#And it's probably terrifying at the start for him

[heylittleriotact]

This is the shit I'm talking about when I'm referring to his non-stop yapping during this quest. Like... EMMRICH. PLEASE.

You know what? Now that I think about it, it occurs to me that maybe he has such uncontrollable verbal diarrhea during Weisshaupt because he's fucking TERRIFIED.

Like you know how some people react really inappropriately to what's going on around them? (for example: I used to be notorious for uncontrollably laughing when someone was sad or crying, thankfully I broke myself of that REAL quick after about a week of working in a funeral home)

Maybe Emmrich's reaction to emotional stress that his lizard brain can't fucking reconcile with is he just starts asking questions. Question, after question after question. Are they relevant? No. Useful? No. Can they be plausibly answered by present company if the answer isn't rhetorical or blatantly obvious? Definitely not. Is he going to keep spouting them off because if he stops for even a minute, the reality of the situation will come crashing down on him all at once and he will FREEZE and probably die?

I think so.

I think Weisshaupt is a front row seat to how Emmrich copes with a crisis that he can't personally fix.

Emmrich sweetie the blight

[yupuffin]

I think the aspect of the 2.7 story that felt most impactful to me was something that was previously addressed in the Penacony main story, but was reemphasized and expanded upon with Sunday being the narrative focus of this update:

Sunday is scared.

His motivation to protect the people and things important to him -- Robin is an excellent example -- manifests as a desire for control, to eliminate potential dangers. This motivation is based in fear; he's afraid to lose what he has to factors beyond his control, like the bullet that nearly took his sister's life.

And part of the "true paradise" he longs for involves preventing the sense of powerlessness that accompanies that fear. He believes that humanity sleeps because "we are afraid to awaken from our dreams." Indeed, the appeal of the "sweet dream" of Penacony is freedom from the uncontrollable and inevitable tragedies of the waking world.

It's part of what made him such an effective villain in the Penacony arc; even though you may disagree vehemently with his actions, you can understand with and sympathize the rationale behind them. In his mind, absolute control over the Dreamscape -- the elimination of frightening unknowns -- is the most effective way to keep everyone safe and happy. However, this undermines the real freedom and autonomy of the affected populace, many of whom are unaware of the Dreamscape's true nature.

In the 2.7 update, Sunday is "nerfed after turning into a good guy," to use March's words. Previously, he enjoyed immense social status as the head of the Oak Family -- and as the imposing, invulnerable, "final boss"-style antagonist. Now, his role is effectively reversed; he's a fugitive who has to disguise himself to evade the potential consequences of simply being seen.

He's an incredibly vulnerable position.

Not just physically -- as the audience, we also get intimate insights into his feelings and thought processes. Now he recognizes the scope of the harm he was previously willing to cause in the name of absolute control, and shoulders the responsibility of dealing with the repercussions.

His newly evident guilt and shame is emotionally moving on its own...

...and becomes even more poignant when you realize that guilt and shame and vulnerability has been a crucial aspect of his character from the very beginning. After all, so much of his deep-seated fear of the unknown stemmed from him blaming himself -- his lack of control over the situation -- for Robin's unforeseen injury.

I found the scene at the Dream's Edge the most touching in this update. Sunday's conversation with Robin is a bit of a paradox: he is deeply sincere and vulnerable in speaking to his own sister, yet guarded because he must avoid revealing his true identity. And Robin, in turn, directly provides an alternate outlook on Sunday's character, describing him as though to someone who's never met him, as though he isn't there.

And Robin's perspective reaffirms that Sunday's apparent invulnerability was essentially a facade. He may have been the head of the Oak Family, and the imposing final boss, but at the same time, on the inside, he was continually paralyzed by fear.

Sunday has always been vulnerable. He has always been scared.

And I think what makes the conclusion to the 2.7 story so satisfying and triumphant is that Sunday begins to properly address his fear, his persistent guilt and shame. He moves beyond simply acknowledging it, and recognizes not just how indulging his fear can bring further harm, but also what good things (that otherwise wouldn't occur) can happen when he overcomes it -- as it were, when he doesn't let his fear control him.

I'm going to be real, I probably had an intelligent-sounding conclusion for this, but... it took me several weeks to write this and I've forgotten any idea i might have had previously, so let's just say he definitely hit me right in the feels. 🤣

[nosyp]

https://www.tumblr.com/nosyp/771746556559949824/you-know-in-ss1-the-player-go-in-pair-and-play?source=share

We still wait for 2nd and 3rd year

I'm so sorry, thank u for reming me nonnie 🫶

First years

Second years

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is in the marble game, fighting for survival. But when it comes to you, he’s more than just scared—he’s desperate.

What Happens: Riddle tries to hold himself together, but he becomes irrationally focused on your well-being. Every time a player is eliminated, he’s filled with dread, thinking it could be you. His strict adherence to the rules falters as he becomes too emotionally invested, ready to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means breaking the rules.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie finds himself in the middle of the marble game, surrounded by tension. But he’s not just worried about himself—his attention is completely on you.

What Happens: Ruggie’s usually playful and laid-back attitude starts to slip as the fear of losing you takes over. He’s surprisingly intense when it comes to your safety, trying to be clever in the game to protect both of you. His nerves start to show as he carefully calculates his moves, desperately trying not to let the game cost him someone he cares about. Every time someone is eliminated, it’s a reminder of how high the stakes are for him.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul faces the marble game with a cold sweat running down his back. The weight of the situation sinks in as he watches the eliminations unfold, his mind racing through strategies.

What Happens: Azul's usual calm, calculated demeanor starts to falter as he’s forced to focus on you. He hates the idea of losing you, especially since he's worked so hard to form a bond with you. The fear of your loss distracts him, but it also fuels his determination. He pulls out all the stops to outsmart the other players, promising to protect you at all costs—though the fear of failure makes his words tremble.

Jade Leech

Jade maintains his usual calm but there’s a sharpness to his gaze as he glances at you during the game. He’s more focused on how you react, unsure if you’ll make it through.

What Happens: Jade doesn’t show his fear as clearly, but his concern for you is evident in his actions. He’s quietly protective, always ensuring that you’re safe as the game progresses. He tries to mask it with his usual polite tone, but there's an edge in his voice when he urges you to stay focused. The idea of losing you is unbearable for him, even though he refuses to admit it out loud.

Floyd Leech

Floyd stands, practically bouncing on his feet as the marble game progresses. His excitement’s at an all-time high, but the idea of losing you brings a rare flicker of seriousness to his eyes.

What Happens: Floyd’s usual chaotic energy shifts to a mix of worry and possessiveness when it comes to you. He’s all smiles on the outside, but you can tell something’s off. He jokes around, but his grip on your hand tightens each time someone else is eliminated. He’s surprisingly protective, his playful nature turning into something more intense as the game goes on. He might be enjoying the thrill of the challenge, but losing you is something he refuses to allow.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim looks around, his usual carefree smile fading as he realizes the seriousness of the game. His eyes are locked onto you with a mix of concern and determination.

What Happens: Kalim can’t help but let his emotions spill over. He’s terrified of losing you, and though he tries to stay upbeat, it’s clear he’s struggling with the weight of the game. He’s genuinely trying to make sure you’re okay, and will probably offer his marbles to you without a second thought. His desire to keep you safe outweighs any strategy, and he may even try to distract others or make deals to ensure you’re not at risk.

Jamil Viper

Jamil’s brows furrow as he takes a steady breath. The pressure of the marble game is weighing on him more than anyone else. His eyes flicker between you and the game’s host.

What Happens: Jamil’s usual composed demeanor cracks when it comes to you. His fear is subtle, but it’s there, hiding behind his stoic face. Every time you’re at risk, his protective instinct takes over, and he starts calculating the best ways to keep you out of harm’s way. He might not say it, but he’s willing to go to extreme lengths to make sure you’re safe—even if it means sacrificing himself. He won’t allow himself to lose you, even if it costs him everything.

Silver

The marble game is intense, and Silver can feel the weight of the situation. But the one thing weighing on his mind more than anything is you.

What Happens: Despite his usually calm demeanor, Silver becomes increasingly distracted as the rounds go on. His protective nature kicks in, and he can’t help but worry about you. His attention is split, and he becomes more anxious with each passing moment, realizing just how much he’s scared to lose you.

Third years

Trey Clover

Trey is forced to compete in the marble game, each round bringing a new wave of tension. But his biggest worry isn’t the game—it’s you.

What Happens: His protective instincts flare up, and he becomes distracted, constantly looking over at you. Trey tries his best to maintain a level head, but his concern for you makes him second-guess his moves. His greatest fear is losing you, and it's all he can think about as the game progresses.

Cater Diamond

You and Cater are trapped together in the marble game, with the pressure mounting each time a player is eliminated. The rules are clear: only one person survives.

What Happens: Cater tries to keep his usual upbeat demeanor, but his fear of losing you keeps him on edge. He’s overly cautious in every round, constantly checking on you and trying to hide his anxiety. Every time someone loses, it feels like a punch to his gut. His carefree attitude slips as he focuses solely on ensuring you're safe.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona is standing off to the side, his usual lazy demeanor replaced with intense focus. His golden eyes follow you through the game, the pressure of the situation making him uneasy.

What Happens: Leona’s pride doesn’t let him show his fear, but his concern for you is obvious. He may not say it out loud, but he watches you carefully, making sure you’re safe. If anyone dares to target you, Leona will act, his annoyance turning into protective rage. Despite his usual reluctance to show affection, he’s fiercely determined not to lose you, even if it means going against his natural instincts to stay aloof.

Rook Hunt

Rook’s enigmatic smile lingers, but there’s a sharpness in his gaze that wasn’t there before. He thrives in unpredictable situations, but the thought of risking you stirs an unease he’s never quite felt before.

What Happens: Rook approaches the game with his usual poetic flair, waxing philosophical about the fragility of life and the beauty of perseverance. However, his theatrics mask a steely determination to ensure your survival. He watches you intently, analyzing every move with uncanny precision. If he senses your distress, he reassures you with soft words and unwavering confidence, though he’d secretly give up his own life if it meant sparing yours. In the end, he might manipulate the game subtly in your favor, all while declaring that it was fate or artistry at play.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil's flawless expression falters as he realizes the stakes of the game. His carefully maintained composure doesn’t slip, but his concern for you is palpable.

What Happens: Vil remains calm and calculating, but he’s noticeably more protective over you than anyone else. He’s not afraid to speak up, offering advice and checking in on you to ensure you’re okay. His obsession with perfection takes a backseat to his desire to keep you safe, even if he’s reluctant to admit how much he cares. Vil is the type to give his marbles up without hesitation to protect you, and his fear of losing you outweighs his pride.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is eerily calm, his imposing presence filling the room. However, there’s a deep undercurrent of worry beneath his still demeanor, especially when he looks at you.

What Happens: Malleus doesn’t show fear, but his actions betray his worry for you. His gaze softens whenever it lands on you, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings to ensure your safety. He may even offer his marbles or try to intimidate others into leaving you alone. Malleus isn’t the type to admit his feelings, but it’s clear that your safety is paramount to him, and he will not let anything happen to you.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia stands tall, his usual playful grin slipping into a more serious expression as he watches the game unfold. His eyes flick between you and the players, ever watchful.

What Happens: Lilia tries to keep his usual teasing attitude, but his protectiveness over you is undeniable. While he may joke around, he’s secretly terrified of the idea of losing you. His smile falters when you’re put in danger, and he’s quick to intervene if necessary, using his wit to keep you safe. Despite his playful nature, Lilia is fiercely loyal and won’t hesitate to do whatever it takes to ensure you make it through the game unharmed.

[ssentimentals]

Hiii, I don’t really have a prompt that’d I’d like to request, but could I get something with scoups & reader that is scared of bad weather (tornado type weather & such—speaking from experience 🥲)?

I love your writing so much & love reading all your small prompts :)

hiii! tbh i always wanted people to come up here with their own requests, but that never reallly happened as most prefer to pick from already formulated prompts, so you have no idea how happy you made me with this message! 💜thank you for your kind words as well :')

seungcheol + bad weather

when you get a notification on your phone about the upcoming storm, dread settles uncomfortably in your chest. makes it hard to breathe, squeezing your lungs painfully with growing anxiety. clutching your bag, you look up at the sky, noticing how light blue sky slowly starts turning grey. your phone buzzes and you sigh in relief, seeing seungcheol's photo on your screen.

“i got the storm notification,” your boyfriend says instead of greeting. “i’m taking rest of the day off, will work from home. where are you, baby?”

“got the groceries, going home now.” you wince at the way wind picks up. “i’m gonna-“

“can you go inside and wait for me to pick you up?”seungcheol interrupts.

warmth pools at the the pit of your stomach. seungcheol has no problems with any weather conditions, he has no anxiety or panic attacks, doesn't flinch at thundreclaps - it's all you. since he learned this about you, it never fails to make your heart squeeze with affection how he always goes out of his way to ensure your comfort and safety during these moments. “it's a ten minute walk,” you say, shaking your head. “i'll go on my own. be careful, yeah? drive safe.”

“i'll be back home very soon, angel.” seungcheol assures you.

before seungcheol no one ever made you feel so seen regarding this issue. you know that he's going to probably break some rules on his way back home just to get quicker to you and it's enough to make you rush home as well, ignoring the way wind picks up. force of nature is terrifying, especially when you know how devastating it can be; you quickly turn on the lights and shut the curtains as soon as you're inside. with years came not only age but wisdom: you learned how to deal with your fear. any kinds of distractions work the best and until your boyfriend arrives, you busy yourself with the groceries, preparing easy salad just to keep your hands busy.

seungcheol arrives with a loud bang and even louder: “baby, where are you?”. his big eyes are on you the second you appear in the hallway and wide smile spreads on his face: “hi, love.”

you grin, coming up to greet him. “hey, cheollie. thanks for coming over.”

“don't mention it.” seungcheol waves it off like it's not a big deal, when it actually is. he has no idea how much the fact that he took his job home the second he saw storm notification means to you. “you got the groceries?”

it's very domestic for next twenty minutes; seungcheol changes and you two enjoy the salad and tea, when another notification about a possibility of this storm turning into a tornado pops up. it makes your breath hitch, but seungcheol's warm hand on top of yours keeps you grounded. “let’s go to bed, yeah?” he suggests. “we can watch something.”

“but your work?” you ask, frowning. you took this week fully off and didn't have to worry about missing any important meetings. “it’s okay, really, we can-“

“don't worry about it.” seungcheol presses, taking your hand and forcing you to stand up. he hugs you tight, leaving small kiss on your forehead. “i just need you all cuddled up to me, my work can wait, okay? let's clean this up and go upstairs.”

you have no idea how seungcheol knows exactly what to do or say in moments like this. his touch is never too much, his words are never harsh, his gaze is always understanding and not pitying. when first thunder rolls in, he already has you two laying on the bed, covered from head to toe. first thunderclap echoes int he distance at first and then silences you both at the full volume. the sound makes you flinch as you've been slapped - you barely manage to conceal your whine, burying deeper int he comfort of the weighted blanket.

“it's okay, love, it's okay.” seungcheol soothingly rubs your back, pulling you even closer. “i’m here, yeah? do you want headphones?”

headphones help immensely but you were always shy about them at first; it always seemed to be so rude to just put headphones on when another person is around. seungcheol assured you from the start that he has no problems with it, but you always hesitate.

“hey,” he leans in, making sure that you make eye contact. “you come first, remember? you and you well-being always come first. let me get you those headphones.”

you can hear wind whistling outside like it's out there to get you and your heart rate picks up with dread settling as a heavy weight on your shoulders. it’s incredibly frustrating - you wish you never had this fear, wish it didn’t affect you the way it does. at the sound of yet another thunderclap, you squeeze your eyes shut and shiver, wanting to disappear. only when warm body settles next to you and headphones are placed gently on your head, only then you uncurl from your position and open your eyes. seungcheol is watching you with furrowed eyebrows, worry evident in his gaze. he caresses your face lovingly and points at the headphones, handing you your phone. “music,” he says. his thumb brushes below your eyes and he sighs. “i’m here, baby. just listen to the music, yeah?”

you nod. shuffling to cuddle closer, you whisper: “go ahead and work, cheol. it’s alright, i’ll listen to the music anyways.”

“you sure?” seungcheol asks and when you nod, he leans in to leave a sweet kiss on your cheek. “okay. but if it gets worse or you’ll need something, just let me know, okay?”

it’s so, so sweet. the way he angles his body so it’s be easier for you to lay down, how he wraps one arm around you securely and pulls you in, how he ocassionally leaves kisses on top of your head while he works. the safe space he creates for you lets you zone out, steady your breathing. you still flinch at the sounds but fear is not that strong when seungcheol is close to remind you that he is here for you. after some time he puts away his laptop and lets you flop on top of him, covering you two with a blanket.

“i quite like this, actually,” he comments, smiling.

“which part? me crushing you with my weight or me having a stupid fear?” you ask, aiming for a joke but falling flat.

“the part where we get to cuddle and i let you know that no fear is stupid and that holding you makes me incredibly happy.” he looks at you, eyes full of tenderness. “i’m happy to be here, right now. happy that you’re letting me do this.”

your throat feels too tight. before you can say something stupid like “i love you” and confess first, seungcheol adds: “can we do this more often?”

you don’t trust you voice not to crack if you speak, so you nod. seungcheol beams at this and leans in to kiss you. “awesome. now let’s nap for a bit.”

napping is definitely easier than admitting your feelings or facing the raging storm outside. you nod again and close your eyes, breathing in. you’re fast asleep in seconds and don’t feel small kiss on top of your head or quiet “i love you” spoken in the secrecy of the night.

a/n: so. if it wasn't very obvious, i know zero about storms/tornados so i'm sorry if this ended up being very unrealistic. hopefully you liked it :/ - nini

you can find my other writings for seventeen HERE

[horsechestnut]

I think my ideal Steph, Cass, and Tim dynamic would be that they're all best friends, but they can not all hang out together. Like, if you ask any one of them who their best friend is they genuinely will not be able to pick between the other two, but all three of them together triggers each of their insecurities in the worst way and always leads to a fight.

Like, Steph and Cass are so affectionate with each other, and constantly flirting and Tim assumes their teasing, but what if they're not, and oh god is he third wheeling on a date between his ex-girlfriend and his sister? They don't actually want him here, they invited him to be nice and he was to oblivious to realize it wasn't genuine. He should leave. But before he can come up with a believable excuse they've changed topics and... hang on, did Steph just say her dad threw a book at her once? Because so much of Steph and Cass's relationship is built on an understanding that they won't make a big deal when they mention something messed up about their past that they just say stuff like that, but Tim does not have that same understanding. So Tim hears that and instead of rolling with it, it's "Steph you can't just say that like it's not a big deal... why is Cass laughing? You can't laugh at that it's fucked up! I don't care that it was a long time ago!" And now Cass is confused and Steph is angry and Tim feels like shit for probably ruining what they wanted to be a date and frustrated that he's being treated like he's overreacting despite being the only one with a normal reaction to child abuse. Mostly he's terrified that he screwed this whole thing up somehow and neither of them is going to want to hang out with him again.

Meanwhile Steph and Tim are so intrinsically linked to each other. They've shared things they will never share with anyone else, they were each others first love. And Cass understands that, she does, but it's hard sometimes seeing how easy they are with each other. The way Steph knows Tim's upset without having to read his body langue the way Cass does or Tim can predict exactly how late Steph will be to any given situation. More than that though, what truly makes her want to hide away from them, is the history they both had but didn't share. The sly comments about Tim looking like a character Cass has never heard of or jokes that make no sense but send Steph into laughing fits. The kind that when she asks are brushed off with "it was an old meme" or "just a show from when we were kids". The reminders that she isn't normal, she can never really be like them. If she doesn't ask most of the time it doesn't occur to them to explain, it seems so obvious to them. They start doing a synchronized dance from some movie that came out when they were in middle school and Cass slips away into the shadows. Later she gets a string of concerned text that slowly turn angry when she doesn't answer. Cass never tells them what was wrong.

And it's hard for Steph to look at Cass and Tim and not feel jealous, because more than just being friends, they're siblings. They are full members of the club, Bruce's children, let into the fold in a way she never can be. She doesn't even want to be anymore if she's being honest, but it still stings. They'll casually mention family dinner or reference inside jokes from the last Wayne charity whatever and Steph will feel the growing desire in her chest that she can not, under any circumstances, let anyone see. The desire that has caused her so much pain, she will not give it control over her again. And Cass calls Tim Robin sometimes, and he calls Cass Batgirl in return, and Steph has to bite back the urge to scream at them that she was Robin too! She is also a Batgirl! But it doesn't matter because she wasn't Cass's Robin or Tim's Batgirl, and it drives her insane that they're romanticizing that time, because don't they remember how much of an asshole Bruce was back then? And now Tim is mad at her for bring up the past as if they're not the ones who started it, and Cass is assuring her that Bruce has changed, and maybe he has, but it's to fucking late! He already ruined any chance of Steph every feeling fully comfortable with her place in their lives. So she storms off, fuming, leaving a baffled Tim and Cass to go enjoy their stupid family dinner.

So yeah, they are best friends. They all love each other more than they know how to say, and trust each other more than anyone else in the world. But they can never all hang out together. That only ever ends in disaster.

[cuntyji]

Heyo!!

Loved all the writing so far! Had this random idea. Like Gojo and the puppy but imagine one of the jjk men that reader chased down their new kitten that ended up cozying up to said man of choice.

Again just my random mind LOL.

You got me as a supporter of your works.

BONGO'S GUIDE TO LOVE ౨ৎ VARIOUS JJK X (GN!) READER

summary: naming your cat bongo seemed fun at first—until he started treating every man in your orbit like his personal enemy. from perching smugly on the shoulder of your tattoo artist mid-ink session to single-handedly (or single-pawedly?) trashing your neighbor's bakery, bongo is on a one-feline mission to ruin your life. or maybe, just maybe, he’s actually trying to fix it? because amidst the chaos and claw marks, there might be a paw-sible chance he’s onto something you’re not.

content warnings: gender neutral reader (no use of y/n, specific pronouns or gender mentioned). 100% sfw and crack, unestablished relationship, meet-cute. bongo cat's breed is not mentioned, only descriptor is that he is chonky. drabbles of various characters, including: stranger! sukuna, tat artist! choso, bakery owner! nanami, moving helper! toji, actor! gojo. — ( full length cat dad! geto fic here )

— RYOMEN SUKUNA  ₍^. .^₎

you watched in absolute horror as bongo, your self-declared king of bad decisions, flung himself at the most terrifying human in the park. his fur fluffed up like some sort of possessed cotton ball as he darted straight for the man’s massive combat boots. the man—ryomen sukuna, as you'd later learn—looked like he moonlighted as a death metal frontman when he wasn't out intimidating random park-goers. tattoos spilled down his neck, across his face, and from what you could see, probably over most of his terrifyingly ripped body.

“bongo, no!” you shouted, but the little menace had already committed.

sukuna's brow furrowed as he crouched, grabbing bongo by the scruff of his neck like some kind of annoyed parent dealing with a particularly unruly toddler. bongo dangled mid-air, his expression entirely unbothered, his tail swishing lazily as if to say, this is fine. you froze, half expecting sukuna to punt bongo into the stratosphere. but instead, sukuna tilted his head. 

“the hell is this?”

“oh my god, please don’t kill my cat!” you blurted, sprinting towards him with all the dignity of a car alarm. sukuna glanced at you, his crimson eyes narrowing. “why the fuck would i kill your cat?”

“i—uh,” you stammered, gesturing wildly at his tattoos like they were some sort of official cat murder license.

bongo, clearly bored of dangling, chose this exact moment to lick sukuna’s face. one looooong, obnoxious lick, from his chin to his cheekbone, leaving a trail of cat slobber behind.

you winced. “oh no—”

but sukuna just blinked. then let out a low chuckle that sounded like a chainsaw revving. “bold little shit, huh?” bongo purred louder, smushing his entire face into sukuna’s jaw like they were old pals. sukuna, to your utter disbelief, reached up with his free hand and gave your traitorous cat a solid scratch behind the ears.

“what’s his name?” sukuna asked, his tone entirely too casual for someone covered in dark tattoos and holding a cat like a teddy bear.

“…bongo,” you muttered, now questioning every life choice that had led to this moment. he smirked, finally lowering bongo to the ground, though your little idiot immediately flopped onto sukuna’s boot like it was a throne. “bongo, huh? fitting. looks like a troublemaker.”

you stared. “yeah, well, he usually doesn’t go around licking strangers.”

“good taste,” sukuna said, smirking wider. “smart cat.”

smart? your cat had the brain cells of a soggy sponge and the survival instincts of a lemming.

“right, well,” you said, attempting to scoop bongo off sukuna’s foot, but the cat clung like velcro. “sorry for… all this. he doesn’t usually—”

“don’t worry about it,” sukuna interrupted, crouching again and giving bongo another scratch that sent your little demon into a full-body wiggle. “might be the best thing that’s happened to me all week.”

“…seriously?”

“yeah.” sukuna’s grin turned sharp, teasing. “most people just run the other way.”

you raised an eyebrow. “wonder why.”

he laughed, low and deep, then stood, towering over you in the most obnoxious way possible. “guess bongo knows a good guy when he sees one.” bongo chose this moment to leap back into sukuna’s arms like some kind of feline rom-com lead, rubbing his cheek against sukuna’s chest. “traitor,” you muttered under your breath.

“looks like he’s mine now,” sukuna teased, shooting you a grin that made you feel uncomfortably warm. “not a chance,” you shot back, but your tone lacked conviction.

ryomen sukuna: terrifying, tattooed, and apparently now your cat’s best friend. god help you both.

— CHOSO KAMO  ₍^. .^₎

it was a bad idea, you knew that from the start. but bongo’s separation anxiety had you by the throat, so there he was, your chunky feline menace, perched on a folding chair like a judgmental little gargoyle as you prepared for your tattoo session. everything was fine until choso kamo walked in.

your tattoo artist was the living embodiment of a rain-a-sauce—uh, renaissance painting. his long black hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, his dark eyes framed by perfectly smudged eyeliner that made him look both mysterious and mildly intimidating. his loose black tee hung just right, accentuating broad shoulders and strong arms that you were definitely not admiring. and then bongo decided to ruin your life.

the cat launched himself like a furry cannonball straight onto choso’s shoulder. not his lap, not a nearby table—his actual shoulder.

“bongo, no!” you hissed, half-rising from the tattoo chair. but choso, calm as a goddamn monk, didn’t even flinch. instead, he turned his head slightly to glance at the literal furball now draped across him. “he’s fine,” choso said, his voice low and smooth, as if this was a completely normal occurrence. “guess he likes me.”

you gawked as bongo, the little traitor, made himself comfortable, kneading choso’s shoulder like it was a deluxe memory foam pillow. “i… i can get him off—”

“don’t worry about it,” choso interrupted, grabbing his tattoo gun with one hand while his other casually scratched behind bongo’s ears. you stared. he was petting your cat. while holding a needle. meant for your skin. “uh, are you sure that’s… safe?” you asked, your voice pitching higher as choso began inking the outline on your arm.

“he’s not bothering me,” choso replied simply, his focus entirely on his work. bothering you? you were the one about to be permanently marked while your fat, smug cat played parrot. bongo purred like a tiny chainsaw, rubbing his cheek against choso’s jaw. “great,” you muttered, clenching your teeth as the needle buzzed against your skin.

as if sensing your tension, bongo stretched out one paw and lightly bopped your cheek. “oh my god, bongo, stoopp!” you whined, glaring at him. choso chuckled softly, his lips quirking into the faintest smile. “looks like he’s trying to comfort you.”

“he’s mocking me,” you shot back, but choso’s quiet laugh was almost enough to distract you from the pain. almost. “you’re doing fine,” choso said after a beat, his voice soothing in a way that made your stomach flip. 

“thanks,” you muttered, your face heating up for reasons that definitely had nothing to do with him. meanwhile, bongo continued his reign of chaos, now swiping at choso’s dangling ponytail like it was his personal cat toy. “you’re really just gonna let him do that?” you asked incredulously. choso shrugged, completely unfazed. “he’s keeping himself entertained. and you, apparently.”

“entertained is not the word i’d use,” you grumbled, but your mouth twitched despite yourself.

“well, at least one of us is having fun,” choso said, his tone light.

and maybe it was the distraction of bongo’s antics, or the way choso’s calm presence made the pain a little more bearable, but by the end of the session, you were almost… relaxed. as choso finished up, he finally plucked bongo off his shoulder and held him up, his strong hands making your cat look oddly small. “you’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered, though there was no bite to his words.

“you have no idea,” you said, shaking your head. choso handed bongo back to you, his lips curving into that faint smile again. “next time, maybe leave him at home.”

you glanced down at bongo, who was purring smugly in your arms. “yeah, not likely.” choso chuckled, wiping his hands clean. “figured.”

as you left the shop, you couldn’t help but think that bongo might’ve been onto something with his whole shoulder-sitting act. maybe your chaotic little furball had better instincts than you gave him credit for.

— NANAMI KENTO  ₍^. .^₎

it’s always the quiet moments when bongo chooses chaos. you were mid-face mask, your skin glowing with the kind of self-care that influencers would kill for, when your furry menace decided to bolt out the backdoor like he had urgent business. “bonggoooo!” you screeched, stumbling after him in your ratty pajamas and slippers that definitely weren’t made for running.

the scent of the bakery hit you like a brick wall. god, how does it smell expensive? buttery, sugary, and somehow elitist all at once. you didn’t have time to contemplate the metaphysics of aromas because bongo had already darted through the bakery’s back entrance like he owned the place. by the time you caught up, panting and slightly disheveled, you were greeted by the sight of nanami kento, the bakery’s perpetually composed owner, standing in the middle of his flour-dusted kitchen. and in his hands, like a prized artifact, was bongo.

kento held your cat aloft like some kind of culinary simba, his perfectly pressed apron dusted with flour. bongo, with his chubby belly and utterly unrepentant face, dangled there like he had no idea he’d just stormed into someone else’s livelihood. “this,” kento said, his deep, even voice somehow more judgmental than any glare could be, “is yours, i presume?” you swallowed hard, your face mask cracking slightly as you plastered on a smile. “yes! uh, that’s bongo. my cat. um, i’m so sorry—”

“he ran across my counter,” kento continued, his tone unchanging as he gently turned bongo to show you his flour-dusted paws. “he stepped in the dough. twice.”

“oh my god,” you groaned, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole. bongo, ever the villain, reached out a paw and batted at kento’s tie, smearing it with a bit of leftover flour. “i’ll… i’ll pay for the damages,” you stammered, mortified. “or, uh, write an apology letter. from bongo. he’s very articulate.”

kento raised a brow, lowering bongo but still holding him like he was a particularly troublesome baguette. “a letter?”

“yeah, uh, he’s got great penmanship,” you blurted, because apparently, when embarrassed, you just doubled down on ridiculousness. kento sighed, setting bongo down on the floor. your cat immediately started rubbing his face against kento’s leg like they were old friends. “he’s lucky he’s cute,” kento muttered, though his tone softened slightly.

“he’s really not,” you mumbled, scooping bongo into your arms. “he’s a menace.”

“i’ve noticed.” kento crossed his arms, eyeing bongo like he was calculating the exact amount of havoc the cat had wreaked. “next time, maybe keep him indoors.”

“yeah, definitely,” you said, clutching bongo tighter as he squirmed. “and, uh, if you ever need… cat-signed apology letters, i’m your person.”

kento gave you a long, measured look before sighing. “just keep him out of my kitchen.”

as you backed out of the bakery, clutching your flour-covered feline, you couldn’t help but wonder if bongo’s next target would be a crime that didn’t involve you humiliating yourself in front of absurdly attractive men. unlikely.

— TOJI FUSHIGURO ₍^. .^₎

moving to new york was supposed to be your fresh start. concrete jungle where dreams made of, blah blah blah. instead, you found yourself battling overpriced rent and a cat who had zero respect for personal boundaries.

toji, the moving guy, had been an unexpected lifesaver. with his messy scrawl of a name tag and a physique that screamed, “i bench press refrigerators for fun,” he made quick work of your moving boxes. it was almost comical how easily he hefted bongo’s cat tree—like it was a baguette instead of a glorified jungle gym for your chunky feline. you tipped him with cookies because that’s just who you are: a sucker for baked goods as a currency. and as toji waved goodbye and headed off, you gave yourself a little pat on the back for surviving the first day in the big apple. until you noticed bongo was missing.

cue the meltdown.

“bonggggoooooo!” you hollered, tearing through your barely unpacked apartment like a madwoman. every cupboard, every box, even the bathtub—it was all checked twice, thrice, and then some. no bongo. by the time you collapsed onto the floor, tears welling up, you were already planning the world’s most dramatic cat funeral. there’d be violins, speeches, and a photo slideshow of bongo’s finest “this idiot just ate plastic again” moments. then, a knock at the door.

you practically threw it open to find toji standing there, his enormous frame taking up most of the doorway. in his arms was bongo, looking about as offended as a cat could possibly look, his fur slightly ruffled but otherwise unscathed. “found him in my van,” toji said, his gravelly voice tinged with amusement. 

“oh my god,” you gasped, reaching for bongo, who—of course—refused to leave toji’s arms. “he’s such a menace, i’m so sorry—”

“don’t be,” toji interrupted, smirking as bongo nuzzled against his chest like a lovestruck teenager. “guess he’s got good taste.”

“good taste?” you repeated, incredulous. “he literally jumped into a stranger’s van. he’s one step away from being catnapped—i mean, kidnapped.”

“looks like he wouldn’t have minded,” toji quipped, scratching behind bongo’s ear and earning an annoyingly loud purr in return. you groaned, crossing your arms. “great. my cat’s in love with the moving guy.”

toji chuckled, finally setting bongo down. the traitor immediately twined around toji’s legs, shooting you a look that said this man is mine now. “guess i’m unforgettable,” toji teased, leaning against the doorframe.

“yeah, well,” you said, scooping up bongo before he could claw his way back into toji’s arms, “don’t let it go to your head.”

toji gave you a crooked grin, his scarred lip tugging slightly. “welcome to new york,” he said, turning to leave. as he walked away, bongo let out a mournful meow, his paw swiping at the air like he was starring in his own rom-com goodbye scene.

“ugh, big boys,” you muttered, carrying bongo back inside. but as you closed the door, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, new york wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

— GOJO SATORU  ₍^. .^₎

you knew gojo had a flair for theatrics, but the day he decided to charm everything with a pulse—including bongo, the cat cast for your shared scene—you realized just how far he was willing to go. bongo, a seasoned feline actor with a resume longer than yours, had been nothing but professional. meanwhile, gojo? not so much. “who’s a handsome boy? you are, aren’t you?” gojo cooed at bongo during a break, crouched low and ruffling the cat’s fur like they were old pals.

“you know he’s supposed to like my character, right?” you deadpanned from your chair, sipping lukewarm coffee. 

“it’s called method acting, babe,” gojo replied with a wink, scratching under bongo’s chin. “gotta make sure he’s comfortable with me too.”

“yeah, by stealing my scene partner.”

gojo just grinned, letting bongo climb onto his lap like a tiny, furry king surveying his kingdom.

fast-forward to the final day of shooting, and bongo had developed what could only be described as a toxic attachment to gojo. 

“aaaand that’s a wrap!” the director called, the crew breaking into applause. you were ready to celebrate—finally free of gojo’s antics—until chaos erupted.

bongo’s trainer approached to retrieve the cat, only for bongo to hiss dramatically and latch onto gojo’s designer blazer with claws sharp enough to shred through fabric and ego alike. “uh, a little help?” gojo yelped, trying to peel the cat off without damaging what was likely a five-figure jacket. the trainer tugged at bongo gently, but the cat clung harder, his claws hooking into the seams as if his very life depended on staying attached to gojo.

“he’s tearing my clothes!” gojo screeched, his voice hitting a pitch you hadn’t thought possible.

“you’re the one who told him he’s a ‘handsome boy,’” you snarked, watching the scene unfold with far too much glee.

“he is a handsome boy! but now he’s a demon!” gojo cried, trying to shake off the cat, who let out a mournful wail and doubled down on his grip. the crew burst out laughing as bongo dramatically clung to gojo’s chest like he was recreating a tragic love scene.

“just let him go, he’s attached to you now,” you teased, crossing your arms and watching the chaos unfold.

“i can’t!” gojo wailed. “he’s got my soul in his little murder mittens!”

finally, the trainer managed to pry bongo off, leaving behind shredded fabric and a very disheveled gojo. “you owe me a new jacket,” he grumbled, glaring at you like this was somehow your fault. “i owe you nothing,” you shot back. “maybe next time, don’t flirt with cats.”

as bongo was carried off set, still yowling dramatically, you couldn’t help but think: if nothing else, that cat had impeccable taste in people to torment.

[hotvintagepoll]

Don Knotts (The Incredible Mr. Limpet, The Ghost and Mr Chicken, The Reluctant Astronaut)—Just look at him. He’s just a lil scrungly guy. Also he started entertaining as a ventriloquist, and there’s nothing scrunglier than a ventriloquist. In all seriousness, Don Knotts’ career is singularly unique. His speaking voice was iconic, and he used it to his advantage and played it up – see also the included YouTube link to his small role in No Time for Sergeants [link]. He not only played second fiddle comedic character roles, but also played leading comedic character roles. He didn’t need a sidekick for his movies but he could *be* the sidekick if needed. That’s key to Scrungly Little Guy™ behavior, in my opinion. Knotts undoubtedly influenced many comedians and sitcom characters in both his lifelong film and TV career – and I do mean lifelong, as his final role was in 2006, the year he passed away! In the 70s, he became a frequently used actor in live action Disney comedy films for kids like The Apple Dumpling Gang and appeared in many children’s programs. Knotts was said to be one of the nicest guys in Hollywood, which is important for Scrungly Little Guy™ lore.

Margaret Hamilton (The Wizard of Oz)—oh you KNOW she scrungled. and she has one of the top ten most beautiful noses of all time, in my objectively correct opinion. and look how her face lights up when she smiles in the wicked witch screen test!

This is round 3 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you’re confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Margaret Hamilton:

Terrifying legions of children as the Wicked Witch of the West, sure, but I would argue that Margaret Hamilton was also Peak Scrungle as Miss Gulch. She also had a long career as a character actress, showing up with her distinctive profile to add a little zip to any film she was in!

was typecast in homely, shrill, and creepy character roles because she wasn't hollywood-attractive but was always so fun to watch

I feel like she's gotta be a shoo-in for scrungliness, but just in case people have lost their minds I'm submitting her. From Wikipedia, here is an intriguing meditation on the difference between scrungly actors and their scrungly roles: "When Hamilton reprised her role as the Wicked Witch in a 1976 episode of Sesame Street, 'the show's producers were flooded with letters from parents saying it was too frightening for children.' She appeared as herself in three episodes of Mister Rogers' Neighborhood, between 1975 and 1976, because Fred Rogers wanted his viewers to recognize the Wicked Witch was just a character and not something to be afraid of."

Don Knotts:

TBH, I was first introduced to Don knotts in things like three's company, the og Scooby-Doo cartoons, and later on that Disney chicken little movie. He's probably most remembered from his time on the Andy griffith show. But just look at him! Don't you just wanna put him situations?

When you say scrungly his face is just what immediately pops into my head

Don Knotts plays in most if not all of his filmography someone who is kinda dull-witted, afraid of his own shadow, or kind of cowardly. He is the scrungliest of scrungly people!  

[kaliina-catoe-blog]

Danny didn't stop flying until he was on the outermost edge of Crime Alley, floating for a few minutes to catch his-- well. Not literally breath, considering he didn't breathe in this form, but the point stood. He couldn't possibly be less lucky, first he has to hide out in Gotham to escape his parents and now he has to try to heal the older halfa without risking himself.

What was worse? Clearly the man didn't know he was a half-ghost. He probably didn't even know about the Anti-Ecto-Acts or the GIW! What if he was targeted and didn't even get to understand why?

Although. The man also asked Danny why he knew about his death.. As though the man knew he had died. But then, why would he not know that he was a halfa? How would he know that he had died, but not know anything about Ectoplasm or Cores? It wasn't adding up, and Danny knew he needed to figure it out.

For now, though, he was exhausted. He looked around for a second, before settling on an abandoned-looking theater building. The sign was faded, and looked to be rather damaged- as though someone had thrown somebody into it and shattered many of the old lights. Despite the letters missing, and the general damage to the sign, it seemed to be some kind of... Opera? Theater?

"**ake Op**a Ho*se"

He floated down, phasing himself through the roof and directly into the main theater of the building. It was cold, but he could handle cold with his Ice Core. Still, Danny moved over to the stage, he could always make it more comfortable.

After shredding a couple of the old, slightly mildewed and tattered curtains, he made himself a large nest. Transforming back, he tried to search the building some for anything useful.

(Jay)

Jason sighed, snapping his laptop shut a little harder than necessary. He had been out searching the street for the kid he saw earlier and, after several hours of nothing, tried to find anything on the many cameras he had placed.

He didn't want to get the Bats into this, at least not yet, but he was starting to wonder if he needed to talk to Oracle. She would probably be able to find the kid, right?... He sighed again.

Alright. What did he know so far? The kid was scrawny, he looked about Demon-Brat's age but it was hard to tell. He appeared to be malnourished; his hands and wrists were bony and his shoulders stuck out a bit. Jason had to fight the urge to open his laptop again, instead opting to stand and go to his kitchen.

Maybe he just needed to try to run into the kid more casually? Maybe even as Jason instead of as Red Hood. Clearly the poor thing had been terrified of him, and he couldn't blame them when he knew his vocal modulation and large guns probably seemed... Well. Scary.

Making up his mind, he started to pull out ingredients for a simple chicken soup. Tomorrow night, he'd patrol like normal and try to find the kid. Hopefully, if he did, he could quickly change or something and try to give the kid some food. Alfred's chicken soup would be the best, especially in Gotham's freezing cold excuse for fall.

(Danny)

Three bottles of water, two sodas, and a juice were in the concession stand. As well as a few bags of chips, a bag of unpopped popcorn, and several boxes of very old candies. Although, in all honesty, he wasn't sure he trusted those if they'd been in cardboard in an abandoned building for... Who knows how long. He was pretty sure at least one of these brands was discontinued, so he assumed it had been a fairly long time.

He shoved his haul into an empty bag he found, as well as a flashlight he found in what appeared to be a manager's office and some batteries. He could see in the dark, but he liked having the ability to actually have light - it made him feel safer. Lastly, he snooped at the registers. They were all empty, which he supposed made sense. The safe in the office, on the other hand, had $50 in random bills that he took.

He would probably feel worse about stealing, but clearly it had been a long time and nobody else was going to miss it or care. Right? Right. Sure. He didn't feel bad at all... Okay he felt awful, but he just had to remember that he was hungry and the place was obviously not about to need $50.

By the time he got back to the musty curtains on the stage, he was beyond exhausted and starving. Collapsing down into the nest, he pulled out a water and opened it. It probably wasn't the safest thing to drink, but at least it wasn't Gotham tap water.

After half of the water was empty, he grabbed a metal dish he'd found in the kitchen and poured some of the popcorn into it. He wasn't entirely sure this was a good idea, but... Actually. Wait.

He scrambled suddenly off of the curtains, moving to sit on his knees on the stage instead. It was already probably dangerous to try to pop popcorn like this- let alone on a big pile of kindling. He grabbed a lighter out of the go-bag he'd brought from home, and one of the metal cups that Jazz had made him pack. She'd insisted he might need a cup for clean water in case he ended up somewhere in the woods or something. He was glad she was so overprotective now, and he ached as he thought about her.

The cup, which he had put a small fire-starter into and lit, sat underneath the dish. The dish was being held up, just high enough to not smother the flame, using a metal frame-looking thing Danny spotted near the stage. It looked like some kind of prop cage? It was flat enough on top to hold the dish flat and tall enough to just go over the cup without touching it.

Slowly, the popcorn started to cook. He heard it first, and watched as - oh shit nonononono. It was popping, yes, but also flying directly out of the metal dish across the floor.

"FUUUUU-" he cut himself off, swiftly moving to try to stop the popcorn from jumping onto the ground.

He pulled a metal lid from his bag, cursing himself for forgetting it, and slapped it over top. "Ancients damn it."

Dp x DC ideas #1 (please feel free to use, but if you could link it below or tag me or something so I can read any fics based on my ideas I'd be super grateful!)

Ok. Idea #1

Danny's transformation is bright. Like. Really really bright. It might temporarily blind people if they're looking directly at it! Danny and his friends have all become adjusted to not looking, and warning people to close their eyes. But what if the flashing light is also useful for making people not recognize that it's Danny that transformed?

Imagine Danny in Gotham, running into Red Hood somewhere in his civvies. His first thought, obviously, is to panic-- because obviously running into any member of the "Batfamily" can't lead to anything good. But then he can feel the cold puff of air that's suddenly leaving his lips and he realizes with terror that this man is NOT human. In fact. This man is easily twice Danny's size and armed to the teeth *and* he's not human. Danny, being himself, decides in that moment he needs to leave NOW. He starts to move, but. He can't bring himself to go ghost yet- there's something nagging at him that he needs to talk to Mr. "Built like the broad side of a barn" about whatever weird ectoplasm was infecting him. He could swear he could almost smell the rotten ecto on the big guy's clothes.

Jason, meanwhile, is busy staring at the tiny ass teenager that's literally shaking in front of him. Why was this kid even here? For starters, no child this size needs to be out this late in any part of Gotham. And more importantly, why is he in Crime Alley? Suddenly, Jason's not standing in front of some random teenager, he's looking at himself. Black hair, blue eyes, dirty clothes in the middle of The Narrows? Shit. Batman was about to have a field day... Wait. Was. Was this how his Da- how Batman felt? Oh shit. The kid was talking and Jason was standing here completely zoned out thinking about the Batmobile's fucking tires.

"Hey, are you listening to me?" Danny asks again, getting irritated fairly quickly. "I'm trying to tell you something important about your core!"

Red Dude shakes his head a bit, seemingly just focusing again. "Sorry.. Hold on. My what?"

Jason has never felt more confused in his entire life. He was also pretty sure he could mentally see the damn adoption papers filing themselves in his head. Maybe D- Bruce had rubbed off more than he thought?

"Okay. One more time." Danny sighs, "Your core looks like someone literally tried to shatter it and then glued it back into your chest. And you reek like rotten ecto- you need pure ecto to heal that much damage. I don't know what you've been trying to use, but it's contaminated by something and I think it's making you sicker?" He tries to explain, but the weird man just keeps staring and tilts his head.

"My what? Is full of what?" Helmet Bro has some kind of voice changer in his helmet, but Danny can tell he's being serious.

"You... You don't know do you?" His eyes suddenly widen like saucers, and he gapes up at the older man in horror.

"Know what, kid?" Jason steps towards the teen, not fast or anything. Just a shift forward, really, but the kid flinches back like he's been hit and Jason is suddenly 13 and fending off muggers again right here in this alleyway. He puts his hands up, palms out to show he's not trying to do anything, and slowly moves to lift his helmet off.

Danny is cornered, he realizes it the second the Big Scary Helmet Man™ moves forward and Danny is pressing his back into a fence. He didn't want to leave the man with rotting ectoplasm in his core, but what was the risk he was about to be kidnapped? But then Big Guy is freezing, and clearly not holding any of the weapons he's armed with.. And taking off the helmet?

"I'm not going to hurt you. I'm not going to lay a hand on you, okay, kiddo? I just need you to explain what you're talking about, and why you're... Here," he gestures with his free hand to the alley.

He has jet black hair, and there's a section near his bangs that's shockingly white. Danny almost thinks the man looks... A little bit familiar? Too familiar. He's not lying though, so Danny tries to relax a bit and raises his hands placatingly. Clearly, the man has no idea that he's a halfa, and he probably doesn't even know he died. Oh man.

"Uh. Well. I don't really know how to explain this to you- and I can't tell you why I know. But... Do. Do you know that you're.. Dead?" Danny asks awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Jason has to fight off the green that's suddenly starting to creep into his vision. How the hell did this kid- wait. He asked if Jason knew? "what?"

Danny felt horrible, he could feel whatever was contaminating the older man's core- like it was alive, almost. "So. I know that saying to stay calm probably isn't going to help you here. But I need you to try to not freak out, okay?"

The lenses of Hood's mask were blown wide, and he very carefully nodded. His teeth creaked with how hard he was trying to remain in control of the Pit Rage.

"Okay," Danny continued carefully, noting that whatever contamination was at play it was definitely making the man unstable... Was it time to go ghost? No. Not yet. "Uh. My name is Danny- Danny Fenton. And. You are... Dead. Err. Half dead?"

Jason is shaking now, just slightly, and he hopes the boy doesn't notice it. He's not trying to scare the poor thing, but the green is starting to come back in waves. He feels like he just got dragged out of The Pits all over again.

"How do you know about that?" Jason asks, and the kid flinches hard again. Jason takes a deep breath and holds it, "I'm not going to hurt you. But you need to tell me- right now- how you know about my death."

Danny is shaking, trembling in fear as he realizes he just fucked up. Badly. "Uh. I can't tell you that, " he tries, pressing flat against the chain link behind him.

Jason steps forward before he can think better of it, another question on his tongue-

*FLASH*

Jason staggers back, hands coming up to cover his eyes, "Oh fuck!"

"Sorry! But I am not about to double-die tonight!" Danny yells back as he phases through the fence. He waits a second, floating while Helmet Man tries to clear his vision again.

"Fuck!" Jason swears again, and then he says something in Spanish that Danny doesn't understand but he's pretty sure is probably not PG13.

Danny doesn't hesitate for another second before he's flying away. He'll need to find the older halfa again, but for now he needs to get far away and fast. He wasn't sure what a regular human gun would do to a half-ghost, and he wasn't about to find out.

Jason, finally regaining his vision, whips his head around. The alley is empty, and there's no sign of where the kids went or how he managed to slip past. He shoved his helmet back on, huffing in frustration. Damn it all. He was going to have to track the poor kid down wasn't he?.... Yeah. Bruce rubbed off on him, clearly, because even now as Jason stalked back out of the alley he couldn't help but to mentally fill out paperwork.. He was calling dibs on this one- black hair, blue eyes, and apparently carrying a flash bang? Batman could fight him for custody. Besides... There was something off about the kid- how did he know Jason was dead? And what was all the weird talking about 'cores' and 'ecto'?

[deeplyshalllow]

Do the gale force soldiers witness Fiyero’s transformation? Or do they leave him tied up and come back for Torture part 2: For Bad in the morning/after a coffee break then panic because

a. someone’s obviously used the clothes of their mostly dead ex-captain to make a creepy scarecrow decoy, suggesting the real Fiyero has miraculously escaped in his underwear,

b. they believe they’ve forgotten where they put him, because there are so many other scarecrows (a frankly ridiculous amount!) already in that cornfield, Fiyero’s body blends right in and it takes all day to check them all and come up unnervingly empty. (Oops! All scarecrows!) Prompting the soldiers to check them all again and again “How could you forget?” “Why did you have to tie a sack over his very recognisable face?” “You told me to?!” “Stop gaslighting me!” Etc

c. free space

d. they did see the transformation and it terrified them so much they scarpered to the nearest pub and drank to forget

a.a. they assume Elphaba has taken their dead guy, wholesale, “What do you even do with a dead prince?” “Bury him I guess,” “Use his bones for evil spells,” “I would put the dead prince in an ornately crafted glass coffin in the woods, so that the Winkies and woodland Animals can pay their respects and gaze upon his beautiful face.” … “Except we beat his face up.” “Yeah we beat his face up.”

I’m suffering the thought equivalent of zoomies I’m so so sorry

Loolll Firstly I got a good chuckle out of Torture part 2: For Bad, so thank you for that!

Honestly I've always thought option D - that they did see his transformation for several reasons:

They're supposed to torture Fiyero "until he tells us where the witch went" and (despite the fact that they do know where Elphaba is by March of the Witch Hunters - I think she's beyond being subtle at that point, and she does have good defences) I just can't believe Fiyero would ever tell them, he'd die first. So I do not think they are done with the torturing when he's transformed.

You have to remember that these are Fiyero's men. Guards who have worked under Fiyero, probably considered him a friend, and all along he has been betraying them and working for the Witch. They are probably not the most pleasant people in the first place and they are angry. I don't think any of them are giving up for a coffee break until he's done what they want and is dead

I actually think she casts the spell pretty fast? Like wishing for his flesh not to be torn and to not be feeling pain when he's beaten, is going to be pretty redundant more than 10 minutes after Fiyero has been captured (like it's obviously long enough for there to be some possibility for him to be "already dead or bleeding" but there's also a chance of his survival)? I imagine she got to the nearest safe place and cast. And Elphaba doesn't even cast the spell for that long before giving up and falling into despair so yeah, I imagine the men see it

They would want the body. There's a lot of power displaying tortured Fiyero to Oz whether it be "look what the Witch did to our beloved Prince" or "look what happens to traitors" it sends a message to the Ozians. I can't imagine them going without it if they can help it (and the fact they do come back empty handed and presumably lie about what happened to Morrible, can't have impressed her much)

Why doesn't the scarecrow get caught later then? I imagine the guards still don't necessarily know he's turned into a scarecrow - I imagine they ran away the moment the freaky magic started happening (and again, lied about the success of their murder when questioned by their superiors). There's also a non zero chance that, when they were taking a stiff drink after it all, Elphaba all "no good deed will i do again" returned to the field, found no Fiyero and the guards drinking (she presumes in celebration) and just burnt them all to death.

Thanks for the question! It was fun to specuate!

[whereispearlescentmoon]

I am really loving your deep, philosophical look at the characters in the life series, such as the one you did for Cleo and here loyalty and love for her allies. Could you perhaps do one for Mumbo?

So I actually hadn’t watched Mumbo’s pov of anything but Secret Life and a bit of Wild Life but I’m sick and you asked very nicely so I decided to watch some of his Last Life to answer this lol.

The thing about Mumbo that I love is that he is so afraid all the time. And I’m not saying as an insult, it’s just the truth. Of everyone in the series he (and Lizzie) feels the most like a person who was dropped into a death game that, and this is crucial, he knows he won’t win. Not to bash Mumbo’s skill, but he’s not good at PVP, and he’s not great at keeping himself alive. Neither of those things bode well for his survival and he knows that. So he spends the whole time afraid. But what he lacks in skill, he makes up for in smarts.

One of the first things he says in Last Life is that he’s A) Completely terrified and B) Bad at surviving in Minecraft. He’s determined to survive on the merit of his redstone skills, but unfortunately, brains can only get you so far when when you’re being chased down by someone. He looses two lives in his second episode, one right after very triumphantly killing Joel with only a stone axe, because even when he does something cool we must be reminded that he’s kind of pathetic. Every time the boogeyman was chosen, he would hide in fear for a little bit, unsure if he could trust anyone. He’s extremely jumpy. In episode two he gets genuinely startled by items coming up after he places a block on them. And like, he can’t really because for his first season he teamed up with people who actually took the whole “red names cant have alliances unless the other people are red and boogeymen lose all alliances” seriously. Hence the whole “join me” thing with Grian. If paranoia was a person, it would be Last Life Mumbo.

His secret life series is probably the best example of him driven by fear and the knowledge that he probably won’t win. Like, he was paranoid in Last Life, but there was almost a resignation to the fact that he wouldn’t win. In Secret Life, he’s really really trying. But no one else believes him, which only makes him more frantic to prove that he can be good at this. For example, Pearl, despite being his ally, dedicates herself to Bdubs and Joel (and later Scar) winning, but not him. And the second he goes red, when things start going really wrong, he falls apart completely. He panics, like he always does, and flails. And most importantly, he still holds true to the old Last Life rule that reds don’t have allies anymore, hence why he tries to kill Pearl. He can’t get any kills, he’s running around like a chicken without its head. And he dies to a stupid joke he set up himself.

And then the best way to prove that he ends up taking himself out by panicking is Wild Life. First, yes, he does die to a failed trap he himself set up which is funny for the guy who relies on his redstone to succeed in the series. But then when he comes back as a zombie and has no fear of dying, he actually gets a decent number of kills? Like, if he would just take Natasha Bedingfield’s advice and release his inhibitions, he could feel the rain (victory) on his skin.

[ro-bee]

KIRANDER / WOLF NARI THINGS FACTS STORY IDK

He's an albino gray wolf, he acts a lot more like a dog... Maybe millennia in the void tamed him or maybe is just his people pleaser nature. (Despite that he can be authoritarian I think)

Kiran is very old, the oldest of bishops, the first of them to find a crown.

He's not a big fan of fighting but is very good at it, he taught his siblings some techniques!

The relationship with the other bishops isn't really good, he loves them but they don't like him much because he's "too affectioned" and overall strange. They don't understand his vision of the world and I mean fair.

His morals are mostly pessimistic he believes in the concept of destroy and rebuild, his "excuse" is that he doesn't want to see people suffer so he comes to the conclusion that dying is better than living and that the world would be better without gods.

He's very impatient but doesn't show it... And he doesn't allow more than one (1) second chances, all his previous vessels were definitely killed by him after their first death againsts the bishops

He would come up with some bullshit like "I'm sorry, I won't prolong your pain any longer, I clearly was wrong you're not fit for this... Now rest" or "you tried but it wasn't enough" a bit evil... And not very productive from him since he can't free himself alone... Ironic because he's impatient lol his morals are very strong

So yeah basically goat killed all bishops without dying even once... That was hell

(Goat playing hardcore lmao)

Cal and Deb (kiran's Baal and aym) weren't given by the bishops but by they're mom did a ritual to gift them to their father (yes I'm gonna make Kiran x forneus (name need a change) canon here and make him the bio dad of the pups , how were they born? Idk immaculate conception probably), they are demigods, kiran loves them very much and they keept him "sane"

Also forneus is his most Loyal follower 🔥🔥🔥🥴

After goat kills all bishops Kiran uses his freedom to... Take care of the pups...

They knew this was going to happen and let him do it (like... Brainwashed behavior)

If the world was to be freed from gods then demigods shouldn't be here either, so he killed them. Fast and painless.

Ok ok relationship with goat :

Is always ups and downs but mostly it starts as just you help me and I help you kind of deal... After the first bishop down Kiran kinda start to catch feelings... Nobody went so far yet this goat was the one, goat never died again so they saw each other's only after the first chain got destroyed and Kiran was able to use a bit of his power to bring them to him as the pleased, they use those summonings to talk e know each other's better lol.

So after bishop one was down they were in a friendly mood? Relationship??? Positive?

After the second bishop goat started to be a bit confused about their big friend's plan... The bishop told them some stuff but they decided not to believe him still doubt started forming in their heart even if Kiran was always so affectionate

I think the crush start here

After bishop 3 was down the seed of doubt finally sprout and Kiran noticed that goat started to be more distant from him... After one day goat asked him "after you're free, What will you do to me? " and Kiran simply responded with "I'll free you too, from you're regrets and from all the pain, I'll free your soul and we will be together in peace" that didn't reassure goat one bit but they let it slide because they wanted to believe their god

At this point their relationship was a bit confused but I think there was love in there under all the doubts

After the fourth bishop was killed goat was scared, terrified even.

They finally knew what the real plan was, the last bishop told them, He told them everything and how that wolf would take their second life just for a crazy ideology. They won't let that happen, they are stronger than him anyway... This whole deal made them go a little mad and on a full rampage, it didn't help finally knowing that the stermination of their kin was basically kiran's fault, yes the bishops started it but it was all to stop the crazy plans of the wolf, a "little" price to pay to save everything else.

When they arrived to purgatory they noticed the pups were gone, not surprising considering everything they learned that day about their beloved wolf.

Their fight wasn't long, Kiran asked goat to just listen to him but they were not willing at all.

it all ends when they finally manage to pin him on the ground.

The relationship right now is divorce 😭😭

So Kiran dies, a very painful and slow death. Goat claims his place and they become the new God fo death.

That didn't satisfy them toh, now there was emptiness in their heart. They loved that wolf! They felt safe with him, he always attended their words wounds and now just like that he was gone. They killed him.

Goat would stop thinking about it for some years and would keep attending on their cult (in a very bad way) until one night they decided to bring the wolf back and make him pay and his actions again, like yes out of spite and to fill the emptiness.

Now can start the toxic yaoi

Bringing Kiran back will start this circle of love and hate, a desperate attempt from goat to fix the problems in their head??

Bro needs therapy (lamb is their therapist and will help them)

Every time Kiran would die goat would bring him back, bro doesn't deserve peace🔥🔥

Ok but with time goat calms down, realize that this is useless, Kiran realize that his actions were actually the problem, that he missed his siblings and his pups so much.

Sorry chat he changed a bit I think 😔

[fallendev0tionvn]

Any Fun Facts about Clive?

has read all twd comics, spent a ton on ebay to get his hands on all of them (that's also why he has wings tatted on his back, he's obsessed with daryl)

cuts his own hair cause he's terrified of coming out with a low taper fade or something HAHDHAH, another thing he did himself are his piercings

when he was 14 he had a nightmare about getting trapped behind some extremely heavy door and he couldn't get out as much as he tried because he didn't have any strength (you were behind the door ofc, that's why he was so desperate to get out), immediately started going to the gym to work on it💀

vampire enjoyer, he used to pretend to be a vampire when he was younger, lost infinite aura when some kids called him out in front of everyone (me too clive, me too).

related to the vampire thing, he has angel bites because they remind him of fangs🏃‍♀️

he kind of took that guardian bell you gave him (at the beginning of the game) as a confession, "if you're supposed to give it to a loved one to protect them does that mean they love me?"- his hopes were gone the moment you told him some friend of yours found him cute and wanted to get to know him better🕴️

we know he learnt you first language if you speak more than one, I can imagine him complimenting you or yapping about how important you are in it (he's actually fluent)

he loves to be around you all the time but if you have a pet?? nah he's sticking to them, if you have a cat he'd scream kitty like caseoh the MOMENT he walks in HAHDHHA

probably reads romance webtoons (wholesome ones) to daydream about you as always💀

you listened to music with him once and you couldn't understand why he was all jumpy and shakey (pure rizz in his mind, suggesting to listen to music together??? do you love him??)

he wanted to be a tattoo artist cause he used to spend a lot of time drawing on your arm/hand (using actual tattoos as a reference), sneaked his initial more than once, he never made it obvious ofc🏃‍♀️

him:

(kind of funny how he looks so cute around you and animals then..with other people..i'd show the cg but hell no)

[somegrumpynerd]

It was one of the rare nights that Nightmare decided to actually retire to his room for the night. He didn't need sleep, with enough flow of negativity he could easily survive without it, but sometimes it was nice to just lay down and rest.

He had a dream. They were rare too, if only because he slept so infrequently, but this particular one was common for him when he did. It was about killing Dream. The ongoing war between them was constant on his mind, so it made sense it would invade his unwaking hours as well. In it, he finally managed to crush the life from his twin, in the process gaining unwavering control over the entire multiverse as he watched the other's eyelights dim.

He sat up in his bed.

He was panting. His tendrils, slowly reforming from behind him, were trembling as they hung uncertainly in the air. He realised slowly as he returned to reality that he was gripping the sheets tightly with both hands.

Panic was an emotion Nightmare had rarely been on the other side of for centuries. It took him a few long moments to even identify it from within his own soul, rotten and imprisoned under the corruption. It took him even longer to identify the part of him that he had long assumed dead, which was crying out for nothing more than to cling to his brother for comfort.

For the first time in hundreds of years, Nightmare wasn't sure what he wanted anymore.

[cringefailvox]

how long do we think it took for alastor to come clean about being the radio demon. months? years? how long was this man terrorizing everyone anonymously before he finally caved to the desire to be recognized for his hard work

[below-et-almost]

tw: the section on Aphrodite brings up a dub/non-con curse

I haven't thought about the Iliad in years. Like a decade. but OH man this au has me so excited about putting Maedhros in this world!!! He's outside of Arda and the role he bound himself to within it, and he can do serious good here! Also, he can sow some serious confusion.

Somehow, Maedhros is even more lost than Odysseus was... What next, is he gonna get lost enough to land himself and his band of refugees in Ithaca? And what kind of advice can Tiresias give him for getting back to Beleriand?

The shipboard adventures are gonna go rather differently, with this crew. Circe, for one, may be less initially aggressive towards a ship full of refugee women and children; but, going by her other various exploits, quite probably not for long. There are several directions for that encounter that pop to mind, actually.

Circe as Sorceress Fatale is attracted to this exotic and unusual hero/leader now under her power, and she gets cursing-level offended when this interest is not reciprocated.

Something dealing with how Circe 'purified' the argonauts of murdering Medea's brother. While the ritual in and of itself is not super important to Maedhros, I think that it's super interesting how she both purifies them even before knowing what they did and then, after the telling, denies them hospitality. There's something there about personal forgiveness (she doesn't give it) versus offering second chances (the purification) and her not offering then hospitality to these people as the continue to pursue the pre-second chance goal. And I think that oath-bound Maedhros could have a very interesting discussion with her about second chances and the sunk cost fallacy. Especially this Maedhros, who has found himself lost in a world not his own, who has found himself outside of his oath-bound role for the first time in centuries and whose preconceptions about the world have just been rocked.

Also super interested in how Ares, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus' attention will affect the adventures of our intrepid crew.

It could be fun if Hephaestus is curious about the metal alloy technology Maedhros is wearing. Also, if he knows that Maedhros isn't his son and figures out that Aphrodite genuinely does not believe him to be hers, he's in a position to be even more curious! Which is to say, Hephaestus chatting with and/or throwing 'little' challenges and puzzles Maedhros' way to try to figure him and his origins out.

Ares is also paying attention, which I think is hilarious. Or, at first I thought it was hilarious. Then I started seeing parallels. Maedhros' deeds of great valor and orc-terrifying ferociousness are very on-brand for Ares. The narrative is also very ambivalent towards him in much the same way as mythology is towards Ares, and for much the same reasons. The warlike attitude and aptitude to help defeat the enemy threat is praised, but, like the sons of Feanor on Doriath and Sirion, Ares can and will bring that same violence against his supplicants. And he's also often portrayed as humiliated by his pride... like the son of Feanor who for all his fearsome oath and deeds of valor did not damage Morgoth, attacked elves, and refused mercy only to kill himself.

So: Maedhros has got the courage and physical prowess and bloodthirsty attitude-- and he hates this part of himself and how he's turned it on his fellow elves. Meanwhile Ares is all for belligerence and warfare and has to be ritually chained-in-effigy in order to not continue causing strife after helping to repel enemies. They could have a really interesting dynamic. Like, Maedhros would absolutely despise Ares, but I think that Ares could roll with that enough to continue to initiate interesting interactions.

Aphrodite... she is pissed, and she is powerful! There's some tension re: how powerful Aphrodite is, which we can see even in the Iliad, where she both kicks off the entire war with her curse and gets scolded by Zeus for getting injured on the field of battle, where she shouldn't be because she doesn't have power there. (But in other instances she is associated with battle thru Ares or even thru the physicality of battle itself-- and later from the influence of Venus Genetrix of Rome-- and in other hymns she seems to have great power over all things that procreate.)

In any case, her curses are potent. She needs to give Maedhros a good curse! This could be some awful whump scenario, or this could be a hilariously ineffectual curse to desperately and effeminately (going off of the idea of active/passive roles in male-male relationships and the domination of a woman by her husband or lover) long for a relative-- thwarted by Maedhros already being a sad widower for his cousin and liege. I'd consider the former more likely, except the latter would fit well with the themes of the narratives not knowing how to handle their swapped characters. Idk perhaps she ineffectively and hilariously curses him the first time, and when that doesn't work, she either curses him to have sex with someone/thing he'd really rather not or makes his dick fall off /shrug. But she can't like, gainsay her first curse, so she's stuck with curse options that don't change his amorous emotions/cause a permanent mental state that would make him forget his priorities?? So we can have the humorous moment, the acknowledgement of Aphrodite's power, and the fact that the way in which Aphrodite didn't understand Maedhros blunts her curses from 'chronic mindfuck' to 'serious trauma but at least it's not permanent mindfuck'.

Maedros in Troy AU

Long, long post about my very niche obsession. Original AU by @sweetteaanddragons can be found here.

Every so often when I'm listening to EPIC, my mind will play six-degrees-of-Kevin-Bacon and I'll end up back at this AU. This particular addition was inspired by my remembering that Achilles was a redhead (Or maybe strawberry-blonde, idk enough about the Greek language to say for sure. His son was a redhead, and he once went by the alias of "the redheaded girl.")

The morning after the sack of Troy is a somber affair, even, surprisingly, amongst the victors. The surviving Achaean princes limp their way back to the feet of the horse, finally able to take a headcount. Odysseus and Ajax the Lesser are missing, Neoptolemus is nursing a nasty leg-wound, and less concerning but equally inconvenient, Menelaus and Helen have absconded to Sparta to start their second honeymoon.

Neoptolemus, in particular, has been having a day. First he got paired with Odysseus, which he has come to learn means he's going to be acting as the muscle while the Ithacan takes the credit. Then Odysseus was granted the honor of ending Hector's bloodline, and Neo couldn't even say anything because the order came directly from the mouth of Zeus. (Odysseus already took his father's armor. Could Neo not at least be allowed his vengeance?) Then Hector's woman took a swipe at him with a dagger, which Neo handled quite easily, then a madman burst out of the crypts and nearly cut his leg off, which presented a bit more of a challenge.

The princes compare notes, slowly piecing together a picture of The Stranger who carved a bloody swath through their armies and then disappeared as quickly as he materialized. Finally, Eurylochus says what everyone else has been thinking (fearing). Towering in stature, redhaired, wearing armor that turned their blades and wielding a sword that pierced through bronze like soft clay? They all know who that sounds like.

Yes, the others reluctantly admit, The Stranger is most definitely the ghost of Achilles, returned from the grave to once again punish them all for the sake of some personal slight. (Neo can't stop thinking about the look in the man's eyes, that look of pity or maybe disappointment before he left the youth bleeding on the steps of Hector's tomb).

Diomedes is the only one to object. Aside from Neo, he was the only one to get a good look at The Stranger and live to tell about it. That wasn't Achilles. In fact, he made the man bleed, so he wasn't a ghost either. No one else seems convinced.

Neo confirms that Odysseus went into Hector's tomb alone, and only The Stranger emerged. Sage nods are exchanged amongst the other princes -- Achilles must have returned to avenge his old comrade, Greater Ajax. But then why would he kill so many Achaeans after presumably taking his vengeance on Odysseus? (Agamemnon scoffs. As if Achilles ever needed a reason to be a pain.)

Then a messenger arrives, breathlessly announcing that Ajax the Lesser has been found. Specifically, he has been found dead by a blow from The Stranger's magic sword, lying at the feet of a toppled statue of Athena.

Now that's clearly an omen of some sort, though no one can agree on what message to take from it. Athena is Odysseus's patron, but is the toppled statue a sign of judgement or of disrespect? Does this have anything to do with The Lesser's cousin The Greater? Nestor suggests consulting the Trojan oracle Helenus. They left the boy tied up on Agamemnon's ship after Odysseus finished with him, and he was still alive the last time they checked. Perhaps he can interpret the omen.

This plan only makes it as far as the beach, where the gang discovers that both the oracle and Agamemnon's flagship have been stolen.

Suddenly it all makes perfect sense. Diomedes explodes -- yet again, Achilles is punishing them all for the sake of his feud with Agamemnon. The High King sputters out a denial -- he and Achilles were square when the man died. His conscience is perfectly clean. He still looks as if he is actively having a heart attack.

Nestor attempts to intervene. Diomedes shouldn't jump to conclusions... But if Agamemnon knows of anything that might have brought a vengeful Achilles back from the grave, he really should tell them. They promise they won't be mad.

Agamemnon has the horrible, sinking feeling that this might be about the fact that he took a leak on the ashes of Achille's funeral pyre. But he's certainly not going to admit to that. Wounded or no, Neo has a good couple of inches on him, and the kid is built like he strangles oxen for a hobby. He has that same twitchy look in his eye that his father always had.

This man cannot have been Achilles, he insists, and Agamemnon is going to bring back his head to prove it! (No one else is willing to set sail while the son of a Nereid might be after their heads, and Agamemnon is quite sure that they're one more bad omen away from sacrificing him to appease Achilles. It's what he would do, were he in their position.) Eurylochus and his crew quickly get pressed into service -- they need a captain, and Agamemnon needs a boat. And don't they want to avenge their fallen king?

Neo insists on coming along, much to Agamemnon's horror.

Maedhros isn't ready to panic just yet. Disorienting as that first night was, he's now fairly certain that he knows where he is. He's on the eastern side of the Sea of Rhûn. This is an inland sea, and the climate and general look of the people suggest that he's somewhere south and east of Dorwinion. He's a long way from home, to be sure, but at least he knows how to get back. He takes a moment to privately curse that storm Maia for dragging him so far out of his way.

He's fairly certain that the woman he rescued is the baby's mother. At least, she seemed very relieved to have him back. So if he recalls the storm Maia's threats correctly, that would make her the prince's widow. The others seem to tentatively consider her to be in charge, and she's at least attempted to communicate with him. Maybe she can help him get his bearings.

Unfortunately, she doesn't speak any of the Easterling tongues he learned from Bór. That's not terribly surprising. Rhûn is a land of many nations, and this particular clan must be rather isolated if they're still casting weapons out of bronze. That's fine. He might not invent new languages on a whim as his father did, but he does enjoy learning them.

The golden-haired girl hasn't stopped watching him. She looks away with a pained expression every time he catches her at it, but even now he can feel her eyes boring into the back of his head. He saw eyes like that once before -- the first time he saw a mirror after Thangorodrim.

The others give her a wide berth, though she does nothing apart from sit curled under the mast, arms around her knees. During their flight, she broke from her stupor long enough to lead them to this ship -- the same ship where they found the prisoner who Maedhros assumes to be her twin brother. It almost seemed as if she knew where...

But that would be ridiculous. She couldn't have known. Maedhros rather forcibly shrugs the notion off. They're twins. He's seen Amrod and Amras do far stranger.

On his first night, Maedhros was too preoccupied to look up. Even had he chanced to look at the sky, the smoke of the city's burning would have blotted out the stars. He spends the following day tending to the wounded, despite having nothing but torn clothing and seawater, and offering what comfort he can, despite speaking not a word of their language. When the sun sets, he forces himself to stay awake. One look at the stars will give him his heading, and from there he can plan the route home...

Oh. Maedhros doesn't know those stars.

Maedhros is beginning to suspect that he isn't in Rhûn.

More coming soon, by request of @sweetteaanddragons !

[dykedvonte]

Can you talk about trans!Curly a little bit more? I'm curios if you have any headcanons and the like

-💀

It's just such a thing in my mind because it adds a truthful sadness and differing aspect to mouthwashing.

If Curly was trans it adds the horror of the horribly selfish thought he could have easily been in Anya's situation. It could've been him but it wasn't and he so conflicted on the pit it put in his stomach that brings and the shameful relief it wasn't. In this scenario he is friends with Jimmy for a long time still. Jimmy likely knew him pretransition. Maybe he gave Curly weird looks then, maybe they never stopped after, maybe they seemed meaner. They are guys now, bros, both of them are. He doesn't really have to worry what those looks mean anymore, Jimmy just has that face with him sometimes. It's recontextualizing a lot of things for him that he was in denial about or too ashamed to admit. How naive he was being and how he let that get another person hurt.

Specifically with Anya, it's he knows the dread and fear she's feeling. He can understand it because he had to live with it for a good portion of his life, he knows it cause he still does, just in a slightly different way. It makes him think of all the times he's been alone with Jimmy, all the times he's been way more drunk off his ass and not remember the night, Jimmy was always with him the next day. Makes him think of the comments he would laugh off both because that's what guys do but because that part of being a girl says to laugh so Jimmy doesn't do something. It's the selfish realization that he was never safe and he's uncertain now too. Mad at himself for forgeting that feeling, espcially since for a long time he would've been considered the only woman on a crew (with all that implies) for a long time.

He should've taken those blinders off, step back into that position for just a moment and it's so much more painful that Anya likely came to him because he should've gotten it. Those thoughts don't leave his mind after the crash when he's in an even more vulnerable position than she was...