to lead to something far deeper than what was on the surface level. gut feelings always did. when you were younger, the minute the sokovia accords were dropped on the table in front of you, the divide it would cause within the team was painfully evident in between the lines of the clauses and statutes. even before the time heist, when natasha looked at you with her sweet, optimistic smile, some part of you knew it would be the last time you would ever see her.

"whatever it takes."

that all too familiar shudder made its way through your body as her voice echoed in your mind. so much for trying to leave the past behind.

your eyes grew strained from the last few hours in front of a stark white screen, the signs of a migraine creeping into the back of your skull.

just ten more minutes, you told yourself. ten more minutes and then you would drop it. for the rest of the day at least, which by looking at the time, wasn't for much longer.

almost on cue, as your finger was hovering over the play button, the "breaking news" banner flashed across the television screen, the same perky reporter from earlier reappearing.

"we have a breaking news report for you, this time, from across the pond. london officials have confirmed that the british museum has been broken into and many artifacts from its exhibits are missing. this eerily mirrors the break in at the metropolitan museum just yesterday. now while the nypd has yet to identify any of the perpetrators involved, leaked security footage from the british museum gives us a strange new development. take a look."

four different angles of security cameras were then displayed on screen. the first thirty seconds of footage were less than exciting. after being a crime fighter for a while, men running around covered head to toe in black wasn't really groundbreaking. you were anticipating this to be another overdramatized story when suddenly the assailants came sprinting back into frame, followed by a figure dressed in all white. he left as soon as he entered, bouncing back and forth between all four scenes. it was evident he was opposing the men in black, throwing punches far too articulate for him to be an amateur. upon closer inspection, he was wearing some form of armor, unlike any super suit you had ever seen before. the voice of the reporter was drowned out by the sound of your thundering heart beat.

the gut feeling was never wrong.

rushing over to your bag to grab your phone, you thumbed through your contacts, ignoring the countless missed calls and texts from over the past few weeks. hesitantly, you pressed the call button on the ever dreaded number, the ringing sound doing nothing to soothe your growing headache.

"i was wondering when i would hear from you."

"never mind that." you pressed. pacing around your living room. "i need a favor."

there was a scoff on the other end of the line. "and what makes you think i owe you one?"

"seeing as though i've stayed out of your hair these past few weeks" you continued, returning to your position on the couch. "i would say that warrants one."

there was silence for a moment and you couldn't shake the desperation you harbored.

"fury, when have i ever asked you for anything?"

he sighed. "what do you need?"

"i take it you've been following the museum break ins, no?"

he laughed, this time genuinely. "what makes you think i have any interest in a bunch of low lifes stealing relics?"

"surely you've seen the guy with the cape on the news."

"there's lots of guys in capes on the news. ever heard of thor?"

"very funny" you deadpanned. "but i'm serious."

"i'll look into it."

it was your turn to sigh. "can you do it for me now?"

you didn't have to see his face to know he had that same resting expression he always did.

"since when do you call the shots around here?"

"since when do you ask so many questions?"

there was another pause. you shrunk back into the cushions, wondering if maybe playful banter wasn't the best approach.

"what do you want to know?"

you couldn't help the impish grin that spread across your face.

"see if you can get me the security cameras on the outside of the building."

you heard the distinct sound of fingers tapping away on a keyboard, along with a few other digital noises that likely belonged to some s.w.o.r.d super computer.

"do you still have that flash drive i sent?"

"yes sir." you replied, almost tripping on your own feet to get to the unpacked box you had stored from when you first moved into your apartment.

"when you plug it in, what's on my screen will be mirrored onto yours."

you rummaged through the box for what felt like ages before grasping the small rectangle. rushing back out to the living room, you were quick to insert it into your computer. within seconds your screen went from a paused youtube video to a shot of what you assumed was the back alley behind the british museum.

"this is about 30 minutes before the break in." fury's voice blared through the phone speaker.

the footage sped up and about halfway through, a large freight truck pulled into the back of the building. on the outside it appeared to be a delivery truck; probably what the museum was used to seeing transport the odds and ends of its gift shop offerings. instead, around ten men were ushered out of the back, leaving the delivery car wide open with a few still inside. the footage sped up again to show some of the most valuable and precious pieces of ancient history be practically manhandled and tossed into the back of the truck. there was only about two pieces that were loaded on before the masked figure from the news jumped into frame.

almost as if fury could read your mind, the camera zoned in on the white-cloaked vigilante, throwing brutal punches and what appeared to be crescent shaped darts at the burglars. despite being outnumbered, he took them out with ease. in the interim of combat, the truck managed to drive away, leaving a barrage of unconscious men on the ground. the glowing eyes of the mystery man looked around at the scene, before his suit soon dissolved from his body. while the dim lighting did little to truly showcase his face, you saw the facial recognition software run a scan.

"i take it this is what you were looking for." nick's voice knocked you out of your concentration.

your gaze was glued on the scan. "gotta start somewhere right?"

he sighed once more, but this time it was different. "look, i know it's been hard to adjust to life after everything that's gone on. but i'm telling you, this is none of your concern."

it was your turn to scoff. "most of what i've done hasn't really been my concern. i've helped save the world anyways."

"this isn't what i would call a world saving scenario."

"precisely" you quipped, heart rate increasing as the scan began its final stage.

on the other end of the line, fury ran a tired palm down his face.

"just promise me you won't do anything stupid."

"you know i don't make promises i can't keep fury."

a bunch of files began to appear before a passport photo popped up in the center. you squinted your tired eyes at the screen.

"he looks like that one guy from star wars."

you could hear fury's eye roll through the phone. "you've been spending way too much time around parker."

"what? sometimes he needs a ride home from school, what am i supposed to do, leave him on the side of the road?"

"just look at the damn files."

"okay okay!" you started. "let's see, i'm looking at a military discharge form, a termination of marriage -"

"what does his marital status have to do with anything?"

"i'm simply reading what's in front of me." you replied casually. "you got a name for me nick?"

i was getting to that" he hastily replied. a loading bar appeared on the screen, followed by a driver's license. finally, a large square popped up, zooming over the name on the id.

"marc spector."

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thanks for reading chapter one! any reblogs/ feedback is greatly appreciated :)