so @powerfulweak sent me this post, proposing that this is how Holster and Shitty make fun of Jack and Ransom - they insist that all Canadians eat their ice cream from pine cones. It happens frequently enough for the chirping to become casual and sound serious. So much so, that they manage to convince Chowder that it’s true: ”Brah, no lie. Canadians discovered that the pinecone is the perfect shape to naturally form the spiraled swirls around.” “They’ve been doing it with snow for centuries.” “But how… How do they eat it?" "Chowder, my boy, that’s just part of growing up in the wilds of Canada; eating pines cones, fighting moose, surviving on nothing but Tim Horton’s coffee-” "Holster, STFU! That’s not true!" "Ransom, you’ve driven 4 hours for a cup of Tim Horton’s, don’t play that shit with me”
“… well, it’s good coffee"
Shitty even goes as far as getting a soft-serve machine for the Haus. Chowder loses his shit when everyone’s gathered around it and Jack goes outside and comes back in with a pinecone and asks for a serving, because he’s a Canadian Troll™ (*shows Chowder an old peewee hockey scar* "My first moose fight… that guy was a scrapper.” *cue Holster barely keeping it together and Shitty having to leave the room bc Jack’s so straight-faced*)
The newest mp100 chapter featuring a collapsing Mob and a sentient broccoli has messed me up, y’all. Also I’ve been wanting to try getting into some of the mp100 character’s heads, so here’s a short attempt.
Mob would not wake up.
It had been a week since the Divine Tree incident,
as the citizens of Spice City had begun to call it. A week since Mob had
confronted Dimple at the giant broccoli, a week since Mob had talked Dimple out
of his ambitions of godhood, only to have the sentient form of the plant
rear its head to battle for its hold on the city. A week since Mob had fallen
into a deep sleep and the being that inhabited Mob’s unconscious body had awakened,
blasting the enormous plant into oozing chunks as large as buildings, then
floating them out into the ocean. A week since Dimple had last been seen,
escorting the floating pieces out to sea and remaining nearby to ensure they would stay,
dormant, in the ocean where they had been dropped.
It had been a week since Mob’s body had collapsed, still,
silent, to the ground, alone but for the crowd slowly arousing from their
brainwashing. The panic-stricken citizens had rioted in the streets, left floundering
after the tree’s extraction from the city and their minds. It had been hours
before the small, motionless form of Kageyama Shigeo had been found mere meters
from the breaking waves. He had not stirred since.
Kageyama Ritsu sat in the corner of the hospital
room, head bowed, arms crossed, glowering at anyone who approached him. He did
not want their comfort. He could not stop thinking about how easily he’d been brainwashed
by the cult, had so easily abandoned his brother. Only when the nurses were absent
for long stretches of time in the night did he creep up to the unmoving form of
his brother, whispering apologies, stifling sobs.
Hanazawa Teruki kept constantly on the move. He
flitted about the city, helping to remove rubble from the streets and pull
people out of collapsed buildings in the aftermath of the broccoli’s
extraction until he could collapse straight into an exhausted sleep each night. He did not think about the role he had played in the affair, how he had
been coerced into attacking the one person who had set him on his new, more fulfilling way of living.
He did not think about how
he’d wrapped his arm around Mob’s neck in a macabre echo of the first
time they had met, or that Mob’s last memory of him might be being forced to blast Teru out of the tree for his own safety.
Reigen Arataka paced the floors of the hospital,
making incessant demands of the staff. He dragged to Mob’s room any new doctor he had confused,
manipulated, or even begged into looking at his student; none of them could tell him anything new about Mob’s condition. He did not think
about the last words he’d said to Mob: that he would not go with him, that Mob would have to go confront the power behind the Divine Tree alone. He did not think about how those might
be the last words he would ever say to him.
This Tyler Oakley, Zoe and Lauren shit is making me want to throw up and cry. Everyone made mistakes on their part and everyone got hate. Seriously, Lauren made serious criticism, Tyler tried to defend Zoe and Zoe made a decent book. Can we just not pick sides? Honestly.
I don't get blogs designated entirely to anti-feminism.
Like…read a book or watch tv. Why would you waste all of your time on the internet basically throwing up your bad opinion on people who don’t care what you say? I don’t understand. There has to be something better you could be doing.