#{but alas i am also really tired so Who Knows}

[turtleblogatlast]

Don’t think I ever quite said what my LGBTQ+ headcanons are for the boys, so these are my current thoughts! Always changing of course but this is what I feel most strongly right now.

[dark-twist-fairytales]

Okay, I really want to watch CoS, just genuinely want to try and get through it.

Can someone please, please tell me if there's any important information in the dinner scene in chapter 16 and where it ends? I can't struggle through it anymore, but goddammit I want to watch them finish the story.

[thecherrygod]

Hm

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry gets jealous because you spend time with Richard

The risk of jealousy - TSH

Henry Marchbanks Winter x GN!Reader

Dearest anonymous, I hope you can forgive him and his denial of jealousy.

The sharp claw of jealousy finally scratches the untouchable Henry.

I’ve always been incredibly particular about whom I associate with. The people around me need to be worthy. Now, I am well aware that my choice of words may make me sound arrogant, so allow me to explain: I want them to have shared interests, to be able to hold late-night debates on esoteric topics, while giving me a sense of belonging and consequently not tiring me out socially. I do not ask for much, really. Alas, one cannot always get what one desires.

The little group of which I’m currently a part of is… pleasant. The twins regularly host dinners which are, of course, the birthplace of many fights and arguments regarding the most trivial subjects that usually end up with Henry winning. Francis unhesitatingly puts his aunt’s house at our disposal whenever desiderium naturae strikes us and amusingly complains about some disease or other the whole way there. I even consider some of Bunny’s jokes witty on the rare occasions when he stops being insufferable. Unfortunately, they all give me a shallow sense of belonging that only manages to make itself felt in transit moments. However, Henry is different. With him, I feel content reading in silence after a long day, waking up in the same bed, legs intertwined under the soft cotton sheets he insists on buying with Apolon tugging at our lazy eyelids or simply challenging one another’s knowledge on whatever topic interests us at a given moment. A continuous childlike rendez-vous.

I do not know why I have been so platonically attracted to Richard of late. When he first joined our Greek class, he did not strike me as someone who would manage to integrate his lowly self into our complexly layered group, or even more, someone who would enjoy my presence. He was and still is flawed and ordinary. However, this normality flowing through every habit, every movement, or expression is a strange refresh in an intangible web of meticulously tangled appearances and facades. Richard is not some ancient scholar buried in paradoxical ideals, Gods-praising rituals, and glorious beliefs, but a modern human. He is aware of the current world, unisolated, present, an active participant. Not only does he attend parties but he also drinks, kisses, and loves strangers. Though an exaggeration to the unknowing eye, he seems to me quite the Epicurean in a cult of Stoics (excluding Bunny).

Despite my writings above which one might foolishly mistake as praise on my part, I must now dive into Richard’s own tendency to fictitiousness. He throws, here and there, long, lavish fabrications (with the aid of which he becomes unconsciously arrogant) and slight inexactitudes he considers too small to pass unnoticed by the attentive ear. And according to my fate and against my trusted intuition, I found myself unable to stop listening whenever he started talking about his (fake) childhood in California filled with swimming pools and orange groves and dissolute, charming show-biz parents, teenage years with a new girlfriend every night, the newest dramas (if they truly do exist and are not yet other fictions) circling Hampden.

There is a quirk. I notice it now, when we’re all standing in the day room of Francis’, or rather his aunt’s, manor. Charles is playing the piano filling the room with gifts for ears, showing off as he always does, while Bunny comments on one rhythm or another, challenging him, fueling him further. Everything is normal, except for one detail that does not escape me. Henry grows more agitated with every single one of Richard’s grant histoires. Albeit, the so-called agitations are rather minuscule, but I pride myself in being able to distinguish them. A small frown, creasing his pale forehead just the right amount for it to disappear just as quickly and nonchalantly as it came, a constant rub of his hand against his limped leg, and a novel proneness to small physical gestures: touching knees, pressing shoulders, his hand on the small of my back or idly playing with my fingers. I settle on questioning him later since I know he will not show any truths of his mind in such large company. 

We share a room, since we stopped bothering to hide our relationship long ago from the others. Henry’s already in bed, his nose buried in a book, dressed in his pyjamas, his initials embroidered upon the left side of his chest; H.M.W. If I had been told years ago that I was to be sharing a bed or be in a relationship with the person I suffered the least, the one that I had to compete with in Julian’s classes, the one that knew how to push my buttons I would have died of agony. But now I’m content. I know of the infatuation rendering me blind. My life has become a continuous torture, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Just like Zeus who vows to fulfil his promise with a single sacred nod of his head, so am I unable to change the basis of my passion. He is in all my plans. In all the joys the future holds. In the dead of night, in Julian’s lessons, in the summer by the lake, instead of my mind’s eye being fully focused on one specific task, it always switches without fail to him.

I lower myself onto the bed next to him. “You seemed troubled earlier, in the day room.” I ask casually an indirect question.

“You’ve been spending an awful time with Richard.” He responds swiftly, tonelessly, simply pointing out a fact. 

I consider my answer for a moment. “I suppose so.” I hum, just as my head hits the pillow. “Don’t you find him intriguing? He watches the news on television.”

“Intriguing?” He blurts out, closing his book and putting it on the bedside table. Clearly, I have his attention. He turns on his side to fully face me, his hair falling over his forehead and slightly over his glasses. “His intriguing part eludes me. You are wasting your time with him, listening to his rambles.” He says clearly irritated, not bothering to keep up his stoic facade. “I assure you, you would be much better spending your time wisely.”

I frown. This is unusual of him. “He is in our class, is he not? I cannot avoid him.”

“Of course not, that’s not what I am suggesting.” His eyebrows remain furrowed. “What I do mean is that he does not bring you any benefit.” He continues in a monotone. “Why must you listen to him with the same attention and interest as you listen to me?”

Ah, I see. Henry is jealous.

“Is this jealousy?” I ask attempting desperately to restrain the slight smile forming on my face. 

“You are mistaken.” He ‘corrects’ me sharply, raising his eyebrows.  “I am merely stating that I see no point in your interactions with Richard when you could gain much more from being in my presence.”

I raise a sceptical eyebrow. He acts as if I wouldn’t mourn his death in the same way Achilles mourned Patroclus’, with rage and violence.

Words are imperfect communication devices, so I pull him down by the back of his neck and press my lips against his in a pleasant normality. I feel him slightly relax against me, his hand resting on my neck.

“Henry,” I mumble as we part, forcefully stretching our souls apart. I remove his glasses and place them down next to us and his forehead naturally falls against mine “you know better than to have such doubts.”

“I do.” He mumbles back, not bothering to deny his feelings anymore. “However, it proves to be quite difficult to not have them when-” He stops considering his words. “When you plague me so. There is no day or night in which your existence takes mercy on me and does not destroy the little rationality I have left.” He lowers himself down on the bed next to me. “You inexplicably and absurdly manage to be and eradicate my sanity.” He sighs. “And it certainly does not help when you look at Richard with the same eyes you look at me.” Henry mutters.

My hand finds his and I chuckle. “I’d argue I look at him with entirely different eyes.” At my comment, Henry raises an amused eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ll stop seeing shadows where there are none.”

That is all he needs to defeat his insomnia in my arms once again and to fall prey to sleep’s vicious grasp his body indistinguishable from mine under the sheets, sharing one breath.

[spideystevie]

bad for business

summary: steve’s good for your heart but he’s really bad for business word count: 4.5k a/n: me every time i post after being mia for months: who’s missed me! this was technically supposed to be inspired by bad for business by sabrina carpenter and then suddenly it wasn’t. not even sure there’s much of a plot but alas! also feel a little rusty at this right now, it’s been a while since i’ve really written anything but i’ve missed steve a crazy insane amount. love you, miss you, hope you all enjoy this <3

You’re late. You’re never late. 

The bell above the door to Dottie’s jingles as you hurry inside. Your fingers work on muscle memory to tie your apron around your waist as you slide through the mismatched seating arrangements inside the diner to get to the back office. 

You’re not sure if the way your stomach flips is from it being full of a single gulp of coffee or because it’s more than an hour past when you should’ve been here. The time punch on your card reads 9:07 am and your stomach lurches. Definitely not the coffee. 

It’s a Sunday, arguably your busiest day in the diner and arguably the worst day for you to show up like this. No doubt Dottie has noticed but you’re hoping against hope that she didn’t. God, what are you going to tell her?

Sorry Dottie! My super hot, super charming boyfriend wouldn’t let me out of bed this morning! Won’t happen again! 

Your face feels warm, like you’ve just spent an extensive amount of time in the sun in the middle of July. You knew you shouldn’t have stayed over last night, but you were so tired and Steve’s couch is way more comfier than yours. It really doesn’t help that his bed isn’t any different. 

“Lots of traffic this morning?” you jump, notepad falling out of your hand. Susan starts to snicker as you drop down to pick it up. There’s a smirk on her face when you rise to full height. Her blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail and her name tag is crooked on her apron. You’re not sure you’d consider Susan one of your closest friends but you find yourselves pulled together considering she’s the only other young person working here. 

“Oh you know…,” your voice rises in pitch and you clear your throat, hitching one shoulder up to your ear in a shrug. “Sometimes you just hit every red.”

Susan’s eyes narrow. There’s only one working light on your usual route to work. Coming from Steve’s adds only two. Not to mention, you didn’t drive yourself today. Steve dropped you off, promising to pick you up at 4 on the dot when your shift ended. Susan pops her gum in her mouth, not convinced with your fib.

“Right.”

“Yeah. Now if you’ll excuse me, Cliff is waiting for me in his usual booth,” you hurry past before she can ask you anything incriminatory. You hear Dottie before you see her, on your way to grab the coffee pot. 

“You feeling okay, sweetie? You’re normally here right on the dot. An hour isn’t like you.”

Dottie’s older than most and she’s been running the diner outside Hawkins for a whopping 30 years now. She hangs out behind the counter and loves to chat with the regulars and get to know those just passing through. With rosy cheeks and gray streaked hair almost always pulled out of her face in a bun, she’s almost like another mom with how long you’ve been working here. 

You snag the excuse she basically throws you out of the air. 

“Had a bit of a rough night, but I’m feeling a lot better now, Dot. Didn’t realize I had overslept until I heard the birds chirping outside. It won’t happen again,” you say. 

You didn’t oversleep actually. Whatever natural circadian clock inside of you wakes you up at almost the same time every workday but Steve can be quite convincing when he wants to be. Your heart does a little sigh of his name. Steve. You swallow and try to blink away the image of him.

Dottie gives you a sympathetic smile with a concerned tilt of the head, taking your flustered mannerisms and the way you wipe your palms against the sides of your jeans as lingering symptoms of whatever she thinks ailed you last night. She squeezes your bicep, the press of her mixed metal rings cool against your skin.

“Take it easy today, okay? You let me know if you need anything.”

“Course, Dottie. Thank you,” you give her a smile and grab the coffee pot. 

Cliff sits at the same spot every morning. A little booth along the window wall, three down from the door to the diner. He looks a bit rough around the edges, his coat well loved and worn and his hands weathered from years of hard work. He’s worn the same baseball cap every time you’ve seen him and he’s always got a copy of the morning paper open and propped in front of his face. 

He spots you out of the corner of his eye and scoots his empty mug closer to the table’s edge. You smile and pour the coffee, leaving enough room for his two packets of Sweet ‘n’ Low to be stirred in. 

“Anything new this morning, Cliff?” 

You’ve only known Cliff on his own, but you know he used to come with his late wife Winnie for coffee every morning before she passed. He’d summarize the big news and events and she’d do the crosswords on the back. Now, you let him summarize to you and he leaves the paper on the table for you. You do the crosswords on your break. 

“Same old, same old. They’re thinking about rebuilding the mall that burned down in Hawkins a few summers ago. You hear anything about that?” He sets the paper down to the right of his coffee mug and grabs two pink packets of sweetener. You watch him tear the paper and pour them in. When he looks at you, you shake your head. 

“First time I’m hearing of it. My boyfriend used to work there before it…you know,” you mention, unable to stop the morsel of information from slipping out. A twinkle sparks in Cliff’s eye, a small smile on his face as he diverts his attention back to his mug. The spoon he’s stirring with clinks against the coffee stained ceramic walls. 

“Are you ever gonna bring this boyfriend of yours around here so I can actually see that he’s real?” He’s teasing, tapping the handle of the spoon against the rim of the mug and setting it in the gap between the coffee and the newspaper. You roll your eyes but a smile lifts your cheeks. 

“I don’t know if that’d be too good for business around here,” you joke. 

“And was he the reason you were late giving me my coffee this morning?” He's quick to cover his smirk with the coffee mug as he takes a sip. Your mouth falls agape and you fluster, shaking your head and laughing shakily. 

“Ha ha, very funny, Cliff. No, he was not. There was traffic!” Cliff makes a face at this and you don’t blame him. Has the traffic excuse ever worked for living in a small town, you wonder. “And I had a rough night and accidentally overslept, is all.”

He grabs his morning paper again and opens it up. “Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

The rest of the morning starts to fly by in a blur. You recite your favorites off the menu to a couple passing through from Chicago. Refill Cliff’s coffee twice, each time dodging whatever he tries to insinuate about your tardiness this morning. Sneak an extra pancake onto little Sofie’s plate with a wink. The early morning breakfast rush blows through and things start to quiet down. 

You’re wiping down the table adjacent to Cliff’s booth. His mug is empty and he’s left the paper for you like usual. The bell rings as he opens the door to leave. 

“See you tomorrow, Cliff!” you call after him and he raises a hand in a wave as he walks through the door, thanking the young man that holds it for him. 

You have to do a double take as you swipe the paper off the table. It’s not just any young man in passing holding the door, no it’s Steve coming inside Dottie’s. It’s Steve standing at the entrance in his usual Levi’s and a white tee with sleeves that seem to strain around his biceps with windswept hair and a bright smile when he sees you. 

There goes your heart again with the sigh of his name. Steve. Though maybe this time you think it was your voice instead, airy and soft. You can’t believe he’s here. It’s nowhere near 4’o’clock. You’re aware of Dottie’s eyes on you behind the counter and Susan’s from across the diner and nearly every regular scattered about as well. 

Your knees wobble at the sight of him, the disbelief fading away and giddy smile falling into place as he meets you next to Cliff’s booth. Cliff, who’s standing outside the diner and staring and you worry he might come back inside to hound you and insist you introduce him, but he doesn’t. 

Steve wraps an arm around your waist, fingers hot against the side of your stomach through the layers of your apron and shirt, and dips to press a kiss to your cheek in greeting. There’s a rush of a swoon that goes down to your toes, the bulk of it getting stuck in your abdomen and swirling like crazy.

You’re in the middle of a greasy old diner but Steve’s somehow tucked you away from prying eyes and into your own little safety bubble. He’ll be the death of you one day. Your heart’ll just keep expanding until it can’t fit inside your ribcage anymore and has no choice but to explode from adoration and kill you. 

“What are you doing here?” you wonder aloud, eyes scanning all around his face, taking in every freckle and crinkle and mole. You pause for a minute on his lips and then you blink and find his eyes. He’s smiling at you, in a way that tells you he caught that and you feel struck by that feeling of being caught in the July sun again. He looks around the diner and everyone’s attention goes back to what they were doing before.

“Thought I’d surprise you! Also, it’s supposed to rain later and you didn’t take a jacket so I brought you one.”

Only then do you notice the gray fabric in his other hand and your heart twists and flips and oh god, you think this might be the moment it explodes. He presses it into your hands, the newspaper crinkling against it. 

“What’s that?” he asks as you go to thank him. Your brow cinches for a minute before it smooths in comprehension.

“Oh! Cliff,” you point towards the door he’d just walked through, “one of the regulars, leaves the paper behind for me every morning so I can do the crosswords. A little tradition we’ve got going on.”

“A tradition? Should I be concerned?” He jokes and you laugh. 

“Oh, definitely. Cliff’s your biggest competition,” you throw back and now it’s his turn to laugh. A glittering light fills your chest. You glance over to where Dottie is engaged in conversation with a middle aged woman just passing through. She can’t hear you from this far but you drop your voice nonetheless. “No but, he did give me a bit of a hard time about his coffee being almost an hour late this morning.”

At your pointed look and sly smile, Steve winces, fingers pressing a quick squeeze against your side. An embarrassed blush blooms on his cheeks, bridging across his nose. “Right. Sorry.”

“Forgiven,” you lean up to press the quickest flash of a kiss to his cheek. You wrap your arms around the newspaper and jacket, holding them to your chest. “Do you wanna sit for a minute? I can get you some coffee? Although be warned, Dottie might come up and talk to you.”

His arm drops from around your waist and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, coffee sounds great.”

You smile and motion him into Cliff’s booth. When he sits, he insists on holding onto the jacket and newspaper for you and you let him. He watches you take Cliff’s mug away and walk to Dottie behind the counter to get him a fresh one.

Dottie bumps her hip with yours as you pass and you give her a look. The pot’s nearly empty and you wait the few minutes it takes for it to fill, eyes catching on Steve while you wait. He’s stopped staring and has instead taken interest in the comics in the paper. 

“He’s handsome,” Dottie’s voice snaps you back into your senses. You glance at her and she’s got a special look in her eyes to match the smile on her face. You check the coffee pot that’s filling up quicker than normal. But your focus drifts back over to Steve, who senses your gaze and looks over to you and flashes a big grin. 

“Yeah,” you sigh, “he is.”

Dottie looks between the two of you and then takes a look around the diner. It’s not the usual Sunday hustle and bustle, post early breakfast rush and the impending rain could be the indicator for that. She's got Susan and Judy’ll be coming in any minute now and Pam right after at 12. When she looks back at you, you’re watching the last few drops of coffee fall into the pot. 

“Take the rest of the day,” Dottie says. Your eyes snap up to meet hers over the coffee pot between you.

“What?”

“Go sit and have coffee with that boy of yours and then go home,” it doesn’t sound like a suggestion, more like an order but you look around the diner and hesitate. 

“Dottie, it's Sunday. I can’t just leave this early on our busiest day of the week.”

“There’ll be other Sundays busier than this one. And you need your rest after the night you had. We’ll be okay, now go,” she pushes. You bite back a smile as you relent, kissing Dottie on the cheek as you pass with the full coffee pot and two mugs gripped tightly in your other hand. She shakes her head watching you cross back to the third booth from the door. 

Steve lights up when you enter his line of sight but his brow furrows at the two mugs held in your left hand. You set them on the table and fill them both with the fresh coffee before setting the pot down on the table. He watches you slide into the empty spot in front of him. The same place you assume Winnie occupied when she’d come here with Cliff. 

“Dottie’s letting me off early,” you say, grabbing an almost obscene amount of Sweet ‘n’ Low packets and dumping them into your mug. “Can you hand me a creamer?”

Steve finds himself staring at you, doctoring your diner coffee to how you like it, hearts for eyes and a wistful smile taking permanent residency on his face. When he doesn’t hand you the creamer right away, you look up, only a little confused but mostly amused at the blatant and overwhelming display of admiration across his features. 

“Steve?”

He blinks in quick succession and clumsily reaches for a creamer while you giggle and god, it’s killing him that he hasn’t kissed you right yet since he’s been here. You hold out your hand and he sets the mini pod on your palm, your fingers brushing his as they enclose around it with a thank you. 

He watches you finish stirring in the creamer, the coffee in your cup now a light shade of brown. You take a sip, both palms wrapped around the mug and your eyes on his when you set it down on the table. 

“You look nice,” you say, eyes dropping down to the simple white tee he’s wearing. When you look back up at his face, his smile is cheeky and his cheeks are flushed. It takes an incredible amount of self restraint not to kiss him across the table.

“Yeah? The plain white tee is really doing it for you?” he leans closer over the table, voice dropped just the slightest bit. You mirror his movement almost like there’s a magnet pulling the two of you together. Steve pulls one of your hands into his, weaving your fingers together across the table. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” there’s a flirtatious thrum in your voice that makes Steve grin. His mouth opens to respond, another silly flirty quip back when Dottie appears at the side of the table. 

“You kids want anything to eat?” 

The sound of her voice sends Steve jumping back against his seat, like he’s 15 and getting caught doing something he shouldn’t be. You lean back slowly, amusement clear on your face and a question in your eyes. Do you?

Steve looks from you and up to Dottie who watches with a knowing gleam in her eye. He starts to shake his head but then his eyes fall back to you and he’s repeating the question to you with his eyes. You consider it for a second and then shake your head slightly which Steve repeats to Dottie.

“No, we’re alright, thanks,” he says and Dottie nods. She grabs the coffee pot but doesn’t move. 

“Heard a lot about you…” she trails off and Steve’s eyes widen just a tad. 

“Oh! Steve. Harrington. Steve Harrington,” he fills in the blank for her, even reaching out his hand for her to shake. 

“Dottie. She talks a lot about you, Steve. Sometimes I don’t even think she realizes she’s doing it.”

You try to cover your face with your one free hand and groan, “Dottie.”

Steve lets out a small laugh and squeezes your hand, always finding it endearing to see you flustered. You slowly move your hand away, to which Steve gives you a quick wink which only makes you want to hide away again like you’re 16 with a crush. 

Dottie pulls him into an easy conversation. How is Hawkins? Where’d you both meet? And: Do you have a job? I expect only the best for my girl here, you know. And: you’ll have to come back and have something more than just coffee next time. 

By the time she’s finished and gone off to engage with the newest patron in the diner, your coffee’s finished and Steve’s has gone cold. You watch Dottie walk off and when you look back, Steve’s staring at you, soft and kind. His gaze makes you squirm. 

“I like her,” he says. 

“Uh oh, do I have to worry about having competition now?” you joke and Steve shakes his head with a laugh. 

“You don’t have to worry about anyone else, you’re the only one for me,” he confesses, rubbing his thumb against your hand. There’s that feeling like your heart might explode again with a sigh of his name, Steve. Though this time, you’re positive you’ve said it outloud.

“Steve,” you tilt your head, voice soft. He lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles and if you don’t kiss him in the next minute, you’re going to have a problem. As if he can sense it, Steve sticks a five on the table and grabs the jacket he’d brought for you as well as Cliff’s leftover newspaper.

He holds his hand out to you to help you out of your side of the booth and you take it, his palm soft against yours. You make it to the door and then pause. 

“Oh! Gotta grab my bag from the back,” you lean up to press a kiss against his cheek. “Meet you at the car?”

Steve nods, squeezing your hip briefly. He watches until you’ve disappeared into the back office before he walks out to his car. You come out not even a minute later, apron off and over your arm and bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a slight skip in your step. 

The air smells like rain, an earthy petrichor that makes things somehow feel lighter. Steve’s leaning against the passenger side, the door already open and waiting for you. When you’re close enough, he hooks a finger through your bag strap to pull it off your shoulder. It gets caught on the crook of your elbow when you reach up to cup his cheeks with your hands. 

He’s confused for the briefest of seconds and then your lips are on his and he forgets about the bag on your shoulder. His hands fall to your hips, one of his arms wrapping tight around your waist. Something inside both of you is cheering, finally. 

You don’t think you’ll ever tire of kissing Steve. Both of you fit perfectly into the empty spots of each other, as if you were carved from the same stone upon creation. It’s a kiss almost far too explicit for outside Dottie’s diner midmorning on a Sunday but you can’t bring yourself to care. That is, until you need to come up for air. 

You pull back, Steve chasing your lips and winning. You’re almost smiling too much now for it to work, your hands sliding from his cheeks to the sides of his neck. This time, he pulls away and your chests rise and fall in sync. 

“Been needing to do that since you first walked inside,” you breathe out and Steve lets out a laugh that you can feel reverberate through you. He kisses you again, quick and soft and his hand moves to take your bag off your shoulder again. 

“And why didn’t you?” he jests, stepping back enough for you to get into his car. One of your hands rests on the top of it, the other hanging loose at your side. Steve wishes he had a camera on him just to capture you in that moment with the sun hitting you in just the right way, playful adoration in your eyes. 

“Because,” you shrug, stooping to get inside the car, holding a hand out for your bag when you’re situated. Steve passes it over and closes your door, jogging around the front of the car to get in the driver’s seat. 

“Because…?” he pries, sticking the key in the ignition but not yet turning it. You’re pulling your seatbelt across your chest, turning your head to smile at him as you click the buckle into place. 

“Because Dottie might’ve gotten suspicious as to why I was so late this morning,” another pointed look his way and Steve shakes his head, turning the engine over and quickly buckling in his seatbelt. He shifts into reverse, checking his rearview mirror and then slinging his arm across the back of your seat. 

It’s like a feast for your eyes. The stretch of his arm, a long expanse of muscle right by your head that carries a strong whiff of his cologne. The swift, smooth, one handed feel on the wheel. You’re staring unabashed, only getting knocked out of your reverie when he responds. 

“I’m never living this down.”

He glances at you, his arm dropping from your seat to shift into drive. You lean your head against the headrest and shake it with a smile. 

“So what was your excuse then? For being late?” 

He pulls onto the street to take you back towards Hawkins, his right hand leaving the wheel and dropping to find your hand. You take the liberty of slotting your fingers into the spaces between his. 

“Oh you know. Rough night being sick. Oversleeping. Like something out of Steve Harrington’s playbook for getting out of work,” you tease. He scoffs, sparing you a quick amused glance. You lift your hands to your lips in response, your smile hiding behind the kiss you press to his knuckles. 

“And did it work? Did she buy it?” 

“Oh, of course. Why do you think she let me off so early?” 

Steve looks over at you again and sees the slight smirk on your face. He shakes his head with a slight laugh. 

“Wow, you’ve been hanging around me too long. I’m rubbing off on you.”

“Like that’s such a bad thing,” you roll your eyes, turning your head so your cheek rests against the leather of the headrest. A gooey softness melts into your gaze. “You’re one of the best people I know.”

Steve smiles, his cheeks blooming with a slight twinge of pink. He doesn’t say anything, just takes his turn lifting your joined hands to his lips to litter kisses along your knuckles. Your heart goes mushy, such has been the case since you started dating Steve. The mush liquefies, seeping through your body with a shiver when you notice the picture he’s got propped on his dash. 

He’s had to have just added it recently. A grainy film capture of the two of you, you think Max must’ve taken it if you remember correctly but you haven’t seen it before. You’re both leaning against the hood of his car, Steve’s arm around your shoulders and your hand lifted to hold his hand that hangs there. A big toothy grin is spread across your face, your head tilted slightly against Steve’s shoulder. Steve’s not looking at the camera though, he’s looking at you with a lopsided smile, adoration spilling out of him clear as day. 

“When did you add that?” you ask, pointing at the picture with your free hand. Steve glances down at it and immediately breaks into a smile.

“Just the other day. Surprised it’s taken you so long to notice it,” he replies, looking over at you and then back at the road. You’re about to ask if you can somehow get a copy of your own when he says, “I have a copy for you at home, don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get it before you go back to your place.”

You smile at him, one that’s soft around the edges, a perfect mirror of how you feel. It feels so wonderful to be known and seen by somebody the way Steve knows and sees you. Making sure to get two prints of that picture of you. Bringing a jacket to work for you for the rain that doesn’t arrive until that afternoon as you’re about to leave his house to go back to yours. 

He uses it as an excuse to keep you with him for another night, something you weakly protest against because the roads aren’t completely slick yet and you can get home just fine. But he insists, his eyes round and pleading and really you can’t deny that you’d rather stay with him anyway. 

Even if it means you’re tired again in the morning and rushing to work. You think being with Steve is a worthy price to pay, you never thought you’d be so glad to be so tired. 

And, at least you’re not late this time.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Hello are you still doing the SAGAU for reader gets mad and blowing up at people for certain characters? If you are can you do traveler or Lumine if you don’t want to do a general head cannon and fischl still? I’m so angry about how many NPC world quests that now seem like a pattern of traveler helps and then gets backstabbed and left to die and just really think those NPC need to under stand the gravity and anger of the players.

Hello, @celestialsiren! Yes, supposedly, I am still doing this series lol—I don't see why I should end it, seeing as there's always new characters that people request for. Ofc I'll do the Traveler!

Click Me For Part 1!

Click Me For Part 2!

Click Me For Part 3!

Reader Defending the Traveler! (Also No Vice Versa)

(Disclaimers: This May be OOC, And This Post Will Mainly be Using Lumine as "The Traveler." However, This Post Still Can Be Read as GN!Traveler or Aether.)

Lumine

To be frankly honest, I think you (the Reader) would feel pretty connected to Lumine. She's understanding, she's calm, and most importantly, she gets what it's like not to be from Teyvat. She's passed the celestial atlas to venture the world that is Teyvat, only to be prevented by the Unknown God.

Safe to say, you both were like two peas in a pod. And you were willing to travel with her and find her brother. Lumine gets you a lot, and you refuse any harm coming her way.

That includes verbal complaints. Like, honestly—Lumine's done so much for Teyvat for an outlander, and this is how they treat her?! You weren't having it.

So you planted your foot down, and boy, was your glare menacing. Your words were harsher than the blizzards of Dragonspine, and your glare was as menacing as the Dead Skeleton of Orobashi in Watatsumi Island.

Anyone who you deemed as enemy—in this situation, these good-for-nothing, took-for-granted gossipers—was paling at the seems of the Almighty Creator stomping their egos down. And, not gonna lie, Lumine kinda likes watching some of them. Some of the insults you used were actually used in other worlds—something only Lumine would know, but others didn't. It was kind of hilarious.

Alas, she can't have you go around and go all out all the time. Someone needs to make sure that the Creator doesn't try to decimate random folks, even if they are pretty infuriating.

"Your Grace." Lumine puts her hand on your shoulder. "Let's hurry up and finish this commission. We still need to get those rewards." You huff, but you let the insulters go, without a threatening note.

Yeah...she was not expecting to be an occurrence with so many other characters, but hey! Lumine's not gonna stop you :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: And we're done! Sorry if it's really low quality lol—I am so tired as I'm writing this :') I do hope you guys enjoyed it, though! Don't feel discouraged to keep sending me requests!

At this rate requests are probably the only thing that's keeping my blog alive. My blog is on constant life support LOL

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[livingbedroomframe]

⋆⁺₊❅. Confession from a person of the same sex ⋆⁺₊❅.

⋆˚࿔ Itoshi Rin 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

I think we see the worst of this guy because of the place he’s in, but in a normal setting he would be like any other awkward teenager his age.

I don’t see him ever being interested in a romantic relationship, he’s really focused on his football career, but he also wouldn’t be a dick for no reasons. I’ll repeat, ik he’s kinda nasty in blue lock, but in school he looked pretty okay. He was a bit weird when he was in kindergarten, but who wasn’t?

He would be caught by surprise by the confession, he isn’t the most emotional intelligent guy and also pretty awkward, so he would just stare at the poor guy trembling with anxiousness because he genuinely doesn’t know what to say nor react. After the long awkward pause, he would regain his composure and reject the guy with a rushed “I don’t have time to date.” cause he’s also anxious and wants to get out of the situation.

I also believe he wouldn’t mind being confessed to by a guy, he just doesn’t care for romance of any kind.

⋆˚࿔ Oliver Aiku 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

His cheating ass would make the guy that confessed his next victim.

It’s implied that he’s bisexual, so gender is not a problem. Him meeting in a karaoke with multiple dates and saying “let’s all play together” is the problem.

After being confessed to, he would move quickly: invite the guy out on a date even if he doesn’t feel any romantic attraction to him, lead him on until he gets tired, leave him and find someone else. Or cheat on him and find someone else. My guy is a proud hoe lol, I still can’t believe he placed third on “best gentleman” in the Egoist Bible.

The guy who confessed to him would end up on Reddit/AITA writing about his experience like: “Am I the asshole from getting together with the guy my boyfriend was cheating on me? (the other guy also believed he was the only boyfriend cheater had)”.

In conclusion, I strongly believe he is bisexual and would love to receive confession by men.

⋆˚࿔ Ikki Niko 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The Egoist Bible says his favorite manga is Banana Fish and his favorite anime is Puebla Magi Madoka Magica. He’s truly a doomed yuri/yaoi enjoyer. He would LOVE alien stage.

Anyway, Niko canonically spends his free time binge watching anime, is an introvert, he’s the least aggressive in terms of romance and was bullied because of his bangs. He would not get a confession.

But, in the case he received one, there’s two possible outcomes.

If the guy confessing is someone he doesn’t know well (like an hallway crush or a simple classmate), he would say “Is this a prank?”/“Did they make you do this as a dare?”. On the other hand, if he’s one of his close friends, there’s many aspect to take in consideration.

The Egoist Bible says ”His strength is his cautiousness. His weakness is his cowardice.”. Being in a gay relationship in Japan, a conservative country, takes a lot of courage even if you’re dating in secret. However, it does say his greatest strength is being cautious, so hopefully they wouldn’t get caught. Alas, with a football career in the making, I don’t think he would take such a big risk and put in jeopardy all his hard work.

Overall, I don’t see him ever accepting a guy’s confession, even if the feeling was mutual, because of social pressure and his cowardly trait.

Now, would he be disgusted if a man confessed to him? No, he wouldn’t. Taking in consideration his favorites manga and anime have heavy undertones of queer symbolism and he’s pretty chill outside of blue lock, he would reject the guy in a polite manner and move on with his life.

Do I think Niko is queer? Maybe, but this is discourse for another post.

⋆˚࿔ Hyoma Chigiri 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

A guy could give him the most heartfelt, romantic and sweet love confession after school behind the school gate like every shoujo manga ever and he would answer with “You know I’m a guy right?” or he would laugh and ask “You joking, right?”. Cue the guy running away in tears and Chigiri realizing he was actually serious.

I’m kidding! He’s good at reading the mood in the manga and, after surpassing the fear of his ACL, he’s supportive to his friends. Generally Chigiri is an easygoing/mellow guy, as the Blue Lock wiki describes him. Apart from some sassy remark, he’s still a moody teenager after all, I don’t think he would say something so mean to someone in a normal setting.

Mind you, he would still reject the guy for two main reasons:

1. I don’t think he’s queer. “But look at the way he dresses!!” “Look how feminine he is!” I’m sorry to inform you, neither of this things make a person queer.

(Do I still headcanon him as bi? Yes, but I’m trying to be realistic for this headcanon).

2. Chigiri would think the guy confessed just because he “resembles” a girl. I don’t think he would ever phantom a man being with him because he also is a boy and not because of his femininity.

But!! If Chigiri was confessed to by another guy in Blue Lock, I think he would say that. That place brings the worst out of every single one of them.

[egginfroggin]

Buried Treasure in the Sand, the Lynari Desert

"We once met a man who said he dreamed of finding a great treasure buried in the desert. "Everyone burst into laughter, and told him there was no such thing. "But the moment I saw this place, I felt his dream would surely come true. "The desert glittered like a sea of jewels under that shimmering sun."

~ Opening narration, the Lynari Desert

Talking under the cut:

So this took a while! It would have been up sooner, most likely, but Kirby decided to rot my brain for a while.

This is for my Pokemon/FFCC AU, and is part of what could be considered the main story, following Akari and Rei (or Dawn and Lucas). Return to Sender takes place in the same AU, though that mainly follows the train twins.

I learned a lot doing this, and although I know I could probably polish it more, I just want it to be done so that I don't lose motivation with the project and get discouraged. It's time for it to be finished, so it's finished -- not perfect, but as close as it will get.

Tried emulating the fancy script that they use for the dungeon names for the handwriting; it was tricky. Fun fact, I was so into FFCC when I was younger that I actually thought it'd be fun to absorb the script's fanciness into my own handwriting -- thus, my handwriting was once nigh illegible, but has settled to something halfway between cursive and print, still with some excessive swoopiness here and there.

It's never really stated who the narrator is referring to in the opening narration for the Lynari Desert, but I somehow always assumed that it was Hurdy/Gurdy. He would be the most likely to know of a "treasure" hidden in the desert, after all, though he might not remember why. Also, Gurdy is the one you learn the riddle from, so I guess I always just thought it was him.

Anyway, the man in question is Emmet this time around. What's he doing here? I'd love to tell you, but I'll let y'all ruminate on it because this is getting long and alas, I'm too tired to attempt much more coherent thought.

So, thank you all for reading! I am open to constructive criticism, especially about backgrounds and shading, as I consider myself to struggle with those.

Thank you very, very much, and I hope you all have a wonderful, blessed day! (ˊᗜˋ)/ᵗᑋᵃᐢᵏ ᵞᵒᵘ* <3

(program: krita; time taken: about 28 hours, cumulative)

[skzooweemama]

Hello!!! Omg I've recently been obsessing over your posts 😅 I love your writing style!

If you're not too busy, could you do a thing that's like skz's reactions to finding out you're ticklish?

It's totally fine if you don't want to, take care!! 💕

yes ofccccc!! i'm so glad you like my writing!

formal apologies to all my not ticklish stays- just pretend for this one :) <33

two posts in two days? who am i? guess i’m on a writing kick lol- unfortunately i do not think this will continue (but also i don’t want it to be another month before i post again so i’m gonna do my best)

anyway- hope y’all enjoy!! this was super fun to write! still experimenting w formatting too so stay tuned 😵‍💫

~~~

Bang Chan:

channie definitely figured it out quick

literally he is always touching you

we've been over this

of course he is a gentleman

his love language may be physical touch, but he had to make sure you're okay w that first!

waits until you begin to initiate affection more often before he gets clingy

but then he's kind of all over you :)

you invited him over to your place one night, and even though he had just been working for hours, he was just too excited to see you

he was super tired though, so you took it upon yourself to set up a cute movie date so the two of you could just chill out and cuddle

at first, channie was just happily cuddled up against your side, an arm lazily slug around you waist while you petted his hair

it was cute and sleepy and perfect

until he just had to go and mess it up

chan's musicality seemed to get the best of him as he began to drum the rhythm to one of their tracks out on your waist

your very ticklish waist

there was a noble and valiant effort to stop yourself from freaking out, but alas

you let out a squeal and suddenly chan perked up, his exhaustion completely gone

safe to say you got pinned to the couch and tickled within an inch of your life

praying for you babe, he is a true monster

Lee Know:

minho wasn't really on the hunt for your tickle spots tbh

honestly, it's not something he thinks about a lot

unless it's happening right in front of him or he's feeling mischievous and he can take it out on someone in his direct vicinity (ex. our maknae on top)

his interest has to be piqued first

that's why when he figured out that you're ticklish, it was literally in the most cliche way possible

that's right- you got stuck in your shirt

it was a cute top that was way too expensive, but you had splurged a bit because you wanted something nice to wear on night outs

unfortunately, it was also incredibly tight and hard to get on and off

especially for your tipsy post-date brain... you were struggling

that's how minho found you, with your top half off, arms trapped in the fabric pulled over your head

he scoffed at you, shaking his head and tutting that you should've asked for help

just like him to be condescending at a time like this smh

but he does help you, grasping at your fabric cage and yanking upwards

and it was so helpful, except for the fact that he just barely brushed your underarms

which made you squeal and pull away from him

which made him curious

minho helped you out of the top completely before he decided to explore what made you squeal like that

after that, though, he tackled you onto the bed and found every single tickle spot you had before he even thought about letting you go

and he's a meanie too... idk if you'll survive :)

Changbin:

changbin has definitely tried to tickle you before

he just never found the spot

yk how sometimes you'll see vids of idols "tickling" their member's forearms or like shoulder?

he did shit like that, fully expecting you to laugh

safe to say you did not

so he had mostly given up, content with the fact that you aren't ticklish

however

he did start to take you on gym dates

and on one of these gym dates he discovered just how wrong he was

you decided to try to do an unassisted chin up, which you had been building up to by using resistance bands each time you tried

changbin was standing close by for moral support (and also to catch you just in case)

you made sure to remember the proper technique and pulled yourself all the way up, chin just meeting the bar

changbin cheered when you dropped down, grasping your waist and kissing your cheek proudly

you felt so victorious! but when changbin's hand just brushed against the skin of your stomach from beneath your shirt, you froze and let out a squeak of surprise

despite my earlier comments, changbin is no dummy

you can be sure that later that night he decided to see just how sensitive you really were

you'll never have a moment of peace with him now ;))))

Hyunjin:

hyunjin is a poker

for some reason, those long fingers of his are just drawn to exposed skin

changbin is a frequent target, but tbh all of the members have fallen victim to his shenanigans at some point

and ofc, there's no special treatment, even if you're dating him

you will be poked, and it will tickle

your first mistake was wearing a new shirt that had those slits going diagonally down the front of the top

you hadn't even thought anything of it when you put it on that morning

i mean, it's a shirt and you were under the assumption that your boyfriend wasn't a weirdo

(you were wrong)

that night, hyunjin decided to help you make some dinner

and by "help" i mean he stood behind you with his hands around your waist and his chin on your shoulder while you cooked, talking your ear off about whatever came to his mind

he's annoying

anyway, eventually he got bored

you were too focused on the food! how could you ignore him?!

as he stewed in his boredom, his fingers found their way to the slits in the front of your shirt and brushed up against your warm skin

and then, he delivered one firm poke

right to your bellybutton

immediately, you let out a strained giggle and tried to move away from him, but unfortunately he had you trapped between the kitchen counter and his body

before you could even devise another plan of escape, his hands slipped beneath your shirt and began to wreck your tummy, shirt slits be damned

you nearly died that night, and it was certainly not the last time something like that happened~

Han:

jisung was shy

really he was, especially at the beginning of your relationship

it took him a while to even work up the nerve to kiss you after you began dating, and even then he was kind of drunk

but somewhere around the 3 month mark, a switch flipped

he began to touch you more and he was more playful

introverts are funny like that

it stands to reason that he discovered how ticklish you were not long after

i mean, how were you supposed to respond when he asked to give you a foot massage? say no?

you tried that, but he pouted and you caved

you sort of accepted the fact that he'd find out, especially when you got out of the shower to find him on your bed with lotion and foot masks

and he looked so fcking cute too, curse you jisung >:(

safe to say he knew something was up as soon as you sat down to offer him a foot to massage

you were bright red, stuttering, and even sweating a lil bit

and when he started teasing?! telling you how cute you looked?!!?

oh no, you were done for

he couldn't even start massaging, you collapsed in giggles as soon as his fingers grazed the bottoms of your feet with lotion

your silly boyfriend started laughing at you, and the next thing you knew, your feet were headlocked beneath his arm and he was going to town on them

you screamed and thrashed, and eventually pulled a foot away and gave him a good kick

bad idea, because now he's gonna get revenge by finding out what other spots make you scream <3

Felix:

felix was totally curious

like you knew he was ticklish (you reminded him of that fact frequently), so shouldn't he know if you were too?

he thought he should

his investigation began one evening when he came over for a sleepover

you, ofc, were expecting nothing but cuddles and romantic cutesy stuff

after your last week of midterms at university, it felt more necessary than ever

felix, on the other hand, was nothing if not conniving

it wasn't his fault that you just looked so cute in your pjs

perfect to test his theories on as well

you had dragged him to the bathroom so you could do skincare together, and then made him sit through a face mask, and then you two finally went to bed

but felix still had to wait for the perfect moment

and he wasn't gonna stop you when your lips found their way to his, small kisses blossoming into a lazy make-out session

emphasis on "lazy" because honestly you could hardly keep your eyes open by the time he pulled away

he giggled and brushed your hair from your eyes, thumb tracing your kiss-swollen lips as he whispered about how pretty you were

you flushed, scolding him about being a tease before you reached to turn off your bedside table lamp

felix suddenly remembered his mission

and his time had arrived

you just barely clicked the light off before felix stuck his fingers right into your armpit, massaging deep circles into your flesh

you positively squealed, unable to stop yourself from falling into witch-like cackles

felix's investigation was a success, and you can bet he'd use these findings again and again

Seungmin:

seungmin tickles you to get what he wants

or at least, he does after he finds out about your weakness

and it doesn't take long really

technically, the two of you weren't even official yet when he makes the discovery

the night before, one thing kind of led to another during an after-party, and the next thing you knew, you woke up in the same bed

wearing very little

anywayyyy

seungmin was the first to wake up in the morning with a raging headache

no lie, he felt like he had been run over by 20 tour buses

somehow, when he saw you, cuddled into his chest snoozing peacefully, he felt less gross

it was probably because he was in love with you, but he wasn't really ready to admit that to himself yet

and he did really have to pee, and he could not do that with you koalabeared onto him

no time to think about emotions or anything

at first, he tried to shake you awake, which proved to be futile

next, he tried prying your arms off from around his waist, but your grip was like iron

finallly, he tried poking and prodding you because he didn't have any other ideas

almost immediately you began to squirm away, trying to fight off the tickles in your sleepy state

eventually (partly because you were too cute gently giggling and partly because now he really needed to pee) he finally dug into your sides and really gave you a good wake up call

you woke up laughing loudly from the tickles, and when your vision cleared, you saw a blushing seungmin making his way to the bathroom

I.N:

Jeongin tickles you when you annoy him

which you do a lot

it's like you were built to push all of his buttons istg

the first time he ever found out you were ticklish, you were making fun of him

it was a personal favorite pastime of yours

(definitely not because you thought jeongin was hot when he was frustrated, no ofc not)

today had just not been a good day for him in the slightest

his voice was a bit hoarse so he couldn’t record, he kept missing steps in their dance practice, and to top it all off he was breaking out from the stress of a new comeback

so really, why were you adding gas to that fire?

usually you only bugged him because you wanted to get his mind off of whatever was bothering him

your teasing was light hearted, and you never had bad intentions

but when you wouldn’t stop asking for kisses, started whining at him after he said he didn’t wanna give you kisses, and then sat yourself right on top of him and refused to move… that’s when he got fed up

and yet you kept it up

jeongin decided he needed to do something drastic

and of course he’d never hurt you and he wasn’t truly mad, but he did need to teach you a lesson

so… he set his hands on your hips, looking up at you from where you were seated on his lap, facing him

and he asked if you would move

when you said “no” once again, he squeezed your hips like his life depended on it

you shrieked and fell to the side, trying to squirm away from his evil hands as they tickled you mercilessly

as jeongin pinned you down and made you laugh until you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t help but think about how you deserved this

whatever, it was fun so you just decided to be even more annoying in the future :)

[fushitoru]

btw do you know the plot of jane austens emma?? if not i highly recommend the movie from 2020 with anya taylor joy and mia goth. clueless is also an emma adaptation.

MY POINT IS!!!!!! i feel like the plot of emma would be perfect with nanami. reader is this younger bratty idiot who keeps getting herself into trouble.

and nanami is her slightly older family friend who’s sooooo tired of her cause she just. keeps doing dumb fucking shit. and he’s the one who has to talk sense into her every time.

and they just fucking hate each other. or at least that’s what they both think. but then suddenly reader suspects mr. nanami might be courting her best friend and oh why is she upset she shouldn’t be upset because nanami isn’t hers anyway……

meanwhile nanami is like “i wish reader would stop pushing me to be with her friend and just realize she’s the one i’m in love with. but alas she is a fucking idiot.”

(and reader’s friend is just. really in love with this farmer guy. perhaps choso?? so she is also like. i wish the two fucking idiots would keep me out of this so i can go marry the hot farmer and live happily ever after.)

i think nanami would make a perfect mr. knightley. he’s the one that says “if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more.” there is so much yearning there sighhhhhh……… i need to bite him.

WAIT. IM SO GOING TO WATCH THE MOVIE because it seems so chaotic HELPPPP

wait i literally love this LMAOOO i feel like this would be so nanami core.....and the yearning??? god i love the misunderstanding and angst/comfort potential in this......i also love that he's a family friend i am such a sucker for those types of tropes. it kinda gives penelope and colin too

alba i love your brain....the “if i loved you less i might be able to talk about it more” is KILLING me i need him. ilysm im sooo gonna use it as inspo <333

[primadonnas-ofthegutter]

Lol I said top five you gave me seven characters lmao. Okay easier top five ainme shows..... and go.....

Easier!?!? The fuck! Babe it’s not easy. I LOVE ANIME.

I will try… I guesss… if I have to choose five. I’ll go off of some of my current watches or reoccurring favorites! *based on anime not manga! I haven’t read any of them 💜 but I tired not to share any spoilers! So be mindful if you are watching anything!!

1. One Piece

It is so good. Like 🙌🏻 Anyone who says it’s not worth the amount of episodes, then fine watch the new one coming out because it’s updated art and they made it shorter! So there ya go. SUCH A GOOD STORY 🥹

2. Apothecary Diaries

I love this show 🥹😭 the main character is so funny. But I also love how she shows royalty and those in power how life is for those less fortunate. Even if she doesn’t intend, or want to cause trouble.

3. Laid-Back Camp

I am obsessed with this show. 😭😭 It is such a feel good and calming show. I love nature and I love the cooler season so it’s perfect 😭🥹

4. Romantic Killer

Sadly a Netflix Anime but 😮 it’s so worth it. I love the main character and as a Taurus I understand her stubbornness. But I also love how she takes care of those she’s loves 🥹🥹🥹🥹

5. Signs of Affection/DanMachi

I could not pick one between these two! I really like Bell as a lead, but signs of affection has sign language which I am fluent in ASL and I loved so much!! So good 😭

* special mention:

DanDaDan

I love this show, but I also hate this show a little. Remember I have not read the manga… but I can not get past the first episode. I am current and watching and I did not let the first episode derail me but DUDE. They should have had trigger warning on that episode. 1000% and I don’t know if we needed to make a 15 year old go through that for power. Idk just felt like it went too far.

However. I liked how it related back to why turbo granny was in the tunnel and the horrors faced in the past.

I have an idea that the yoki are all going to have horrible back stories. Humans are cruel after all… but alas.

[miasmaghoul]

Okay, you said you wanted non-sexual prompts, so if this is a no thats totally fine. Could you write like casual piss? I don't know how to word this. No smut involved, just domestic? If that makes sense...

anon please know that the phrase "casual, domestic piss" has been on repeat in my weird little brain since i first read this, and also that i had an idea for it immediately

god i am such a pissboy smh

anyway, here, have some soft rulti ft a little casual, domestic piss.

what a sentence.

Rain is not what you could call a morning person.

He never rouses before noon, at least not willingly, and even when he is awake he simply migrates. Shuffles out of bed and drapes himself dramatically over a sofa to doze back off until someone pays attention to him. Trying to wake Rain up before he's ready is a futile task at best, and at worst a bite risk. Generally this isn't much of a problem - mass is in the evening, there are no strictly scheduled mealtimes or chores, so Rain is free to be as slothful as his heart desires.

Even rehearsal doesn't usually interfere.

On an average day, any practice happens whenever the ghouls feel like it. There's no rhyme or reason to it, really; sometimes they have creative energy that needs expressing, sometimes Dew gets a bug up his ass about working on a solo and drags along company, sometimes Mountain gets in one of his moods and hauls Rain over his shoulder for an impromptu...rhythm session.

Point is, it's not really something that's planned. More of a casual affair, something they do every day but never the same way twice. Again, this works out perfectly for Rain. There's never a rush to start the day, and the others know by now not to expect him at anything close to a reasonable hour.

The issue arises when tours approach.

Unfortunately (for Rain), Copia has proven to be a morning person. Rain (somewhat) silently laments that fact every time Sister Imperator announces a new leg, a new cycle. Every time, Rain hopes it'll be different. That Copia will suddenly despise the idea of singing with the morning sun, that he won't expect them to be up and ready to go by 9am, can you imagine?

(It should be noted that Rain is the only ghoul that actually minds this.)

Alas, this never proves to be the case, and as soon as his phone chimed with the notification of an Imperator meeting Rain knew that his beauty sleep was soon to be severely compromised.

"Next week," Copia had said after Sister Imperator laid out the proposed itinerary. "Next week, on Sunday, we will resume our standard rehearsal schedule."

He'd handed out a list of thirty songs to each of them, a not-so-short list for the ghouls to study and provide input on. An opportunity for them to put together their own setlists to compare and contrast them with one another.

Rain had used his sheet of paper to hide his frown, dreading the fact that Sunday was only five sleeps away.

"I know that face," Swiss had teased when they left the meeting, looping a strong arm around Rain's shoulders. "Someone's being a pouty princess again."

Rain had given him a hiss, but Swiss just grinned at him in that very Swiss way and, well, Rain can never stay mad at him anyway.

"Not all of us look good with eye bags like yours" he'd grumbled, a statement that had wrung a loud ha from Swiss.

"I dunno," he'd snickered, ducking his head to knock his horns with Rain's. "You look pretty damn good when I tire you out."

Rain had rolled his eyes so hard he'd gotten dizzy, but it wasn't an accusation he could deny.

He also couldn't deny Swiss the opportunity to prove his point, and as they lay in the afterglow Rain gives a mighty yawn.

"This's bullshit," he slurs against Swiss' chest, nuzzling into the spot that smells the most like pepper and whisky and old weed. "Who even gets up that early?"

"Most of the abbey is up at dawn," Swiss chuckles, settling into Rain's lanky hold. "You're the exception to the rule, starfish."

Rain would argue, but then Swiss' purr kicks up and he's sinking his fingers into his sweat-damp waves and Rain feels little desire to do more than enjoy the way Swiss envelopes him. The way their skin sticks together with drying sweat, among other things. Swiss had given him a courteous cleanup where it mattered, but Rain's entirely too wiped out for a shower. Wonderfully sore all over, drained, and way too dehydrated to stand up for very long.

He doesn't mind it though - not when it makes him smell like Swiss too.

"Whatever," he grumbles, grabbing the covers and tugging them up over his shoulders. "S'still bullshit."

He's been fighting to keep his eyes open for the last twenty minutes or so, drifting on casual conversation and the brush of Swiss' fingertips along his bare back. Now that they're finally settling in Rain finds himself fading by the second.

"Don' wake me up'n the morning," he adds with another yawn, and the last thing Rain hears before all goes quiet is the raspy little laugh Swiss gives in return.

The next thing he hears is rushing water, creaking pipes and the telltale twitter of birdsong.

It feels like no time at all since he sunk into the peaceful realm of sleep, but when he dares to crack an eye Rain finds himself assaulted by rosy sunlight. Morning. Early, by the look of it. Rain shuts his eyes tight and groans.

"Finally," a deep voice hums, clearly amused. Footsteps pad across the floor and Rain feels the mattress dip behind him. "I've been shaking you for ten minutes."

Swiss reaches up to scratch at the base of one of Rain's horns, affectionate. Rain makes an unhappy sound, as close to a real whine as he ever gets, and Swiss gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"Why 'm I awake?" Rain hates his morning voice, all thick and inelegant. "Did I sleep 'til Sunday?"

"If that's what it takes to get you out of bed," Swiss chuffs, reaching up to tuck a stray curl behind Rain's ear. "Let's go, up 'n at 'em," he encourages, regardless of continual grumbly protests. "You might as well get used to existing before lunchtime while you can."

"This is torture," Rain complains, tucking his knees up towards his chest. "Inhumane."

"Good thing we aren't human, I guess."

Rain cracks an eye open just to shoot Swiss' blurry visage a sideways glare. Swiss winks as he lifts the covers just enough to lean down and press a kiss to Rain's shoulder. He rests his chin there after, gives him a warm smile.

"C'mon, raindrop," he lilts, sneaking lithe fingers under the covers. Dragging them along the nape of Rain's neck. "I'm drawing you a bath, surely you can forgive me."

Ah, that would explain the water he can still hear. Rain blinks at him, sluggish.

"Remains to be seen," he grouses, "but it's a start."

Swiss flashes him a grin, and then those warm, cozy covers are ripped from Rain's naked body with no ceremony. He yelps as the chilly morning air hits his skin, more awake than he ever intended to be and scowling at the other ghoul.

"Oh don't make that face," Swiss teases, reaching down to give Rain's nose a gentle flick. "C'mon, I put that weird shit you like in the tub and everything."

Swiss holds Rain's ankle, rubs his thumb over the bony ridge of it while Rain sniffs at the air. Picks up notes of rosemary and peppermint, citrus and rose. The bath salts Mountain had gifted him for Yule, an energizing scent that's sure to chase the exhaustion from his muscles.

Still, he can't give in that easily.

"Fine," he pouts, stretching his legs and not at all adoring the way Swiss' fingers glide along his skin. "But only if you carry me."

The words earn him an extreme eye roll, but Swiss can't hide his amusement. He heaves a mighty sigh, cracks his neck and knuckles, and Rain most definitely doesn't watch the muscles in his arms and chest flex.

"As you command, princess."

Swiss says it with an exaggerated bow, and then he's scooping Rain up with no further preamble. Rain snickers, looping his arms around Swiss' neck and nuzzling into his shoulder. He's warm and solid, comfy, and if the walk to the bathroom was more than ten steps Rain could very easily drift off again.

As it stands, he's being set down far too soon for his liking, letting out a squeak when his bare ass meets the cold marble of his vanity. Swiss kisses him on the forehead when Rain frowns once again, giving his stomach a little tickle just to make him squirm.

"You want it hot or scalding?" Swiss asks as he strides to the tub, steam wafting around him. Rain stares unabashedly at his ass, eyes tracing the obvious bite mark he left there the night before.

"Boil me like a lobster," Rain sighs, stretching his arms over his head and trilling at the way his spine pops. Swiss gives him a thumbs up, twisting the faucet knobs while Rain yawns. "How much salt did you put in?"

"Enough to make you smell like the greenhouse for a week," Swiss replies, testing the temperature and only hissing a little at the heat. Rain takes a deep breath, taking in the herbal steam and letting it soak into his skin. "Mount'll be all over you."

"Don't sound so jealous," Rain says with a sleepy tilt, scratching at his chest, "you can share me once in a while."

Swiss snorts as he wipes his hand on the bath mat, turning back with a lazy smile on his face. Rain blows him a kiss while he swings his feet, ankles crossed, and doesn't complain when Swiss crowds him closer to the mirror ar his back. Palms planted on the vanity so he can lean in and nose at Rain's temple.

"You assume I want to share," Swiss rumbles, possessive fangs grazing Rain's jaw. It gives him the shivers in the best way, but Swiss doesn't push further. He steps back so Rain can see the sparkle in his golden eyes, the wrinkles at their corners. He's beautiful, and if Rain were in a more giving mood he'd say so. As it stands...

"You can cope," he mumbles, nose in the air, and earns another eye roll. Rain sticks his tongue out at the other ghoul just because he can, reaching for his comb to try and work out some of the knots Swiss gifted him last night. Before he can grab it, though-

"Ah," Swiss interrupts, batting at Rain's hand. Rain raises a brow as Swiss picks up the comb instead, moving to stand in front of him again. "You're playing princess this morning, remember?" He twirls the comb between two fingers, the same motion he does when he steals Mountain's sticks. "Lemme take care of you like one."

Swiss offers a roguish wink, and while some part of Rain knows that an offer like this - especially from Swiss - always comes with caveats, he can't find it in himself to argue. Blame it on sleep deprivation (nine hours isn't nearly enough), but all he can do is hum and nod.

"If you insist," he yawns, leaning forward to rest his cheek gainst Swiss' pecs, "but don't be surprised if you put me back to sleep."

Swiss' laugh resonates through his skull, dull claws scratch at his scalp, and the purr that kicks up in Rain's chest when he begins to comb is one he has no control over.

Swiss talks to him while he works, picking out every tangle he can find. Talks about everything and nothing, from the places they'll be playing this next tour, to the fitting for their new uniforms. Rain hums where appropriate, but mostly he drifts. Basks in the scratch of Swiss' chest hair against his cheek and the care with which he fixes his hair. It can't take more than a few minutes, but it feels like forever in the best way.

"Alright," Swiss eventually murmurs, stroking delicate fingers through Rain's knot-free waves. A delightful feeling that could put Rain back to sleep all on its own. "Ready for the bath, your highness?"

Rain huffs out a soft laugh, nips at his chest just hard enough to make Swiss jump. He's woozy when he sits up, half present and more than a little floaty, so relaxed he may yet melt into the sink beside him. He yawns again, smacks his lips while Swiss twirls a curl around his finger.

"Mm," Rain hums with a bleary blink. He reaches up to sling both arms around Swiss' neck, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Almost," he sighs against Swiss' mouth. The other ghoul pulls back, gives him a quizzical look. "Gotta pee first," Rain elaborates, shooing Swiss away. "C'mon, lemme up."

"Nah," Swiss replies, waving a hand, and it takes Rain a second to register it. He grins again, happy as a clam, and then he's hoisting Rain up by the backs of his thighs and all Rain can do is scrabble at his back with a yelp, clinging.

"What the -"

Before he can get the words out, Swiss is setting him down again, right in front of the toilet. Lets Rain get his feet under him, holding his hips until he's balanced, and then he's pressing a quick kiss to his horn. Rain blinks up at him, opens his mouth to speak, but then Swiss is turning him on the spot. Snuggling himself right up to Rain's back and hooking his chin over his shoulder, dragging the tip of his nose along the shell of his ear.

"As you wish," he croons, low, and Rain chuckles. Leans back into that broad chest and moves to aim at the bowl, eager to empty himself so he can finally slide into the herbal soup Swiss has so lovingly prepared.

Swiss grabs his wrist before he can manage it, though, and Rain just stares at it. Blinks. Swiss lifts his hand to his lips, kisses Rain's palm.

"Uh-uh," he breathes, warm against his skin, "I told you, sweetheart," another kiss, to the inside of Rain's wrist, "lemme take care of you."

Rain shivers at the feel of a large hand coming to rest low on his stomach, the one holding his wrist guiding in to rest over Swiss' own hand. Rain stares down at them, laces his fingers with Swiss', and heaves a deep sigh when Swiss' other hand slides over his hip. Tracing the line of his happy trail with two fingertips, until he reaches the soft swell of Rain's cock.

Swiss takes it in hand, aims, and Rain feels the strangest bloom of warmth in his chest.

"Go on," Swiss encourages, kissing the hinge of his jaw, "when you're done I'll even scrub your back."

"You'd do that anyway," Rain replies, and Swiss gives him a half shrug.

"A little incentive never hurts."

Rain snorts, but doesn't feel the need to argue. He takes in the way his cock looks in Swiss' hand, pale against his skin, nothing sexual about it regardless of their position. Of the way he can feel every inch of Swiss against his back, warm and comfortable and familiar. It's intimate, to be sure, but in a context Rain isn't sure he's ever felt before.

Rain offers a pleased sigh when the last drops hit the water, lets Swiss give it a couple shakes, and then he's turning in his arms. Planting a kiss on his stubbled chin.

He gives Swiss' hand a squeeze, presses it into his belly, and both of them groan when the first few dribbles leak out. It's no time before Rain can let go fully, a steady stream of relief, silly giggles escaping him when Swiss moves his dick around to draw shapes in the water. Swirls and circles and a their initials, because Swiss doesn't know how not to be a sap.

"Better?"

"Better," Rain smiles, wrapping long arms around Swiss' waist. "Now get me in that tub, I'm sick of being sticky."

Swiss laughs, gives him a squeeze, and this time Rain's expecting to be lifted.

"Such a princess," Swiss complains, lowering him into the steaming bath, and Rain groans. Swiss ruffles his hair, wasting no time in sliding into the tub behind him.

"Guess that makes you my prince," Rain mumbles, resting back against him the moment Swiss settles, and the pleased purr that rattles through his chest is almost enough to turn it into a jacuzzi.

[nicromancytarot]

NICROMANCY GETS SCAMMED - EPISODE 2

All I do on this app is complain.

Hello and welcome to part 2 of me possibly being scammed?? (I feel like this is deserved now, am I just really unlucky or something?)

16th of March @samisinsomniac messaged me for an exchange, I gave them their reading the next day 500 words as I mentioned I preferred, they responded with my reading the next day too, only with around 200 words, but I was thankful nonetheless!

I gave them a thank you, and some feedback on the reading, they also gave me a little bit of feedback for the one I gave to them.

On the 30th of March they messaged me again for some clarity on a situation through another exchange.

I got to their’s as soon as I could (which was immediately since I wasn’t busy that day), they were busy, but that’s ok, they said they would give mine to me by 10pm Indian standard time. India is 5 hours ahead of me, as I am set in the UK.

I proceeded to give their reading to them, 500 words as before, not only did I not receive any thank you, I also didn’t receive feedback. If you’re a Tarot reader, you will understand how crucial feedback is for us to better our talent and improve our work, and they know this very well, as they even mentioned to me during our first exchange for me to let them know how it resonates, and leave some feedback in their ask box.

To make matters worse, they did not give me my reading by 10pm IST. (It’s getting realll)

Here is their response to my reading, the blocked off part is me explaining the person’s feelings for them, I don’t want to put anyone’s personal information on blast, which is why that is covered.

They then said that they would send the reading to me that evening.

It was not delivered by that time either. DUH DUH DUH

I messaged them a tad worried, perhaps they’d been hit by a car and I was just being mad for no reason. They let me know that they had a medical issue, which made me feel evil for pacing my room in anticipation (I didn’t actually do that, only inside my mind palace)

Finally, I received my reading! It was… 200 words, but alas! At least I got it and everyone is alive.

Now the average person would take this as a lesson not to exchange again, just in case they get caught up with another medical issue you know, or maybe the reading is short. (Which ever one is worse. IM KIDDING)

They had a birthday! Turned 18, that’s great, I’m also 18, they messaged me about it, then asked me if I did 18+ readings.

Sometimes I lack context clues, but personally I feel like my confusion here is pretty valid. Plus! Their profile said they don’t do 18+, I’m very valid in my confusion.

Anyways! They ask for my question, I give it, then they give me theirs, they ask if it’s ok, I let them know it is.

But I was hungry and needed to shower, so I also let them know that.

They were doing my reading at 7:26pm, I got out my shower at 10:48pm…. somethings not adding up! So I sent a little message, letting them know about my recent scam, and how I did not want to get scammed again so they would have to send it first.

However, they have not responded, it’s been 3 days, since they apparently started my reading? Now I’m no Tarot Goddess, but I’m pretty sure you would be done with a reading by day 3.

Listen, I don’t wanna fight or argue, I’m just a little funny guy who does Tarot, no fight in me, you message me in caps and I think I’ll cry.

This is not to cause an argument, or to throw hands at anybody, I just don’t like being lied to or taking advantage of as a smaller Tarot reader.

It’s only been 3 days, I was planning on waiting longer to post this, however I feel like now is fine as I’ve clearly been lied to about when they started their reading, which I’m not sure if it was to receive theirs early from me, I got no clue dude, what I do know is I am really tired of people doing this to me, please stop, before I actually cast a spell for you to clip into the back rooms.

Scammers: 2 Nicromancy: 0

Please stop scamming me, you’re embarrassing me in front of my spirit guides. 😔

[warriorlid14]

from the ashes

Marco knew he had hit rock bottom when Jake, of all people, was lecturing him about mental health. 

Jake, who had once spent an entire month without so much as stepping foot outside his apartment, not even to get groceries. Jake, who they’d literally had to throw off a cliff to snap him out of his depression. The same guy who wouldn’t recognize mental stability if it rammed him like- well, like a ship ramming through a blade ship.

“I’m just saying,” Jake continued. “The physical labor has really done wonders. I haven’t felt this well since- well, you know. Maybe something similar could help you, too?”

Three months ago when they arrived back on earth, they found out that apparently the U.S. Government had been none too pleased that they’d stolen a spaceship and hijacked two of their morph-capable soldiers. Jake, ever their noble, self-sacrificing fearless leader took the fall. Technically, he was a felon. He was also the world’s biggest hero, so he’d gotten a slap on the wrist.

He was on probation and had to complete hundreds of hours of community service. Currently, he was helping the rebuilding process of a neighborhood that had been destroyed by a forest fire a couple of hours out from the city. Naturally, his absolute lunatic of a best friend had taken it as a wellness retreat.

“Mhm, yeah. Totally,” Marco said. He slurped the rest of his double espresso (quadruple espresso? Did it count as four if he’d had two of the drinks?) without even looking up from his notes. “So is this before or after we build libraries in underprivileged countries?”

“Marco-”

“No, it’s very noble and all,” Marco said, standing up. “But alas, I am but a very busy man so I’ll see when I can fit it into my schedule. Call my assistant to check in. Linda, you’ve met her right? Just hired her.”

Jake sighed. “C’mon man, you know I’m only trying to help. Quite honestly, you look like shit.”

Marco finally deigned to meet his eyes, a mock indignant look on his face. “Excuse you, I’ve been ranked in the Top 10 sexiest men two years in a row now. One which I wasn’t even on earth, thank you very much.” 

He knew he was being an ass.  An obnoxious one at that. Jake looked genuinely concerned. But this wasn’t how their roles worked. Jake was the tortured war hero. Marco was… well, he was one of the sexiest men in the country. If only according to Teen Magazine USA. Whatever.

“Not to kick you out or anything, but I do need my beauty sleep. Gotta be well-rested for the new gig tomorrow.” An obvious lie, indicated by the two empty mugs of coffee and the dark circles under his eyes. Nothing a little make-up in the morning couldn’t fix.

Jake stood up as well, gathering himself to leave. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can just take a break.”

“And I would! If I needed one. Goodnight, Jake.”

But Marco quickly found that he was wrong. The next night, flipping through channel after channel showing his very public, very humiliating mental breakdown during the live premier of the game show he was hosting that morning, he knew that this was his rock bottom.

……

Tobias was hungry. Which unfortunately wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Not for the last three months at least.

He’d left his territory unguarded for almost a year and a half, and a younger, opportunistic hawk had taken it over in his absence. He’d considered fighting her off, but he had spent over a year in a cramped spaceship, feeding on frozen mice and rats with no ability to hunt or fly. He’d gotten rusty, grown soft. 

And, if he was being completely honest, he was getting old. His once vivid red feathers were fading, and he was slower than he once was. He grew tired faster than usual, and had to endure the occasional body ache. He couldn’t prove it, but could swear his eyesight was weaker.

So, Tobias had been forced to find a territory on the outskirts of the hork-bajir valley. It was smaller and closer to a major highway. The wildlife, and therefore his food supply, was more limited. Not that a plentiful food supply would make much of a difference if he couldn’t catch anything.

The only benefit to being this close to a highway, though he’d never admit it to anyone, was that there was an ample supply of roadkill. 

With a mental sigh he flew towards the highway, past his territory, past a couple of scurrying mice he knew he was too slow to catch. Past the property Marco had bought years ago, a place to stay in when he or the others had business in the valley. 

It was usually empty, but today, a moving truck was parked in the driveway. At the sight, Tobias veered back, curious. The back of the truck was open, and a second later, a gorilla jumped off, carrying five badly-taped moving boxes in its burly arms. 

Tobias flew closer, within thought-speak range, and called out, ((You know you could make a killing as a mover.))

It was a testament to how often they heard other people’s voices in their heads that Marco barely flinched at his words. He looked up at him as Tobias swooped down and landed on the truck. 

((I’ll keep that in mind,)) Marco said, and continued up the driveway. He set the boxes inside the open doorway.

((So, what are you doing here unloading a moving truck? You’re not moving in, are you?)) Tobias asked, cocking his head at Marco.

((Needed a sabbatical,)) Marco said with a shrug. Tobias paused for a second.

((In the middle of nowhere, Wyoming?))

((Oh, you know, nature does wonders for the soul and all.)) Marco waved his hand in the air dismissively before jumping back into the truck and unloading two more boxes.

Tobias looked at him quizzically, waiting for Marco to elaborate, but he didn’t. Something was definitely up with him, but Tobias knew better than to pry.

Marco dropped off the boxes at the doorway and turned to him. ((So, are you going to just stand there, or are you going to come and help?))

Tobias considered leaving and resuming his attempt at finding lunch for that day. He glanced at the boxes strewn around the patio and mentally sighed. He fluttered down to the floor and began to morph.

……

Marco sat in his bathtub, a bottle of wine in hand. He wasn’t sure how long he had sat there, staring blankly ahead, but it had been long enough that his fingers were starting to prune. 

He hadn’t done much more than lounging around for the past couple of weeks. Hadn’t even set a foot outside of his house. 

Whatever. He needed a break. And he didn’t really want to see or talk to anyone anyway.

His friends and family didn’t seem to get the memo, however, as both his house phone and his cell phone rang a couple of times a day. The caller ID always showed Jake or Cassie or his mom. He texted them all an “I’m fine. Stop calling” a couple of times, but he knew that wouldn’t hold up for much longer. He was almost offended that the most he had gotten from his so-called celebrity friends had been two separate “thinking of you” text messages until he remembered he didn’t particularly care. 

His dad never called.

With every day that passed, Marco became more bitterly resigned that he would likely not hear from his father for a very long time. Maybe not ever. Not without Marco being the first to reach out at least, and like hell that would happen. He didn’t feel like being kicked out of his former house once again, thank you very much.

It was a sick sort of funny, that this was how he lost one of his parents. Not to death. Not to the yeerks. Not to resentment of Marco letting his mom remain a controller for so long. Not to the lies and secrets he’d held onto for years. 

No, it was for one stupid comment. One selfish declaration Marco had made so many years ago, hoping that it would bring his parents closer together.

Load of good that did. It was barely a year after the war that the cracks in their newly reunited family started showing. And a year after that that his parents had gotten divorced. And then it was all, “Oh Marco, we both love you so much” and “Oh, Marco, nothing has to change.” 

Bullshit. It was all a load of bullshit. Funny, wasn’t it? He had tried so hard. Had gone to hell and back hundreds of times. Had been dismembered and shot at and psychologically tortured for so fucking long, all to get them together again. To be the family they once were. 

And they couldn’t keep it together for even two fucking years. Marco took a long swig of the bottle of wine.

He didn’t care that he was being immature or ridiculous, being an adult and still caring this much about his parents’ divorce. Being this affected about his dad going back to Nora, fucking Nora. Especially when compared to the turmoil of his mom’s death and enslavement. But dammit, with the way he’d had to grow up since the war, no, since his mom’s supposed death, he’d earned a lifetime of immaturity, hadn’t he? 

The media didn’t think so.

Okay, so maybe he’d snapped a little bit. Whatever. It had been one day. Just one bad day and now his entire reputation, and his reputation-dependent career, had gone down the drain. He should have known better.

The day of The Incident he had been sleep deprived and running on caffeine, adrenaline, and not an insignificant amount of anxiety. He had been irritable. Snappish. Just minutes before going on air, one of the crew had approached him from behind. Marco had flinched, turned around with a snarl, already morphing gorilla before he realized what he was doing.

It had been the look of fear that the guy had given him, the sideways glances from the others. Marco had created the perfect suave and funny and hopelessly charming persona. But right then, in that studio, he was not Marco the hero to the studio crew. He was Marco the killer. Marco the tactician. It was enough to send him spiraling. 

He should have seen the signs. Should have walked away.

Instead, the whole world had seen him lose it. He was no longer Batman. No longer Iron Man. He was pitiful, wounded, deranged, Marco the broken Animorph. He was angry and humiliated at losing his reputation. Shallow? Definitely. 

Losing his career, though? He was… well he was upset.  He might have just lost what he always wanted. He was rich and famous and successful. He had been on top of the world. He should be devastated to lose that, right? But he was mostly relieved he wouldn’t have to host that stupid game show.

After the war, there had been something missing, a hole in his life. Something… Something. And the hole grew bigger and bigger until he was so bored, so dissatisfied, a part of him was relieved when Jake dragged him along for a final mission. Which was just insane, right? 

The relief had been short lived though. Soon they found themselves in space for months and months until they were sick of each others’ presence. Until they saw a mockery of their friend Ax on their screen.

And then Ax had died. 

And Marco had been the one who killed him.

Marco took a long swig from his bottle of wine.

It had to be done. Ax was dying already, would die a longer, more painful death if Marco hadn’t intervened. And they had to make sure The One was truly defeated. They had to make sure there were no remnants of that creature left behind.  And Ax had practically begged them to do it. 

It had to be Marco who did it, too. It couldn’t be Tobias. The kid was already barely hanging on. Having Ax’s blood literally on his hands would likely end in him trying to smash himself into a window again. It couldn’t be Jake. He had been on the other side of the ship, too far to help, and anyway, killing Ax would surely send him spiraling back to the dark place he had been in after Rachel’s death, all his emotional progress down the drain.

Jeanne might have been able to handle it, but she wasn’t an Animorph. She wasn’t one of them. And only one of them could do it. Had to do it.

So that left Marco. He could handle it. He was handling it. Maybe not with the grace he wanted to, but... 

He snorted. God, he was a mess. Had been for a while. 

He sank lower into the bathtub. He really, really should have seen the signs.

Once upon a time, years ago, he’d tried therapy at his mom’s insistence. The therapist had told him that he had a habit of not actually feeling his emotions. At shoving them aside or rationalizing his way around them. Marco had thought it was bullshit. He woke up most nights screaming in terror, of course he was feeling his emotions.

But maybe she’d had a point, since he’d willingly gone on live TV amidst a mental breakdown without a second thought, not realizing what was happening, not seeing the signs.

Whatever. He had plenty of time to feel his emotions now, here in his bathtub and with his mind mush from the alcohol. Marco made to take another swig from the bottle, realized he had finished it, and reached instead for the can of beer he’d also brought into the bathroom.

…..

Ok, so admittedly he wasn't a great friend. He’d known something was wrong with Marco. The day Tobias had helped him move in, he’d been dismissive and quieter than usual. The bags under his eyes had been pronounced. And though Marco had tried to hide it with worse than usual snippy quips, he seemed rather sad.

Despite this, it had taken Tobias almost three weeks to fly by the house again. He told himself that he was busy. Hunting was a more time-consuming task than usual, after all. But if he was honest with himself, he knew that it was because he could not deal with anyone else’s emotional baggage. Not when his own threatened to pull him under on a daily basis. 

It had been easier, before their trip to outer space, to let his hawk brain take over and not think. But now that he was in a new, unfamiliar territory, now that hunting and surviving were more taxing, his human brain had to step in to fill the gaps. And with it came the weariness and grief that he had to expend multitudes of mental energy to keep at bay. 

As well as the constant nagging thought that he shouldn’t shut out the world again. But that was just his conscience, which had coincidentally taken the voice of Ax.

On the day Tobias mustered the mental energy to check in on him, Marco was fast asleep on the couch. Through the blinds, he could see various crushed up, empty beer cans strewn around the living room. What seemed like a half empty liquor bottle sat on the coffee table next to the couch. Tobias couldn’t see into the kitchen, but he was sure a similar site would have greeted him there. He peeled away, not willing to wake him up.

When he flew by the next day,  he saw an unfamiliar car in the driveway. Jake was standing in the living room with Marco. Though he wasn’t close enough to hear them, by the way Marco was gesticulating and the expressions on their faces, he knew they were arguing. 

Tobias circled around. He managed to catch a particularly slow rabbit while he waited. Finally, Jake walked out, and he managed to catch the tail-end of whatever fight they were having.

 “Don’t make me call your mom, Marco!” 

Marco responded with a middle finger shoved out the door and slammed the door shut. Jake sighed, muttered something under his breath and patted down his pants, looking for his keys. It was strange to think of him, of any of them, driving to get to places instead of flying.

Tobias swooped down and perched on the hood of Jake’s car. ((What’s up with him?))

Jake looked up, startled, and smiled when he saw him. He looked surprisingly well, all things considered. Well-rested, and he’d gained some weight. The haunted, tired, “the weight of the world is on my shoulders” look Tobias had grown accustomed to was still there, but not as prominent as it’d once been.

“Tobias! What are you doing here? How are you doing?”

((Oh you know. Peachy,)) Tobias said, failing to keep his voice from sounding sardonic.

“Mhm,” Jake hummed.

Tobias didn’t own a mirror, but he knew he didn’t look nearly as well as Jake did. Last time he’d seen Jake, Tobias had been flying away from the ship, weak and malnourished. Tobias knew he hadn’t gained much weight back. He hoped Jake didn’t mention it.

He didn’t and gracefully returned to the topic of Marco. “Don’t suppose you’ve turned on a TV or picked up any magazine in the past month?”

((No. I’ve tried set up a cable connection up on my tree, but they never have anyone available to set up the satellite dish.))

Jake grinned, then said, “He uh… had a media shitstorm.” He scratched at his nose, and glanced back at the door, clearly debating how much he should reveal. He settled on, “He had a bit of a breakdown on live TV. He… hasn’t been doing well since we got back.”

((I figured that much,)) Tobias said, and Jake nodded.

They fell into a familiar awkward silence. The contempt and vitriol Tobias had felt towards Jake in the aftermath of Rachel’s death had waned over the course of the three years before their mission to rescue Ax. And aboard the Rachel, they’d settled into a cordial relationship. But the easy camaraderie they’d once shared was gone, and Tobias wasn’t sure if they’d ever get it back. Or if he even wanted it back.

Jake cleared his throat, and said, “So I guess you’ve settled nearby, then?”

((A few miles out, yeah.))

He nodded, hesitated, then asked, “Do you think you can keep an eye on him? Check in every once in a while?”

Tobias almost said no. He knew Jake well enough to know that this wasn’t just about Marco. This was his way of trying to get Tobias to stay connected with the group. But due to recent, tragic events he owed Marco big time. Mercy killing one of your comrades in arms must leave an emotional toll, after all. Had it been Tobias (it had almost been Tobias) the strand of sanity he was holding onto would have snapped long ago.

So he said, ((I’ll see what I can do.))

And if he was honest with himself, he could admit that he had gotten used to human company aboard the Rachel, Marco’s especially. Jeanne, Santorelli, and Menderash were strangers to him, and Jake was a nonstarter. Though forced by circumstance, Marco’s had been the most consistent company he’d had since Rachel’s death, even counting the few times he’d interacted with Cassie and the hork-bajir over the years. On occasion, he even missed him, though he’d never admit it to him.

Jake seemed relieved, gave him a small, thankful smile, and said “Later, Tobias. Tell him to call his mom.” With that, he got into his car and drove off, leaving Tobias to wonder what he’d signed up for.

…..

It was not hard at all to find out what had happened. Tobias hadn’t even had to try. A hunting trip had taken him close to a more touristy, recreational area of the park. It wasn't a good hunting ground, since the people scared away most of the prey. But that meant that there was no competition in the area. Not during the day at least.

As he was flying over, he saw a flash of a familiar face. A quick morph later and he had taken the crumpled, stained magazine out of a trashcan. “Animorph Loses It On Live TV!” was printed in bold letters on the cover page. 

Tobias flipped through the magazine, read a direct quote from the incident. “What, you don’t think I’m funny enough? I’ll show you funny.” There was a picture of Marco, sneer on his face and an almost crazed look in his eyes.

Later, he didn’t find Marco at his house. Instead, he found him walking by the side of the highway. Tobias did a double take.

Marco was someone who cared about how he presented himself to others, more so than most people. He had never been the best dressed when they were kids, but he was always put together. Moreso after the war. Anytime Tobias had gotten a glance at him, either on billboards or in magazines or on TV displays, his outfits were always coordinated, his hair was always well-maintained. He always had a smile on his face and well-prepared quips at his disposal. Even aboard the Rachel, it had taken a few weeks for Marco to break his Marco-the-celebrity act and go back to being his usual self with actually tolerable levels of obnoxiousness.

Now, though… he could see food stains on his old, torn T-shirt and jeans. His clothes were crumpled in a way that suggested he had slept in them, maybe for a few days. His hair was a tangled mess, sticking out every which way. There were patches of stubble on his face. And his eyes were dull and bloodshot.

“Your stakeout skills have gotten rusty, Birdboy,” Marco called out without looking up at him, pulling Tobias out of his thoughts. He dropped some altitude, flying closer.

((Well, I wasn’t trying to hide,)) he said defensively. ((Where are you going anyway? Out for a nice stroll?))

Marco shrugged. “7-eleven up the street. Out of beer.”

They travelled in silence for most of the walk. Which probably should have been more unnerving. Usually, Marco never shut up. But he’d grown accustomed to Marco’s eerie silence after… Well, he tried not to think about the aftermath of Ax’s death too much.

Still, the silence told him just as much about Marco’s mental state as his unruly appearance did.

As they approached the 7-eleven, Tobias said, ((Do you want me to go in instead? Nobody recognizes my human morph.)) 

Tobias could see that there were only a few people milling around the 7-eleven, but anyone who wasn’t living under a rock would recognize Marco. And he really didn’t need any more unwanted attention.

Marco rolled his eyes at him, knowing what he was getting at, and began to morph as he walked. Soon, he was in the body of a middle aged man. Before walking into the store, he said, “You don’t look so hot yourself, you know.”

Tobias waited for a few minutes for Marco to emerge, struggling to carry a few frozen pizzas, half a dozen cups of ramen, and, Tobias quickly noted, three cases of 24-can beers.

Marco must have sensed his trepidation because he said, “You can join me or you can leave.”

After half a second of hesitation, Tobias landed in some nearby bushes to morph to human, then helped Marco carry the bags. He pointedly ignored the way Marco’s breath already smelled like booze. No wonder he’d walked.

Maybe it wasn’t what Jake meant him to do, aiding and abetting Marco’s current bout of substance abuse (or joining him), but he was not here for Jake. Besides, Tobias was hardly in a position to judge anyone else’s bad coping mechanisms. 

…..

It used to be fun, Marco thought, drinking with his friends. They hadn’t done it often, what with them being minors and all, and Jake insisting they needed to stay alert if something happened, and Tobias and Ax having to stay at least sober enough to demorph. But it’d been fun. Even aboard the Rachel, where they waited until they were bored out of their minds to break into the bottle of scotch Santorelli had snuck onboard, it hadn’t been this depressing.

He passed the bottle of whiskey. 

Marco had been sitting outside in his backyard an hour after sunset when Tobias, flying overhead, presumably heading back to his territory, had seen him and turned around to join him. Even at night and from a distance, he could tell that Tobias looked miserable.

“Out for a late snack?” Marco said as Tobias began to morph, tone too flat for it to really be conversational. Tobias just nodded and grabbed for the bottle.

Marco didn’t point out that it was too dark for Tobias to really hunt anything, or that he was almost as thin as he’d been back on the escape pod when they’d all almost starved to death. Tobias didn’t point out the fact that the bottle had been halfway finished by the time he’d joined him. 

It worked.

Maybe Jake or Cassie would have been better company. But then they’d be lecturing him about his drinking habits and getting professional help and blah blah blah. Misery loves company, and Tobias was just as miserable as he was and that was good enough. Besides, it was less sad if he was getting absolutely plastered with someone else instead of by himself, right? 

Okay, so maybe he was just depressing. The worst part was that Marco couldn’t think of a single joke to balance it out. He took a swig of the bottle and passed it back.

Neither of them said a single word until Tobias, now glassy-eyed and struggling to his feet, demorphed.  

((Thanks for the drink,)) Tobias said as he took off. Marco tipped the now empty bottle at him in farewell, but didn’t say anything else.

When Marco went back inside and looked at his empty house, he was struck with a feeling of loneliness so intense he almost picked up the phone to call Jake or Cassie or his mom. Almost flew out after Tobias.

Instead, he shook his head, stumbled to the couch, and turned on the TV. As he dozed off, head spinning, knowing that he’d wake up with a hangover, he was struck with how painfully familiar this scene was. Beer cans strewn around. Miserable man sleeping on the couch. No food in the fridge.

Marco almost smiled bitterly. There was the irony and humor he was looking for. He was asleep before he thought of a punchline that was actually worth saying.

……

Marco awoke to the sound of banging on his door. Even in his almost zombified state, he still bolted up at the sudden sound. Then, realizing what it was, he groaned and laid back down. Every knock on the door felt like it was shooting straight to his head. He’d once again forgotten to morph before bed to get rid of the morning hangover.

He would have gone downstairs and yelled at whoever it was. Sales people or Jehovah’s Witnesses or whoever. But he might have thrown up if he tried to stand. He pulled the sheets over his head instead. Eventually, the persistent knocking subsided and Marco relaxed, about to doze off again before more intense knocking, this time coming from his back door, made him jump out of bed.

Who the hell had the gall to break into his backyard? He stomped over to his window and yanked it open, leaned his disheveled head out to window and opened his mouth to yell and-

“Mom!?”

Eva looked up at him, hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun, glaring. “Did you forget how to use a phone, or what?”

Shit. It’d been about a month since Marco had called her. He’d meant to. Even if just to get her off his back. He knew his biweekly text messages wouldn’t hold her off for long.

“Come open the door!”

“Right. Going!”

He quickly gargled some mouthwash and threw on a t-shirt. Not a clean one. He hadn’t done his laundry since he’d moved in. He had no time to brush his hair. Not before she’d start attempting to pick the lock. His mother was persistent.

Marco winced as he reached downstairs, considered at least kicking some of the cans under the couch. But he had glass sliding doors at the back of the house. His mom had already seen everything.

“Hi, Mom!” he said brightly and leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek in usual greeting. He tried not to wince at the brightness of the sun.

“Apestas a alcohol,” she said in greeting before walking past him. Marco sniffed at his shirt. “It’s coming out of your pores, sonso.” Damn.

“Sorry, I had a party last night.” 

It was an obvious lie. It wasn’t like he had many friends at the moment. Still, she didn’t say anything. Just took a look around and wrinkled her nose.

Marco tried to think of something clever to say, but his brain was still too mushy to come up with anything.

After Eva looked around the house for a few seconds, she turned back to him and said, “Go take a shower. I’ll get started cleaning here.” 

Marco opened his mouth to protest, but a quick glance and a stern “go” had him sighing and stomping up the stairs. Had it been anyone else, literally anyone else, he would have told them to fuck off. 

He took a long shower. It took a while for him to sober up. And he was dreading talking to his mother. He knew it would leave him feeling guilty and a little ashamed and he was tired of feeling bad.

Marco walked down the stairs, feeling better and more alert, but still grumbling like a kid being put on timeout. He found her piling dishes into the dishwasher. She stomped over to him when she saw him, a scowl on her face. Well, that’s not good, he thought. She slammed something down on his coffee table.

“What is this?” Eva demanded, revealing a small ziploc bag containing a white, powdered substance. Marco swallowed nervously.

“It’s not mine. I’m just holding it for a friend?” he tried weakly.

Eva sighed, deflating, suddenly looking more tired than mad. That was worse.

“Marco, what are you doing?”

“Look,” Marco said, suddenly defensive. “I’m an actor, okay? This is normal. It’d be weirder if I wasn’t doing drugs. Besides, I can morph. I literally can’t get addicted to anything.” Not physically, at least.

“Oh, I don’t care about the drugs,” Eva exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “Mijo, you’re wasting your life away.”

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He ignored the way his mom’s eyes narrowed at him.  “It’s barely been two months. It’s not like I’m some sort of bum. I’m a war hero. I’m a millionaire.” He sounded like an ass, but it was true. “I just need a break okay? I need to relax.”

“This your idea of relaxing?” his mom asked, gesturing at the bags of trash she’d gathered. Marco rolled his eyes again. He muttered an affirmative under his breath but couldn’t meet her eyes. “I’ve given you time. I’ve given you space. But this isn’t healthy, mijo. You need help.”

“I’m fine,” Marco snapped. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I’m handling things.”

“Another one of your friends is dead,” Eva said flatly and Marco winced. “You are fighting with your dad and you’ve blown up your career. You’re on your way to becoming an alcoholic. You need professional help.”

Marco didn’t answer. He turned away from her angrily. And guilty and ashamed. He considered telling her to leave, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. He was about to stomp up the stairs like a petulant teen, but his mom said, “Finish cleaning up here, will you? I’m going to get some groceries.”

“I’m an adult. I don’t need my mom buying me groceries.” She gave her own eyeroll, but didn’t otherwise respond to his outburst before walking out the front door, keys in hand.

Marco did stomp his way up the stairs, got about halfway up, then sighed and turned back down to finish what his mom had started.

….

His mom left the next morning, threatening to come back and drag him outside by the ear if he didn’t at least call her once a week. After she left, he found that he’d cleared out all of the liquor in the house in the middle of the night, as well as his well-hidden illicit drugs. He sent her a message asking for monetary reimbursement which was of course ignored.

Marco’s mood did not improve over the next few days. Especially not when he’d been forced into sobriety. He could go out and get more alcohol, of course. And he would, later. But for now, he lay on his couch, letting himself wallow in bitterness and anger and self-pity. He’d earned the right, damnit.

Maybe his mom was right. Maybe he needed professional help. Instead, he flipped aimlessly through the channels on TV, not really looking at what was on. It was like that Tobias found him a few days later, swooping in through the open back window. Eva had left it open before leaving, talking about fresh air and sunlight. Marco hadn’t bothered to close it.

((Tidied up the place?))

It had been a while since Tobias had dropped by. Tobias was like a ghost. Appeared and disappeared at whim. Flashed into existence when he remembered he was a person and was gone when he forgot he was alive.

Marco shrugged and continued to stare at his TV dully. “My mom stopped by.”

((Ah. Guess you finally called her then.))

Marco stopped scrolling through the channels. Glanced back at Tobias. “What?”

((Jake,)) Tobias explained. ((I talked to him a few weeks ago when he stopped by your place. Told me to tell you to call your mom.))

An image appeared in Marco’s mind, then. Jake and Tobias and Cassie. All sitting around discussing him. Talking about how he’d lost it. How he’d finally snapped. They shook their heads pityingly in his mind. Poor Marco, he heard them say. Poor, poor Marco.

“What, you’re best friends with Jake now?” Marco snapped, suddenly angry.

Tobias stopped mid-preen and cocked his head at him. ((What?))

“You two sitting around, talking about my problems? As if you’re not both more fucked in the head than I am?” He could his heart beginning to pound wildly as his tone grew more accusatory.

Tobias sighed. ((Look, Marco-))

“No, no, tell me. Did you invite Cassie to your gossiping sessions, too? My mom?”

Marco could practically hear Tobias roll his eyes at him, which just made his blood boil. He was not being ridiculous. He was not overreacting. ((Oh, grow up, will you? They’re just worried about you.))

Marco snorted. “That’s rich coming from you.  Tell me, when’s the last time you talked to your mom?”

Tobias fixed his sharp glare at him. ((Fuck you, dude. Are you contractually obligated to be an asshole to anyone trying to help you?))

Marco sneered. “Oh, you’re helping me? You? The guy who disappeared from the face of the earth for years? No, you’re here because you feel guilty I had to kill Ax when you didn’t have the guts to do what needed to be done.” Even as the words were coming out of his mouth, Marco knew he would regret them. But right now, he couldn’t find it in him to care.

There was a loaded silence, then a seething ((This might be news to you Marco, but people with common empathy don’t rush to kill their family members at a moment’s drop.))

It was a low blow, meant to hurt. Marco turned from Tobias and began walking away. Without looking back, he said, “Why don’t you do what you do best? Piss off and go sulk on your tree.” 

The only response he got was the sound of wings flapping and then nothing, as Tobias took to the sky.

This time, Marco had noticed the signs, but perhaps too late. A few minutes later, he sat at the foot of his bed, curled into himself as he tried to take deep breaths through waves of panic.

……

Tobias moped for a few days, angry and more than a little hurt.

He knew that Marco had been angry at him, after the war, for disappearing for years. But he’d thought they’d worked it out aboard the Rachel. One night, Marco had snapped at him, after a particularly frustrating day, accusing his disappearance as the reason Jake had been depressed for years. Tobias had informed him that he didn’t particularly care about Jake’s feelings. When Marco threw Loren and Ax and Cassie and himself at his face, though, he’d shut right up. 

Marco had missed him. He’d been worried about him, as had the others. He didn’t say it outright, of course. Not the part about missing him, at least. But Tobias had gotten the point after Marco had accused him of abandoning his friends a couple of times.

Tobias had missed them, too, though he didn’t tell him that. He did try to explain, not in so many words, that it hadn’t been them that he was trying to run from, but the never-ending, soul crushing, nearly life-ending grief and pain that had taken over his mind and his heart, after Rachel’s death. How impossible it had been, for a while, to be in his own presence, let alone the presence of others. Marco had gotten the gist of his non-apology. They’d watched a couple of hours of crappy TV together, and just like that, they were friends again. 

Sadder friends, now that Rachel was dead and with the looming worry for Ax, their missing friend, the third link of what had once, towards the end of the war, been a team within their team. Marco had joined him and Ax as a fellow outcast after his so-called death, and though Tobias had been a little annoyed at the disruption of his and Ax’s little home, he’d appreciated Marco’s company.  So it had been nice, back in space, to have a friend back in the absence of everyone else.

And then Marco had killed Ax. 

Tobias had been the one to find Ax, alone and too far gone to save, in a secluded corner aboard the blade ship. It would have been him who would have had to do it, slid his sharp, hork-bajir blades across his throat or through his brain. But Marco had found them, seen the grief and despair and horror that were so obviously visible even through Tobias’s hork-bajir face. He’d understood, immediately, what Ax was asking. And so he’d laid a hairy hand on his shoulder and told him to look away. And just like that, Ax was really, truly, dead.

He had wondered if Marco resented him for it. He’d never accused him of anything, after they escaped, their sad band of four surviving members. They had been crammed inside an escape pod, shooting to earth for four months on four hundred square feet of space, one bathroom and barely enough food to keep them from flat out starving.

Santorelli was dead. Menderash was dead. Ax was dead. 

Ax was dead. As was the weird normalcy they'd all fallen into before running into the blade ship. 

Tobias didn’t remember much of those four months on their way to earth, after the loss of his uncle and very best friend in the whole world. They had slept a lot. Both to conserve energy as they were low on food supplies and because the four of them had been reduced basically to zombies. He would hear Jeanne cry, occasionally, though he couldn’t remember if anyone had tried to comfort her. Jake would pace around sometimes, muttering to himself, though it was far more unnerving when he paced silently. 

Marco would watch the same movie over and over again on the small movie player he’d manage to save. Tobias didn’t think he’d ever be able to watch The Princess Bride again without clawing his face off. Occasionally, Tobias would see tear tracks on his blank face, almost like if Marco himself didn’t realize they were there at all. Once or twice he had caught him taking a benadryl to knock himself unconscious faster. Maybe Tobias should have checked in, asked him how he was doing. Apologize. Thank him.

But Tobias himself had retreated once again. He didn’t morph. He barely talked. He sometimes ate. When, finally, they’d arrived on earth, without looking at him, Marco had asked, “Are we ever going to see you again?”

((Yes,)) he had said, after some hesitation. ((I can’t tell you when, but you’ll see me again.)) Marco had nodded and Tobias had left. He didn’t see him again until the day he pulled into his now home.

So maybe Tobias wasn’t an amazing friend. But he thought they still were. Even sadder friends now. Marco, once again an outcast like him. Both of them more broken and damaged than ever. But still friends. 

Maybe not.

It was okay. Tobias was still terribly angry at him anyway. So he’d give himself a few more days to mope and then he’d get over it and reach out to Toby and Cassie. He’d hang out with them more. He had to. Before he died, he’d promised Ax that he wouldn’t completely isolate himself again.

He really wished he’d done no such thing.

……

Finding Tobias was harder than he’d anticipated. Which Marco should have known. No one could disappear as well as he could. It didn’t help that he didn’t actually know where his new territory was, besides knowing that it had to be close by.  So, he’d had to find Toby first to get the precise location.

And of course, Tobias wasn’t there. He also wasn’t there the next couple of times Marco flew by. He was getting increasingly concerned that he’d pushed his friend into another years-long bout of isolation, that it’d be his fault, when he finally spotted him a mile out from his house. Tobias was flying lower than him, circling around, presumably hunting for something.

Marco angled towards him, and called out, ((Birdboy!)) 

Tobias didn’t answer, and Marco flew closer towards him. ((Hey, Tobias!))

Still, no answer. He did a double-take, but- no. It was him. Marco would have rolled his eyes if he could. Petty ass. 

((That’s cool. You don’t have to talk. I think I’ll stick around for a while, though. I’m catching some killer thermals. I do sure hope I don’t accidentally scare away any prey, tho-))

((What do you want Marco?)) Tobias snapped, irritated. 

((I just want to talk.))

Tobias sighed dramatically in his head, and proceeded to land on a tree. Marco landed on the foot of the tree and demorphed. When he was done, he said, “I, uh wanted to apologize,” he said, looking at the branch Tobias was perched on rather than directly at him. 

((Go on,)) Tobias said, after a moment.

Marco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I was way out of line, okay? I’m sorry for bringing up Loren. And Ax. And… well, the rest of it.”

There was a pause, and Marco expected him to fly off or at least to feel the sogginess of bird shit land on him. But instead, Tobias said, ((Okay. Whatever.))

Marco finally looked up at him. “What, that’s it?” Despite the lack of facial expressions, Marco knew Tobias was still irritated.

((What do you want me to say?))

Marco shrugged. “I thought you’d be angrier.”

((Of course I’m still angry! You had no right throw Ax and Loren in my face like that.)) 

Marco wanted to say that Tobias had no right to throw the cliff incident at his face either, but that would just piss him off even more. And he was so tired of everyone being angry at him, deserved or not.

“I know. I was just being an asshole.”

((Yeah, well, what’s new?)) 

Marco snorted. Wasn’t that the story of his fucking life lately? 

“You got me there,” he said, mock cheerfully. “Anything else?”

((For the record, I had no intention of leaving Ax like that. I was going to ki-)) A pause, then, with more bitter resignation than anger, ((I was going to do it. I know you resent me for that, but-))

“I don’t resent you for Ax,” Marco interrupted, surprised. “I do resent you for coming here trying to give me advice when we both know you are even more fucked in the head than I am.” 

((Oh trust me I am under no illusions about my sanity. I am well aware,)) Tobias said sardonically.

“Good. So don’t try to lecture me again.”

      ((Fine. And you stop being an asshole to people who are just trying to help you.))

Marco glared at him. “You’re one to talk,” he said, and immediately regretted it. So much for not pissing him off.

But instead of flying away, like Marco thought he would, Tobias said, ((Oh, I’m not an asshole to people trying to help me. I just don’t let them find me.))

Marco laughed. He sat down and leaned against the tree. “You know, I think I finally understand you now. I want nothing more than to sit around and play video games and watch trash TV and partake in some light substance abuse and be left the fuck alone. Is that too much to ask?”

((I mean, I didn’t do any of those things, but sure.))

“That’s because I am way more fun than you, my feathery friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. And then Tobias said, ((Hey, Marco? About Ax? I… thanks… For… You know. Taking over.))

Marco shifted, uncomfortable now. “Yeah, well, gotta pay it forward. Jake and Cassie did the same thing for me. With my mom.”

((Yeah. But Ax was your friend, too. I know that had to have messed you up. So thanks.))

Marco shrugged, but didn’t deny it. “Yeah, well, I didn’t come here to be sad. I think I’m gonna go back to bad TV and video games. Want to come?”

((No,)) Tobias said, and Marco nodded, trying not to look disappointed. Then he grinned when Tobias added, ((I still have to go find my lunch. I’ll stop by tomorrow.))

……

And so, just like that, Marco and Tobias were once again a constant in each other’s lives. They saw each other once or twice a week, Tobias stopping by between meals. They would joke and bicker and watch an installment or two of whatever Marco was currently binging. Sometimes they went out for a fly. Sometimes, Marco would convince Tobias to morph human and play video games or have dinner with him. 

Occasionally, when it had been too many days between his visits, Marco would fly around and find Tobias, usually flying aimlessly, lost in his own head. He would join him and talk to him, rambling about one subject or the next, not minding when Tobias gave one word responses or said nothing at all. Usually, on those days, he could pull at least one complete sentence out of Tobias before he had to demorph. Occasionally, he’d be able to convince him to join him back at the house.

Sometimes, when they watched a show or a movie, Tobias would notice that it’d been too long since Marco made a quip about whatever they were watching. So he would take over and chip in with his own wry commentary. Usually, he could get a lame joke out of Marco. Sometimes, he could pull out a genuine laugh out of him.

They were bruised and broken, both of them, reeling from their still open wounds. But the company helped.

[crystal-fems]

Current thoughts on the Pearl/Greg situation…

First of all, It’s crazy coming back to this Steven Universe centered blog after all these years since I still hold so much love in my heart for this show that allowed me to discover who I am and live with confidence as well as helping me through many rough periods in my life. And now since we’re suddenly getting a few trickles of new content here and there (and discourse, but it’s SU so that’s always been a part of the fandom lol) I’m getting the feeling we’ll be getting some kind of big announcement sometime soon. Fingers crossed!

But alas, on the GregPearl early drawings that Raven, a former storyboard artist leaked that were drawn by Rebecca that have been resurfacing around the internet, I am able to see both sides. And incoming is a bit of a rant on the latest debacle…

At the end of the day these are Rebecca Sugar’s (Who is bisexual and genderfluid btw) original characters who she poured her heart and soul into, a lot of whom she based characteristics around herself and the people in her life. So first and foremost, what she decides to do with these characters is up to her. Not you. Of course you’re allowed to have your opinion on it, but Rebecca is nowhere in the wrong here and I’m tired of hearing about it because of the lgbtqia+ community’s blatant biphobia. She also fought tooth and nail to have a wlw wedding in her show but people have the audacity to say this is lesbophobic when these concepts and personal sketches were drawn very early on anyway and not even implemented into the fucking show.

Now on the other hand, I also understand where certain people are coming from to an extent. It’s odd for me personally to see Pearl with Greg and really any other man for that instance, as she’s always been lesbian representation to me and many others as well. At the time, she was the representation in cartoons that we so desperately wanted and needed. She was actually the first character that made me realize I was attracted to women in the first place. And because of that, many of us attached so heavily to this part of her identity which was never officially confirmed.

But you know what’s forgotten? Pearl is also nonbinary. All of the gems are nonbinary. But there’s erasure in that too of course because the community only wants to see her as a futch presenting lesbian when in reality, she physically can’t be that. Now don’t twist my words and think I’m for a second implying that you can’t be nonbinary and a lesbian, because that’s just not true either, but she’s supposed to be an alien for fuck’s sake. The whole idea of gender and sexuality is completely abstract to her species. AND ESPECIALLY SO in a world so inclusive and accepting of everyone, no matter what race, ethnicity, physical capability, gender identities and sexualities. You’d think for a show with a plot that’s so integral on being open about embracing who you are and not being afraid to love yourself as well as the people around you no matter the status quo, that people would have a little more open-mindedness and compassion.

[cyberrose2001]

When it comes to relationships, Animated!Optimus is generally a pretty private guy. He doesn't mind people knowing about who he's dating and fragging but he's not gonna shout it from the rooftops either.

Optimus is thankful for this preference when the Elite Guard come knocking on Earth's door. He'd really rather not have Sentinel get on his case about being with a "disgusting organic", and he's even less enthusiastic about his former classmate getting on your case. (Not to mention Ultra Magnus' likely disapproval.)

He speaks with you about it and, after seeing his discomfort, you agree to keep your relationship on the down low until the Elite Guard leave. Quite frankly, you don't want to be the center of Sentinel's attention either.

But alas, at some point, the truth comes out anyway -- not via the talkative Bumblebee, as one might assume, but instead from Ratchet's typical grumblings. Sentinel is filled with such (un)righteous indignation that he just straight up stomps to Optimus' quarters to give what he feels is a justified reprimand--

Only to witness Optimus railing you with a reckless abandon, releasing the week's stresses into your willing, drenched pussy. Optimus would not have considered himself a particularly lustful bot before meeting you, but sex has a way of ridding oneself of their burdens that nothing else can quite manage. And it also just feels really good.

Sentinel, poor bastard, finds himself frozen stiff in the doorway. He's not even processing the very loud noises you two are making, he's just... in shock, transfixed on how Optimus' (surprisingly large) spike is thrusting in and out at a breakneck pace.

It's several minutes after you orgasm that Optimus' even notices the blue bot's presence, and surprises himself with the fact that he actually doesn't care that much. Post-nut clarity will do that, I guess.

Optimus is about to say something sarcastic, but Sentinel jolts and hauls aft out of the building entirely. The distant sound of screeching tires brings a small to Bossbot's face.

He decides to not tell anyone of Sentinel's dropped interface panel. (this blog doesn't have enough TFA!Optimus content so i am here to do my part)

holy shit this is good... poor sentinel just unintentionally developed a human kink, he will never be able to look at Optimus, you or any other human the same again

thank you very much for this <3