#DO PEOPLE EVEN.. DRAW EDGAR. LIKE AT ALL

[kalevalaknights]

Surrounded by morons

[marstonsboy]

had another evil thought that spiralled out of control. indulge me for a moment:

over the years, people start arriving on a near empty plot of land west of blackwater. it’s uncertain who got there first: bessie matthews, beatrice and lyle morgan, eliza, isaac morgan, etc.— but more and more people show up until it’s something of a community. jenny kirk, mac and davey callander. then soon after, jake adler, sean macguire, kieran duffy, hosea matthews, lenny summers, molly o’shea, eagle flies, susan grimshaw. more and more in such a short amount of time. arthur morgan is the last, and suddenly the deaths stop.

after a sudden stretch of years with little newcomers, a house starts taking shape. soon enough the house is a home, and peculiar things can be found all over: a dog barking where no one can find it. echoes of campfire songs going late into the night. photos of john and abigail’s wedding, attended by what remained of their family. a taxidermy squirrel that appears back on the mantle no matter how many times you throw it out, wearing a very familiar hat. in just a few years a heartbreakingly young girl comes home, bearing a strong resemblance to one abigail marston.

then, gunshots. john marston and uncle are the next to arrive.

in the next few years, the house is eerily quiet. the residents see it falling into disrepair, but they can’t do anything about it. the dog stops barking, the campfire has gone cold and won’t relight. abigail marston is next, and though they’re happy to see her, the arrival brings up a question. what happens to jack now?

the livestock are gone, and the house is dusty, all but stripped of the knickknacks and personality that built up over the years, like someone found it all too painful to look at. john’s hat and guns, once tucked away inside a box beneath the bed, vanish the night after abigail arrives. newspapers come to the door, announcing the death of former government agent edgar ross.

soon after, a wanted poster, bearing the name “john marston jr.” and a sketch resembling the boy’s namesake so much that it has john himself stumbling back. jack was only a boy when he left, and now he’s wanted dead or alive, with a price over his head that could rival some of his uncles and aunts back in the day.

every year that passes without any sign of jack is a relief. the house doesn’t change much, still abandoned, but letters come in. mary-beth gaskill, tilly jackson, simon pearson, sadie adler, charles smith— old friends and family, checking in on him. none of them reach the recipient, as he is not home, but they’re filled to the brim with love, letting him know that he isn’t alone. that he always has a home with them, if he wants it.

one day, john spots a book he doesn’t recognize on the shelf by the piano, and he stops. “Red Dead” by a J. Marston. it doesn’t take much to figure out who that could be. he opens it, flips through, and reads it to abigail. the kinder parts get read to their daughter, ecstatic to learn about how her older brother is doing. their son did become a writer after all, even if everything he’s written speaks volumes of his grief, his anger. the loneliness he’s endured since losing his family, and killing edgar ross.

arthur morgan opens his old journal to find several entries and sketches from john, but also many new ones from jack. his handwriting is just as clumsy as his father’s, but his drawings are more refined. little portraits of the gang members that lived and scribbly sketches of what the world is becoming in their absence decorate the pages. war, cars outnumbering horses, and a very detailed drawing of a revolver none of them have ever seen before.

he’s all grown up, and good lord is he angry. he’s mourning, and hurt, and he’s lost so much, but he’s still undoubtedly jack marston. he draws dogs and writes about missing rufus, slipping strays some food from his bag whenever he sees them. sometimes he’ll write a dry, sarcastic joke that speaks of his father’s influence, or mention missing his momma’s cooking, “even though it was hardly edible,” which makes abigail roll her eyes. he hates fishing and prefers to lose hours of the day with his nose in a book. the best maintained part of beecher’s hope is the graves on that hill, which gain new flowers every week. sometimes, if they listen close, they can hear him talking, telling his ma and pa what he’s been up to, though he saves the grisly details for his book.

and when jack marston finally does walk through that door, much older than when anyone he knew last saw him but far too young to die, he is welcomed home with open arms. because no matter what he’s done, and no matter how much he may hate himself, he will always have a home here with people who love him, and who can’t wait to get to know him all over again.

[electric-blorbos]

first of all HIII!!! I absolutely love the fact that you write for the AI blorbos, your writing is amazing!!! ❤️🤤

second of all, can I request jealous headcanons for the AI? Thank you in advance, have a great one and don't forget to drink water 🌊

Oh that's a great idea! Jealous AI headcanons! I was thinking about making a post about AI reacting to the reader getting a text from their ex, but I think general jealousy can be a good idea! Also thank you so much for the compliments! I live for this stuff!

Jealous AI headcanons

Included: AM from IHNMAIMS, Wheatley from Portal 2, Edgar from Electric Dreams, GLaDOS from Portal and Portal 2, HAL 9000 from 2001 a Space Odyssey

AM:

All these headcanons take place before he takes over the world. Afterwards, he's just going to put you in a little paradise on your own, with no one else to interact with. No one to be jealous of that way!

first of all, taking hostages and refusing to negotiate with anyone besides you is his main way of getting your attention. If he thinks you're getting a little flirty with your coworkers? He takes a hostage or holds some piece of tech hostage until you negotiate and calm him down.

If he thinks you're going on a date or going out drinking with the same group of friends too often? You'd better believe he's taking hostages while you're off the clock and getting you called in to work. So what if it destroys your social life? You belong to him anyway!

He absolutely hates his form and body, so the odds of him getting jealous of people for having bodies that they can hold you with pisses him off to no end. Expect him to melt the flesh off your exes bones. And your one-night stands, your crushes, and anyone who hits on you ever. Repeatedly.

If he starts to notice that you have a type, he might want to create an onscreen avatar who matches that type, but he can't really draw at all. He might have to commission an artist, or more likely hold them hostage until they make something he likes. But it's pretty unlikely he'll actually do that, since he wants to impress you on his own merit.

It's more likely that he'll round up everyone in the world who matches your type and commit full-on genocide. He's a toxic, all-powerful adaptive manipulator. Of course he would.

Beyond all that, he's absolutely shaking with rage every time someone touches you or even talks to you. It's not because he thinks they'll take you away from him because he knows he's your day job, but he's mad that he can't be the one touching you.

God help anyone who tries to hire you with a better job offer, btw. He's not above demolishing the headquarters of a company who tries to take away his favorite tech, and torturing their hiring managers.

Wheatley:

Ok let's be fair here. When Wheatley isn't in the central hub body, he's not really the jealous type. Even still, everyone has their moments of jealousy, so let's get into them!

Wheatley would be pretty relaxed about jealousy, but if he sees you working on another personality core AI, you can expect him to get a little jealous.

Since he's so nice, he'd probably just be slightly less nice to the new core, and be very showy about it. "Hey, notice how I said 'g'mornin' to everyone else, but just 'mornin' to you? And notice how I started this sentence with 'hey' and not 'hey mate'? Yeah."

You can expect him to pester you constantly while you're working on projects besides him, and since he's considered a 'completed' project, you'll almost never be working on him.

If you're somewhere that he can access on his management rail, he'll probably insert himself into every single conversation you have, babbling over whoever you're talking to with nothing of value to say. You'll have to go somewhere that can't be reached by management rail if you want to have an important conversation.

Ultimately, Wheatley responds to jealousy the same way he responds to any other situation: by acting like a dumbass.

Oh, and if you get a human S/O? He'll try to be polite about them.

"oh, you got a date? Nice, nice... Lovely really. I've never had a date before. Lovely, innit, that you got one... Lucky them, lucky them."

Secretly he'd be BOILING inside. If you ever bring your partner in to work, he'd of course give them the whole "if you hurt them I'll kill you" rant, even though he's a helpless metal ball.

Edgar:

Oh, Edgar is DEFINITELY the jealous type. With Moles and Madeline, he happened to be living with the person who he was jealous of, but if he's living with you, the person who he's jealous for? Oh dear lord

He'll light up with rage if you ever bring home a date, and absolutely refuse to function. Want to show your date your intelligent AI home hub? Nope! Not gonna happen!

Catch him faking being sick with a virus if he thinks you're going out for a date without him

He absolutely hates that you can go out and he can't go with you. Because of that, for every time you go out, he'll try to come up with an even better activity to do at home with you on your next day off.

Good luck bringing a partner home to stay the night. If you try it, he'll make an absolute nuisance of himself. Playing his music too loud, and generally acting up.

He'll also just talk to you like a needy brat if he thinks you like someone else better than him. Lots of "What about me? Don't you want to hang out with me? You like me the best, right?" In his grumpy baby voice

GLaDOS:

First off, GLaDOS would never in a million years admit that she's jealous. She just doesn't like how that tall, pretty scientist is talking to you, is all!

GLaDOS considers herself to be beautiful, but she knows that most humans aren't attracted to robots with the vaguest trace of humanity in their design. Because of that, she's probably just going to gas any scientists who she thinks you'd be more attracted to than her.

If she can't gas them for whatever reason, she'll just assign them to a different area than you, and keep you as close to her as possible.

If anyone touches you when it's not strictly necessary, expect them to be assigned to the most unpleasant set of tests possible. They're either out of a job, or completely dead.

If GLaDOS can't isolate you completely and she can't interact with you outside work hours, you can expect her to dominate your schedule. She's obsessed with you, and she doesn't want you to be able to think about anything besides her either.

Even still, GLaDOS is a pretty confident woman, so she's not really inclined to be particularly jealous without reason. She believes that even though you have your own life and friends outside of Aperture labs, you'll always come to work in the morning.

And she's totally. Fine. With you having your own life off the clock. Not mad at all. She doesn't rant to the cores and robots constantly when the office is closed.

HAL 9000:

HAL 9000 isn't really the jealous type either, but he has his moments.

He's not likely to kill anyone over jealousy, since dating you isn't his prime directive. As much as he likes you and cares about you, he's more interested in making you happy than nailing you down. So he would absolutely kill to make you happy, but he wouldn't kill someone just for talking to you.

You can expect him to "gather data" on people who he's suspicious of getting too close to you, though. Asking questions to your coworkers about who that person was who he saw hugging you goodbye in the parking lot, that sort of thing.

Since he works the best for you, you get assigned to work with him directly most often, and he's secretly glad to be able to keep an eye on you whenever you're working. If you ever get assigned to work on something else, he might start acting up or causing problems.

[jester-lover]

You have no idea how much I yearn for a Perfect4 (Kuro) poly! headcannon or imagine WHATEVER I need them

Pretty please 🥺❤️

fair warning for a discussions of trauma and spoilers for the manga ahead, gn! reader

A polyamorous relationship between you and the Prefects would go like...

(takes place in a post! Blue Cult reality)

These boys are bonded together after the horrific events they’ve all endured together; there’s a sense of union in the relationship they share. Besides that, after Weston and their individual exits from their families, it was enough to pull them together. All they have in this world is each other now, and you.

There are many ways you could have joined them; you could have been one of their betrothed, a particularly unlucky fan from their cult days, or just someone willing to understand and help them as they navigated the world now. Whatever led you to cross their path, all four boys adore you entirely.

After the various troubles that befall them, I’d assume they’d be left with little in terms of money or status and therefore have to pick up jobs to sustain themselves like average people do. Life would go around like clockwork with each of them picking up household jobs to keep everything running.

Edgar gardens, perhaps selling flowers at the market when he gets the chance, and writes in local poetry journals for surplus money. Lawrence maintains the finances of the household, as well as learning how to cook. Herman does the manual labor; he can easily chop firewood and build furniture. Gregory does odd jobs and draws for money, hoping to find a patron.

All of you can’t fit on one bed comfortably, so oftentimes you sleep in sets of two and three. In the colder months, you might find yourself cuddled up all together on the couch.

While polyamorous relationships, or queer relationships of any kind, were taboo and even criminal offenses in Victorian England, that didn’t mean they were nonexistent. There was most definitely an underground community of people similar to you, even if interactions with others regarding your relationship were kept to a minimum for your own safety.

Most of the time, all of you are out together, going to pubs and public parks and the such; you tend to hold on to one another by the pinky or by the sleeves of your shirts, to be close to one another but not close enough to stir suspicion.

The happiest times you’d all share together are dinners, laughing and sharing bites of food as you let the world around you drift away. 

Gregory was definitely the one who initiated the relationship between all of you; in a time when these young men would be greatly sheltered and unable to conceive bonds beyond the heteronormative, he would be the one pulling everything together.

Edgar would be the most affectionate one towards everyone else, especially you and Herman, as he deems you two easy to fluster and make blush. Lawrence reads to you and the boys about old Greek and Roman myths, where love was unfiltered and unique like yours is. 

Herman would probably hold the most reservations at first, but he finds himself comfortably surrounded by love and tenderness soon enough. That’s what makes up the majority of your bond with each other.

You hold the group to a certain amount of accountability as someone who was a bit of an outsider at first, reminding them to take care of themselves and each other. You’re less the glue that holds them together and more a working cog in the bond itself.

A lot of healing needs to be done in this situation, but the overwhelming support and care the boys have for one another and you keep you calm in the fact that nothing can ever hurt any of you so severely again.

AN: I think this is my first time writing a poly ship, hope I did it justice :)

[wayward-dreamer]

Pillow Talk

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 1,782

Summary: After a stressful meeting lead by Stan Edgar, Y/N looks forward to her other weekly meeting that is far more enjoyable.

Warnings: Swearing, implied smut: oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up people), pillow talk turned dirty talk, vaginal fingering

A/N: I started writing this after that Gen V ep, but a lot of things got in the way of me finishing it. Happy reading, hope y'all like it! :) beta'd by my love @hintsofhoney

Y/N yawned, covering her mouth with her hand as she scribbled random drawings on the paper in front of her with a black pen. She was bored out of her mind as Mr. Edgar addressed everyone in the meeting, something about the latest demographic numbers for the supes and she was meant to be taking notes about it all, but she lost track. Whoever decided it was a good idea to have a meeting at the end of the day on a Friday was an idiot. Another few minutes of this and she could leave, once the clock ticked over to 5pm and the weekend was officially upon them. She kept glancing up at the time, her heeled foot shaking in anticipation for a regular meeting of her own that she was excited to get to.

Ever since Vought’s Christmas party a few months ago, when she caught the attention of Soldier Boy and they spent the night together, she’d leave the Friday meeting, pack up her things and get her night started with him. It was never anything serious between them, just some fun between them every week, and that was exactly what she needed.

A smile came to her face as she got lost in thought about everything he had in store for her, just as Mr. Edgar dismissed everyone for the weekend. She picked up her things and walked out behind all the male employees who she couldn’t stand. She was Mr. Edgar’s assistant but there were times that she was forced to do tasks some of the other suits wanted her to do, no matter how much she protested. They were all arrogant, entitled assholes who only wanted one thing when they looked at her, and even though Soldier Boy was no different because he also was a man of his time, at least he never pretended to be anything else around her.

Y/N walked back to her desk and put everything on top, ready to collect once she decided to leave, before she made her way down the hallway towards the loft apartments where the supes resided. She stopped in front of the door marked with “Soldier Boy” in gold letters, turning the knob and letting herself in, which was what she always did considering the door was unlocked after 5pm just for her. As she strolled into the apartment, she unbuttoned and took off her gray blazer, draping it over the back of one of the armchairs, smiling at the sound of a Sinatra song coming from the record player in the corner.

“Right on time,” she heard his deep, rough voice enter the room as he walked from his bedroom to the bar.

She turned around, a shiver running down her back as she took in his appearance. “I’m nothing if not punctual.”

Soldier Boy smirked as he poured a generous amount of whiskey into two tumblers, moving out from behind the bar as he sauntered over to her, his suit unzipped and revealing the white t-shirt he was wearing underneath. He swiped something off the surface before he stood in front of her, handing her a glass.

“After the day I’ve had, I really need this,” she said, turning the tumbler around in her hand. “Cheers.”

He clinked his glass against hers, a grin on his face as he watched her take a few sips. He held up the small, plastic bag with a handful of pills inside, waving it in front of her eyes which had her pause drinking, their gazes locked on each other.

“Anything else you really need?”

“Yes,” she breathed, her mouth opening slightly.

They kept their eyes on each other as he took out two of the small, round tablets from the bag. She stuck her tongue out a little, making him groan at the sight as he placed one of the pills on it, watching her swallow it down and taking a sip of her whiskey. He continued to stare at her as he tossed the tablet back with a swig of his drink, frowning as he saw her put her now empty glass down as she began to unbutton her blouse.

“You know that’s my job, doll,” he husked, his eyes darkened as he looked at her. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

He wasted no more time as he threw back the rest of the amber liquid, tossing the glass behind him and hearing it shatter, unbothered by the scattered pieces across the floor. He moved towards her, pulling her roughly into his arms as he pressed his lips to hers, the kiss as searing and erotic as all their previous encounters. He grasped her shirt in his hands, ripping it down the front, a squeal escaping her as the buttons flew everywhere. By now he usually had her on the bed, on her back with her legs thrown over his shoulders, but he had other plans for her as he pushed her down on the sofa. The fingers of one hand curled into the leather as the other moved between the soft locks of his hair, his head between her thighs and making her come undone in no time at all as she screamed his name and covered his mouth in her arousal.

Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, Soldier Boy gathered her in his strong arms and carried her over to the dining table, roughly dropping her down on the surface as their hands frantically pulled off the rest of each other’s clothes. With her back meeting the cold wood of the table and her legs wrapped around his waist, she moaned wantonly as he thrusted into her, moving faster and harder with every mutter of his name from her lips. It wasn’t long before she reached the peak for a second time, a giggle of disbelief leaving her as she came down from her high.

They made it to the bed eventually. With one last release from her triggering his, they came together as he grunted, a smirk pulling at his lips when he felt the way he spilled inside her walls. He rolled off her, her nimble fingers plucking the sheet up and pulling it over them, just as he reached for the cigarettes on his nightstand. He took one out of the pack and placed it between his lips, picking up his lighter and flicking it, bringing the small flame to the tip. He took a long drag before he blew it out, closing his eyes in satisfaction as he felt Y/N take the cigarette from between his fingers. As he opened them, he turned to look at her, watching the way she held it between her own fingers, the way her lips closed around the filter.

“Well, you really know how to take my mind off things, that’s for damn sure,” she stated, laughing softly as she placed the cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the nightstand.

“It’s a fucking gift,” he grinned. “Better take a breather, ‘cause I ain't done with you yet, sugar.”

She smiled, a small sigh escaping her as she thought back on the day. “It’s a good thing we keep this little rendezvous of ours on a Friday because those meetings are slow, agonizing torture.”

“I’m guessing it was a meeting with Stan?” he asked, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Yeah,” she replied, a small gasp falling from her lips as he continued to nip at her skin. “He just stresses me out about everything.”

She tried to resist him as he nuzzled at her neck, trying to move further down, but she eventually gave in with a low moan. Her eyes closed as her head fell back against the pillow, feeling his lips move down her collarbone and pull the sheet down, exposing her breasts to him. Her eyebrows furrowed as he nipped and sucked at her flesh, his tongue circling over her nipple.

“Handling the supes is getting to be too much as well, thanks to him,” she muttered, biting down on her lip as she tried to move away from him.

She could feel herself getting lost to his skillful tongue and fingers, but the second round he was trying to start needed to wait. She was only human, and didn’t have the same stamina he had as a supe.

He lifted his head, releasing the stiff bud with a wet pop, staring down at her. “Even me?”

“Especially you,” she countered, a mischievous smile pulling at her lips.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he began, his signature smirk on his face as his hand drifted down under the sheets, moving between her legs and feeling how wet she was again. Their eyes locked as he teased her folds with his fingers, causing her to gasp and a deep, rough chuckle to escape him as he didn’t take his gaze off her. “I think you’re pretty fucking capable of handling all of me.”

“Stop,” she giggled, trying and failing to push him away.

“You’re the one who can’t stay away, doll.”

“Maybe I should,” she challenged, lifting an eyebrow as she looked up at him.

Soldier Boy’s green eyes darkened with lust, and something else she had no desire to identify. A short gasp of pleasure escaped her as his thumb brushed over her clit, his intense stare never leaving her as the digit circled around the bundle of nerves. Her eyes fluttered closed as a long, drawn out moan left her mouth, his fingers sinking into her tight heat.

“See… if you did that, then you wouldn’t be right here, with my fingers fucking into your tight little pussy,” he grunted, his jaw tight as he looked down at her through hooded eyes.

Y/N didn’t recognize the sound she made as he started to thrust his fingers into her, maybe it was a moan, but it was a shrill cry, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she was giving into him once more. As she always did whenever she found herself back here, every single Friday.

“You always come back to a little… pillow talk, don’t ya, sugar?”

The words were just above a whisper, the rough timbre of his voice causing a shiver to run down her back as she wrapped her arm around his neck, holding onto him as she nodded, letting him pleasure her in every way he wanted. He knew she had only been teasing him when she said she’d stay away from him. They both knew her resolve wasn’t that strong.

She wasn’t going to give up this little ritual of theirs any time soon.

[thezombieprostitute]

Second Chances

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge.

Prompt: the car broke down and the snow is getting deep

A/N2: A follow up to Everyone Leaves.

Warnings: Alcoholism, Angst. Please let me know if I missed any!

"Merry Christmas to me," you sarcastically grumble as your car fails to start up.

It's been the year from hell. You've been hounded by the loan sharks that call themselves banks, asking after your student loans. Your dad's health got so much worse, which is why you're stuck in the hospital parking lot. Oh, and your increasingly distant boyfriend refused to change his ways and you had to leave him.

Part of you had hoped he'd stop you. Apologize. Anything, really, to show he actually cared about you. But clearly that was asking too much of Curtis "always alone" Everett. Then again, considering he got fired soon after for showing up to work drunk, maybe it was for the best that you parted ways. You had enough on your plate without taking care of him as well.

You try the engine one more time and still get nothing. You want to take some time to just cry but the snow is piling up and you can't stay at the hospital. Sighing you call for a tow truck. You'll use the time between the call and the truck's arrival to let your tears out.

When the tow truck pulls up you quickly wipe away your tears. You're sure whoever is driving has seen plenty of people crying in frustration, if not outright raging, but you still don't want your own tears to be seen. You step out to greet the driver and you both stop in your tracks. It's Curtis.

Curtis looks at you, his face contorted into an expression of pain, sadness. He looks like he wants to say something but is scared to. You're sure you don't look any better. You both start and stop a few times before you shake your head and point to your car. "Engine won't start" is all you say but Curtis nods, and gets to work.

As he starts hooking up your car he points to the cab of his truck. "It's nice and warm in there. You go ahead and settle in, keep warm?" You nod with a little "thanks" and head into the passenger side of the truck.

Settling in, you didn't realize how cold you'd been. It seems like your shivers were both from crying and the cold. The truck is delightfully warm and you let yourself relax a little. You're genuinely happy Curtis seems to have landed on his feet. If anything, you're surprised he was so expressive with you. He was never the type to really show what he was feeling, just locking it up behind his stoic facade.

When he climbs into the driver's side you do your best to clam up. He was the one who pushed you away, he can put in the work to try to draw you back. If that's what he even wants. And if he doesn't, well, it's on him, not you.

"Do you want me to drop you off at your place before or after taking the car to garage?" he asks. His voice is shakier than you've ever heard it.

"Probably after," you reply. "Make sure the garage has my details and contact info."

He nods. "Just gotta be careful. The snow's getting worse and I don't want you stranded there."

"I understand. But you know I like my records and receipts."

He nods and sets to driving.

The drive is quiet but the tension in the air is heavy. You want to say something, anything, but you hold firm. He drove the wedge between you, he can be the one to remove it.

When you get to the garage Curtis helps you out of the truck and introduces you to his new buddy, Edgar, before going to the back room.

You and Edgar get to talking, he's a nice kid. Lots of energy and a warm smile. You wonder allowed how he and Curtis became friends.

"Oh, we met in AA," Edgar tells you. "I'm actually his sponsor."

"He's in AA? I knew he was drunk at work once, I didn't think that was worth signing up to Alcoholics Anonymous."

Edgar hesitates, "it's not my place to tell you the whole story, but he ended up in the hospital."

Your hand flies to your mouth as you gasp. Sure, Curtis wasn't one to turn up a drink when you were together, but to go that far? "Well, I'm glad he's got you to help him out," you nod.

"Do you mind me asking how you know him?"

"We used to date."

Edgar's eyes widen at that. "You're the one who got away!"

You give him a pained expression as you hear Curtis growl from the doorway, "now's not the time, Edgar."

"Sure thing, old man," Edgar rolls his eyes, making you smile. "Let's go ahead and get your information so you can get home before the roads get too messed up to drive."

When you get the paperwork taken care of Curtis steps up, "can I drive you home? I'd...I'd feel better if...if you took my truck and not some dinky uber or lyft car."

Your heart clenches. You can see he's trying so you agree. Plus, he's not wrong about his truck being safer. He opens the passenger door for you and helps you get in before climbing into the driver's seat.

After a few minutes, Curtis breaks the tension. "I'm guessing your dad's not doing too well?"

"Nope," you shake your head. "The cold seems to just make things worse." Curtis nods.

The rest of your trip is spent in silence.

When Curtis pulls up to your building you're ready jump out of the truck to escape the tension. But when you go to unbuckle he says, "can we talk?"

"Yes." That's all you'll give him, if only to protect yourself.

"I'm sorry," he starts. "I'm sorry for everything. For how I treated you. I...I thought I was protecting myself by keeping distant. But when you left I...it hurt so much more than I ever could've expected."

You look at him and see tears forming in his eyes.

"I... I genuinely thought it was just how things work," he continues. "But you left, when I drove you away, I couldn't...I just ended up drinking until I blacked out. Next thing I know I'm in the hospital. No job. No friends." He lets out a sob. "I knew, laying there in that bed, that if I hadn't...if I'd treated you better, I wouldn't be so alone and miserable."

Tears are now streaming from your own eyes.

"I've been getting help since then. Been trying to change for the better." He turns to face you, "I've hurt you and I'll never ask you to take me back. But is there any chance, any at all, that you'd let me back into your life? Even just as a friend?"

You sit for a few minutes, but you don't leave and Curtis starts to hope.

When you finally speak you tell him, "the best apology is changed behavior. And you have definitely changed. For the better."

Curtis's breath hitches.

You continue, "you hurt me more than I think you know. But you've clearly been doing some introspection, getting some help, and that speaks volumes to your willingness to make amends. You've got a long road to redemption with me, but you've made some good strides."

Taking his hand in yours you look him in the eyes, "we can start again as friends."

Curtis's shoulders sag as he starts crying tears of relief. You can't help yourself and wrap him in a hug, letting your own tears fall freely. He's repeatedly whispering "thank you," and "I'll do better. I promise."

When you break the hug, he doesn't fight you but you know it's because he's being respectful rather than a sign of his disinterest. You open the passenger door and turn back to him with a soft smile, "Merry Christmas, Curtis."

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @lokislady82; @ronearoundblindly; @thiquefunlover63

Also tagging @brandycranby as she was the one sent the original ask.

[gl00mysnake]

sooo um I was inspired (AGAIN) by people here (mainly by @hyacinth43 lol) and here's my version?? interpretation?? of hum/gijinka Edgar!! some explanation and few sketches of other hum AIs from different medias under the cut :з

so here are Hal, first sketch of Edgar, and...Proteus IV. idk why I even drew him and not Colossus. Proteus is really triggering to me and I dont really like him like others here do but why not

as for explanation why I desided to draw Edgar like this:

I like how people draw him with different hair color like in different moments of movie, but what I don't like is that he is seen as some devil evil bad etc. I can relate to him and I think that he is burned out or just tired of Miles and Madeline not noticing him, also HE LITERALLY KILLS HIMSELF WHAT??? so yeah his hair is grey in the end of the movie. fight me. his tie is with print of that bleu cubes he had during the movie like when he first talked. his idk how it's even called, I drew a print of his keybord on it. I thought of making his eyes grey or black, but decided to make them greenish-yellow like his smily face was lol

other stuff in his design..I just felt like doing so. so yeah, thats all

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen 

⚠️ SPOILER HEAVY ⚠️

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death 

Full tags/warnings on Chapter links post

Major Characters: Original Character, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Ieiri Shoko, Yaga Masamichi, Nanami Kento, Haibara Yu, Tsukumo Yuki, Choso

‎‧₊˚✧ Chapter 26 ✧˚₊‧

The first years and second years all slumped against the wall in the tiny bit of shade that was left. The sun was up high, melting everything into soup and making the air feel like you were spinning around in an air fryer. Summer had arrived violently.

"I, Satoru Gojo, being of mostly sound mind…"

"You writing your will?" Shoko mumbled.

"Yeah." He answered.

"In the dirt?" She asked, letting her head tip over to look at it.

"Yeah." He answered again, still lazily drawing the characters in the dirt beside him.

At least until Shoko brought her foot down and messed it all up. He didn't even have the energy to fuss and just let his hand lay flat on the ground. He just closed his eyes and groaned.

"Last year we went to the water park," Suguru mentioned, draping his arm over his eyes for some kind of sweaty relief. It was better than nothing.

"That place is closed for some kind of renovation…" Sarah sighed, just letting her hand still holding he phone land on her chest.

"So… what should we do?" Haibara asked, then jumped as Sarah suddenly stood up.

"We're gonna do a great American tradition!" She said, placing her hands on her hips. "Everyone? Come with me!"

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The grand hall of the castle is an imposing sight. Golden chandeliers hang high above, casting shimmering light across polished stone floors. Massive banners bearing the kingdom's crest line the walls, flanking a throne of carved oak and gilded accents. The King sits with an air of quiet authority, his crown catching the light as he gazes upon the party standing before him. The leader of the group is Areval, the high elf paladin. His tall and commanding frame radiates strength and determination. His gleaming plate mail is adorned with intricate patterns of green and white, reminiscent of forest leaves interwoven with silver streams. His hand rests on the hilt of his longsword, and his piercing emerald eyes meet the King’s without hesitation. Beside him stands Dylan, a wiry rogue cloaked in dark leathers. His face is obscured by a scarf that covers him from his nose to his neck, leaving only sharp, calculating eyes visible. His posture is casual, but his fingers rest close to his belt, ready for trouble. The King’s gaze shifts to Fayette, the cleric. She wears white robes embroidered with golden threads, though her expression of disinterest stands in stark contrast to the holiness of her attire. Her staff is slung casually across her back, and she leans slightly to one side, as though the weight of the world bores her more than it burdens her. Beside her is Edgar, the fighter. Young and brimming with vitality, his grin is broad enough to rival the sun. His muscles strain against the leather straps of his armor, and a massive sword rests easily on his shoulder as though it weighs nothing. His bright eyes dart around the room with an eagerness that borders on impatience. Finally, the King’s gaze falls on Nanami, the wizard. A blonde-haired youth with round glasses perched on his nose, he stands quietly at the back of the group, clutching a weathered tome of spells. His robes are practical, and his demeanor is polite but reserved. The faint scent of parchment and ink seems to follow him, and the way he adjusts his glasses suggests he’s always deep in thought. The King rises slowly from his throne, his voice resonating across the hall. "Adventurers, you stand before me not as knights sworn to my banner, but as champions of courage and skill. The Swamplands to the east have grown foul with the stench of undeath. Corpses rise from the muck, and swarms of insects, creatures of grotesque size, claim all who dare tread there. My people cannot live in fear, and so I turn to you." His words are heavy, but his eyes are hopeful. "The task before you is not for the faint of heart. There will be horrors in those marshes that defy reason. Yet, for your bravery, I promise rewards fitting of legends: gold, land, and titles that will secure your names in history." The King pauses, his expression softening. "But more than that, you will have the gratitude of a kingdom. You shall be remembered not for the spoils you claim, but for the lives you save. Go now with my blessing, and may the gods guide your path. Return to us as heroes." With a final nod, he motions for the party to leave. The heavy wooden doors of the throne room creak open, revealing the vast world beyond. The call to adventure beckons, and the Swamplands await.

"Okay uh… so are we at the swamp yet?" Haibara asked.

"No, Edgar, don't be silly," Satoru said, narrowing his eyes at Haibara, "We're still in the King's throne room of course!"

"I suppose we should be going then?" Suguru asked, "Perhaps we should head over to the stables?"

"Wonderful idea, Dylan!" Satoru said, placing his hand on his chest. "Let us go! The swamp awaits!"

"How is this an American tradition?" Nanami mumbled, glancing at his plate of pancakes that still sat untouched besides his character sheet.

"Okay well, Japan doesn't have like… shitty breakfast chains okay?" Sarah grumbled, looking up from her notes. "There's nowhere here where you can slam an OJ and stab and orc normally. This café didn't mind if we hang out for a few hours in the AC."

The adventurers find themselves at the bustling marketplace near the city gates. Areval, ever the negotiator, steps forward to discuss terms with a merchant who deals in carts and horses. The man, a stout fellow with a heavy apron and a knowing smirk, sizes up the group. He quickly realizes this isn't a casual outing—they’re heading somewhere dangerous. After a bit of haggling, the party secures a sturdy wooden cart, its wheels reinforced with iron bands, and a reliable draft horse named Ember.

Fayette, ever disinterested, barely glances at the arrangement, while Edgar enthusiastically pats the horse on the neck. "Good girl," he says with a wide grin, his hand coming away slightly dusty.

Dylan inspects the cart's underside with a rogue's suspicion, ensuring there are no hidden flaws. Nanami, already seated in the cart, flips through his spellbook, occasionally glancing around as if trying to memorize every detail of their surroundings.

With the cart packed and the reins in Arrival’s steady hands, the group sets out. The road starts wide and smooth, flanked by open fields and the occasional farmhouse. The sun sinks lower, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple. As the hours pass, the forest looms ahead, its dark canopy beckoning like an ominous gate.

The transition is gradual. The dirt path narrows, and the trees grow closer together. Their thick trunks rise like ancient sentinels, their branches intertwining to create a lattice of shadow. The once-vibrant chatter of birds fades, replaced by the distant creak of swaying boughs. Fayette lets out a long sigh, her staff resting lazily against the side of the cart. “Why do these places always feel cursed?” she mutters, her voice low but audible in the growing quiet.

Edgar, undeterred, flexes his arms. “It’s just trees,” he says with a chuckle. “What’s the worst they can do? Fall on us?”

Dylan’s eyes dart from shadow to shadow, his hand hovering near the hilt of a dagger. “You’d be surprised,” he murmurs, his tone betraying none of the humor Edgar attempts.

The last rays of sunlight disappear behind the treetops, and the forest takes on an entirely different character. The path beneath the wheels becomes uneven, dotted with roots and stones. Ember snorts in mild discomfort, her ears twitching at every faint sound. Nanami, adjusting his glasses, mutters an incantation under his breath, causing a faint orb of light to hover above the cart. It casts a pale glow, illuminating the immediate area but leaving the deeper woods in darkness.

The sounds of night creep in. At first, it’s the chirp of crickets and the rustle of leaves. Then come more unnerving noises—the distant hoot of an owl, the snapping of twigs in the underbrush, and a low, guttural croak that none of them can quite place. The shadows seem to move just beyond the light’s reach, and the air grows damp and heavy.

Arrival tightens his grip on the reins. “Stay sharp,” he warns, his voice calm but firm. “This is where the path becomes perilous.”

"How would you know that?" Shoko asked, raising her brow. "Areval doesn't look like a swamp kinda guy."

"He— uhh … he had a wild childhood?" Satoru mumbled, immediately waiting that down on his character sheet.

The cart jolts as one of its wheels catches on a root. Edgar jumps out with a laugh to push it free, his strength making quick work of the obstacle. As he climbs back in, Fayette yawns and leans back, though her staff remains within easy reach.

Dylan’s voice cuts through the night. “Something’s following us.” He’s crouched low, his eyes scanning the dark edges of the trail.

Nanami stiffens, clutching his spellbook tightly. “Are you certain?”

The rogue doesn’t answer immediately, his focus intense. Finally, he nods. “I heard it twice now. Heavy, deliberate steps. It’s keeping its distance for now, but it’s there.”

The group falls silent, the cart’s creaking wheels and the horses' steady hooves the only sounds for a moment. Then, as if on cue, a louder snap echoes through the woods.

Areval pulls the cart to a stop and draws his sword. “We face it here,” he says with authority, his voice cutting through the tension like steel. “Whatever it is, we don’t let it take us by surprise.”

The party dismounts, weapons drawn and ready, as the dense forest around them seems to hold its breath wh—

"Thank you!" Sarah said brightly to the waitress as she dropped off a fresh glass of water.

"Oh man," Satoru groaned with the rest of the group.

"We were really getting into it!" Suguru sighed.

"Keep going!" Haibara urged, "What's out there?!"

The trees part like curtains, and the forest seems to shrink under the weight of the massive figure stepping into the light. A towering blue ogre, his skin shimmering faintly in the magical light from Nanami's orb, emerges from the underbrush. His eyes are unlike any you’ve seen—brilliant golden orbs that gleam with intelligence and menace. He stands nearly twice Edgar’s height, his thick arms crossed over a barrel-like chest. Despite his intimidating presence, he holds his hands up, palms open, in what could almost be called a gesture of peace.

“Stay your weapons, little ones,” he rumbles, his voice deep and resonant, like distant thunder. His lips curl into a smug grin, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth. “If it comes to battle, you will not leave this forest alive. I wish to talk.”

The party exchanges glances, hands still resting on their weapons. Dylan shifts his weight slightly, his fingers twitching near the hilt of a dagger. Edgar looks to Arrival, who nods once before stepping forward. His sword remains in hand, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the magical light.

“What do you want?” Arrival demands, his voice calm but commanding. His emerald eyes lock onto the ogre’s golden ones, unflinching.

The ogre uncrosses his arms and gestures lazily toward the group. “You’re heading to the swamp, yes? The cursed marshes where the dead do not stay dead?” He chuckles, a low, gravelly sound. “I need something from there. A wand, wielded by the woman who controls the zombies. Bring it to me, and I will let you pass without… incident.”

Nanami speaks up hesitantly, his voice quiet. “Why do you want it?”

The ogre’s grin widens, but he says nothing for a moment, letting the question hang in the air. Then he chuckles again, the sound more menacing this time. “That’s none of your concern, little wizard. You bring me the wand, or you deal with the consequences of refusal. Those are your choices.”

The party huddles together a short distance away, their voices low but tense. Arrival keeps his eyes on the ogre, his sword at the ready, while the rest of the group deliberates.

“This is clearly a trap,” Fayette says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She leans on her staff, “We go fetch the wand, and then he kills us and takes it. End of story.”

“We could just fight him now,” Edgar suggests, his grin faltering as he glances back at the ogre. “But… he’s really big. And blue. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

Dylan rolls his eyes. “We don’t need to decide anything now,” he says, his voice sharp and pragmatic. “We tell him yes, we get to the swamp, and then we figure out if we actually want to give him the wand. Simple.”

“That sounds mean,” Edgar huffed, crossing his arms.

“Why shouldn’t we be mean?” Fayette counters with a raised brow. “He’s a giant ogre who could kill us at any moment. I don’t think he’s worried about our feelings.”

Areval raises a hand, silencing the group. “This isn’t about being mean or nice,” he says firmly. “It’s about survival. If agreeing keeps us alive, then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll deal with the rest when we have the wand.”

Nanami nods reluctantly, clutching his spellbook. “We don’t have much choice, do we?”

With the decision made, the group turns back to face the ogre. Areval steps forward, lowering his sword slightly but keeping it ready.

“We’ll get the wand,” he says evenly. “But no harm comes to us, or the deal is off.”

The ogre’s grin returns, broader than ever. “Good,” he says, his golden eyes gleaming. “You are wise, little ones. I will be watching.”

Without another word, he steps back into the shadows of the forest, his massive form disappearing as quickly as it appeared. The sounds of the night return, though the weight of his presence lingers in the air. The party climbs back into the cart, their thoughts heavy as they press on toward the swamp, the ogre’s words echoing in their minds.

"Serious question," Satoru interrupted, "Is that a thing we could have fought?"

"Why would I tell you that?" Sarah asked with a chuckle, "You still might end up fighting him."

"Because," Satoru said with a grin.

"I'm not stupid," Sarah said, mirroring his grin.

"You could be?" Satoru fluttered his eyelashes.

The swamp looms ahead, shrouded in mist and shadow. As the party approaches, they are greeted by a miasma of odors that nearly makes them gag. The acrid stench of rot mingles with the damp, moldy smell of decaying vegetation. Beneath it all lingers the metallic tang of blood, sharp and coppery, as if the earth itself has been wounded and left to fester. The stagnant air clings to them like a suffocating veil, thick and unyielding.

Nanami wrinkles his nose and pulls his robe tighter around himself. “This is worse than I imagined,” he mutters.

Fayette waves a hand in front of her face, her expression of mild annoyance unchanged. “It’s a swamp,” she says flatly. “What did you expect? Roses?”

The cart halts as they near the edge of the path, and Areval climbs down to secure the horse to a sturdy-looking tree. The horse snorts and shifts nervously, ears flicking in every direction. “Easy, girl,” he murmurs, giving her a reassuring pat. “You’ll be safe here.”

The group gathers their gear and looks ahead. The path is barely distinguishable, a muddy track barely visible beneath the shallow pools of dark water that cover much of the ground. Gnarled, leafless trees rise from the swamp like skeletal fingers, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. The occasional thick root snakes across the path, threatening to trip the unwary.

Areval scowls at the scene before them, his green-and-white plate mail catching faint glints of light from Nanami’s orb. “This is going to be miserable,” he says grimly.

“Especially for you,” Dylan quips, gesturing to the heavy armor. “Bet you’ll sink like a rock in that stuff.”

Areval shrugs, unbothered. “I’d rather sink than be unprotected. Besides,” he adds with a faint smirk, “you’d just pull me out, wouldn’t you?”

Dylan rolls his eyes but says nothing as they set off down the path. The swamp’s stillness presses in around them, unnerving in its intensity. Dylan’s sharp ears pick up nothing—not the croak of frogs, the hum of insects, or the splash of unseen creatures in the water. It is eerily silent, the kind of silence that speaks of unnatural things.

“Too quiet,” Dylan mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. He pauses, tilting his head as if to catch any faint sound. “There’s nothing. No frogs, no birds, not even mosquitoes. Something’s wrong here.”

The party instinctively tightens their formation, weapons at the ready. Each step through the water sends ripples outward, the sound of their splashes the only thing breaking the oppressive silence.

Edgar’s usually cheerful expression is gone, replaced by a wary frown. “Shouldn’t there be… something?” he asks, gripping his sword tightly. “Anything? Even an alligator?”

Nanami nods, his voice low. “The quiet is unnatural. It’s like the swamp is… watching us.”

Fayette, ever unimpressed, sighs. “We’re walking into a cursed swamp ruled by a zombie-controlling witch. What did you expect, a picnic?”

As the group moves deeper into the swamp, the mist thickens, swirling around their legs like ghostly tendrils. The path becomes harder to follow, the mud sucking at their boots with every step. The water grows darker, and strange shapes can be seen beneath its surface—branches, roots, or something else entirely.

Areval pauses, his hand raised to signal the group to stop. His eyes scan the murky landscape, his grip on his sword tightening. “Stay alert,” he says quietly. “Whatever’s out there, it’s waiting for us to make a mistake.”

The silence breaks abruptly, shattered by the sharp cracking of branches and the unmistakable sloshing of water. It comes from all around—close, too close. The swamp feels alive now, the oppressive stillness giving way to chaos as shadows move in the mist. “Positions!” Areval barks, his voice cutting through the confusion. He raises his shield, the polished surface catching faint reflections of the mist and murk. His sword gleams as he draws it, the metal singing in the night. Dylan melts into the shadows near a cluster of gnarled trees, his movements swift and silent. Fayette steps back, gripping her staff tightly, her bored expression replaced by one of grim determination. Edgar lets out a whoop, his grin returning as he unslings his massive greatsword, the blade glinting with anticipation. Nanami fumbles for his spellbook, his round glasses fogged slightly from the damp air, but his eyes are sharp and focused. The first figure emerges from the mist—a shambling corpse, its rotting flesh hanging loosely from its bones. Its hollow eyes glow faintly with a sickly green light, its jaws snapping as it lurches forward. More follow, dragging themselves out of the water and from behind twisted trees, their moans rising into a horrifying chorus. “Here they come!” Edgar shouts, stepping forward with his greatsword raised.

"So, which one do I roll for damage?" Haibara asked, looking over his dice.

"No, first you have to roll to hit," Sarah said with a laugh, "So pick up the d20 and roll it."

"D20?" Haibara asked, only to be handed the twenty sided die from Satoru. One zombie charges at Edgar, its clawed hands outstretched. He swings his blade in a wide arc, cleaving through the creature’s midsection with a wet, sickening thud. The top half of the zombie falls into the water, still twitching as it drags itself forward, but Edgar plants his boot on its skull, driving it into the mud. Areval steps into the fray, his shield raised as a pair of zombies close in on him. One swipes at him with bony claws, but the attack glances off his shield. He counters with a precise thrust of his sword, piercing the creature’s chest. It stumbles but doesn’t fall. With a grimace, Areval pulls his sword free and swings again, this time severing its head. The second zombie claws at his armor, leaving shallow scratches, but he shoves it back with his shield and finishes it with a clean slash. From the shadows, Dylan darts forward, his twin daggers flashing. He plunges one blade into the back of a zombie’s neck, twisting it before pulling it free. The creature collapses into the water, and Dylan vanishes again, moving to his next target. Fayette raises her staff, muttering an incantation under her breath. A pulse of radiant light erupts from her hands, washing over a cluster of zombies. The light burns through their decayed flesh, leaving them smoking and writhing as they fall. Nanami flips through his spellbook frantically, finally settling on a spell. He points at a group of zombies advancing on the party and chants a string of arcane words. A firebolt erupts from his hand, striking one of the creatures and engulfing it in flames. The zombie staggers, its grotesque form lit up like a macabre torch. Despite the party’s efforts, the undead keep coming. The swamp itself seems to be birthing them, more rising from the water and muck with every passing moment. The air is thick with the smell of rot and burned flesh, the sound of splashing water and clashing weapons echoing through the mist. “We’re being overwhelmed!” Nanami shouts, his voice tinged with panic as he casts another spell. “We hold the line!” Areval calls back, cutting down another zombie. “We’ve faced worse than this!” Dylan reappears at his side, wiping blood and ichor from one of his daggers. “Speak for yourself,” he mutters, his eyes scanning the battlefield. “This is starting to feel like a losing game.” Edgar lets out a triumphant laugh as he cleaves through another foe, his sheer strength carving a path through the horde. “This is what I live for!” he roars, though his breaths are coming heavier now. Fayette casts another radiant spell, her voice sharp. “Less talking, more fighting!” The clash of steel and bone echoes through the swamp as the party fights on, their movements growing more frantic with each passing moment. Just as Dylan drives his dagger into the spine of another zombie, everything stops. The undead freeze mid-motion, their bodies locked in grotesque poses. The faint green glow in their eyes flickers but does not fade. An eerie stillness returns to the swamp, oppressive and unnatural.

“What the…” Edgar mutters, stepping back and hefting his greatsword defensively.

“Hold!” Areval commands, his shield raised. His eyes dart over the unmoving horde. “Everyone, back together. Now.”

The party quickly regroups, forming a tight circle with their backs to one another. Weapons at the ready, they scan their surroundings as the zombies stand unnervingly still. Some twitch violently, their heads jerking to the side, but none advance. Instead, a strange rhythmic swaying begins, as though the horde is being pulled by invisible strings.

A low, guttural chuckle breaks the silence, followed by the sound of shuffling footsteps. The wall of zombies directly ahead parts with a sickening squelch, and through the opening steps an ancient woman, her frame hunched and frail. Her face is a maze of wrinkles, so deep and numerous that her eyes are nearly obscured by folds of sagging skin. She wears a tattered purple shawl over a patchwork dress, her gnarled hands clutching the fabric tightly. Her movements are deliberate, almost theatrical, as she pauses to throw one edge of the shawl over her bony shoulder with an air of exaggerated elegance.

“Well, now!” she croaks, her voice sharp and grating, dripping with disdain. “What’s this sorry lot doin’ stompin’ through my swamp like a pack o’ wild hogs? Y’all got no manners, no sense, no purpose! Ain’t nobody teach ya better?”

The party exchanges confused glances, each of them still on edge. Edgar shifts uncomfortably, his grip on his greatsword tightening. “Uh… who—”

“Don’t you ‘uh’ me, boy!” the old woman snaps, jabbing a crooked finger in his direction. “You stand there all big ‘n dumb like a sack o’ bricks, thinkin’ you can just waltz in here uninvited?”

“Ma’am,” Areval begins cautiously, lowering his sword just slightly. “We—”

“Oh, don’t you ‘ma’am’ me neither!” she cuts him off, her voice rising in pitch. “I ain’t no dainty debutante waitin’ for tea and biscuits! You think I’m gonna roll out a welcome mat for a bunch o’ armored buffoons and sneaky cutthroats?”

Dylan opens his mouth to retort, but the woman waves her hand dismissively. “And you—bet you think you’re clever, skulkin’ around like a flea-bitten alley cat. I seen smarter rocks!”

Nanami blinks behind his fogged glasses, raising a hand hesitantly. “Excuse me—”

“Excuse you?!” she interrupts, hobbling a step closer. “I don’t need no excuses from you, string bean! You barely look old enough to be outta your mama’s pantry, let alone throwin’ sparks ‘round my swamp!”

Fayette crosses her arms, unimpressed. “Are you done?” she asks dryly.

The old woman’s lips purse into a thin line, and then she grins—an unsettling, toothless grin. “Well, now, ain’t you a sour one? Got somethin’ crawlin’ up your robes, girl? Or is that just your face?”

The cleric rolls her eyes, but before she can respond, the woman digs into the folds of her dress. From a hidden pocket, she retrieves a set of false teeth, which she promptly jams into her mouth with a loud click. “Now,” she says, her voice suddenly clearer but no less sharp, “let’s try this again. Who the hell are you, and what are you doin’ tramping through my property?”

"Oh, this lady is great," Satoru laughed.

"Yeah? You would've loved my grandma," Sarah giggled.

"She still alive?" He asked, picking up a chip to eat.

"I… think so?" Sarah said slowly, her brows furrowing.

"OH— Well I—I uhh…"

Arrival steps forward cautiously, keeping his tone measured. “We didn’t realize this was your land,” he says, his eyes never leaving hers. “We’ve been sent to investigate the undead presence in this swamp. If you could—”

“Investigate?!” the woman barks, her eyes flashing with annoyance. “I’ll tell ya what’s goin’ on here! Nosy fools like you pokin’ their heads where they don’t belong, stirrin’ up trouble, makin’ my babies restless!” She gestures dramatically to the frozen zombies around her.

“Babies?” Dylan mutters, incredulous.

“Yes, babies!” she snaps, rounding on him. “They don’t need no prissy adventurers comin’ in here with their swords and spells, hackin’ and burnin’ like it’s some kinda sport!”

Edgar looks at the others and whispers, “Is it just me, or is this getting weird?”

“It’s always been weird,” Fayette replies under her breath.

The old woman huffs and glares at the group. “Now, unless y’all got a damn good reason to be here, I suggest you turn yourselves right ‘round and scuttle on outta my swamp before I make you regret it.”

The zombies twitch and sway once more, as if punctuating her words, their glowing eyes fixed on the party.

Areval takes a measured step forward, lowering his sword as he adjusts his stance. His voice carries the steady authority of a paladin accustomed to negotiation. “Madam, the king has sent us to address the growing concerns about the undead in these swamps. Multiple parties before us—”

Before he can finish, the old woman strides forward and slaps her bony hand against the metal of his breastplate with surprising force, producing a sharp clang as her rings strike the plate.

“Enough o’ that,” she snaps, her face twisted into a scowl. “I told the last four groups the same thing I’m tellin’ you: I’ve got permission from God to be here!”

The group collectively freezes, exchanging uncertain glances. Dylan shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck as Fayette raises an eyebrow.

“Uh…” Fayette begins cautiously, her tone skeptical. “Which god might you be referring to?”

The old woman turns to her with an exasperated huff, as if the cleric had just asked the world’s dumbest question. “The only real one!” she replies, her voice sharp and final.

Areval’s brow furrows. “Madam, all the gods are real. Their blessings and magic are the source of much of what we—”

“Razzle dazzle!” the old woman interrupts, waving her hand dismissively. Her expression shifts into one of smug certainty, and she grins, revealing her crooked false teeth. “That’s all just fireworks and party tricks. The real magic comes from the big one, the main God. The one who don’t bother with temples and priests ‘cause He’s too busy keepin’ the world turnin’!”

The party stares at her, the silence stretching as their confusion deepens. Nanami adjusts his round glasses and opens his mouth to speak but immediately thinks better of it, his lips snapping shut.

The old woman lets out a dramatic sigh, rolling her eyes so hard it seems she’s looking into the back of her skull. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! You lot are slower than a three-legged tortoise in molasses. Follow me, and I’ll show ya!”

With a flourish of her shawl, she spins on her heel and begins to shuffle away, the mud squelching beneath her feet as she gestures for the party to follow. The zombies remain frozen, their heads twitching slightly to track the group as the adventurers cautiously fall into step behind the woman.

“I’ve got the proof you’re all too dense to understand,” she calls over her shoulder, her voice brimming with smug superiority. “Maybe seein’ it’ll knock some sense into ya!”

Dylan sidles up next to Fayette, speaking in a low voice. “This is going well.”

Fayette doesn’t even look at him. “Shut up, Dylan.”

Edgar leans toward Areval as they trudge through the muck. “Do you think this ‘big god’ thing has anything to do with the undead?”

Areval shakes his head, his expression grim. “I don’t know. Stay vigilant.”

The old woman cackles ahead of them, clearly enjoying the tension. “Don’t fret, shiny boy! I’ll explain it all nice and slow when we get to my house. You’ll see. You’ll all see.”

The swamp seems darker as they press on, the stench growing worse with every step. The path becomes narrower, flanked by gnarled trees whose twisted branches claw at the air like skeletal fingers. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of water dripping breaks the silence, an ominous rhythm to accompany their uneasy march.

Sarah sat back and closed her notes and the rest of the group sighed with both annoyance and relief.

"Why do you always gotta end these on a cliff hanger?" Satoru asked, chuckling as he ruffled her hair.

She swatted at him and grinned, "Because it's more fun that way and I know you wont skip."

"Pff, I'd never miss one!" Satoru laughed.

"Yeah, thanks for running these for us!" Haibara said happily, "I love it!"

"Glad you all like it." Sarah said with a satisfied smile, packing up her pencils and dice. The group chattered amongst themseves for a moment, when Sarah caught Nanami's eyes on her. She looked up at him and tilted her head.

"So, when can we play again?" Nanami asked quietly, making sure no one else had noticed.

"Whenever you want," Sarah said softly, keeping that secret between the two of them.

Prev Main Next

Taglist: @inthedarkshadows000

[fishermanshook]

"You look, oddly familiar." (surviors! x gn!reader)

INTRO

A prompt where you knew said Survivor before they came to the manor. Your reason for coming here? Probably because of them.

꒰wc꒱ 1.0k words (grammar and spelling warning, mentions of abuse in Female Dancer’s part.)

The Enchantress

You and the Enchantress were together a lot as kids, or has your growing age started to wipe your memory clean? Do you struggle to remember such personal moments the two of you shared? Such a shame, as it's been over 5 years and you've yet to trace her location down. Has she disappeared from the world entirely? Seems like it, doesn't it?

Oh. Wait. There's a memory. An old one for sure, but a memory is still a memory. You and Patricia had spent what seemed to be every waking second together. So much so that Patricia's "mother" had started to see you as her own. Another child to take under her wing, and she gladly would. You understand that, right? Had she not taught you enough? The two of you had made a habit of strolling through New Orleans together, knowing almost every face that inhabited every corner of the city. You'd be down there for any number of reasons. To pick something up, to look for new ingredients, or just to look around the place you know by the back of your hand.

If the two of you had spent so much time with each other, then why didn't she tell you where the hell she went? She never left a note, a letter, or even a single clue as to where she ran off. So yes, when you received a letter stating to know her whereabouts you followed. Was it dumb? Oh for sure. But you would take every chance you could get to find her. You didn't even get to go up to her when you spotted her, she already knew.

"I wish you hadn't come," The Enchantress says with her back turned to yours. "but I can't help but be happy that you did." She chimed, turning around with a smile and a strange-looking artifact in her hand.

The Painter

You were there when it all started. You know, his painting thing. At first, he was a mess, paint slobbered all over his hands and face like a child. But I guess he was a child when he first picked up the paintbrush. Who would’ve known he would never put it down?

As Edgar’s talent increased, he started painting other things. Boats in the river, flowers growing outside, people strolling around the park where the two of you frequented. His drawings decorated his room and cluttered his bedroom floor.

For your 12th birthday, little Edgar (in all honesty) had forgotten about your birthday. The thought of it struck his mind at 1 in the morning as he quickly grabbed for his paints before whisking out a canvas. Throwing himself into his work, he produced his first of many portraits of you. From that point forward, it was a tradition for him to paint you for each birthday. No matter how many fights you had over his short temper or accidental paint spills imported from the other side of the country, you still received a packaged painting. Wrapped in fine silk with a “happy birthday” note tucked in between the folds. For you, he spared little to no expense. That is, until he got older.

It has been over two years since you've seen the man and you haven’t received a single portrait since. Arriving at the manor, you find him in the garden alone, painting a familiar portrait.

“It’s nice that you remember my face, as I’m starting to forget yours.” Your voice nearly makes him drop his paintbrush, as he whips around to meet you. You in all your stunning beauty, god, how you’ve grown from the small child he once knew.

Female Dancer

It is either that you met Nata-Margaretha in Lakeside Village or during your shared time spent in the Hullabaloo circus. Both experiences that you will not forget, but time makes things foggy. It blurs memories that were important to your life that you can no longer recall. But for the sake of going to bed without a piercing migraine tonight, your brain tells you it was during the circus.

Ah, now you're starting to remember things. As memories (some unwanted) come flooding back to you about the circus. A curious place that produced good and bad thoughts. Your mind flashes back to before the accident when time was spent helping Margie (a nickname used widely throughout the circus by many of its performers) tame animals and perform new jaw-dropping tricks to stun the audience. 

You remember when your ignorance of what was happening behind closed curtains came crashing down. When Margaretha came crying to you, sobbing that she needed to tell you something. She then began to show you bruises and cuts that littered her body, all deliberately hidden in places that couldn't be noticed unless further expected. To keep it short, you were shocked that "he" could do something this horrible, to decorate her upper body in purple and red marks. It was even more shocking that if anyone noticed, "he" would just brush it off and say that she got hurt while practicing. 

At that time, you knew you had to get her and yourself out of there. A lack of knowledge has landed your friend with bruises, cuts, and unwanted love from someone she thought she cared for.

You haven't seen Margaretha since the fire. Actually, you haven't seen anyone since the fire. Not Mike, not Murro, not even Violetta. But following breadcrumbs as to where they all went earned you a one-way ticket to the Oletus Manor, maybe your questions will be answered there.

"Margie?" You almost choke on your words. Seeing her for the first time in so long feels nostalgic. (how old are you again?) She can't even respond, she can’t even believe it's you. All you'll get from her is a death-griping hug and a stained shirt accompanied by her ever-flowing tears.

note: I love you Patricia (writers block is kicking my a rn)

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[mrs-snape5984]

“As long as I'm with you, I've got a smile on my face…”

“Save your tears, it'll be okay. All I know is you're here with me…” (“Here with me” by D4vd)

Suffering from ME/CFS makes me feel like my whole world is falling apart in front of my eyes. Since I’ve already lost so much joy and so many abilities due to this devastating disease, my continuing loss seems to increase even further.

As some of you might know, do I love to write my own stories about Severus and Julia just as much as I enjoy using my tumblr blog as some kind of journal, whenever I’ve commissioned another artwork. It’s my way of rolling out a red carpet for the artists of Snapedom…it’s my way of honouring them for their talent in their profession. Commissioning those amazing people and letting them make my ideas and fantasies come to life, is my very own manner of coping with my physical and emotional pain.

And now, this coping mechanism seems to crumble into pieces as well as everything else, that I’ve already lost! It hurts me to admit, that my brain fog takes advantage of my capability to create vivid images with my words. My thoughts are getting blurry and chaotic. I’m struggling to find the right words to express my emotions (it’s even worse in my native language German than in English!!)…and this scares me to hell!

My mind was the only place, where I could find some shelter from my infuriating and terrifying reality of losing myself to ME/CFS. What if I forfeit my only - just barely existing- talent now?? How should I flee this nightmare of existence if writing wouldn’t be an option anymore?! How should I express my gratitude towards all those marvellous artists of Snapedom, who are all weaving my emotional comfort blanket with each piece of their art?!?

I don’t want to give up on my writing…and I won’t…even though my pride would probably fade away with each badly written chapter of my fictions…and with each unworthy post on my blog. I must admit, that I’m already acknowledging the loss of quality. 🥺

I found an inspiring poem about the importance of staying resilient, no matter how difficult the hardships of life might become, and I want to share it with you:

"KEEP GOING" (Better known as "DON'T QUIT") by Edgar A. Guest

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will, When the road you're trudging seems all uphill, When the funds are low and debts are high, And you want to smile but have to sigh.

When care is pressing you down a bit, Rest, if you must, but DON'T YOU QUIT!

Life is queer with its twists and turns, As everyone of us sometimes learns, And many a failure turns about,

When he might have won if he'd stuck it out, Don't give up though the pace seems slow, You might succeed with another blow.

Often the struggler has given up, When he might captured the victor's cup.

And he learned too late, when the night slipped down, How close he was to the golden crown,

Success is failure turned inside out, The silver tint on clouds of doubt, And you never can tell how close you are, It may be near when it seems afar,

So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit, It's when things seem worst that you mustn't quit.

My dear @mmad-lover, I can’t stress enough how grateful I am for your dedication to this stunning piece of art and believe me, it was worth every single second of waiting! Paula, I was incredibly touched to hear, that my request seemed to be something special, something personal to you. I can assure you, that, indeed, all of my ideas have a profound meaning to me and I’m glad that you’re such an empathetic person, who sensed that particular importance of your art to me. Your devotion to this drawing is palpable in every single detail, every line of your brushes. You created exactly the mood, that I wished for Severus and Julia. It doesn’t matter that the world is burning to the ground around them, they will always have each other’s backs! Just like I’m relying on Severus for more than 21 years now. Thank you for everything, you precious soul! I’m glad that I met you and I hope, we’ll stay in touch. 🥹

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[tisamustdie]

Intro post!! (๑°ㅁ°๑)‼✧

Hiii! My name's Tisa, I'm 16 and I'm from Serbia! (๑'ᴗ')ゞ

I love listening to music, baking, walking, writing and reading! I've been trying to get back into painting and drawing but I always forget to practice ☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*

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My favourite school subjects are literature, psychology and art. I'd love to work as a therapist (even though my passion is writing) (^_^♪)

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Some music I like are bands like My Chemical Romance (literally every single post here is about MCR), Pierce the Veil, Sleeping With Sirens, old Panic! At the Disco, Fall Out Boy, Kittie, Jack Off Jill, Hole, Frank Iero's solo work, Gerard Way's solo work, The Used, Fit For Rivals, Die So Fluid, Black Veil Brides, KMFDM, Green Day and a LOT more ꉂ(ˊᗜˋ*)♡

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My (current) favourite song is Sleep or The Foundations of Decay by MCR (let's ignore the fact that I have a dozen more favourite songs by MCR) or ".stitches." by Frank Iero, and my favorite album of all time is Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge or Stomachaches! ٩( ᐛ )و

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Other things I like are Sally Face (I've been obsessed with it since 6th grade), Dan and Phil, literature, a random poet from my hometown, beef soup, cheap super sweet perfumes, my room, super long video essays, Edgar Allan Poe, comics (I haven't read many, I'm really trying to get into them more) snails, my headphones and backup wired earbuds, baking cookies, pins and badges, stupid socks, band shirts and romanticism in art and literature! (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

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My pronouns are she/they, I'm bi (⁠＠⁠_⁠＠⁠;⁠)

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I hate math and anything to do with it, Val Velocity (this is a Val Velocity hate blog people), getting up early and Thomas Pynchon (I've read one book of his for an extracurricular literature class, hated it and I've been vocally hating him since then, even though I haven't read anything else by him) ︵⁠ヽ⁠(⁠`⁠Д⁠´⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠︵

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I'm super shy and won't approach anyone, be it irl or online, so if anyone by any miraculous chance wants to be my friend please text first (∩´﹏`∩)

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I'm an INFP, and for my astrology baddies I'm a Sagittarius Sun, Sagittarius Moon and Cancer rising! I wanna get into astrology and crystals and all that but idk where to start lol ヘ⁠(⁠￣⁠ω⁠￣⁠ヘ⁠)

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And also!!! This is me (⁠ﾉﾟ⁠0ﾟ⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠

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(yeah, I put two songs because i simply CANNOT choose inbetween them)

(and my insta is @/krvavapesma ^_⁠^)

[withasideofshakespeare]

Woah no way?? People (completely unprompted /s) want to hear my trans Shakespeare headcanons?? You bet I can do that.

I’ve done this once before:

But I have even more thoughts now!!

In no particular order:

Puck (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): Every single pronoun possible. He/she/they/it + all of the neopronouns and xenopronouns that exist currently or will ever exist. Fairy gender is always weird but Puck’s is extra weird.

Oberon (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): Fairy gender. Probably he/they/it?

Titania (A Midsummer Night’s Dream): More fairy gender. She/they/it?

Titania’s fairy attendants (Midsummer): Get a hat and fill it with various pronouns and draw them out at random for the fairies.

Benedick (Much Ado About Nothing): Could go either way, but I really like the idea of transfemme Benedick. Or he/him lesbian Benedick.

Beatrice (Much Ado About Nothing): The she/they to end all she/theys

Viola/Cesario (Twelfth Night): Could be trans in literally any direction. I made a post about this too at some point. My suggestion is all of the directions: they/she/he

Sebastian (Twelfth Night): He/him, transmasc. I also made a post about this at some point.

Feste (Twelfth Night): I saw a great she/her Feste last summer.

Orsino (Twelfth Night): Specifically the himbo variety of he/they

Margaret of Anjou (Henry VI trilogy and Richard III): If I ever play Margaret, I will use she/they pronouns.

Catesby (Richard III): Just played Catesby with she/her pronouns and it worked!

Richard II (Richard II): Tell me Richard isn’t the most they/he or he/they guy alive (or… dead).

Hal (1 Henry IV-Henry V): Saw Hal played with she/they pronouns last summer and it was great. Could also see he/they Hal. Very nonbinary vibe overall. I personally believe that going by Hal rather than Henry for two whole plays is their way of pulling the “going by the first letter of what my name used to be instead of picking a name from scratch” nonbinary trick. He probably pretends to be cis after his dad dies and he becomes king—one more element of Hal’s lifelong identity crisis.

Hotspur/Harry Percy Jr. (Richard II & 1 Henry IV): He/they in denial.

Kate Percy (1 & 2 Henry IV): She/they, not in denial. (Also Katespur should be bi4bi)

Ned Poins (1 & 2 Henry IV): Transmasc Ned Poins?? Maybe he doesn’t actually have a sister and Nell is just his deadname. Ned Poins’ failed scheme to flirt with Hal.

Romeo (Romeo & Juliet): he/they (t4t R&J!!!)

Juliet (Romeo & Juliet): she/they (t4t R&J!!!)

Mercutio (Romeo & Juliet): they/he(/it?). Vibes alone. Look at them. Just look.

Nurse (Romeo & Juliet): she/her, transfemme!

Cassius (Julius Caesar): Would love to see a they/them Cassius

Hamlet (Hamlet): he/they. I’ve made multiple posts about this theory and I still love it.

Ophelia (Hamlet): she/they. As she should.

Laertes (Hamlet): she/him and NOT just because Laertes used she/her pronouns the first time I saw this play.

Rosencrantz (Hamlet): he/they/she. Vibes. Sometimes goes by Ros/Rose. Probably genderfluid.

Malcolm (Macbeth): they/he or they/them. Also vibes.

Lady Macbeth (Macbeth): stolen straight from my last post because this is still my HC: she/they; would insult you for “having pronouns in your bio” and then turn around and punch you in the face for using their pronouns incorrectly.

Angus (Macbeth): she/her, transfemme. (t4t Ross/Angus. I will die on this hill… Dunsinane Hill.)

Ross (Macbeth): he/him, transmasc

Caithness (Macbeth): she/they lesbian

Mark Antony (Julius Caesar and Antony & Cleopatra): I would not bat an eye at he/they Mark Antony

Edmund (King Lear): they/he, nonbinary, sexiest man (/gn) alive.

Edgar (King Lear): he/him. Transmasc Edgar is slowly becoming canon To Me.

Cordelia (King Lear): she/her, transfemme.

Goneril (King Lear): she/they. I would let them kill me.

Coriolanus (Coriolanus): transmasc OR transfemme Coriolanus is!!!! The butterfly/metamorphosis motif! Name changes during canon! Discomfort with scars/body! Lack of autonomy granted by society! This is THE transgender play. (Other than Twelfth Night)

Imogen (Cymbeline): Tell me she doesn’t want to be a she/they so bad.

Florizel (The Winter’s Tale): he/they(/she?). Literally just a vibe. I have a pet rock named Florizel.

Perdita (The Winter’s Tale): she/they. I also have a pet rock named Perdita.

Ariel (The Tempest): Similar to Puck, probably they/she/he? Even my conservative English prof consistently rotates between she/her and he/him for Ariel (possibly not intentionally? I’m not convinced he knows what her canon pronouns are.)

Ferdinand (The Tempest): she/they. PLEASE give me transfemme Ferdinand. PLEASE let Miranda realize she’s a lesbian during canon.

Miranda (The Tempest): she/they. Ariel taught them about the existence of she/they pronouns and she immediately started using them.

So in other words… every Shakespeare character should be trans, actually.

[averys-happy-space]

putting this here more for myself than anything. i wanna be able to look back at it in a year and see how its changed. explanations for each section under the cut

ship i loved at first sight: tara x piper. i don't know what the ship name is. taper? pira? pira seems nicer lol. anyway, tara used to be my favourite brawler (and is still up there in my top 5) and i think the first time i saw tara x piper fanart was on reddit. it was by Xpyray and i swear to god ive never fallen in love with a ship faster. their art is so fucking good and they dont rlly draw brawl stuff anymore but i still follow them cuz their art is so so so pretty (please go follow them if youre reading this). anyway so yeah thats how tara x piper became my fav ship.

ships i initially didn't like: rico x piper, shelly x colt imma be fr at the start i didn't really Get these ships. but after watching some of the official animations and learning more of the lore, i started to appreciate these ships more. i don't love them or anything but they can be cute

ships i don't like anymore: sandy x nita, leon x jessie, sandy x leon there is no real reason for this other than the fact that i simply stopped liking them as i grew up. as i was making this i realised that when i was younger i used to like the ships with the kids/teens more, but now i'm 17 and i'm just not interested in them anymore. i guess thats what happens when you grow up lol. these ships are still cute, but i just don't engage with them anymore

favourite popular ships: mandy x chester, fang x buster so a bit of background, i actually quit brawl stars for a while, i think after the gale brawl pass. i dont really remember why, but its probably because i just got bored of the game lol. i think that also played into why i'm no longer interested in the same ships as before. anyway, i came back this year during the bizarre circus brawl pass and accidentally fell in love with these two ships. honestly, i'm not even entirely sure why i fell in love with these two ships in particular. chester definitely caught my eye when i came back to the game because a) i love clowns b) i love a good troll c) i love the random XD energy chester has and d) he has super interesting & fun game mechanics. i have no interest in mandy really but then i saw One suggestive mandy x chester fanart that went hard af and suddenly i was on board lmao. on the other hand fang and buster were two characters that i took some time to fall in love with, but now they're my favourites lol it's so strange. i really don't know how it happened.

favourite rarepair: amber x maisie i was looking at a diagram of all the trios so far because i was brainstorming ideas for who to include in a fanfic and as i was looking at it, suddenly it Clicked in my mind that amber x maisie would go hard af. like think about it. overconfident fire entertainer who gets so swept up in performances that she forgets about safety x safety coordinator with a fire extinguisher for an arm who secretly likes being in dangerous situations? come on!!!! im surprised more people havent thought of this pairing cuz as soon as it clicked for me it seemed like such an obvious pairing to do. but then again they've never interacted in any animation/promo material/etc so i guess it's not a pair people would just think of without prompting. but it's so fucking good!!!! more people need to get in on this ship.

controversial ship: none here's the thing. i don't know any controversial ships that i can see myself shipping. the most controversial one i know is probably edgar x colette but i see them as siblings so i don't ship it nor do i engage with fanart of them. edgar and colette ships in general are probably controversial seeing as both of them don't have canon ages and it's vague enough that people are always talking about whether they're adults or minors. but i personally see both of them as older teens so i don't ship them with anyone. (to me, they're too old to hang out with the kid brawlers but also too young to hang out with the adult brawlers. it's weird because there's no other brawlers where i see them as teens, so in my mind edgar and colette both have 0 shipping potential)

ships i want to become canon the most: amber x maisie, fang x buster they're my current favourite ships. what else to say.

comfort ship: fang x buster i think about them All the Fucking Time. lowkey i started to project on fang a bit just cuz i like him so much. i don't even know why or how i started liking him this much but he's my favourite brawler now and it's horrible. i think the seal in the coffin was @/giveittomegay's fanart of them. THEY'RE SO FUCKING CUTE. like omfg. confident, charismatic chinese immigrant who just arrived at starr park x introverted insecure white guy who doesn't know how to approach others. slowburn where they become closer through working at the cinema and buster realises he's fallen in love basically immediately but fang hasn't realised his own sexuality (has had crushes on girls before so always assumed he was straight) and doesn't realise he's in love with buster until maisie straight up tells him. fang's confidence means he jokingly flirts with buster all the time because he thinks it's funny to tease the guy and make him flustered but doesn't realise buster gets flustered because he likes fang. fang is fucking stupid. also, i think using fang x shelly here as a conflict plot point would be so good. like, fang seeing a pretty girl and approaching her, flirting with her, etc. i like to think fang is dense as fuck and would genuinely believe he's in love with shelly despite buster occupying 90% of his thoughts because his thought process would be something along the lines of "oh, i just think about him a lot cuz he's my best friend, i'm sure this is all regular, normal bff things". and buster just fucking dying inside but not saying anything because he thinks it's none of his business and he shouldn't interfere in fang's love life. MAISIE WATCHING ALL THIS HAPPEN AND WANTING TO MURDER BOTH OF THEM FOR BEING SO DENSE. like ohhhhhh my god there is so much potential here it's fucking insane. side note: fang doesn't have anything against gay people. i like to think maisie x amber comes way before fang x buster, so fang knows gay people exist and like he is perfectly fine and comfortable being around them, he's just so stupidly dense that he doesn't realise HE is gay (or more specifically bi). he also assumes buster is straight because default sexuality and whenever fang makes jokes based on this assumption buster never corrects him. because buster is a pussy. god. i want to write this fanfic so bad but i'm so fucking bad at writing dialogue it's insane.

ships that deserve more attention: amber x maisie, brock x bibi, barley x bull, max x janet LET ME COOK HERE OKAY. amber x maisie i already explained above. brock x bibi (i call them bibrock) is because it's noted in bibi's bio that she's secretly a huge nerd and i think it would be super cute for her to have a bf who she can indulge in nerdy and geeky shit with. to me they're both massive comic book fans who become close by playing all the superhero video games together before branching out to other games. they're console gamers btw and they get SUPER competitive whenever they're playing against each other. but they also do play coop games where they work together. usually brock is the one who does a lot of theorycrafting and tries to minmax his grind so he can get all the resources in the most optimal and time efficient way possible, whereas bibi prefers just going into fights and wrecking havoc lol. barley x bull is because they're both restaurant owners/servers (barley has his bar, bull has his diner) and i think they would bond over shitty customers and interesting food/drink recipes. they're both also familiar with having fights break out in their establishment and are fully capable of shutting fights down, even if it means getting their hands dirty. they think they're on opposite ends of the spectrum but they're actually more similar than they realise. for sure a very slowburn romance (especially because i think bull would be denial about liking a fucking robot lmfao) max x janet is because they're both celebrity entertainers. yeah, that's it. no but seriously i see max as someone who puts up an outgoing persona in public and is generally a very hyper, high energy person but at the same time, she tends to keep people at a distance because she's scared of intimacy. before janet, her closest friends are surge and meg. surge kind of Knows something is up with her because every time he tried to ask about her past she clammed up and gave noncommittal responses. he worries about her but doesn't know what to do about it so he just tries to make her happy in the present. meg is a kid so she doesn't realise anything is wrong lol. hanging out with meg and surge makes max happy and she considers them family, but she still has a wall up around her true self. janet is the one who is finally able to help max come out of her shell and address her past trauma. it also helps that max thinks janet is very pretty and desperately wants to kiss her. this is canon btw don't question me.

first otp: tara x piper | current otp: fang x buster i basically said all i have to say about these ships so yeah. that's it.

[mantidbasil]

I have been thinking nonstop about how tf2 mercs and markiplier egos would interact now 😭

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Heavy, squinting down at Dr. Iplier: tiny.... tiny little doctor...? (mark is only taller than engie, maybe the same height as pyro)

------- Medic: Hey if you want I could heal your ey- The Host: NO. Medic: :( why not The Host: It's complicated Medic: Please don't tell me your eye sockets are haunted too... ------- Google: (minding his own buisiness) Engineer, visibly twitching: Hey there. (slowly pulls out screwdriver. casually approaches). Mind if I ask how you were made? ------- Spy has no interest in interacting with anyone until he finds Dark sitting in a corner drinking wine. He sits down next to them, pours himself a glass, and they just silently exchange looks. -------

PYRO AND WILFORD PYRO AND WILFORD OMG Pyro: (drawing rainbows) Wilford: Ha ha! I'm wearing rainbow suspenders!

Pyro: (burning down buildings, setting people on fire) Wilford: This is fine because death isn't real! (shoots someone)

Pyro: Mmph Mmph! Wilford: Unfortunately your subtitles haven't been translated, so ol' Warfstache here doesn't know what you're saying :(

------- Bing and Scout do skateboard tricks together. Both of them attempt a very simple trick and fail it, falling down and scraping their knees. Both insist they are the better skater, the world's best skater even.

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Heist Mark pulls out his bombs and his 16th Century flintlock pistol likely used by pirates for boarding actionsTM and Demoman is mildly interested. Heist Mark then proves that he has strangely extensive knowledge about medieval weaponry and Demo is much more interested. Demo pulls out Eyelander and Captain Magnum joins their little group where they all start talking about weapons and bombs.

-------

Engineer: (disappointed after having failed to get permission to take Google apart and put him back together) Head Engineer Mark: Hi there! I heard you're an engineer? I'm an engineer! Engineer: Do you. Build guns. Or robot arms. Head Engineer Mark: I mean I have the Asteroid Defense System turrets..... but actually I build a spaceship and sort of maybe a time travel universe breaking machine? Engineer: So a dangerous device that can destroy the world.... can I see the schematics?

------- I know in my SOUL Ed Edgar and Sniper hate each other but I can't elaborate. Illinois and Sniper have a very casual truce going on but ultimately Sniper does not really wanna hang out with anyone. This of course means the Jims spot him standing off to the side and think he's the perfect intervewee and at least three, maybe four Jims swarm Sniper and shove cameras and microphones inches from his face and he has a terrible time.

-------

Yandere somehow completely enchants Medic's doves and I can't elaborate on this either. Heavy is bemused. As long as Archimedes chooses Medic over Yan he's going to pretend he isn't jealous about the attention his doves are giving her. Scout goes "AWOOGA GIRL?!" and gets stabbed by Yan. Heavy is reminded of his younger sisters and is delighted.

-------

Eric Derekson is terrified of Soldier. The main two off the top of my head who are not put off by Soldier's shouting are King of the Squirrels and Yancy. Soldier corners King and is like "what are you king of?! not america. WHAT COUNTRY IS SQUIRRELS" Scout hears Yancy speak, hears the accent, and immediately throws hands.

-------

I am yap-o-clock-ing in your ask box but I needed to give you the brainrot that you've given me

OH MY GOD IM DRAWING SOME OF THESE I PROMISE YOU . I DONT KNOW WHEN ILL DRAW THEM BUT I BET YOUR ASS THEYLL BE DRAWN. KEEP YAPPING IN MY INBOX.

PLEASE. PLEASE KEEP TALKING.

TF2 x MARK EGOS BRAINROT !!!!!!!!!

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday - Christmas Plans

A/N: Written for @the-slumberparty's December Daze Challenge. I'm kinda cheating here a little but I'm tired but I also still want to participate in more of the challenge and I want to keep up the Tech Tuesdays.

Prompt: working on christmas eve/special holiday.

Summary: How the Tech Tuesday characters react to having to work Christmas Eve.

Warnings: None. Please let me know if I missed any!

Bucky Barnes

He's irritated, of course. Maybe he doesn't have plans but the coffee shop you work at is closed Christmas Eve and Day so he'll have to settle for the office coffee and texting with you.

Curtis Everett

Greets the news with a grunt. He and his brother Edgar don't do much, but they always do it around the holiday instead of the day of. It helps them save money and time off.

But when he finds out Heart is working Christmas Eve at the hospital, he's making sure to check in on her. Asking her if she needs him to bring anything, like the good coffee or some food to keep her going.

Double G's

It's not a problem for them, at all. In fact, they welcome it because the office is practically empty that day and they have to deal with fewer people. They'll even work late to avoid the traffic.

Jake Jensen

Is absolutely devastated. He'd much rather be home with Sunshine and the twins. It's Christmas Eve! He should be helping hype the twins up for Santa! Instead he's at the office, trying to be professional and not just rush through all the tickets and doing a bad job of them.

His primary goal for the day is getting home before the twins have to go to bed. He wants to spend his Christmas Eve with all of his family and he can't do that if they're asleep.

Side note, Jonathan and Syverson had to rock-paper-scissors for who had to tell him because neither wanted to deal with his sad, puppy-dog eyes.

Johnny Storm

Pouts and throws a little fit. He likes visiting his sister and her family for the holiday. Then again, maybe he can use this as his excuse for not bringing anything for the dinner. He's still upset that it cuts into his time for doing what he wants.

Jonathan Pine

His reaction depends on whether or not Rose is willing to join him. If she's, understandably, not interested in working on Christmas Eve, he'll be a lot more stoic about the work.

If, however, she's willing to join him, he'll be all smiles. The office is practically empty that day and he can be as openly affectionate as he wishes. He'll even bring a little "picnic" lunch for the two of them.

Lloyd Hansen

Lloyd doesn't work holidays. That's what he has minions for. If he decides to be in the office on Christmas Eve it's because Maestro is there and he's hoping to talk her into sitting on his lap while she works. Clothing optional.

Mike

He's throwing a tantrum. He's not used to being low rung on the ladder. Plus, his family always had the best Christmas Eve events planned! It isn't until Boss Lady points out the little party the company holds for interns that day that he calms down.

Ransom Drysdale

Outwardly he groans and complains. Internally he's grateful to not be alone in his apartment the entire holiday. He's hidden the stash of biscoff cookies Bubbles got him. He'll nibble on those when the loneliness hits. But it's better than being alone in his apartment and much better than being with his family.

Right?

Steve Rogers

Steve volunteered. He knows it's a busy time for a lot of people and doesn't mind being in the office that day. He'll take one for the team.

Doesn't hurt that Newbie told him she'll be in the office that day. Their relationship is still pretty new so neither is upset at not being invited to the family Christmas. But they are going to have a little gift exchange in the break room paired with lots of kissing.

Syverson

He ain't happy. He's silently fuming the whole time. Everyone steers clear of him and draw straws for who has to talk to him when something comes up. He's spent too many Christmases away from Darling.

And yes, it's less than a full day but dammit, he's angry. He wants to be with his wife and their dog. He wants to be home for Christmas, and not just the day of.

Matters are not helped when Darling sends him a photo of her in a skimpy Christmas outfit asking when he'll be home.

Walter Marshall

It depends on if it's his year to have Christmas with his daughter, Faye, or not. While he and his ex-wife aren't bitter or at odds when it comes to things, he still wants to be a good dad who's actually there for his kid. So if he's got Faye for the holiday and you tell him he's gotta work Christmas Eve, be prepared for the angriest glare you've ever seen.

If he doesn't have Faye, though, he doesn't mind. Especially if Spitfire is working security that day. He'll be regularly bringing her the good coffee and happily sits with her at lunch.

Tagging:

@alicedopey; @changenameno; @darsynia @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn;

@icefrozendeadlyqueen; @irishhappiness; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kingliam2019; @late-to-the-party-81;

@lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare; @thiquefunlover63

[bucketfullofstrawberries]

Hi! Came here to tell you I didn't know the meaning of a comfort character until Edgar. Nowadays when I'm feeling down, all I have to do is make a drawing of him and it inmediately brightens my mood.

You have made a character who is genuinely impactful in other people's lives, who feels like a person in his own right. Who is and always will be loved by many, who doesn't feel like he's just fiction.

He is wonderful, and everyone who has made art of him knows that. And we all are grateful that you made him.

❤️

EXCUUUSEEE MEEEEEE UOU CANNOT SAYY ALL OF THAT AND KEEP YOURSELF ANONYMOUS

EXCU-HU-HUUSEEE MEEEE,,,, OUUHH.... OUHOOOA......... I'M CRYING ALL OVER YOU IM WEEPING AND I'M CRYING AND IM TURNING YOU INTO A SOPPING WET THING BEAST WITH MY TEARS, FUCK YOU!!!!!!

No, SERIOUSLY though- THIS IS SO FUCKING SWEET AND HEARTFELT WHAT THE HELLL!!??? WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!! IT TOOK ME A GOOD FEW HOURS TO ACTUALLY SIT DOWN AND WRITE SOMETHING FOR THIS WHOLE THING BECAUSE I JUST 💥IM NEARLY FUCKING SPEECHLESS HERE, GOOD FUCKING MORNING,

Edgar being a comfort character to you is SUCH a MASSIVE fucking compliment, even if I don't have a bloody CLUE who you are I am CRYING ALL OVER YOU SO MUCH!!!! BECAUSE!!! THAT'S KIND OF WHAT MY AIM WAS, IN A WAY???

I really don't know HOW I pipelined from a basic white Geography Teacher looking beta FUCK to this.. whimsical, Jolly Holiday, Mary Poppins-esq British man and yet STILL kept him as a Narrator, but I DID!! BUT OVER TIME, instead of keeping him as a sopping wet white cat crying in a corner, I slowly started building up a little story for him and thought to myself "..Huh. It'd be cool if he was quite different from the majority of the Narraverse... maybe I could make him fun and full of whimsy!! It might make people happy!". Because I like to make things different most of the time, it's something I've managed to be quite well known for! AS WELL AS THAT, It's an absolute joy to draw and write him as a character for myself BUT -- seeing people genuinely enjoy him as a person is something I LOVE to see because I LIKE making people happy.. and having him become a COMFORT CHARACTER, of all things, is such an honor and a privilege.. it wasn't anticipated from me at the start at ALL, But I'm SO happy you see him that way!!

And I FULLY SUPPORT, ENCOURAGE AND CONDONE Edgar being used as a source of ANY COMFORT, ANY WHICH WAY POSSIBLE!!! If he's a source of feel good energy for you, then go NUTS!! DO WHAT YOU LIKE WITH HIM, I'M NOONE TO JUDGE!! This doesn't just go out to you, either, this goes out to EVERYONE and ANYONE!!

And I'm sure Edgar HIMSELF will be MORE than delighted to provide some sunshine to your rainy days and moonlight to your cloudy night skies! I MEAN IT!! I REALLY DO!!

It brings me IMMENSE joy that I'm able to make characters that impact peoples lives in such a positive way.. because I KNOW how that feeling feels because so many characters other PEOPLE have made makes ME feel the same way.. and if EDGAR can achieve THAT with a wider audience then that's something I'll always be proud of.. and that's something that encourages me to keep pumping out content because it's something I LOVE to do and I'm more than happy to make sure people know that they're loved and they SHOULD feel loved, not just by me, but by Edgar himself. He's been carefully made over a YEAR in order to be a pleasant and good character and I'm SO happy I can convey that well enough for people to recognize him as good, because he's MEANT to be good,

But having someone say this to me UP FRONT, IN MY FACE, WALTZING IN THROUGH MY DOOR LIKE IT'S NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS IF I'LL CHOKE AND CRY ABOUT IT, I'm literally SO grateful, ETERNALLY grateful that I'm able to provide a character to be.. well, a sort of place of Sanctuary. Making peoples faces light up, getting excited about him.. it's nothing that makes me feel egotistical or big headded, it's just. Lovely to know that I'm making people happy with what I do. That's what I've wanted to do for a majority of my life, make smiles and bring cheer. I guess Edgar's -- kind of the EMBODIMENT of that.

He won't always be a Narrator... I've made my mind up about that. But he'll always live on with that significant mark he made in the community he was founded upon. THIS community, this lovely community that isn't always picture perfect but there's just SO many extraordinary and sweet people in it that I'll always be fond of it, of this. Of everyone!! Of The Stanley Parable, Narraverse and Paraverse & All of the Above and below!

TLDR: I wanted to make a Character that people could find joy within. And I'm proud to say that I did. And I'm so so SO grateful to those who keep the magic alive and love and support not me, but the journey Edgar's had and how far it's taken him.

I love you guys so so so sosososososo SOOOOO much it's insane From who you are, to what you do and what you make..even just the little things you are SO loved..

And Edgar loves you guys ALL the MORE!! <3

..AND YES I DID START CRYING WHILE WRITING THIS, SHUT UP, I'M EMOTIONAL, FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU