#when I read chainsaw man I was going through a pretty hard time in my life

[meownotgood]

Can I ask what your ✨Aki journey✨ was like? I’m a Aki girlie but you clearly love Aki more than any blog I’ve ever seen (purrr) When did you start becoming interested in him? Was it an aHA moment or did it develop over time? I’m really curious!!! What inspired you to start this blog? I live, laugh, love backstories 🫶🏾❤️‍🔥

YES I would be so happy to answer this!!!!!!!

so before I read chainsaw man, I knew next to nothing about it, I wasn't really a manga reader in general to be honest but I started getting into it because I wanted to get caught up with jujutsu kaisen after finishing the anime. when I did, I really enjoyed jjk, I wanted to read more manga and a friend suggested I read chainsaw man because it's similar. I was like okay... a lot of people are into it... it looks cool... why not.

and when I started reading and I got to that third chapter and I saw aki... I literally said to myself: yeah, he is going to be my favorite. because he's exactly my type — the suit, the hair tied up so it's long and pretty when he takes it down, the SMOKING??? THE PIERCINGS????? I thought his hair was silly but adorable, his personality was stern but quirky and likable, his kon power was so cool. he was just so cute and hot and definitely my type of character.

but really, even though aki was always my favorite character from the start, my obsession truly began when I finished the manga. aki's arc is just so good... I fell in love with him the whole way through but especially after the manga was over... I loved watching him grow as a character, he just feels so real and relatable personality wise and story wise. he's immensely flawed but kindhearted to his core. he's so human. I love how he's emotional and soft and the conclusion to his arc is genuinely my favorite thing in any piece of media ever, it's so bittersweet and compelling. (and I'm a mess for that bittersweet shit okay)

anyway after I read chainsaw man for the first time I was feeling a mix of emotions between "wow that was the greatest thing ever" and "what the fuck did I just read" but more than anything I yearned for more aki, and so I read it a second time almost immediately after, and then the aki brain infection just grew worse and worse.... was screenshotting every panel of him... I read it a third time... a fourth time in the colored version to collect more panels......... I started my blog over a year ago to post fanfic and rant about aki and the rest is history

[honey-milk-depresso]

Batboys watching anime with reader

You know my ass went FULL ON LOCK MODE with Tim. I went crazy- 💀

***S/o is above 18, which means characters below are also aged up!

Doing requests until 1 Feb! Please see my pinned post and read the request rules on the navi! Thank you!🩷

Batbros watching anime with you

Dick Grayson

He’s watched a few 90s anime before, more the basic ones like One Piece and Pokémon, and he probably still watches them to this day. Boy has old CDs he has and you should probably try finding a Blue Ray (or use his if he can have Tim help fix it because it’s good as dead 💀) because he’s popping in every CD of old anime’s he have lying about.

“Wow, I didn’t know I had cowboy bebop! Or Slam Dunk!” He got a few rare gems, which makes it all the more fun to sit down on the couch under a blanket as you huddle and watch the nostalgic 90s anime shows together while eating popcorn.

He doesn’t mind watching new, modern day animes, just be prepared for when you two watch sad anime shows because he will sob like it’s the end of the world.

“NO, WHY WOULD KAORI DIE LIKE THIS?? AND SHE LOVES ARIMA- OH MY GOD IM SO—”sobs even more. He gets emotional while watching them because it’s so sad that it’s sO GOOD-

Loves dancing to those danceable anime music with you. He goes ALL. OUT. He even sings all of it in Japanese like wow-

I would love to hear him sing Cruel Angel’s Thesis in his Discowing suit and with goth makeup on it because it “sets the mood”, PLEASE-

Overall, great time watching with Dick. <3

Jason Todd

You expect someone like him to like Chainsaw Man, Trigun or something like those grunge-y, guns and knives animes, right? I mean, he does, but only with you and ONLY with you will he let his inner Magical Girl enthusiast ass shine. Because he LOVES Magical Girl animes. That’s probably the reason and one point of time why he wore red ribbons around his arms, he wanted that Sailor Moon experience and Tim might’ve just teased him about that era without knowing his love for Magical Girl animes and Jason might’ve flipped and freaked the fuck out and started chasing him down the manor.

Jason watches Sailor Moon, Madoka when he feels edgier than usual, Cardcaptor Sakura, every Precure series, Tokyo Mew Mew, man has all these shows somehow. He swears they weren’t through illegal means and he just worked very hard to gather all of them. He also might be a shoujo anime fan because if he loves Jane Austen books, you bet his ass would be reading Fruits Basket, Maid Sama or something because of course he would.

Also a Studio Ghibli fan, although watching the Tale of Princess Kaguya might make him feel too much, especially getting pissed off with the dad who forces his daughter into a wealthy life without her input and- yeah, you gotta calm him down as he cries bitterly and sourly with a pout on his face.

The two of you can go on and on about debating about unclear endings of animes all day long. You know the “AND SHE WAS A PRINCESS” video? That��s Jason.

Great man to watch anime with, and he’ll gladly be your Tuxedo Mask to your Sailor Moon (and not the “But you did nothing meme- or the other way around- he don’t mind being the Usagi-). <3

Tim Drake

I’m very convinced this man got into his whole detective shit because he watched Detective Conan and honestly I can’t blame him. Tim has probably the largest vessel of anime knowledge out of all of them. He doesn’t really have a specific genre he likes but he’s pretty fond of old 90s and 80s animes. He can explain the whole lore of One Piece, Fairytale, Pokémon like Jesus Tim, calm down- 💀

I can see him watching Neon Genesis Evangelion, Serial Experiments Lain or Key the Metal Doll because he likes that little bit of horror nature and mystery and thriller in his animes although he really doesn’t mind watching Haikyuu all over again if you want to.

Might introduce you to underrated and/or old animes like Revolutionary Girl Utena, Nadia the Secrets of Blue Water, every Studio Ghibli movie, those kinds of animes that give off the really pretty and aesthetic old anime animations that is just so pretty to watch and with really good storylines that both of you can cuddle on a couch together and watch. I bet he even watches anime with you even before you two got together, so you guys pretty much have “watching anime together” as part of the foundation of your relationship. Owns so much manga that you can’t even count, too.

Just… don’t make him watch those really slow burn, comedy love animes, specifically Love War. Not that he don’t like romance animes, he watches Ouran High School Host Club and Your Name, trust me, but Love War? He is going absolutely insane because of it.

“OH MY GOD- PLEASE JUST KISS ALREADY. ME AND S/O ARE ALREADY TOGETHER FIVE MONTHS AGO ANF YOU TWO ARE STILL TOO PROUD TO ADMIT YOU LOVE EACH OTHER WHILE BLUSHING- JUST KISS ALREADY-” <3

Damian Wayne

Damian likes anime. Would 100% go to an anime convention with you as a date if you’re up for it. He doesn’t mind (surprisingly- just for you only-).

He doesn’t necessarily like showmen animes although he has enjoyed a few, but he really loves slice of life, I feel. It just feels like he wants to put himself in a normal life and with a tad bit of drama in it like what the characters go through. The touching ones like Hyouka or Natsume’s Book of Friends.

Also animal related anime maybe except Beastars because he didn’t understand shit-?? He calls that peak anime. Aggretsuko, Chi’s Sweet Home and My Roommate is a Cat?? Damian loves this shit, he watches it intently with his arm around you. Even if he doesn’t smile, you know he loves it by the way his eyes sparkle.

Just don’t tell his brothers. He will seriously feel betrayed if you do so because he only watches these kinds of shows with you: the cute animal ones that are actually wholesome and/or funny.

The whole family is into Studio Ghibli, and he is no exception. He feels like it’s the best kinds of anime to watch with you when you guys just want to turn in for the day and huddle up on the couch. It’s one of the rare times he relaxes and softens and he’s glad to have quality time with you. <3

Duke Thomas

He likes anime! Studio Ghibli is definitely a favourite of his and he would gladly watch it together with you! He also love a fair bit of Shounen animes, the more popular ones like Jujutsu Kaisen, One Piece, Haikyuu, or Spy x Family. He likes them a lot!

A big fan of romance animes too: Ouran High School Host Club and The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya (if you two are in the mood to huddle on the couch together and cry).

Duke doesn’t mind any kind of anime so long as it doesn’t have too much horror or gore like… Higurashi. He gets chills when that anime is mentioned. D-Don’t watch it for your own sake if you don’t know. And if you do, avoid it with him at all cost because he will.

Duke also like singing some good anime songs with you and you guys can go crazy and dance around, just not as dramatic as Dick.

He would be super excited to spend a date with you watching shounen anime movies like from Jujutsu Kaisen and he would be so hype to spend time with you being a fanboy while also sharing that romantic air for the shared love of anime between you two and the love that you two share, although that love is far stronger. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[onyxmilk]

May I also request a match-up? I'd like one for jjk and chainsaw man. I'm chill with either gender and I'd like both SFW and NSFW.

In terms of my likes/dislikes, I REALLY like fruit and fruity drinks, it's a very important detail that I tell everyone, but other than that, I enjoy reading (usually fiction works but I've gotten into classic literature the past few months), video games (usually horror), and I have a huge love for the fantasy genre (lotr, hobbit, got, DND, ect). Dislikes are a bit harder, but one main one is I absolutely despise loud and continous noises (pens clicking, loud chewing, drink slurping, ect) they drive me mad, other than that, my Dislikes are pretty basic, I don't like the heat, salty food, coffee (plain coffee, I'll drink a latte or mocha but not really enjoy it) and that's the basic stuff, we'd be here a while if I kept going. I'll also throw this in, I've been really loving mma the past few years so I've been taking classes for almost a year now, it's more than a "like" to me so I thought I should add it.

As for my appearance, I'm definitely taller than the average lady, I'm 5'10 according to my doctor. I have black hair that reaches just below my shoulder blades, grey-blue eyes (they look more like a pale blue in the sun) I'm super pale (I'm very Irish on both sides so 🤷‍♀️) and I mean like glow-in-the-dark or vampire pale, I have quite a few freckles but none on my face, they're all on my arms and legs, and I have 3 tattoos on my arms (cherry blossom branch, spider lily, and a bumblebee).

And lastly, my pronouns are (she/her)

I think that's everything, sorry if this is longer than the usual request.

thanks for the follow, toe gobbler!! - me, to the jjk server im in, nsfw under the cut, minors/ageless blogs dni

JUJUTSU KAISEN ; CHOSO

SONG; Apocalypse - Cigarettes After Sex

sfw;

THIS WAS HARD!!! I really thought on this and it was him or Megumi tbh- but then I thought harder and thought 'toe gobbler needs a fix me up man', so here he is!!!

Choso doesn't mind that you're taller or even the same height, he loves the comfort you bring.

He also loves to share drinks with you because you tend to know the best ones out there, that's how the two of you discovered he also has a thing for the fruit drinks.

He loves tracing your tattoos with his fingers, he finds the designs different and unique.

He loves to see what you're doing constantly when he's home and you're home too, often over your shoulder watching you read a book or even writing.

nsfw;

Something interesting he realized with you is that he feels more... safe, so that means being vulnerable with you.

He enjoys a slow pace, he gets to admire all his doing, even if you need to guide him through every move and how a woman's body works.

He likes to be able to trap your hands above your head, fucking you slowly as you moan and whimper out his name.

Choso is also learning his kinks, and so far he loves when you're quite literally begging for him to speed up and tears are pricking your waterline.

He tends to be rough too, despite his slow pace he will go as hard and rough as he can when gripping your hips or wrists.

CHAINSAW MAN ; AKI HAYAKAWA

SONG; Little Bit - Lykke Li

sfw;

You two met at a restaurant, you were his waitress and he was your guest. He laid eyes on you and immediately fell in love with you, asked for your number and you gave it!

He loves being able to brush back your hair and kiss the back of your shoulder in the mornings when you wear a tank top to bed.

Aki doesn't know the amount of times he's counted your freckles on your arms while you slept, he just does it and it helps him relax.

He finds your taste and his taste funny, you're into fruity drinks and writing while he enjoys a black coffee and reading. Sure, when you do read, its fantasy- Aki is more of a history enjoyer.

He's surprised you have tattoos, but similar to the person above, he tends to trace them when he can't sleep.

nsfw;

Fast and rough, that's the best way to describe sex with Aki.

He loves the way your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders or drag down his back, leaving pretty red lines in your wake.

He loves loves loves when you scream his name, makes him speed up even more which results in even more noises escaping your lips.

He tends to suck hickeys and such on to your skin, sometimes such different levels of intensity its hard for you to cover them up.

He enjoys biting at your thighs before eating you out, but never deep enough to leave marks.

[deargodhelpmeaaa]

Spoilers for Chainsaw Man Part 1 and Part 2! Thoughts on Newest Chapter

I can't believe I'm actually blogging about this but here I am.

DONT READ IF YOU DONT WANT SPOILERS!!! THIS HAS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR BOTH PART 1 AND PART 2! PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD READ THE MANGA BEFORE YOU READ THROUGH THIS IT IS AMAZING AND WORTH YOUR TIME.

Newest chapter was great, a little expected for me. I think we all knew that little Nayuta was gonna get in the way of Denji and Asa, but definitely not in the way that she did. I honestly love it when romance is strained like this, in a way that feels actually natural and whatever. Not in the cringey typical anime way. Also it's such a convincing romance, as well. Asa and Denji have C-H-E-M-I-S-T-R-Y!!!! And I love it! In fact it's actually my favorite aspect of part 2. It's just this really awkward teen romance that's absolutely adorable. They are so similar yet so different at the same time and always just wonderful together. It's pretty clear that this ship is still gonna be pushed, since Asa hinted that she still likes Denji anyway, and Denji obviously still likes her. And Fujimoto just made it so easy for us to root for them to get together! :D I mean fr he is amazing at writing character relationships. If you tried writing yourself, which I assume many of you have, you'd know how hard it is to pull this kind of stuff off so well.

I see a lot of people anticipating it to end in tragedy for Asa and Denji, simply because it's so adorable and wonderful and Fujimoto has a bit of a track record for taking adorable, wonderful things and using them to break our heart. I agree with this sentiment. Even if Asa and Denji actually manage to stay together at the end, it's probably still gonna be heart-wrenching somehow. Now, call me a sociopath, but so far Chainsaw Man hasn't made me cry. Goodbye Eri, another story of Fujimoto's, has, (PLEASE GO READ THAT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY. IT'S REALLY GOOD) Now, look. Here's maybe why I didn't cry? I kind of saw what happened with Himeno and Aki coming, and with Aki I was more salty about it than sad because I love him and he deserves better. I felt like he was such a cool character and I was like "man, fr? cool really moving and kind of scary in a weird way very interesting well written death scene but.... FR!??!??!?!?! He's just GONE NOW!? Damn." Ok, I lied about not crying, I *might* have cried over Power? I'm not sure. I think I at least felt some tears. It did make me sad when she told Denji they'd meet again somehow, and I found it to be a very moving scene. She ended up being my fave from part 1 cause of that. The reason I'm mentioning this is because I'm hoping Asa makes me cry because I'm a masochist and also she's literally best girl. And, I have a feeling whatever Fujimoto does will make me cry, especially with how much I relate to Asa.

Side note, I am curious to see if what happened to Yuko is gonna be important later... I mean, I sure hope it is! Why else did it happen? Also, it broke my heart. I think that somehow, in some way, the Justice Devil will be coming back.

Another side note I love Nayuta. I love how she's still manipulative like Makima but in a different way that is less scary and mysterious and more, is charming the right word? Gremlin-esque? Idk. Everything I've seen and heard about this character in the comic so far has made her very endearing, and I am so excited to see more of her, and more importantly, whatever happens next!

[sunrisegrip]

things that makes me happy

...pretty sure that i’ve posted about this before but i’m going to list down and keep it update from time to time as a reminder that happiness is always around the corner and it’s not hard to find! 

1. my cat

2. listening to my mom talking to my cat in baby voice

3. when felix sending updates through the bubble app

4. reading books that makes me forget about the reality for a while

5. chris singing chainsaw man ost 

6. skz makes me happy 

7. talking with safira and telling her about my day

8. makaroni basah from the street seller near my house

9. cute stickers and artprint

10. cool and cute fanarts on twitter

11. reading some angst fics on ao3

...

i will update the rest later

[itsthemysterykids]

Scary stories around the campfire with the mystery kids

Raz: This is the story of a boy who drowned many years ago in that very lake, and he returned with a vengeance!

Wybie: Isn’t that Friday the 13th?

Raz: Only if you believe it is.

Wybie: Uh-Huh… Well, here’s an actual scary story.

THE SHIVING!

Dipper: You mean “The Shining”?

Wybie: Wanna get sued?

TUESDAY

The Mystery Academy school bus is driving on the side of a mountain, towards a large mansion in the distance. In the bus is a small class of nine.

Dipper tells everyone, “Well, it was a long trip, but we're almost there.”

Mabel asks herself, “Did I remember to lock the front door?”

Everyone frowned. “Damn it.”

WEDNESDAY

Back on their way, Raz says, “Well it's been two long trips, but we're finally almost there again.”

Wybie turns to Mabel and asks, “Mabel, when you remembered to lock the front door, did you remember to lock the back door?”

Everyone frowned again, “Damn it!”

THURSDAY

Back on their way, everyone is looking bored. Neil notices something and gasps. “You guys! We left Dib back at the gas station!” No one seemed concerned by this. As they approached the mansion, Neil asked again, “What about Dib?”

The bus then stops in front of the mansion. The students unpack as the owner of the mansion, Lord Cipher, watches from the distance and wrings his hands evilly, “Ah, the new caretakers have arrived.” He chuckles, “They work hard, and they play hard.” He narrows his eyes. “I’ll see to it.”

Inside, Lord Cipher is showing the students around. “This house has quite a long and colorful history. It was built on an ancient Indian burial ground,” the group passes by a plate of armor and a suspicious collection of axes on the wall, “and was also the setting for Satanic rituals, witch burnings, and five John Denver Christmas specials.”

Raz shudders, “Oh, John Denver.”

Norman raises his hand, “Tell us more about the witch burnings.”

There’s a ding. The elevator door opens up, releasing a pool of blood. As it reaches everyone’s ankles, they look freaked out, except for Norman and Wybie. Cipher explains, “That's odd. Usually, the blood gets off at the second floor.”

Norman smiled, “I’m gonna like it here.”

Outside near a hedge maze, Coraline and Wybie are walking around when they come across the groundskeeper. It was Emmit, their school’s janitor

“Emmit, what are you doing here?” Coraline asked.

“Well, if it isn’t blue hair and curly! I got a job here as the groundskeeper. So, you and your class are the new caretakers I heard?”

Before another word was said, a chainsaw cuts through the hedge maze. A circle falls, showing Raz, Neil, and Mabel. Raz was holding the chainsaw, and behind them are many holes cut in the hedges.

They step out and Raz says, “Hey, I found a shortcut through your hedge maze.” He hands the chainsaw back to Emmit, “Merci, my good man!”

As they walk away, Emmit glares as if he wanted to hurt them. “Why you...!” He stops himself and thinks, ‘No, no. Go easy on the kids. Pretty soon the cap boy will go crazy and grind them into haggis.’

Coraline gasps, “Dipper’s gonna do what?!”

“Do what?” Wybie asked.

Emmit gasps, “Jones, you've read my thoughts! You've got the shiving!”

Wybie crosses his arms and gives Emmit a skeptical look. “You mean ‘shining’.”

Emmit shushes him. “You want to get sued? Now look boy, if your friend goes crazy, you use that... "shiv" of yours to call me and I'll come a-running.” As he begins to walk away, he quickly adds, “But don't read my mind between 4:00 and 5:00. That's Emmit’s time!”

He finally leaves. Coraline and Wybie are very confused.

Back at the mansion, Lord Cipher cuts a wire connected to the Wi-Fi and the TV. “With no television or WiFi, I can ensure an honest winter’s work out of those children.” He says to himself, “I wonder if this is what caused the previous caretakers to go insane and murder their friends?... Nah!”

The students are in their room. Dipper walks in, searching for something, “Has anyone seen my laptop?”

Neil makes a hook with his pointer finger. “Redrum.”

“Huh?”

“I said ‘red room’,” he replies. “Your laptop was in a red room, but the screen was completely cracked.”

Dipper shrugs, unconcerne. “Okay! I guess I can just watch some tv.”

“No good.” Lili shakes her head. “The cable’s out.”

Coraline is flipping through the channels, seeing only static. “Yep. Nothing’s on.”

“Well, at least I have my phone.” Dipper takes out his cellphone, but it was showing no service, “Oh... No WiFi either... How nice.”

“Dipper, I'm impressed,” Norman commended. “You're taking this pretty well.”

Dipper suddenly snaps, looking at everyone with a glare, “I'll kill you! I'll kill all of you!”

Wybie slaps him across the face. “Snap out of it!”

Dipper calms down. “Sorry. Sorry. Don't worry. There's plenty I can do occupied.” He goes for the door. “Maybe I'll check out that axe collection.”, before he leaves, he says in a menancing voice, “See you later.” Then he slams the door behind him.

After a few seconds of silence, Lili asked, “Is he going to kill us?”

“No!...” Wybie thought about it for a moment. “... Probably... Definitely.”

Off in a café in the mansion, Dipper sits alone when the barista shows up behind the counter and asks, “What’ll it be, kid?”

“Coffee. Black. I’m not gonna survive here!” He screamed.

The barista smirks. “Not unless you kill your friends.”

Dipper gasps. “Kill them?! Why should I kill my friends?!”

The barista answered quickly, “They'd be much happier as ghosts.”

“You don't look so happy,” Dipper said skeptically.

The barista forced a smile. “Oh, I'm happy. I'm very happy.” He starts dancing. “Lalalalalalalalala, see? Now waste your friends, and I'll give you a coffee.”

Dipper ponders this for a moment, “Well, I shouldn’t be listening to murderous ghosts... Ah, what the hell?”

In a large dark room, Norman walks around and calls out, “Dipper? Dipper!” He sees a typewriter on a table, “Guess he decided to do his texting on this typewriter.”

He slowly walks up to the typewriter. Typed on the paper is, ‘Doin’ fine.’ “Oh, that's a relief.”

A flash of lightning strikes, revealing "No TV and No WiFi make Dipper Go Crazy" all over the walls, “... This is less encouraging.” He turns around and screams when he sees Dipper standing there. his hair is a mess, his cap askew, and his clothes are wrinkled.

Dipper asks in an ominous tone, “What do you think, Norman? All I need is a header. I was thinking along the lines of "No TV and No WiFi Make Dipper..." something, something.”

Norman gulped before nervously asking, “‘Go Crazy’?”

Dipper shouts, “Don't mind if I do!” He utters a bunch of gibberish before lunging for Norman, who screams and runs away.

Norman runs towards a glass container that had, “BREAK IN CASE OF SIGNIFICANT OTHER INSANITY” written on the glass, and a baseball bat inside it. He breaks the glass and grabs the bat, swinging it to keep Dipprr away, “Stay back, Dipper! I don’t wanna use this!”

Dipper pursues him up a flight of stairs, Norman continues to swing the bat. “Give me the bat, Dipper! Give me the bat. Give me the bat! Come on. Give me the bat. Come on!” Norman screams, he cackles, “Scaredy cat!” Norman smacks him with the bat and he falls down the stairs. Once at the bottom, Norman goes to check on him.

The rest of the students stood around, not at all shocked by what just happened.

Coralinetsked. “Another victim claimed by cabin fever.”

Norman grabs Dipper under her shoulders, “Mabel, Neil, help me carry him to the freezer.”

In the freezer, Norman, Mabel, and Neil lay Dipper’s body gently on the floor.

Mabel tells them, “Okay, he can stay in here until he’s no longer insane.” He picks up a can. “You guys want chili tonight?”

Norman and Neil nod, then leave, shutting the door on their way out.

Sometime later, Dipper, no longer insane, was sitting on the floor and eating through a tub of strawberry ice cream. A knock is then heard on the door.

The barista calls out, “Pines? it's me. Listen, some of the ghouls and I think that this project isn't moving forward.”

“I’m not murdeirng my friends.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!”

The barista and his gang of monsters, consisting of the Beldam, Hide-Behind, and Shapeshifter, all drag out Dipper against his will as he screams, “NO!”

As the rest of the class is eating dinner. Dipper walks down the hallway with an axe in his hand. With it, he chops down a door, stuck his face in through the hole, and shouted, “Here’s Johnny!”

He frowns when she sees that the room is empty.“Damn it!”

He chops down a second door and says, “Alex Hirsch!”

He sees Dib, who greets him, “Hi Alex, I’m Dib.”

“Damn it!”

At another door, he makes a hole and quickly says, “I'm Mike Wallace, I'm Morty Safer, and I'm Ed Bradley! All this and Andy Rooney tonight on 60 Minutes!”

This time, it was the right door. The class screams and they all run away. They go into another room and Raz quickly dials a number on her phone, “Hello, police? This is Raz Aquato! My classmate is on a murderous rampage. Over.”

On the other end was Deputy Durland, “Well, thank God that's over. I was worried there for a second.” He hangs up.

“No answer!” Raz wails. Everyone starts panicking.

Coraline calms everyone down, “Don't worry, guys. I can use my... "shiving"... to call Emmit.”

Off in a small cabin near the mansion, Emmit lies in his bed reading a book. Suddenly, he gasps, “Blue hair and her friends are in danger!” He rushes out of the shed and runs through the freezing snow, “I’m coming, kids!”

He opens the doors to the mansion, walks in and puts up his fists. “Alright screwloose, show me what you've got!” Dipper pops up right behind him and puts the axe in his back. “Ugh, is that the best you can do?...” He falls to the floor with a thud.

Lili mutters, “Damn it.”

Dipper pulls the axe out of Emmit’s corpse and drones, “Must kill friends.”

The class make their way outside into the snow, Dipper gave chase. As they walk further into the snow, it began to get deeper and harder to move. Neil falls face-first into the snow, unable to keep his balance. Wybie and Norman hoist him up and continue moving.

They’ve reached the edge of the roof, nowhere left to go. Dipper raises the axe, “Now who’s first?”

They all screamed in fear until a voice calls out, “WAIT!”

Lili holds up her phone which as full bars, “There’s WiFi!”

Dipper throws his axe to the side and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He starts frantically typing, “YES! FINALLY!”

Everyone sighed with relief and walked over to Dipper, glued to his phone. He dropped to his knees and said, “Urge to kill...fading...fading...fading...” One bar goes out “RISING!” They back away. The phone has full bars again, and Dipper calms down. “Fading...fading...gone.”

They all sigh with relief and huddle around the bright screen of the phone.

A few seconds later, they’re all frozen together. Mabel says through her stuck face, “We’ve only been out here for a minute.”

Wybie adds, “I’m so cold!”

“This ending sucks!” Raz exclaimed.

Lili scolded him, “No breaking the fourth wall.”

Norman points out, “The battery’s almost dead.”

“Shit,” Coraline cursed.

The screen cut to black, and everyone screamed at this. Dipper says, “Urge to kill...rising...”

Wybie: The end.

Coraline: Not bad.

Mabel: I especially loved the references! Now, here’s my story.

[copingwithcomics]

Intro and Queue 2024

Hello! I hadn't updated my pinned post in a while so I figured I'd adjust that!

Hi I'm Coping! I'm a 20 something illustrator who is really sad and really gay. I started this side blog when I was dealing with undiagnosed borderline after developing a deep crush on someone. The stories I was reading at the time really hit hard at that time and kept making me reflect on my feelings but I was frustrated some stuff wasn't posted here on tumblr. Making this alias has really given me the opportunity to collect media that helps me process what I've gone through.

Currently, there is a large amount of Kase-san in the queue as of course I love it a lot for its story and beautiful linework. Also mixed in is The Two of Them Are Pretty Much Like This and Run Away with Me Girl.

Series to be added:

Futari Escape

Donuts Under The Crescent Moon

Kanajo Ni Naritai

Last Gender

Cotton Candy

Loving Yamada Lv. 999

Ohana Holo Holo

Moon and No Make Up

Hello Melancholic

Scott Pilgrim

Scott Pilgrim Seems like a cliche to be adding into the mix right now but admittedly reading it again in my mid 20's affected me a lot (The Pandemic is scary because I forget that was nearly 5 years ago now). I could see myself a lot in Ramona and how I experienced being mythologized while becoming more detached, so for that I've wanted to put it in the roatation. There are also a few short or unknown series that will also eventually mix in with these guys. I've been reading or watch or playing a lot that my brain may have glazed over by now.

Series I've Read but Need to Compile Shots of:

Not Your Idol

Sora And Haena

Boys Run The Riot

She Love To Cook and She Loves to Eat

Blank Canvas

Complex Age

Sweet Blue Flowers

Our Dreams at Dusk

The Bride was a Boy

Fun Home

Androgynous Boyfriend

Not Simple

Fangirl

Canonball

The Pervert

Belle of the Ball

In Real Life

Select Pop Team Epic

A Small Section of Chainsaw Man

Series To Read:

The rest of Kabi's Works

Even Though We are Adults

How Do We Relationship?

I Married My Female Friend

I'm In Love With The Villianess

I Don't Know Which Is Love

Whisper Me a love Song

Transparent Light Blue

I Love You So Much I hate You

The Girl Can't Get a Girlfriend

Shinozaki-san Ki wo Ota Shika ni!

Adachi and Shimamura

Vampeers

Catch These Hands

Syrup Anthology

Conditions of Paradise

Assorted Entanglements

SHWD

Sweet Blue Flowers

Go For It Nakamura

I Think Our Son is Gay

Given

Our Dining Table

What Shall We Eat Today

Manly Appetites

BL Metamorphosis

X Gender

In Clear Moonlit Dusk

Until I Love Myself

Inside Mari

Welcome Back Alice

Love Me for Who I Am

Is Love the Answer

I want to be a Wall

My Brain Is Different

Yuri Is My Job

Yuri Espior

Horimiya

Dress Up Darling

Skip and Loafer

Smoking Behind The Supermarket

Mame Coordinate

Series in Need of Update:

Our Teachers are Dating

Kase-san

Seaside Stranger

Asumi-chan

[verse50]

Heat

It was the first weekend over 80F and we took full advantage of it on our six acres. Friday night we let the kids loose on the rock pile, loading up the trailer for the dump, then packed them off early Saturday for soccer camp. All morning he bush-hogged the treeline while I wrestled the sunken raised beds into shape. This house had been so neglected when we bought it two years ago. Finally we had the time and money to make it nice again.

I was pulling weeds when he tromped out in chaps and ear protection. Chainsaw hanging from his belt. That and the sweaty dirt on his face made me look a bit longer.

“I’m gonna saw up that alder and then get to the stairs,” he half shouted. Bush hogging will do that to you. He grinned and took out his ear plugs. “The beds are coming along, maybe-” I was on my knees and gazed up at him quizzically.

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he said, at the perfect angle to peer down my shirt.

“Nope!” I agreed, and swung myself back and forth. It looked and felt like two water balloons bumping in a pillowcase. Then stuck out my tongue.

His mouth set. “I gotta get the stairs done today.” Then he was gone into the brush, chainsaw revving. I bent down again to the weeds, trying to drown my frustration with deep breaths. 

He was so hard to read. I was a free spirit, a spitfire, and he was a calm, methodical engineer with a heart of gold. There was no better man on the planet, I was convinced, but gosh sex was tough with him! It took him so long to adjust to change. A toe ring. The tiniest gold nose ring. A tattoo on my ankle. Introducing him to my vibrator. I had to pace everything at six month intervals or it was too much.

 But once he got used to it...holy fucking shit. He basically dissected that vibrator and and studied the user manual. Found similar ones, tested them on me like I was a guinea pig. Even took me to a toy store in Dallas then fucked the daylights out of me until 3am. And then...it all petered out like a spent firework. I would try to keep the energy going, keep him interested, but I could never tell what worked. He was pretty shy about sex, almost embarrassed. He wasn’t comfortable with dirty talk. We couldn’t really sext because his job required cellphones be lockered except at lunch. We could go months on once a week then he would surprise me with a two day fuckfest, like a volcano erupting. I lived for those times but could never figure out how to make them happen more often. All it did was make me ramp up with excitement, feel more free, then try to cram myself in a box again. He was such a good man, though. I just needed to be more patient, less wild. I ripped up the weeds angrily.

The sun was high when he came in for lunch. I had sandwiches, chips, and his favorite tea ready. There was even more dirt on his face and I sat there awkwardly, trying to equate my silent chip-crunching husband with the dirty woodsman I wanted to pounce on.

“I think I’ll build out the landing a bit from the stairs, maybe put in a new handrail,” he said. I sipped my tea and nodded. “The driveway could use some gravel.”

“The trailer has all the rocks in it still,” I pointed out.

“Mmm. I’ll go to the dump first, then hit Home Depot and Brother’s Fieldstone.” He looked at me as if I had just appeared at the table. “You’re wearing a bra now.”

“Uh-huh.” I cut off a smart-ass retort and became very busy fishing pickles from their jar. “I’m gonna work on the petunia baskets.”

After the peck on my cheek he would be gone for at least two hours. I ripped off my bra, blasted Slayer on my bluetooth speaker, and delved into the hanging baskets. By the time I had repotted everything and cleaned up the cobwebby  lounge chairs I was a filthy mess. Shower time.

You couldn’t see our house from the road. I went out on the deck in just a towel, then threw it off and lay naked on a chair, basking like a lizard. Big fluffy clouds blocked the sun momentarily, then shooed away when I spread my legs wide. Everything needed to dry. My hair would need a serious flatiron session. Idly I thought of him coming out of the forest...rushing home...making a beeline for me...a naked woman tanning herself alone...so easy to take advantage...helpless...but there was a shotgun behind the door...

Damn it, I thought. Can’t even have a fantasy and it gets all practical. He’s wearing off on me. I looked at my phone. About 30 minutes of naked freedom left- I should water the baskets again. I picked up the hose and my phone rang.

“Hey baby,” I said, working up the cheerful wife tone. He really was wonderful. I just needed to...not need so much.

“Baby, guess how much the lumber cost for the deck, right now?”

I thought for a minute. It has been awhile since we did a major project. “Um, I think we did the brown house for under $600?”

“Yeah, well, I priced it all out. It’s gonna be over $2000! We can’t swing that now. It’s insane, the prices. Never seen anything like it. And Brother’s is out of pea gravel!” He was worked up. This man stuck to budgets religiously.

“O my God! No, you’re right. We can’t do that now. The deck will be fine for awhile, definitely. It’s sturdy at least.” The sun was so hot on my back. I stared at my shadow, waving the limp hose to and fro.

“So I emptied the trailer and uh, checked everything out. Since we can’t do anything more on that today I, um....” he coughed. I waited, cautiously easing on the water. “I went to that new little toy store in the strip mall.”

Water spurted out onto my shadow. “I see. What kind of toys?”

“The only kind!” His voice rose. The hose engorged and gurgled. “I found one like your pink one, you know that does the swirly thing, too? But this seems to be a softer material, a better grade of silicone, I think this company merged with a big distributor and, uh...”

My mouth twisted. It was just like him to get carried away on technical aspects. “That’s so sweet, baby. What are you wanting to do with that?”

“I want to use it on you.” He was almost whispering, as if there were seven other people in his F-250. “Like Dallas.” It was such a distant memory. I couldn’t work myself all up again, it was too exhausting. But he went to the store, my dear husband...he wants something.

“You can do whatever you want to me, baby,” I said sincerely. “Just come home and we can hang out the rest of the day.”

“I don’t want to hang out. I want- I want you to not wear a bra again. I don’t want you to feel, uh, like you have to put it back on? Around me?”

I aimed the water where my shadow’s pussy would be. Cool drops sprayed up onto my flushed skin.

“I’m not wearing a bra right now.”

“What?”

“I’m naked out on the deck. Been tanning after I took a shower.”

Silence. He was gunning the truck, I could hear the roar.

“I hope you’re bringing some wood home for me.” VVVBBBBRBbbbbRRRRrr.

“Baby, if you can just let me plan stuff. It’s easier for me. I’m sorry I’m slow and I disappoint you. I wanted to tear your shirt off there but I’m just never sure...I don’t want to do anything you don’t like, I don’t want to hurt you- really- just let me plan sometimes and maybe try to go along? I promise I’ll do better, you are so sexy-” sfhkhfffffppp. His phone cut out. I stood there, dumb, watching the water drip my shadow off the edge of the deck. He had never talked to me so much at one time. “-if I can plan and know in advance that you like it we can do more, you drive me crazy you know that, right?”

I took a deep breath. My legs were shaking into the damp, hot wood. “How do you want me to be, when you get home?”

Pause. More gunning. “On the deck chair, doggy. Ass in the air. Wait- I need to shower first.”

“No, you don’t. You’re sexy with the dirt on you. I love it.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I love my sexy, dirty husband.”

“Ok.” He was firm. The blinker was on, he was at the intersection ten minutes away. “Ass up, doggy. Hands by your side. Face turned away from the stairs. I don’t want you to see me. I have-have- a special delivery.”

I turned off the water. The whole deck was soaked. Not one basket had gotten a drop. “Ass up ready to receive. I’ll be waiting for you, baby.” I was so excited my words came out slowly, bouncing through a lump in my throat. The sun was cold and hot at the same time.

“If you respond well there will be future appointments.” His voice was full of confidence before the phone shut off.

I almost tripped on my way over to the lounge chair. Fortunately my towel was there in case things got really wet.

Thank you to @daily-esprit-descalier for sharing the photo that inspired this story.

Linktree

[weishenbwi]

A Lesson Learned, Ch. 1 “Lost”

Group: NCT Chapters: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 Pairing: MarkHyuck (all) / main pairings: JohnHyuck & JaeMark Words: 2072 Tags/Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Psychological/Survival Horror.  All chapters will be triggering. Read the tags/warnings on ao3.

Summary: Haechan and Mark should have never taken that old road and they shouldn’t have kept driving when it was so foggy. A lesson learned in listening to your instincts. Noncon af. The other members are NOT good people. Read tags and read at your own risk. (P.S. I'm sorry MarkHyuck babies.) 😭 Inspired by the Texas Chainsaw Massacre.

“Oh my my my what a pair of pretty boys we have here.” A man not much older than the others stands up and walks toward Haechan and Mark. You've brought me a beautiful sight, son. I'll have to reward you later." Daddy ruffles Jungwoo's hair and the younger leans into his touch just a little too eagerly earning him a chuckle and dismissal as Daddy crouches down in front of the two boys he so loyally brought him. It's not often they arrive in pairs and so beautifully packaged. Blindfolded, gagged, handcuffed, and on both knees. "They are a beautiful sight indeed."

“How can you see their faces? It’s all covered.” Jungwoo questions, earning him a hard slap against the face. “Don’t you question me boy, not if you know what’s good for you.” Jungwoo stands motionless, head down and eyes averted. “Nod when I’m talking to you. Now I know you aren’t brilliant by any stretch of the imagination but you’ll need to do better than that or there won’t be any use for you. Understand?” He nods with his head held down. Daddy doesn't like talking to Jungwoo this way but it serves a training purpose, a breaking down and building back up purpose. Every boy has their own training to endure but for Jungwoo this is one of the ways that seem to work best.

Jungwoo was familiar with the last boy that wasn’t useful and that was something he'd tried to forget - but Daddy and Jaehyun both made sure he'd remember it. "In case you get any funny ideas." Daddy had told him, watchful as Jungwoo held another boy down because one of the straps broke on Jaehyun’s table and the useless boy almost got away before they could "make him worth something other than taking up our oxygen". It was disgusting and bloody and horrible. He hates how skilled Jaehyun is with a knife and how sharp it was that time, how easily it tore through flesh that was once a person. And how Jaehyun didn't seem to have any reaction at all to the screams, the blood, and the mess when Jungwoo did everything he could to hold back the food in his stomach from coming up. 

“Don’t piss off daddy right when you've brought fresh meat,” Johnny calls out, his voice firmer with more of a commanding tone than the one who had taken them. With that Haechan begins to squirm, trying his hardest to get out and away. Mark, however, has a different reaction. He stays calm and still. Or so it appears. Whether he was actually calm would be up for debate later when the night's real entertainment starts and everyone gathers. 

“Whoa! Now hold him, please. This one’s going to fall off the edge of the porch with all that squirming.” Daddy yells and it's a command, earning a swift reaction from Jungwoo who doesn't want to get slapped again. Or worse. He’ll show daddy just how useful he can be later with these two "pretty boys". Even if it turns his stomach, he'll show him. Prove himself.

“How did you find them by the way?” Jaehyun asks, fresh out of the shower, looking soft as ever. Why Daddy never said anything about Jaehyun wearing lotion was beyond Jungwoo. The only time Jungwoo's allowed any type of pampering is when Baby complains that his hands are too rough and he wants a massage and "please Daddy, can I put lotion on Jungwoo?" Or "Can we take a bubble bath together, please." It takes nothing more than a simple pout and Daddy gives his baby, Taeyong, the world. Daddy does truly have his favorites and it's clear that Jungwoo isn't one of them. It keeps him on edge although he wonders if that's why Daddy does it. To see him on the edge, uncertain, a moment's notice from fleeing and stepping in one of their bear traps. Or Daddy shooting him with a gun, his baby Taeyong by his side. Or Johnny chasing him with a chainsaw, the mask of sewed up victims covering his face, each one ready to bring him to the basement kill room that’s stained with dry blood, a gruesome keepsake that’s only ever washed when someone fresh gets pushed down the stairs or carried to the table that’s held one too many screams. But tonight he'd found two helpless boys that Daddy would just love and, to be honest, Jungwoo is willing to take any brownie point he can get. No matter how much his conscience screams at him or how far he has to bury any remnants of morality still left over after all this time.

“You wouldn’t believe they were dumb enough to drive down a deserted road when the fog crept in. I would have turned back", he says hand ruffling Haechan's hair. This might be the most gentle anyone is with him until he’s forced into a bubble bath with Taeyong. And only then is it momentarily gentle. "Nearly lost my own way with all that fog and I know these parts better than anyone.” And it’s true. Jungwoo is the reigning law enforcement of this tiny town and part of his job is biding his time for most of his shift, traveling down dirt roads, saying hello to the elderly neighbors who have lived around these parts for generations, and capturing a victim or two if chance will have it. But when the fog comes it's not something to take lightly. Even he knows that. 

“Well... you didn't the first time. That's how we found you, remember?" Daddy says, laughing and Jungwoo can tell it’s in good humor. "But you did well, son. We not only have entertainment for tonight but possibly dinner as well. Although… they don’t look like they have much on them besides this one’s thighs.” His hand squeezes Haechan’s thighs and he jumps out of instinct. “You have some nice thighs, boy. Thick enough to eat.”

Daddy wasn’t one to hold himself back. When he saw something he liked, he had to have it, and apparently, he really liked Haechan’s thighs. This was evident by daddy rubbing his hands all over Haechan’s thighs, rubbing his face against them, and nibbling away on his jeans. Haechan’s thighs were definitely going in daddy’s room at some point. Jungwoo just hoped he’d be able to spend a little time with him before that.

“Remove the bags soon. I want to see how pretty they are.” The only one besides daddy that has permission to give orders or ask questions without fear of repercussion, especially when daddy was having one of his moments, is Jaehyun. Older folks know him as  The Chef and the younger ones call him The Butcher because he brings the townspeople "prime cuts" and "It's my pleasure. Please do remember to eat well." Everyone is thankful when he does, especially those living off government assistance or those who can't afford to buy meat regularly. For them, there is always Jaehyun. He packages each piece neatly and oftentimes will cook for them, delivering to each one individually or sending out service trucks. He is Daddy's second in command and frightens Jungwoo more than Daddy. 

“And hear them scream,” Daddy says between licks and squeezes against Haechan’s thighs. His pants are all but soaked now, his chest heaving from fear and panic, the sensation of feeling everything but seeing nothing. “I can imagine this beautiful throat screaming, boy. Smooth. Unmarked. You know what I’m going to do to your pretty, little throat later?” The boy with the spit-covered jeans whose hands are still bound, whose vision is covered with a bag Jungwoo keeps in his car for catching stray critters like those cowering on the porch, tries to scoot back and away. Haechan doesn't want to know, doesn’t want to hear it. “Oh? You don’t want to know?” Daddy leans forward, lips kissing and marking; the bag a thin barrier of protection from the violation of unwanted caresses. “I’m going to bruise you later, wrap my hands around your throat as your tears fall to the floor, your hoarse voice begging me to stop. Baby, I’m getting hard just thinking about it and I haven’t even seen your face.”

Jungwoo had witnessed it many times, someone struggling with no hope to succeed because Daddy is stronger than he looks. Daddy took whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. He will take all of him even when this small one believes there isn't anything left to give. 

He remembers when Daddy had taken him.

It was on a foggy night too. The fog got so thick in these parts, you couldn’t see much and most people knew not to be on the road. It was part of the success. No one out on the road besides those who don't belong, those who wouldn't be remembered. A long stretch of highway and so many back roads. “Easy targets. You just have to know when to take them.” Daddy had said once, the night he took Jungwoo. He had taken all of them personally. It wasn't until later that he sent out Jungwoo and Johnny - after they were trained. He wasn’t sure when it all began, just knew that Jaehyun was before him. Taeyong before that. And Jungwoo was taken around the same time as Johnny. Some in between that Daddy deemed unfit. He was once close to asking Jaehyun about when it all started, how, and if he knew the reason as they put out the hides to dry but he panicked seeing the skin before him. He didn’t want to become that and he figured Jaehyun knew but didn’t say anything - that it was likely for a reason only he didn’t want to imagine why. Jungwoo wasn’t sure how long Jaehyun had been here either, only that he was one of the firsts, exceptional with a knife, and preferred to work in silence. Sometimes with music. Rarely with screams. Usually opting for duct tape or any number of gags while he worked on whoever was sent down there. Jungwoo didn’t want to be sent down there and he didn’t want to end up drying out in the sun to be used for a lampshade, a gift, a "prime cut", or anything else other than living a long, healthy life. 

And now here are two others.

Pretty boys.

They look delicious, even to him. Their petite frames, slender bodies, and fear. Even the quiet one who seems to have caught the attention of Jaehyun who had walked in front of him to stare and take some pictures; their frames against the pale moonlight and fog. It's impossible to remain calm in a situation like this. An act, he thought, a slight smirk on his face when he thought of what Jaehyun would do to this one later, something that reached just below the morality belt. Jaehyun was particular and sadistic, though not as boisterous as Daddy about it, and Jungwoo wondered what that meant for this one with the quiet softness. He wanted to kiss them too and to touch the thighs of the one Daddy was still in rapture over. Something had changed in him, in all of them. Jungwoo reasoned it was only survival, that he hadn’t been conditioned because most of this still made him sick to his stomach. But then why did his dick harden every time he saw someone bound beneath him, helpless and scared?

What an odd sight, he thought. Daddy nibbling everywhere at this one’s thighs, Jaehyun taking pictures unknowingly of the kitten one. And Jungwoo, a law enforcement officer who should bring people like this to justice, standing to watch them both violate these two innocent boys he found. He didn’t have to look to know Daddy, Jaehyun, and Johnny are as aroused as him. What a weird, fucked up world. These two strangers were happy only an hour ago. If only he hadn’t pulled them over. If only he had let them continue on their way. Jungwoo didn't have a choice any more than they had to slow down in the fog. If he let them go, Daddy would know. He always knew when Jungwoo did something he shouldn't. The upside, he thought, they could survive. They could survive like Jaehyun, Johnny, Taeyong, and Jungwoo. It’s better than the alternative, right?

[ja-khajay]

Stuff I read (and liked) this year

As promised, here’s a list of the novels, comics, manga, etc... I read this year, focusing on the ones I enjoyed and would recommend to people. Under a cut, this is going to be a little long.

-------- Books --------

Favorite book of the year: Stranger in the Woods, by Michael Finkel

Non-fiction. Based on the interviews of the man himself by the author, it is about a man who felt so unfit for society he decided one day to leave it, and spent the next 28 years as a hidden hermit in forest in Maine. The book details how he survived there, how he was eventually found, and some of his reasons for doing so. It’s a great reflection on the nature of loneliness.

Indian creek, by Pete Fromm

...Yet another detailed tale of living alone in the woods. This time, the diary of a student who spent a winter in the mountains to help tend for salmon hatchlings, and how he spent the rest of his days hiking, hunting, meeting the locals. It’s a fun little book who, being set almost the whole world away from where I live, was a nice way to travel.

Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones

I don’t feel the need to explain this one since everyone and their mom has seen the movie adapted from it. The book, that I first read a decade ago before I actually watched the film, is a less romantized, more spirited telling of the same story. The writing is absolutely delightful and so is the world it paints, and it’s the first time in ages a book had me laughing out loud during my entire read.

-------- Comics (BD) --------

Favorite comic of the year: Monsieur Désire?, by Hubert and Virginie Augustin

A discreet young woman becomes a maid for a decadent, unbearable, byronesque young lord. Caked in the rigid and oppressive social hierarchy of the victorian era, you follow a mental and verbal joust between the two, as the lord tries his best to offend and corrupt his new unrelenting servant, to little success. The writing and especially the dialogues were stellar, drawing me into the tense atmosphere, watching this trainwreck of a character flamboyantly destroy himself. While there’s no precise content warnings that I can give, this is a mature and heavy story.

World of Edena, by Moebius

Anyone who’s followed this blog for over a month knows how much of a Moebius fan I am. Edena combines the vague, dreamlike, wordless storytelling from stuff like Arzach or The cat’s eyes with an actual plot. While I haven’t completly finished the story, the evolution of the main characters and how the story is told have been great to read through, and as always the art is beyond gorgeous. Unfortunately suffers from some good old sexism in the writing that even if minimal, tasted sour

Le roman de Renart, by Joan Sfar (book 1)

Sfar’s work always has a signature vibe of being dreamy and light without being light hearted, of being down to earth but drifting in the fantastical, and this one is no exception. It’s an adaption of a series of medieval folk tales I grew up with, who uses the same characters to tell an original story. If you’re familiar with icons like Renart as well as other mythological big boys like Merlin you’ll fit right in. There is something special in how the dialogues are written, who feel natural in a way that you’d overhear in a street corner and is very special to me.

The mercenary, by VIncente Segrelles

Another one I post about a lot on this blog. The mercenary is a king on the throne of fantasy cheese. The worldbuilding is interesting at times but the writing is a pretty pathetic display of glorious old time sword and sorcery sci-fantasy 10 years too late for it’s prime (warning for ye old sexism and orientalism that plagues the genre, cranked very high...) but you come and stay for the art. The entire thing is drawn in a series of hyper detailed oil paintings with an insane eye for technical detail, from the engineering of the weaponry, to the architecture and weather, to the anatomy of the fantasy creatures... Each panel stands out as it’s own painting which makes even flipping through it without reading the scenario a treat. Click here to see more of the art, in my Segrelles tag.

The ice maurauder, by Jacques Tardi

A short story about mad scientists entirely drawn like a 19th century engraving. In great Tardi tradition everyone is ugly and mean, it ends terribly, it’s both a hommage to the genre of late 19th cent. to early 1900s dramatic adventure novels and a critical eye on it, and it’s morbidly funny. Most people I saw online hated the way this was written but I’m not them and I really recommend this book. Die mad

-------- Manga --------

Favorite manga of the year: it’s a tie between the following two.

Cats of the Louvre, by Taiyo Matsumoto

Most wonderful comic I have read in ages. The story follows a bunch of semi-feral cats secretly living in the Louvre museum’s attic, and the small group of humans who share their life, walking through the museum as the night watch. When the cats are together, they are represented in a humanoid way, but still act like animals, and “become” cats again when a human is nearby. The plot is a sort of supernatural mystery centered around a kitten who walks around paintings. It’s a love letter to art, sincere and beautiful, with a unique art style and great characters.

Memoirs of amorous Gentlemen, by Moyoco Anno

A sex worker in early 20th century paris starts writing down a diary of the clients she meets, in a quest to cope with the troubles of her life. You follow her, her colleagues, and her bittersweet relationship with an abusive lover. I don’t have much words about this comic, but the art and writing both are amazing, it’s the perfect length and drew me in like little series had before. Obvious content warnings as this is an adult story that talks about sexuality, but also depicts both mental and physical abuse.

Hana, also by Taiyo Matsumoto 

A very short story, this was not made to be read as a comic originally, but served as storyboarding and visual development for a play, and the way it is written follows that. Hana is a slice of life story set in a fantasy world, of a young boy, his family, his village. Despite the setting being an original one, the character interactions are refreshingly... normal, and there is no huge plot to speak of, just a bit of the life of these characters. The art is beautiful, entirely black and white, with a scratchy style and an emphasis on contrast. Matsumoto is on a speedy road to becoming my favorite manga artist haha

Delicious in Dungeon, by Ryoko Kui

While not marked as my year’s favorite, I still consider this series among my favorite manga ever. The art and writing are amazing, and it’s both heartfelt, well concieved and plain hilarious. The story follows several parties of dungeon diving adventurers each on their little quests with a premise of our protagonists, on a panic rescue mission, surviving in the dungeon by cooking and eating the monsters they come across. From a DnD party turned cooking manual dinner of the week beginning, the plot creeps up on you and slowly thickens. I don’t want to spoil anything about the overarching story of this because it was a delight to discover for myself. While everything about DinD rules, I am especially fond of the design philosophy of the author, who puts great detail in the practicality and biology of what she draws, as well as the character writing. Everyone even side characters has so much charm and depth to them, the cast is so diverse and entertaining...! Each character is just a bit lame enough but endearing, and has their own little backstory that shows in the way they exist. It’s a delight

Chainsaw man, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

I went into CSM expecting a borderline campy hyperviolent dumb fun thing to read and was very surprised to find an uncomfortably well written story about a teenager being groomed. The hyperviolent dumb fun fights are here nonetheless and the series still qualifies as shonen for some reason, but the more mature character writing as well as some truly outlandish visuals make it something very special. If you can’t stand shonen, not sure you will like it, but if you don’t mind it, worth trying.

Witch hat atelier, by Kamome Shirahama

The oh so elegant fantasy seinen every cool kid started posting about this year, who I also succumbed to and fast. Witch hat is hard to explain, as most of it’s plot revolves around the rules of the world it’s set in, specifically the regulations around it’s magic and the social and historical reasons for them. It’s about growing up, learning, disability, making art. You follow a little girl taken in by a witch as an apprentice, her magical education, and learn little by little why her lovely teacher is so willing to break a lot of rules... While a bit too gentle and pretty for my taste at times, Witch hat has great worldbuilding and explores sensitive themes I rarely see in manga, much less in fantasy. And Berserk wishes it had art this good

[mooshys]

hello!! could you recommend some mangas that you think a person shoulf read at least once in their lifetime? i'm currently up-to-date with the tokyo revengers and monster no.8, but i'd like to try out different genres too :))

oh gosh, I've recently gotten myself into reading manga more this past year, so I'm no connoisseur, but I will definitely recommend some series (both finished and on-going) that I have found myself truly enjoying! here's a list:

d.gray-man by katsura hoshino

okay, so I finished reading this series recently on a recommendation (tysm maddy) and I am... I am completely enamored by it. from the art style to the storyline to the WONDERFUL cast of characters... it's just an all around magnificent story that, in my opinion, is so much better than any other shonen that I have read! there's so much to say about it, but I will be brief and say that this is definitely a must read!

orange by ichigo takano

this is a pretty beloved series... and for good reason. this shoujo seriously pulled at my heartstrings when I read it as it had a high focus on friendship and other difficult issues. there are some conflicting reviews with regards to the internal dialogue within the mc and the love interest, but like... I think it highlights how high schoolers act pretty well Lmfao

blue period by tsubasa yamaguchi

boy finds passion in art and chases after said passion through hard work! there are lots of introspective moments in this that'll hit you all at once because it's so relatable, especially when you think about your own passions and the hard work and dedication you put towards them.

look back by tatsuki fujimoto

this is actually a one shot written by the same person who made chainsaw man! gosh, I remember reading this... and then rereading it a couple more times when it first came out. incredibly heartfelt and reflective, a story that I think everyone should read as it's a masterpiece!

[charmspoint]

how was it ^-^

Let's seee. It was good, perfectly enjoyable, it reads fast and i was never really bored with it. I'd give most chapters like a 7/10 and then chapters 71-82 like 8 or 9/10 and then back to like 7/10 and the ending was weird but also kinda sweet in its own way.

Now to preface anything else: This isn't my type of manga. I can easily see it being a 10/10 for someone who really likes fight scenes and death and gore and what not. I'm not really into that, I'm a character and story driven person which is why the manga as a whole scored as just goodish to me while chapters 71-82 which kinda make a lot of emotional and psychological aspects of the chapters before them come to culmination scored a lot better. You know I don't GET fights. Chainsaw man was very gory but I didn't even really register it. Like because of all the gore I feel I heard people say it has horror aspects but I never really felt scared or off put or anything. It was just kinda like 'oh a lot of people are in pieces rn, okay, that's a thing that's happening'. So yeah that's why the score is the way it is, it simply isn't a manga that focuses on things I like and that's perfectly alright. I couldn't buy into the hype like I did with jjk and I certently didn't feel 'oh this is the best thing ever' like I felt with witch hat atelier.

With all that out of the way let me talk long and hard about Denji and sexual aspects of the series in a surprisingly positive light:

I like Denji as a character. I think he's still a bit rough around the edges but he's not a character made for introspection so that's fine, you really kinda have to take what he says and how he acts and think about it because the author won't do it for you. That being said, I think Denji is probably the most compelling shonen protagonist I've read so far. Like when I read bnha or jjk I see Izuku and Yuji and I'm like 'this is a shonen protagonist'. They are a likable character but they won't be your favorite character. They are largely made for japanese high school boys to project themselves on and I'm not a japanese high school boy. That being said, Denji feels like a character of his own and not something meant to be projected on to. Honestly if anyone projected on to Denji I'd be worried about them. But that makes him probably the most compelling shonen protagonist I've ever read. You just wanna dig a shovel into his skull and go 'man kid ur fucked up'.

I know when you first read csm you were off put by Denji because it felt like a manga put a pervert character as a protag which is naturally off putting and I can 100% see that. Now be it because I was warned about it first or something else, I didn't actually find fanservice jarring at all. It kinda was integrated into the world in a way that made me think 'yeah of course it's like this'. This is a very grim and rough and drty world and things in it would be just like that. It is a story about base desires and sex is one of those. These are people who expect they will die any day now and Denji is a person who's just now getting to experience a somewhat decent standard of living. Here's a thing I noticed though: even as Denji thinks many sexual things (which, he's a teenager, that's normal) he's actually very respectful. I don't think I've ever seen him touch anyone without their permission, in fact i think things like that mostly happen to him. Like example how Power comes in just as Denji is in the middle of his 'i wanna touch some boobs' phase. You would almost expect that what happens next is we see him try to grope Power as she's sleeping or something. But no, he doesn't do a thing until she asks him to help her save her cat and he gets to touch her boobs for it. And it's like this with p much every other sexual encounter through the series. Both partners are consenting and getting something out of the whole thing. Sexual aspects are used as normal bartering chips in a world where your whole body is a bartering chip. It's normal and no one is forced into it. I've told you before that my biggest misgiving with fanservice is that it's often based on embarrassment and unwilling participation of the girls. Like fanservice isn't fanservice because you saw a boob it's fanservice because you saw a boob when you weren't supposed to, when the girl didn't want you, when she's angry or scared or embarrassed because you did. A lot of fanservice feels very much like taking something from the girl, debasing and humiliating her for the sake of watchers/readers satisfaction.

Despite all it's sexual jokes and themes and everything else Chainsaw man never once made me feel like that. It never once made me feel like the author expected me to gain sexual satisfaction out of debasement of female cast. Which is why even though boobs and naked women are literally all over the manga I didn't mind it at all. It stopped being fanservice and became just a natural part of characters lives as sexuality and sex is a natural part of real world.

Back to Denji.

So I mussed a bit about Denji and Maslow before but here it is in total

Denji is 16 years old and at the beginning of the series he's just starting to have his physiological and safety needs met. Like he doesn't live like a human being at the start of the series and Makima recruiting him is A BIG CHANGE for him. Like for a good while Denji is like 'Now I have three meals a day and a place to sleep at so I'm good with whatever'. He's given reliable sources to fulfil his needs and he's given a way to keep those sources stable. He has a job, it's not a good job but he has it. He has a place to live and a theoretical safety net. He's immortal so there's nothing to fear in the death and injury department which means the otherwise unsafe job is perfectly fine for him. Now what Denji gets stuck on through most of the series is Love and Belonging. Because you can't just give someone love like you can give them food (not that Makima doesn't try). People are more complicated. Compromises need to be made and human connections are hard to establish, especially if you are someone like Denji who has no idea how to interact with others aside from obeying orders. This is why his need for love and belonging first manifests as a sexual need (that and he's an allo teenager). Human connections are hard but sexual contact doesn't have to come tied with connections so it's easier (if unsatisfactory as Denji finds out with Power) to achieve. A lot of Denji's personal growth is tied to him finding out that this need can be fulfilled by other things alongside sex. This is why I love chapters 71-82 so much because they are really a culmination of Denji's emotional journey in that category. Along the way along with sexual love he finds romantic one. He wants to spend time with girls he likes, he wants them to like him beyond the sexual. Of course sexuality is always an aspect of it but after that scene with Power it's never the only thing. Human connection, understanding the other person, knowing them, loving them, making them happy. And it all culminates in the familial love he finds with Aki and Power, taking care of someone and being taken care of for no other reason than they are your family and you love them, you care for them, you want them to be well and happy. There's this scene with Power later on when they are taking a bath together and Denji is like 'huh we are both naked but it doesn't feel naughty at all'. He's stopped seeing Power sexually because he started to see her as his sister and it's just really nice, those few chapters we get to see them as a family are really nice.

By the end of the series Denji starts checking off the esteem box too, by people accepting him and loving him and him feeling like he wants to respond to that, but I feel like that aspect and possible self actualization will be more explored in part 2.

There you have it, my essay about why Denji is the most compelling Shonen protagonist I've ever read :)

Also I really liked the girls in this series, it really isn't afraid of letting it's female characters be weird and gross and in Makima's case just plain evil and I appreciate it for that. I just wish Quanxi got more time and things to do but she's a side character and it's not her fault she's cooler than the whole main cast (Power best girl tho).

I feel like I talked a lot already about what was my most important take away from the whole thing but yeah, in general: pretty entertaining read, would probably be a complete blast for someone who's invested in fights, a little thin on psychology and emotion for my tastes but when it delivers them it delivers them good.

Also I like how it basically ended on 'you should give people more hugs' it was cute

Additionally I think the authors idea to basically release manga in seasons like you would an anime is straight up genius I hope that more mangakas start picking this up because it allows them more rest in between big arcs.

Ok now that's it for real this time.

[zmediaoutlet]

(read on AO3)

Sam’s cast comes off in Youngstown, Ohio. Dean offers to buzz it off with a chainsaw and Sam rolls his eyes. They go to an Urgent Care instead. Dean sends Sam inside with a fake insurance card that says Scott Smalls and idles in the lot for a while, watching the sliding glass doors. It’s cold and he doesn’t want to be here. There’s nowhere else to be. He wants to be sitting in there with Sam making fun of him for getting his arm fucked up by some co-eds ghost. He wants—

A motel. Two beds because—two beds. He orders pizza, extra mushrooms and sausage, and walks to the liquor store next door, and the clerk is one of those guys who looks at Dean’s mouth before he meets Dean’s eyes. Dean adds a bag of chips from the impulse rack to his pile and smiles with lots of teeth.

He has a drink. He refills his flask. He sits on the bed with his bags on it and looks at the other bed, and then he gets out his shotgun and cleans it, trying to focus: there’s the barrel in his hands and the smooth sweep of the brush, and the oil that needs applying here, and there. The heavy action of the trigger. He points the barrel at the purple carpet between his boots and pulls the trigger, feeling it, and makes the pew gun sound to the empty room. He lets the barrel sink down to the floor and lets his head sink, too, his shoulders tight and his spine feeling like it’s slotted wrong into his back, somehow, like from the base of his skull all the way down to his tailbone it’s an inch off. How long since he slept well? He can’t remember. That haunted hotel—

The pizza arrives. He tips the kid a ten and asks for extra parmesan. First slice hot enough that he burns the roof of his mouth like always. He eats it fast, anyway, and then sits back in the weird vinyl bucket chair at the table, tipping his head back. He’s tired. Tired, tired. The ceiling has a stain like a coffee spill, a pale brown lake spread on the popcorn, and he looks at it. Imagines a lake of coffee to swim in. Imagines adding creamer, sweet’n’low. How it’d swirl through the seaweed. Caffeinated fish. Fuck, he’s tired. He’s tonguing the blister forming behind his front teeth when his phone beeps. Out in two minutes. Dean presses his tonguetip up into the tender spot where it aches, sits there and looks at the phone screen for a while, and then goes to get his brother.

Sam takes a shower when they get back, ignoring the pizza. “Getting cold,” Dean says, but Sam’s throwing off his big brown coat onto the same bed that Dean’s bags are on and he says, “I know, but—ugh, I forgot how weird this feels, I need to—” and he’s pulling off his shirts over his head so Dean doesn’t quite hear what he needs but there’s Sam smooth tanned back and his hair all ruffled up around his head before he finally makes it into the bathroom, and the water crashes on, and Dean turns his face away from Sam stripping all the way down and thinks, screw it, and has his share of the pizza while he’s waiting.

Sam smiled when he saw the car, even if Dean left him standing out there by the entrance for ten minutes. He waved so Dean could see his freed hand, and he'd blown into the passenger seat in a billow of cold air and the smell of antiseptic, and he'd sighed like it was a relief. "Doctor didn't cut my arm off," he said, with a smile like he was sharing a joke, and Dean found his mouth tugging up, like it hadn't done in, what. Six hundred miles. Since Massachusetts. It still worked. Imagine that.

Sam’s always fast in the shower, because he doesn’t appreciate the finer things in life. The water shuts off when Dean's uncapping a beer to wash down his half-a-pizza and so Dean uncaps a second and sets it on the other side of the table. Rattle of the shower rings, and then through the open rectangle of the doorway Sam's arm appears, weird pale flash as he yanks the purple towel off the rack above the crapper. Dean swivels his chair around to face the doorway and drinks his beer, stretching out in hopes that somehow his spine will align right if he gets long enough, and so he's watching when Sam reappears—same old boxers tugged on, white undershirt, rubbing his hair dry uncareful and fast. Dean swallows a too-big gulp of beer and coughs. Sam, hunched over the toilet, white shirt and sweat in his hair. A secret clanging in Dean's throat. But—no—Sam walks out into the room bringing the smell of pine-fresh and damp and he says, "Man, I needed that," and he says, "I'm starving, did you get—" and Dean pushes the extra parm packets toward him, and Sam drops down easy into the other stupid bucket chair like he hasn't got a care in the world, like everything's hunky-dory because he asked Dean please to kill him, if it weren't any trouble, if things got too bad. Cast off and hair clean and food in front of him and his world seems to be spinning right. He slept, all the way through Pennsylvania. There aren't any dark circles under his eyes.

Plenty of cold pizza in their past. Sam eats and makes a surprised sound at the second, third bite. "Actually pretty good," he says, through a half-full mouth, and Dean nods. Feels too hard to form a sentence. He tongues the blister, watches Sam. "You check the news?" Sam says, and the remote's right there on Dean's side of the open pizza box so he finds a channel. The volume's so low he can't make out the words as the anchor-lady's mouth shapes them. The caption below says Robberies Continue. Sam squints at the television and shrugs a shoulder, and sips his beer, and they sit there quiet while Sam finishes his dinner and watches the news, and Dean sits and watches Sam.

He's been bulking up. Dean doesn't see his shoulders bared like this, not enough. Not nearly enough. His shoulders, and his arms swelling out of the short sleeves of that undershirt. Tan, still, somehow, even when it's been so cold and half the time they're both bundled up under coats—except for his healed-up arm, skinny and pale, the hair on it dark enough to look black. Sam's wrist is white, so that the veins stand out thick blue when he lifts the beer bottle, and Dean's thinking, blueblood. Blood. Blood of my blood, bone of my bone. Where did he read that? Somewhere. A romance novel, maybe, or maybe somewhere else, but now that he's thought it it's stuck in his head. Sam finishes his beer and Dean's just sitting there, tired, and his back still hurts, and Sam's shoulders are beautiful, and those bones, they're Dean's, aren't they? The bones that make his shoulders that broad and that make him that tall, the ones in his wrist that healed up finally, the long solid bones of his thighs and his shin and his sharp knees that get Dean, sometimes, in the night, if they fall asleep somehow together. How could he ever think that Dean would. How could he make Dean make that promise. When it'd be like breaking his own arm. His spine.

He's had—a gulp of whiskey, a beer. Two beers. Not enough booze to be thinking about this. Sam pushes his better hand through his hair, settling messy and half-dry around his head, and holds his beer with the pale hand, and flexes his fingers around the brown glass, closing them again. Dean pushes his tongue hard around the hard ridge of the roof of his mouth and says, "Hey, Sammy," and it comes out brittle, weird. Sam looks at him. Mild furrow, mouth soft. The TV-light on his cheek. Dean licks his lips and Sam's eyes drop, like they do, when Dean licks his lips, when Sam sees his mouth and isn't thinking about other things. Dean wants not to think. It'll do.

The move to his knees isn't graceful. He sort of slumps out of his chair. Sam's already spun away from the table to watch the newscast and Dean can get right up inside the spread of his legs, and he grips Sam's shins and drags his hands up and Sam says, "What," startled, but just at the speed Dean thinks rather than at the action. He slides his hands up over Sam's knees and gets his thighs, ropy muscle rather than thick, and he squeezes up there where Sam's boxers end and Sam says, quiet, "Dean?" but Dean doesn't—he just doesn't want to talk about it, at all.

"You're killing me, Smalls," he says, a joke that's barely a joke so Sam'll just let him do it. And Sam huffs, and touches the back of his hand with the fingers of the hand that was hurt, and Dean ignores that and slides up and up inside the leg of Sam's boxer shorts until he finds—the warm heavy weight of his nuts, and his dick, soft now but warm, warm. Sam pulls in air above him and Dean kneels up higher, ass up on his bootheels, sliding his other hand around to Sam's hip, to his ass. Leaning in, over Sam's lap, and Sam's up above him and touches the back of his neck instead, inside the leather collar of his coat, his finger sliding underneath the cord of Dean's amulet, his nail scratching a little while Dean squeezes, feels. Warm—the surge of blood—and Dean knows how to do this, always has, and he switches his grip to underhand and pulls, feeling Sam lengthen, thicken up, the head bumping the inside of his wrist. A squeeze at his shoulder and he shifts, grips the sloped arm of the chair with his free hand instead. Sam's legs spread wider and Dean pushes up the leg of the shorts to see—Sam's dick, full and flushed, the rosy-red head and the weight of it, the ropy vein along the underside that Dean runs his fingers along, feeling. The heavy shape of his sack still caught up in the thin cotton, warm and full, and Sam's fingers curl against the back of his neck, his hips tipping flat in the chair, his breath—against the back of Dean's ear—and Dean dips, licks his mouth wet and sucks the head in, and Sam says, "Fuck," soft but meaning it, meaning it. His hand slides from Dean's shoulder to his back, between his shoulderblades, and Dean tips his head and bolsters Sam's dick up and slides down, filling his mouth. Tasting. Clean, but still that bite of salt that makes it—Sam. That familiar taste, curling up under his tongue, making his mouth water. Making it right.

Sam's quiet, mostly. Lets Dean work. Dean sucks slow, doesn't use the tricks he knows. Slicks his tongue fat against the sweet soft ridge there at the head and feels Sam's thighs clench, and sits with his lips broken-open and lets Sam pulse thick and needing up against his soft palate. He slides his hands back down Sam's thighs and grips under Sam's knee, feels it tip in and dig into his side. He hums and Sam says, "Jesus," quietly, and then he laughs a little and says, "You're killing me, man," and Dean pulls off and looks at him, holding the fat pole of his dick warm in one hand, and Sam's looking at him—dark red pooled in the hollows of his cheeks and streaked down his throat, and his hair all fluffed and dry, and his eyes dark, bright. Lips red. Dean reaches up, drags his thumb over them, and Sam lets him—lets Dean's thumb drag his lower lip down, so Dean can see the white of his teeth—and Dean pumps Sam's dick wet in his fist and then ducks back down and sucks it in, meaning to finish the job this time, and it's not long really before Sam's clenching and gripping at him and lifting his hips helpless and pumping into him, his thighs shaking, his hands greedily tight at the back of Dean's neck and then soft, apologizing. When the bruise is already there. Dean swallows, keeps his mouth there. Sam's thighs jerk and close around his shoulders and Dean holds his balls through the thin barrier of the boxers and sucks, steady, making Sam shudder and say, "Too—too much, jesus—Dean—" but he doesn't shove Dean off and so Dean doesn't stop, taking everything he can until Sam's soft, heavy and sore inside his mouth, and only then does Dean pull back, and tuck his forehead down against Sam's leg, and breathe, slow.

His lips feel fat, tender. He's got his hands curled around Sam's hips but they're loose, and his legs have gone to sleep from kneeling so long but—he doesn't feel like moving, so they can just stay that way. He lets his head tip and Sam's fingers touch the little hollowish spot right at the very top of his spine. "Can I…?" says Sam, but Dean shakes his head as much as he can caught there in Sam's lap. He's hard, sort of, but it feels distant. Sam's thumb slides behind his ear. Dean sighs. He realizes, after a while, that his back doesn't hurt.

"You going to stay there all night?" Sam says, later.

Dean lifts his head. The room feels bright although he knows it isn't. Sam's dick has gone small, curled against his thigh, and Dean tugs his boxer-leg down so it's hidden again. A snort, above. Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and his lips smear, tacky. He needs water. Sam's taste—bitter, but not as bitter as he could be—caught up in his mouth. He sits back and Sam sits forward, almost too fast, and he catches Dean's head between his hands and kisses him, shocky-quick, so Dean's still blinking and surprised when Sam lifts up, and looks him in the eyes. Dean licks his lips and it still tastes like Sam.

Sam thumb drags along his cheek. "C'mon," he says, and stands up, and pulls Dean along. Oh—rush of blood, pins and needles. Dean staggers and Sam catches him, steadies him. Even the thin arm with its fresh-healed bones, strong and sturdy. How does he manage it, Dean wonders. He's dizzy from the change in elevation, from being so tired. From taking Sam and yet never, ever being able to—to make Sam see—

"When did you sleep last?" Sam says, and drops Dean on the empty bed. Sam's bed. There's a glass of water, then, and Sam says, "Dude, take your boots off at least," so Dean drinks the water and takes off his boots, and his leather coat too, and lays down off-kilter. The mattress is softer than he thought it'd be. Sam sits next to him, backlit by the lamp, and Dean looks at the ends of his hair caught almost bronze, and the way the hairs on his arm gild the line of it, and how his body—his bones—

"Sorry," Sam says, but he doesn't sound sorry. Dean turns his head the other way on the pillow and squeezes his eyes closed. "I'll get you back in the morning. Will you even remember?"

I'll remember, Dean says, or maybe he only thinks it. Sam's weight sinks the bed at Dean's side, and he's just about to fall asleep when there's a shift and it's gone. He dreams of lakes, dark, and a cast on his arm dragging him down into the deep water.

[ignitification]

Thank you @dualfuel for the tag! I am so sorry I am late for the party, but here we go, I guess?

1. How do you begin writing your analysis: do you start writing about the first thing that strikes you; or do you step back and look at the narrative structure first; or something else?  

It really really depends. Sometimes it’s like, oh my god I am reading and something just sticks out to me so I need to write about it, now before the thought is gone or I choose a topic which I am interested in knowing about more myself and I look at the narrative structure, rereading the arc, or just the chapter in particular in order to refresh the details in my mind, However, it is all very vague: it depends on the inspiration of the moment and on the mood concerning the topic.

2. What do you like to keep in mind while writing your analysis/meta?  

That I would like for people to understand what I am trying to get across, while not necessarily agreeing with it. I know it sounds stupid, but my mind goes blank when I write and the only thing which I focus on is to sort through my thoughts in a way which is understandable for others as well (and in which I mostly fail, but you know).

3. Do you try to keep your value judgments separate from your analysis? 

Depends on the topic. Most of the times metas are inadvertently and unknowingly biased, because we all write from our personal point of view, generating a particular insight which we then try to express with words - therefore, it is very hard to separate my moral and my judgement from the topic at hand, as inherently what I am writing on and my opinion on it is shaped by how exactly do I value it. It’s tricky, and I think that I mostly do not separate it - but to be honest, it is hard to.

4. Do you prefer analyzing characters, or arcs, or both?  

I don’t think I have a bias when it comes to metas. I just write on the topic at hand, and whatever appeals to me, be it arcs, characters or just generally events in one arc focusing on one particular character.

5. Do you think receiving feedbacks/responses on your analysis/meta help improve your critical skills?

In theory yes. I am not a humble person, very far from it - and I do take pride in almost everything I write, but I fully know that I have room for growth when it come to my analysis and critical skills (especially because you never stop learning), and because there are so many blogs out there which do such a great job I am ashamed of calling myself a meta writer.

 6. Do you consciously decide which media you want to write analysis on or does it naturally come to you?

Both. I usually have a preference when it comes down to the media I consume and I do take great interest in only a few, on which then I am confident enough to write analysis on. For example, I would never write anything on Black Clover - not because I don’t like it, but because I am not invested nearly enough into it, in order to keep in mind all the information I need in order to write a meta. So, I’d say I do consciously decide on a cluster of things I am interested in and then I go where the heart takes me.  

7. Do you prefer writing long or short metas? Which ones do you prefer to read?

I don’t mind either, sometimes short metas go straight to the point, instead of decorating stuff and sugarcoat anything and everything at the same time. However, I do tend to write and prefer to read longer metas, simply because I have more time, while I am reading, to process the information and to shape my own opinion on it. It also takes a lot of time and effort to write longer metas - and I know from experience, that it always makes people think when people read the meta: did they read until the end? And if they did, DID they actually? So, it takes also a lot of courage to put it out there and to let other people look into what goes in your mind at one point.

 8. Which are your favourite analysis/criticism/meta blogs?

I would not want to mention anyone, because lately I have not been writing anything, nor interacting a lot, nor reading a lot - and also because people tend to avoid me and my blog (because of the trolls I receive and because some of my takes are pretty extreme, but oh well); but I love reading @redphlox, @haleigh-sloth and @todomitoukei villain metas, as well as @pikahlua‘s more heroic insight. I also love other blogs, but lately I have unfollowed some because I find that their takes are long overdue and a bit overcooked.

 9. Which shows/movies/media do you think deserve to have more analysis done on them?  

Chainsaw Man, Psycho Pass, Yuukoku no Moriarty (HxH, whose fandom is half dead) as first choices - because while there is some very good insight on these media, I find them very few and just more insight would be extremely necessary and is highly encouraged. 

10. According to you, what are some prerequisites for good quality analysis?

References, insight and patience. You need all of them to read and write good metas (read to write good metas!), and you need a sprinkle of creativity as well. There is no good analysis which is boring, of which does not delve into the topic deep enough to struck some chords inside you and move your curiosity a little bit. 

I would like to mention @latuuart and @pikahlua to do this! And thank you once again for the tag, it was amazing.

[revchainsaw]

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

[dust2dust34]

Fate (Olicity, College AU, T)

Written for the super fun Halloween Prompts posted by @olicitytropes - check it out here. The prompt I’m using is: Person A is an actor in a haunted house. Person B is the friend in the group who didn’t want to walk through the house. Person B gets scared and punches Person A in the nose.

Rated T for language.

(read on AO3)

*

“I don’t want to be here.”

“Yes, you said that already.”

“I’m serious, Tommy,” Oliver hissed.

He grabbed his best friend’s shoulder and yanked him back as the group of women before them went inside the haunted house. Thankfully the guy managing the door held his hand up, indicating Tommy and Oliver had to wait before they entered. 

The door took its time shutting, letting Oliver hear every single scream and shout and terrifying whoosh echoing from within.

A shiver scraped down his spine. From the crisp night air, he tried to tell himself.

Tommy’s shoulder shook with a chuckle.

Oliver punched him.

“Ow, hey!” Rubbing his sore arm, Tommy glared at him. “This was your bet, not mine. I didn’t tell you to tempt the fates by playing chicken with Slade Wilson.”

“You didn’t have to tell him how much I hate these stupid things.”

“Nice try, but I’m pretty sure that was your drunken ass telling him that, not me.”

“Well, you didn’t have to say ‘Too bad it’s Halloween, haha.’”

“How the hell was I supposed to know he was pulling extra hours at this place? That guy’s shut up tighter than your asshole right now.”

“You’re hilarious.”

Tommy tossed him a cheeky grin. “I know.”

Another scream erupted from somewhere deeper inside the hulking beaten-to-shit barn and a cold sweat broke out across the back of Oliver’s neck.

“Listen,” Tommy said, “we get in, get out, and then it’s over with.”

Easy for him to say.

The man waved them forward.

Oliver’s stomach dropped and for a split second, he considered running. But then he’d never hear the end of it - from Tommy or Slade. He settled for glaring at his friend when Tommy turned to walk backwards so he could shoot Oliver an overly-exuberant grin.

“Just think, all that spinach you’ve been eating means your muscly ass is too heavy for the zombies run off with you - glass half full, buddy!”

“I hate you,” Oliver grumbled as they entered.

Oliver kept himself rigid as they made their way through the maze-like haunted house. It was stupidly dark, and the flashing lights made his head ache as his eyes strained to see. But it was okay. Ish. Even though his heart pounded, his palms turned cold and clammy, and prickly heat inched up the back of his neck to creep over his scalp. It was fine. 

They got through a large room where furniture moved on its own and the walls rippled before a ghost floated towards them. They rounded a corner to a clown jabbing a fake knife at them to the sound of maniacal laughter. A masked man with a chainsaw burst out of a room and ran through the hallways, chasing after at least half a dozen people who took off running. Tommy wound up a little further ahead of him, laughing and jumping accordingly, and catching up to ingratiate himself into the group of women from earlier. He did keep looking back to check on Oliver, which was nice, but the son of a bitch clearly didn’t care that much.

Despite that, Oliver maintained. His shirt was maybe a little sweat-soaked, and his jaw ached a little too much from being clenched so tight, and all the pain in his head was definitely focused on his furrowed brows, but he maintained.

Until a zombie lurched out from behind a curtain and grabbed his arm.

Oliver shouted and punched it in the face.

The zombie’s head rocketed back and Oliver’s jaw dropped on a mortified, “Oh shit.” Shame and humiliation eradicated any ounce of fear he’d harbored as he stumbled after the zombie. The very small zombie who fell back against a wall, her hands on her face. Definitely a her, he realized, and he felt even worse.

He’d just punched a girl.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Oliver babbled, hands hovering over her arms as he bent down to her height. People shoved past them, but he barely noticed, only seeing the dark-haired zombie and the pain on her face. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t-”

The woman abruptly dropped her hands and straightened.

He had enough time to see furious eyes and the smear of blood before her fist collided with his nose.

Pain exploded through his skull, radiating out in a whip of fire. He cried out and crashed into the opposite wall, narrowly missing a couple. He ignored their gleeful laughs - as if this was part of the stupid haunted house - and grabbed his face to assuage the vicious throbbing. He instantly regretted it when an even hotter burst of fire shot through his head.

“Ow!” he groused, opening watery eyes to a makeup-covered hand waving a pointed finger in his face.

“You punched me,” the zombie snarled. Oliver wanted to glare at her - because she freaking punched him, too! - but he didn’t have the right. Because he had punched her. And hard. The lights flashed at too random of intervals for him to see if the blood on her face was from her nose or just makeup, even as she got closer. She seemed fine, though, because she was nowhere near done reaming him. “Who the hell do you think you are? Why are you in here if you’re going to be punching people? I should punch you again for even thinking of coming in here if that was how you were going to react-”

She continued on, her voice growing louder, her yelling including colorful name-calling and a shove on his chest for good measure.

Then she was done.

Somehow the silence between them was louder than the hiss of dry ice underlying eerie music and the terrified shouts echoing through the halls. They stared at each other as people continued streaming past them. He noticed she had a nose ring and that she had black hair - purple, too? But it was her eyes that captivated him. Even in the shadowed hallway, he could see the flashes of blue with spikes of gold striking out from her pupils. They were fierce, matching the passion emanating off her in spades.

Oliver wanted to say something, but his mind blanked.

All he could do was stare.

She exhaled loudly, rolled her eyes, and grabbed his hand. “C’mon.”

A tiny zap shot up his arm when she touched him.

“Where?” he asked dumbly.

“Well,” she replied caustically, her words hard to hear because she didn’t bother looking back at him as she dragged him back towards the front of the house. “We just punched each other, so I’m thinking ice is on the menu.”

Yeah. That was probably smart.

The haunted house still had zero appeal, but the terror that had dogged him since Slade had issued his challenge was nowhere to be seen. It was probably the pain more than anything, and the shock, but he wondered if it wasn’t a little bit of her too. Her hand was so tiny where it was tucked inside his, but he knew nothing bad would happen with her by his side. That was a completely ridiculous thought, wasn’t it? But it still rang true.

If she noticed his hand tightening around hers, she didn’t say anything.

They burst out the front door.

“Hey, Doyle,” she said in greeting to the guy manning the door, but she didn’t stop, even when he asked, “You okay, love?” in a lilting Irish accent.

“Men are stupid,” she shouted over her shoulder.

Several people in the line shouted their agreement as Doyle yelled back, “You’re not wrong!”

The sun had long ago set, leaving low-lit lanterns strewn about to light their way. His zombie dragged him from the haunted house-slash-barn, around the beginning edges of the cornfield maze, and towards a rows of food tents. When they reached the back of one, she told him to, “Stay,” and disappeared inside.

Oliver did just that, not moving even an inch, not until she swept back out with two packs of towel-covered piles of ice.

He got his first good look at her face. No blood, he saw with relief. Just makeup.

And a beautiful girl.

His heart skipped a beat as she glared at him.

“Here.” She shoved one of the towels into his hands and nudged him over to a rickety picnic table. It was covered in random crap that she unceremoniously pushed aside so she could plop down on the tabletop and prop her feet on the bench. “I’m not sorry.”

“I am,” he told her, leaning against the other end of the picnic table. He hissed when he pressed the ice to his nose. “I am very sorry.”

She stared at him for a beat and then huffed. “Alright. Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

She pressed the ice to her nose, not even flinching. “Tell me why you punched me. Because there better be a really good reason for it.”

Oliver grimaced and dropped the ice to stare at his hands.

“Put that back on your nose unless you want to look even more like an elephant’s ass tomorrow.”

He laughed, even though it hurt. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re pushy?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Do you want me to punch you again?”

“No, no, please.” He sighed and did as she said. “I don’t like haunted houses.”

“Obviously.”

“No, I mean…” Oliver’s chest tightened as the memory came back up. “I’m terrified of them. I have been since I was little when a, uh… when a zombie grabbed me and ran off. It wasn’t far, it was maybe ten feet, but I was…” He blew out a heavy breath and blurted out the rest. “I was having a recurring nightmare at the time of my best friend’s mom grabbing me from under the bed. She had just died - shot, actually. Tommy and I were supposed to be with her that night, and I don’t know, I think I felt guilty or something, so she was kind of… haunting me. I guess. Then that guy grabbed me and it all, you know…” He made a clicking noise. “Linked together.”

She stared at him for a long moment. “Oh.”

Oliver blew out another breath and was grateful for the ice when his cheeks heated. “I’ve never told anyone that was why I got so freaked out that day.”

“And you went into a haunted house now, why?”

“Because my friend Slade is an asshole. And I lost a bet.”

“Let me get this straight: you dove into a house full of childhood trauma because you lost a bet?”

“Well, when you put it that way.”

“What was the bet?”

Oliver’s cheeks warmed even more and he ducked his head. He’d already spilled his guts about one of his deepest, darkest fears, so why not give her all of his shame?

“We bet the other couldn’t streak through one of our classes without getting caught.”

The beginning of a laugh fell out of her. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes. He cheated, just so we’re clear - he’s sleeping with the TA of the class he chose, so he knew when the professor wasn’t going to be there. Me, on the other hand, did not have that advantage. And on top of that, I went all the way and skipped shoes, so when I was running down the stairs of the classroom, my bare foot slipped about halfway down, and I proceeded to fall down the rest of the steps.”

“Nooo,” she groaned on a laugh. “You fell down the stairs naked?”

“Naked. Landed on my back right in front of the podium. Somehow hurt my junk in the process.”

She laughed again, and this time he joined her, shaking his head in amazement as she laughed harder. He watched her, transfixed, all the pain disappearing. She had an amazing laugh. She didn’t stop, not until she had to with a pained, “Ow,” and her hand hovering over her nose.

Oliver hissed and slid closer. “I am so sorry.”

“I believe you,” she said sincerely, touching his arm. Warmth blossomed from the spot and he smiled wider. “I’m still not sorry I punched you back.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he agreed. “I deserved that.”

“Although I do feel a little bad yelling at you now, considering why you punched me in the first place.”

“Don’t. I’m the idiot with too much pride to tell my dick friend to screw off.”

“Hey,” she said, gripping his arm with a little shake. “At least you know yourself.”

He snorted. “Thanks for that.” He held out his hand. “I’m Oliver.”

“Felicity,” she replied, taking his hand.

“Felicity,” he repeated, unwittingly dragging it out. It felt good on his tongue, and he repeated it silently to himself. He felt like he was tasting something incredible for the first time, and instead of satiating a craving, he found he wanted more. “This probably won’t end well for me, considering how we just met, and that I basically confirmed that I’m a walking moron, but…” Oliver took a deep breath. “What are the chances of you giving me your number?”

“Hmm.” Felicity rolled her lips into a line and narrowed her eyes. “Pretty good. If you do one thing.”

“What?” Oliver shifted to face her. “Anything.”

Amusement and what he hoped was delight lit up her face before she pressed her lips together harder, as if fighting back a smile.

“Okay.” She pointed down the makeshift walkway between the food tents. “Run through there. Naked.”

Oliver’s jaw dropped, but then a second later, he was on his feet. Felicity snorted out a half-laugh as he set the ice down and started undressing.

“Oh my god, you wouldn’t-”

And that right there was a dare.

“Oh yes I would,” he replied, shrugging out of his jacket before grabbing the bottom of his t-shirt. He paused. “You’ll give me your number?”

She shook her head in disbelief, grinning, but she did confirm, “Yes, I will give you my number.”

That was all he had to hear.

In the next minute, he had his clothes off and he was streaking down the line between the tents. He heard the gasps and shouts of surprise and more than a few people laugh when they realized what was happening, but he didn’t care about any of it.

Because that was the second time he made his future wife laugh that night, and in that minute, he vowed to do everything in his power to hear that sound as often as possible.

*

I think we can all agree that college-era Felicity would have definitely kicked college-era Oliver’s ass. 

Thank you for reading!

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