#I hope this was the hardest one to write

[blinddreams24]

Judgement

With Dust

Masterlist

Prev / Next

“Dust?” You asked. He stopped just as he passed you in the hall. He didn’t turn to look at you but seemed like he was in a hurry. “Where are you-?”

“Stay with Horror.” He commanded roughly. “He’s in the kitchen. Don’t leave him.” He started marching down the hall again.

“Wait, is something wrong? Aaaand you’re gone. Nevermind.” You huffed and started towards the kitchen. Maybe Horror needed help? Or he was having another episode? But ‘don’t leave him’ implied that if that were the case, Nightmare would have been called instead. Unless Dust thought you would do better? Just in case, your pace sped up.

You rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Horror, are you okay?” Your slightly panicked state blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

Horror looked up from the stove where he was currently making macaroni and chicken nuggets, Killer’s favorite. In his hand was a wooden spoon, his grin was casual, and him eyelight focused on you in recognition. His brows furrowed as he processed your question.

“Mm… yeah? Are… you okay?” He shot back at you. “You’re… stiff.”

You sighed. “I thought… I don’t know. Dust said to come find you and not leave you. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Definitely not that he was biting into Nightmare’s limbs again. Nope. Not that.

The grin on Horror’s face widened. “You thought… I was feral… again.” He chuckled.

You sputtered. “I-! Horror-!”

“Nah.” He interrupted before you could deny his claim. “It���s… fine. You weren’t… hurt. That’s… important.” He turned back to the stove.

Awkwardly, you shuffled over to peer over his shoulder at the food. You took note of the salt and pepper shakers nearby. “Soooo… do you know where Dust went?” You hoped he wasn’t mad at you after the other day. Your arm was still dramatically swaddled in bandages that itched. You couldn’t come up with a good reason for him to be mad at you, he had looked rather upset with himself actually, but that didn’t stop you from speculating. Was it the knife? Had that set him off more than you thought? Was he avoiding you because you’d reminded him of his past?

“Dust? He went… on a mission. Took Killer… and Cross. He’ll be back… later.” Horror shrugged. The wooden spoon was tapped on the side of the pot and set down before Horror turned to face you.

“Oh.” That made sense. They had things to do and couldn’t afford to carry you around like the dead weight you were. Really, you’d only slow them down. Though, Dust seemed rough when he talked to you. Maybe it still had something to do with you.

“Y/n.”

Your attention snapped to Horror as you realized you’d spaced out. He looked concerned.

“What is it?” He asked slowly.

“I…” I’m fine. It’s nothing. I’m sorry, I just spaced out for a second there. I’m fine, really. “I don’t know. Dust was… rough when he left. I… Do… Do you think he’s mad at me? For the other day? I didn’t mean to scare him. I just… I didn’t know.” You shrank under the taller skeleton’s gaze and looked at your feet. “I’m sorry.”

A chuckle shocked you as Horror turned back to the food. “Dust isn’t… mad.” He stirred the noodles again before seeming to approve the consistency and walked the pot to the sink. You helped him scrape the noodles into the strainer-“Colander.”-colander with the wooden spoon and he dropped a stick of butter into the still hot pot.

“It’s called a colander?” You peeked into the sink.

“Yeah.” Horror tapped the bowl. “Strainer’s the thing… with wires. Better for… sifting flour. Not noodles.” He chuckled at you as the timer on the stove went off. You handed him the oven mitts and stepped back.

“…You’re sure Dust isn’t mad?”

Horror’s laugh echoed through the castle. “Yes! Have you seen… Dust angry? He doesn’t… beat… around the… bush.” He set the tray of chicken nuggets on the stove and turned the over off. “If he… was mad… everyone would know. Especially you… But he’s not… mad. Not… at you.” That last sentence sounded like an afterthought.

“…What do you mean? Not at me? Who’s he mad at?” You questioned.

Horror shook his head. “Not… important. Dust can tell you… later. Here.” He handed the spoon to you and picked up the stra- colander. With your help, he carefully poured the macaroni noodles back into the pot.

You dropped the topic of Dust at the promise of information later. That didn’t stop you from worrying but now you were content to wait.

Lunch was eaten, Nightmare came out just long enough to eat before dismissing himself back to his office, and you and Horror were watching a movie in the living room when Cross’s portal opened in the hallway. You bounded off the couch to peek around the corner at them, Horror giggling at you. Someone you didn’t recognize was talking.

“-come b-b-back for th-that favor-or-or l-later, a-abomination. D-D-Don’t forge-get that.” Growled a voice that glitched terribly.

You looked around the corner where Cross stood over a panting Killer, who was splayed across the floor and dripping hate. Dust was still on the other side of the portal, talking to someone out of sight.

“I won’t.” Dust answered, curt but not rude. With the conversation apparently done, Dust entered the castle as the portal shut behind him. He kicked Killer softly. “You good?”

“I hate you.” Killer groaned back.

“Anything new?”

“Shut up. Let me die.”

Cross chuckled, turned away from the two, and saw you in the doorway. “Hey, y/n. Wassup?” Killer groaned.

You glanced between the three skeletons. “Uhh… Hi? What did you do to Killer?”

Dust grinned and kicked Killer again. “Nothing.”

“Stop.” Killer complained.

Cross laughed at the beaten skeleton. “Killer just took on an entire au by himself. He’ll be fine.”

That didn’t calm you at all. “What?! Killer are you okay?!?” You rushed to his side. He had hundreds of cuts, big and small, and several forming bruises. At least, from what you could see. No doubt there was more damage under his clothes.

He grinned weakly at you. “Aw. You’re concerned for lil ol’ me? I’m flattered, kiddo. You can blame Dust for the, well, dust. It was his idea.” His head lifted to look at Dust. “Are you done with me now?”

Dust folded his arms and looked at Cross, who shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Go get yourself cleaned up, Killer.”

Cross helped Killer to his feet and headed towards the infirmary. You took a step after them but stopped when you glanced over your shoulder at Dust. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching you, waiting for you to make a decision on who to follow.

You stepped back. “Dust.”

“Y/n.” He nodded. “I assume you have questions.”

“Yeah.”

“Shoot.”

You rocked on your heels. “Uh, what exactly did you do today?”

“Destroyed an au.”

That made you freeze for a second. “…uhhhhhh… well, um, how’d you do that? Doesn’t Nightmare try not to destroy whole worlds?”

“I called in a favor with a… friend. And I got Nightmare’s permission for that.” Dust’s nonchalant attitude had you at a loss for words. He sighed. “Look, I called in a favor but it came with conditions, Cross had to be transport cause my ‘friend’ wasn’t going to taxi me and Killer around. Basically, if I didn’t let anyone touch him and offered him a favor later, he’d help us completely destroy Lustswap. As it turns out, it was some sort of multiversal traffic hub. Bastards. I had Killer clear them out ‘cause,” He gave your arm a pointed look. “he needed to fix a mistake. Me and Cross stayed back to guard Er- my friend. That’s why Killer’s so messed up. That make sense to you?”

Your thoughts were racing. He helped destroy a whole au, made Killer do most of it, and Cross was a taxi? No, wait, he didn’t say that. “I… you… Why?” Was all you could get out.

Dust raised a brow. “Why what?”

“…Why’d you destroy it? I don’t understand… I mean, I’m… relieved… that it’s gone but… why?”

“Y/n. We did it for you.” You froze. “Did… Did you think it wasn’t for you? That we just randomly lashed out at one au specifically?”

You fumbled for your words. “Why?”

Dust’s face scrunched up in concern. “We… Y/n, we love you. You’re family. Why wouldn’t we?”

We love you.

You’re family.

…Family.

Dust hugged you, startling you from your thoughts. You found your voice. “I don’t deserve it. Your love.”

A rumbling growl came from the skeleton. “You shut up. You’re not allowed to talk bad about yourself, you hear me? No bad talk, no judging. That’s not your job.” He squeezed you gently. “It’s mine.”

You hugged him back. There was silence for a few minutes before you spoke. “…Thank you.”

“No problem, kiddo.”

[toxintouch]

how do you think the lis would respond if mc sheepishly asked if they could fondle their tiddies? (even mhin, even though i KNOW they'd shank a bitch.)

Here ya go, Anon!! :3 They pronouns & non-specific language/MC used. Suggestive, but no other warnings.

AIS:

Pretends he doesn’t hear them.

“Hmm?”  He holds a hand to his ear, a toothy little smirk on his face, his scarred eyebrow raised.  The way he’s making direct eye contact is an unmistakable challenge.

“You wanna what now, Sparrow?” 

He knows exactly what MC said and they can tell.  He just wants to see if they'll say it again.  They didn’t sound so sure about whatever that request was just now…

His smirk grows when– (if?? But c’mon he’s so clearly saying yes, please) –

His smirk grows when they don’t back down.  He spreads his arms out in invitation, haori splaying open.

He’s patient for as long as he can stand once they get their hands on him but it isn’t long before he finds himself grabbing them by the wrists, pulling them closer.  Pressing his palms against the back of their hands to encourage them to make full, firm contact.  Haven’t they been warned?  He’s awfully greedy.

(And: if he purposely presses their touch against his heart for a moment, no one needs to know but him.)

VERE:

He gives them a blank look– a look unsettlingly similar to his hungry, flat eyed stare.  Though, it’s gone in an instant–so quick they might even be able to convince themself that they imagined it.  One blink and his entire expression is different, his tail swishing elegantly and with a flourish that can only be described as pleased.

“Well,” he purrs, “aren’t you just adorable?  I did tell you to ask next time you wanted to touch…  Very well then.  I’ll reward your ability to follow simple instructions.”  He relaxes luxuriously into the cushions of the divan that he’s resting on.  “Come along, then.  Fondle to your heart's content.  Don’t leave me waiting.”  He beckons to them with a crooked finger, tempting them closer, a haunting echo of their first meeting. 

Survival instincts be damned…he did give them permission…

He breathes a chuckle out as they touch him, his mouth hot against their ear as he buries a grin into their neck.

In the space of another breath, he’s flipped the two of them, leaving them pinned against the divan.

“You didn't think you were getting a single thing for free from me anymore, did you?  Tut tut.  After you treated my generosity so callously before?  From now on, I’ll be expecting payment in kind.  Quid pro quo, darling.”

KURAS:

He looks at them, eyes crinkled with amusement.  “Am I to take it that your interest is academic?  Studying anatomy, perhaps?  I do have a few select texts I could offer you which you might find quite beneficial.”

The embarrassed look on their face seems to amuse him further, the corners of his lips tugging up as he takes in their expression.

“Of course, the benefits of a more hands-on method of scholarship should not be overlooked.”  He takes pity on them, beckoning them over as he takes a seat on the doctor’s stool, right next to the cot where they first met him.  He neatly removes his coat, folding it and laying it to rest beside him.  Despite their fears, he doesn’t start listing out the anatomical names for things as they lay their hands on him.  His eyes slip shut as they rest their hands on his  shoulders–he’s still so tall, even sitting on the low stool–sliding their hands down, admiring the sturdy form and shape of him.

His own hands come up, clutching around their waist with surprising strength.  His eyes are bright and intense as he looks up at them.  They expect him to say something but he merely squeezes them–Possessively?–

Like he might be able to trap them in this moment with him forever, through will alone.

He closes his eyes again; his grip loosens. His self-control back is back in its necessary place, and he finds himself repentant.

“Forgive me.  You are quite endearing.  I simply find you…difficult to resist.”  He admits.

MHIN:

You are so correct anon.  Shanked immediately.  But MC bonks their head into Mhin’s chest on their way to the ground, so…  Achievement Unlocked? Or, for MC’s sake, I’ll assume that they have earned a level of trust/intimacy with Mhin that makes Mhin a lil' less likely to get stabby.

Mhin’s eyebrows furrow as Mhin crosses their arms, physically creating distance between MC and their…

Mhin’s cheeks go a little red as they realize how obvious their body language is, their pale eyes darting to the side as they worry about what other things they’ve accidentally telegraphed to MC. How many of Mhin's true thoughts and feelings are they privy to...?  Shaking themself mentally, they quickly snap out of it, pinning MC with a pointed glare.

“If you value your life at all, you’ll never ask me that again.”  Mhin marches away.  “Staying at the Wet Wick–around Leander–has ruined your brain.  You need to get out of that place while you still have some grey matter left.”

. . .

Later, escorting MC back to said Wet Wick, ducking through the lesser known and narrower streets after a long day of following dead ends together, Mhin finds the thought ruining their own brain.  It must be the heat of MC pressed against them in the alleyway, the comforting, all-consuming scent of them, the memory of MC’s flushed face while they were asking Mhin’s permission...  MC’s much braver than them, Mhin thinks bitterly, so much more willing to let themself have what they want, despite their cursed hands.  Mhin sighs, stopping abruptly.  Turning.  Pinching the bridge of their nose.

“Look–you can–”

Mhin feels themself blushing all the way down to their chest.  They open their mouth and close it a couple of times, attempting to articulate what they want.  They make a noise of aggravated frustration.  Carefully–very carefully, and very slowly, so that MC knows exactly what they are doing, they reach for the bandaged hands at MC’s side.  They rest MC’s hands lightly on their chest, shivering as they feel the brush of fingers against their clothed ribs, thumbs pressing into their sternum.  They bite down a noise that would surely make them perish where they stand.  Stars above, how long since–

“...Does your heart always beat this fast, Mhin?”

“Quiet.”  They snap.

Wow Mhin.  Right there in the alleyway huh?  Well ok then. I see what ur about.

LEANDER:

The two of them are alone in the room at the Wet Wick, just sitting together innocently on the bed when MC asks.

Well–they try to ask.

He hears them start the question and his coat and shirt (and tiddie belt) are coming off before they can even finish.  He gives them a quiet chuckle, blushing as his shirt(s) get caught at his shoulders. 

Though the perfect way it frames his boobs might convince them he did it on purpose…

“You meant skin to skin, right?”  He laughs again, leaning back on his hands and looking entirely too appetizing–is he arching his back a little more than necessary? 

“I don’t mind at all! Though, if you could help me with…”  His eyes crinkle as he smiles at them, head tilted like a puppy, waiting expectantly.

They get up from the bed to help him discard his remaining topmost layers of clothing, standing above him in order to better assist.  His eyes are pinned to theirs the moment the fabric barrier is fully cast aside.  “I…can’t say this is a bad view,” he admits, eyes roving along their form, tongue darting out to wet his lips.  Then, more sincerely: “I’m glad that you asked me for this.  Don’t be afraid to touch, all right?  Nothing bad will happen to me, promise. Remember: whatever you want.”

They find themself feeling along the edges of his scar, tracing the line of it across his pectoral…  His breath catching when they accidentally scratch him a little with their nails (MC is just a little clumsy–that was completely unintentionally, really) is dangerously addictive.

“Ah... Anywhere else you’d like to touch?  It would be a shame to waste this opportunity…”

If they're feeling shy, he could offer a few suggestions.  He really, really wants to help in any way he can. :)

BONUS!ELYON:   “You can, but I will have to charge.”

[skyeslittlecorner]

Can I request a Raphael x angel MC please 🥺

The Gabriel x Michelle and Lucifer x Michael were so good 😭😭

I'm stuck with you and your scenarios now 😠

You're welcome, dear~! I see my total eclipse of the brain bring some good after all. I hope I will be able to fulfill this request. Rafael is on the verge of being a character I dare write for, but let's try.

It was all your fault, that you make Raphael feel so special, then forget about it, and after all, you died. Lowly, pathetic human being. How dare you? Do you think he will forgive you for this? Tsk. Not only stupid, but naive, too. You are lucky that you chose to be reincarnated in heaven. Maybe there's still a chance for your pitiful soul.

And *maybe* you will repent if stop teasing him and start to suck.

Even though you were below him, licking his piercing and letting him tug at your hair, you knew who was boss. Poor, unaware angel. Blessing? Being the chosen one? Good joke. Only few strokes and his tip was already covered with whitish ooze. You raised an eyebrow and snickered.

“And who is the pathetic one?” 

He grabbed your hair harder. 

“Shut... up. Do your work.”

“Truly pathetic…” Your tongue stroked his trembling manhood. “Swayed so easily.”

“Enough!” 

As you opened your lips once more, he thrusted deep inside your mouth. Smiled vindictively as you chocked. He wanted you to lose your breath, to finally be quiet, and obediently end the act of his ascension. As cruelly, as holy. New madness hitted his insides as you murmured with a trickle of saliva ran down your chin.

“Better…” Those full cheeks, clenched throat and murderous intent in your eyes make you both dirty and perfect. Perfect to be used. Clouded with pleasure, he thought that he found his new favorite toy.

All Raphael stans! Let me redirect you to @livelaughlovesubs and her wonderful fics - here you got first and second part. I assume you've already seen it, if not, check it out~ She can write and catch his personality way better than me

[drrav3nb]

Marriage by Combat

Picking up a single-bladed spear from the array of weapons, the Prince twirled the staff in hands and approached the centre of the coliseum. “I once heard a rumour that you would only accept an offer of marriage if the man asking could defeat you in combat,” he said before tucking the spear under his arm and bowing deeply. “Allow me to put that challenge to the test.” Brienne could not stop herself from grinning, his provocation reminding her of an oath that she once made to herself so many years ago. “You have no armour on, sire.” “Neither do you.” Synopsis: Ever since she was a young girl, Brienne had made it very clear to many of her potential suitors that she would never accept their offer of marriage unless they could defeat her in battle. So what happens when the Prince of Dorne takes her up on that challenge?

Read the fic here

[nickfowlerrr]

it’s the way i just can’t stop randomly bursting into tears like what the actual hell

[ghostzzy]

i don’t mean to alarm anyone but i did come up with a fresh idea for a short story last night

[boypussydilf]

it is literally the middle of the night but hello grof nation. i wrote a fic about betty (not) adjusting to ooo. please enjoy

[good-beanswrites]

My translyrics for Salamander, written out under the cut :D

This one was much more difficult than the last, but I'm still very satisfied with it! 😤 I'm both sad that my version lost a lot of the fun soundplay of the original, and also waaay more impressed with the lyrics and vocals after digging it like this! I tried to keep it balanced between the original and Fuuta's version, though maybe it ended up leaning more toward the cover, idk. Leaving my specific notes in the tags 👍

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I want a taste, but all this spice may prove more than I can take, (eh?)

Something's on your mind. So spit it out and tell me, don't waste my time, kay?

I'm hooked on this, pass me a dish.

The way I'm starving here without you -- it's a crime

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want a bite, I can't help giving in to this new appetite.

Again, again, I want to be on fire when I get to the end.

We live too fast, we burn to ash,

I never handled spices well and it's a crime.

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

I want to burn bright red

I want to burn bright red

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

Tell me I'm not alone in my mind!

Salamander~ Look what's happened to me. This pa- passion's crazy

Tell me I'm not delirious, I'm being serious.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want to leave I want to go, but I can never stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

[simmonsized]

respectfully asking for those hs2 opinions if u do wanna share !

My opinion of Homestuck^2 is that it is, at the end of the day, glorified fanfiction, and I'm so serious about it. Like, is it impressive that a group of people care so much about Homestuck that they're trying to work within the bounds of the epilogues and the limitations that that world set for them? Yes.

But is it also a group of people who are fans of a work that started in 2009 and has arguably transformed a lot of fandom and internet culture in ways non-homestucks do not recognize, and thus as homestuck fans are also going to bring their own personal shades of experience with years of interaction within the fandom, especially depending on what years they were most active in the fandom? Yes.

Like I won't call it bias but. Yes, yes I will let lol. Fans of a thing are going to bring unconscious bias to a work even if they are invited to work on this by the creator directly or just with the creator's blessing itself.

I think roach said this many years ago but there's no "fixing" Homestuck, and there's no fixing the world created by the epilogues, either.

I admire the endeavor to work within the bounds of a work of fiction not inherently your own.

But tbh, it's still going to be an MSPA fan adventure. Homestuck^2 was always going to be a MSPAFA.

There's nothing wrong with that, but it's just like. The concept of considering it canon at all would be laughable, which is why I respect the decision to call it "Beyond Canon."

Because all fan works, in all their ways, are historically love letters to the original work that exist "beyond" the canon of the story, and I think that's what makes them good. I think that arguing against Homestuck 2 being a fanwork is an insult to the years of effort other fans have put into Homestuck -- the way it is viewed as a whole (good and bad), the ships that are popular and reviled, the popular tropes and headcanons.

And over the years the original Homestuck was influenced so by these things, too, and it shows, and I'm more watsonian than doylist, which is apparent to all who know me (my favorite character has no speaking lines and no canon personality and yet also somehow went from being one of the most popular to least popular characters in the past ten years), which is why I say again, that I don't think there's any shame in calling Homestuck 2 a fan adventure, and pushing back against that is, to me, an insult, especially after being here for 13 years.

Anyway all that to say, the concept of Homestuck^2 is interesting, but doesn't feel like required reading, least of all to me, haha.

[tickle-bugs]

Lil idea for the 3 Peter Parkers!

Peter 1, the youngest, often gets snarky with the older two "brothers". They both eventually decide theyve had enough of his jabs about their age, and team up on him, working together to tickle him to bits and teach him to respect his elders

Attitude Adjustment

Okay so if you’re like me and literally can’t keep the numbers straight: peter one (referred to just as Peter here) is tom holland’s spidey, peter two is tobey maguire’s, and peter three is andrew garfield’s. I felt SO silly writing in the numbers but there really is no other way LOL

Also, au where they’re in sort of a Spiderverse situation and the other spideys are trying to figure out how to get back to their dimensions. Absolutely no canon, just vibes. 

“Hey Pete? How do you work this thing?” Peter Two huffs and flails his hands around through the holographic energy core in front of him. It spins listlessly, unsure how to interpret his gestures, and beeps at him. 

“Comin’.” Peter rolls off the couch, chucking his phone onto the rickety coffee table. His new place was small, achingly so, but it was starting to come together nicely. He had pictures on the walls, a rug on the worst spot of the floor, and a bedframe. All progress was good progress. 

“Show me how you’re doing it?” Peter squishes beside Two, who sort of swats at the hologram like an irritating bug. 

“Oh, okay. So, uh, the hologram maps its movements according to your fingertips. If it can’t get a good read, it’s not gonna respond. Here, like this.” Peter pulls his hands into the projected image, twitching his fingertips and twirling his wrists. The simulated core spins and zooms at his whim. Eventually, the image flashes green, and a small loading bar picks up at the bottom. 

“Neat.” Peter Two watches in awe as the computer begins to synthesize his formula. He idly spins the image around. “We didn’t have anything like this growing up. It’s crazy.”

“Glad I could help, grandpa.” Peter grins, giving Two’s shoulder a good-natured squeeze. Two rolls his eyes and shoos him away. 

“What a nice young man, helping the elderly,” Peter Three hums from the ceiling, typing away at his laptop as if his life depends on it. He looks a bit like a goblin, or maybe a vampire, hunched over all of them. 

“I do my part.” Peter salutes, flips back over the couch, and pulls his phone back into his hand with a web. He’d lost his place in the Fantastic Four interview he was reading. He sighs. 

“You both are hilarious,” Peter Two grumbles, watching a holographic array of complex mathematics spin in front of him. 

Peter sinks down into the couch, into the quiet buzz of technology and Peter Three’s terrifying typing. It’s not silence, not quite, but it still gnaws into his bones in a way he doesn’t like. He’s been avoiding being Peter as much as he can lately, instead staying out on patrol as late as his body can handle. Collapsing on a rooftop as Spider-Man is easier than coming back to Peter Parker’s shithole apartment. 

Spending time with people like him, people who get it, it’s…nice. Steadying. He knows it’s going to crush him when they leave, but having them now is more than he could ever ask for. He has no one, but he has them. 

“Hey.” Peter leans over the back of the couch and waves at Three. “Need help?”

“Hm? No, I’m good. Still compiling that list of compatible metals. Hoping to keep this matter projector the size of a rubix cube. Or, worst case scenario, like a suitcase.” Peter Three gnaws at his lip, then squints at his screen. He flings out a web and snags his glasses, catching them out of midair. He puts them on with care, pinning the laptop to his upside-down lap with his free hand. After fiddling with the lenses, he gets them to balance properly. 

“You’re still squinting.” Peter chuckles. 

“It’s part of the creative process.” Three waves an idle hand, then squints more aggressively. “I, uh--I’ve got shit eyesight. It’s fine.”

“The spider bite didn’t fix your vision?” Peter furrows his brow. 

“It did, but I wrecked it again. Too much blue light, too many flashbangs to the face--it all takes a toll, y’know? You should be grateful your eyes still work. Take care of them while you have them.” Peter Three nods sagely. He grabs his mug of long-cold coffee with a web and brings it carefully to his hands. He sips, gags, then comes back for more. 

“Okay, dad.” Peter huffs with no venom. He tries not to be jealous that Three can drink upside down. He’s tried. Repeatedly. 

“You have a remarkable amount of attitude for someone so tiny.” Three stares at him over the rim of his glasses, which shouldn’t be as funny as it is. Peter snorts. 

“Right? It’s his tone,” Peter Two hums. The computer chirps at him that his equation is only sixty percent viable, would you like to try again? He thunks his head into the desk. Three’s mug slowly lowers itself down beside him. Two takes a sip, gags, and deposits the mug in the sink. Three balls up a piece of paper and throws it at his head. 

“Alright, I’m starting to go a little stir crazy. How about we take a break?” Peter Two stretches, popping something in his back. He does the ‘keys, wallet, phone’ patdown on himself, turning in circles to make sure he’s set. 

“Like a patrol break?” Peter perks up. 

“No, a dinner break. I’m starving, and God knows when you two last ate. Or slept.” Two hazards a glance towards Three. 

“Oh, I’m good. Go without me.” Peter Three keeps typing. Two’s glare chills the room a few degrees. He pointedly clears his throat. 

“Y’know what, actually? A break sounds great. Super on board with the, uh, the break time.” Peter Three closes his laptop and flips down off the ceiling. He stumbles as he lands, hissing in pain. The laptop goes flying, but Peter just manages to snag it with a web. He cradles it to his chest. 

“Thanks.” Three nods. Peter nods back. The room collectively sighs in relief. 

“Is it your, uh--” Two maneuvers to support Three as best he can. They limp over to the corner of the kitchen together. 

“My back, yeah. Shitshitshit.” Peter Three inhales tightly and leans up against the counter. He tips his head back against the cabinets and focuses on breathing. 

“It just, uh--well, it locks up sometimes. No clue why.” Three shrugs, then winces. 

“I think I have some painkillers. If it’ll help.” Peter sets the laptop down. Three smiles thinly at him. 

“I’ll take you up on that. I’m usually fine after a few minutes. Just gotta wait it out.” Three winces again, gripping the countertop hard. The cheap vinyl cracks with the force of it. Peter tries not to wonder if he’ll have to pay for that--instead, he fishes out the pitifully empty bottle from his coffin-sized bathroom. 

“Gimme your hands.” Peter Two crowds in front of Three and starts helping him stretch, slow and steady. After a heart-wrenching cry of pain, Three hums appreciatively. He twists side to side, working out as many sore spots as he can. Peter shakes the bottle at him and tosses it. He catches it and dry swallows the pills. 

“Hm.” Peter leans against the wall. 

“What?” Two huffs.

“Nothing.” Peter shakes his head with a smile. Fondness blooms warm in his chest. May used to tell him that he’s the only person who knows how to take care of himself best, what he needs. He wonders if she ever thought it would manifest this way. 

“Alright, c’mon. What old man joke are you sitting on right now?” Two crosses his arms. His amusement is contagious. 

“I wasn’t going to make fun of you!” Peter laughs.

“One day you’re gonna be a twenty-something with a bad back. You’re gonna be like ‘oh wise and mysterious Peter, please help me with my ailing spine’. Then you’ll get it.” Three grunts. He loudly cracks something in his back and all of them wince. 

“What am I gonna do? Do a backbend over your walker?” Peter snickers. Three gasps and splutters, sending both of them into actual laughter. They’re terrible influences on each other. 

“You are such a brat.” Two chuckles, mostly in disbelief. Peter sticks his tongue out at him. 

“Were you like this?” Two jerks a thumb toward Peter. Three quirks a smile and regards Peter for a bit--the defiant jut of his chin and the fire in his eyes are heartwarming. 

“I mean…yeah. Kinda. Just tall.” Three smirks.

“I’m not short.” Peter scoffs. Two and Three exchange a glance. Three leans on Peter’s head. Peter swats his arm away. 

“You’re barely taller than me!” Peter huffs, throwing his hands in the air. 

“First step is acceptance, buddy.” Two pats his shoulder. “Let’s get our shawarma on.”

Peter Three stifles his laughter into his fist, squinting in mirth through crooked glasses. Peter groans, smacking his face into his palm. He’s hiding a smile, though, and it makes Two smile in turn. 

“What?”

“Let’s get our shawarma on?” Peter snickers, his shoulders shaking. 

“Yeah, I can’t defend you. That was corny.” Three leans into Peter and soon they’re both giggling, set off by each other’s goofiness. 

“You sound like a dad!” Peter giggles. 

“Scratch that. We’re not going anywhere until we cure you of this attitude.” Two raises an eyebrow. Peter giggles at him which, while adorable, Two cannot stand for. 

“You gonna send me to my room? Ground me? Oooh, I’m so scared--” Peter snorts, then he’s upside down. Peter Two’s got him around the waist like a sack of potatoes. He lets out an affronted squeak and tries to reach for the floor. 

“Whatareyoudoing--” All the breath leaves Peter in a hefty woosh as Two worms his fingers into his sides. He squeals, his legs flailing wildly. He tries to pry Two’s hands away but gravity isn’t his friend at the moment. 

“Spider deterrent,” Two says, deathly serious, but Peter can hear him smiling. Bastard. 

“Nononohoho! Tickling is cheating!” Peter cackles, all hope of playing tough long gone with his breath. No matter which way he tilts, Two’s fingers are waiting to torment him--and he seems to have quickly figured out just how deathly ticklish his stomach is. Almost like he knew already. 

“I didn’t know there were rules--” Peter Two ducks out of the way of an accidental kick-- “Hey! Violence is not the answer!”

“Gonna v-violence your stuhupid fahahace! Lemme go!” Peter growls, prying at Two’s wrists again. Two tuts at him and vibrates his fingers into Peter’s stomach. He shrieks and kicks his legs, all pent-up energy with nowhere to go. 

“Aren’t you gonna help?” Peter gasps at Three, his voice way higher pitched than he’d like. His face is redder than his suit, little giggles still slipping free. He’s (mostly) deathly serious about murdering Two if he can just get out of this. 

“Yeah, come help!” Two grins, beckoning Three over with a tilt of the head. Peter Three disappears out of Peter’s line of sight and he allows himself an evil grin. 

“We’re gonna kick your--” Peter loses the last half of his threat to a yelp, then frenetic giggling as Three claws at his ribs. Peter screeches in betrayal and tries to swat at him, but he’s far from coordinated and it tickles, oh my god--

“Sorry. More afraid of him than I am of you.” Peter Three grins sheepishly, but his eyes shine with mischief. He walks his fingers up under Peter’s arms and he screeches loud enough to make a dog down the hall start barking. He lets out a snort and desperate syllables tumble out to follow. He manages to elbow Two in the gut and nearly gets dropped on his head for the trouble.

“S-Sorry! Tickles!” Peter hiccups and clamps his arms to his sides. 

“You are so squirmy!” Two tosses him over the back of the shitty couch. Peter squeals at the sudden change in gravity, but then he’s squealing because they both follow him over the couch. 

“I-I’m gonna get a noise complaint! Guys!” Peter throws his head back against the armrest and cackles, shoving at the two of them. He’s not sure where the ceiling is anymore, everything’s sort of spinning, but the slight burn in his chest is grounding. 

“Alright, alright.” Two lays off and Three follows suit. Peter flings his arm over his face and tries to remember the sweet embrace of oxygen.

“Oho man. You guys suck.” Peter peeks at them with a goofy smile. 

“Spider deterrent. Works like a charm.” Two puts his hands on his hips. Three leans up behind him and goes to poke his side, but Two catches his hand. 

“Don’t. Do not.” Two points at Three threateningly. Three holds his hands up in surrender, but his grin is anything but innocent. He and Peter lock eyes.

“Spider deterrent, huh?” Peter leans up on his elbows with a cocky grin. “Every experiment needs multiple trials, right?”

“You’re both menaces.” Two grapples with Three, occasionally twitching but still putting up a fight. Peter manages to poke him a few times and get his arm caught, but Two can’t fight both of them.

A hush befalls the room as Peter Two visibly weighs his options, trying not to crack from Three’s pinching at his ribs. 

Two throws himself over the couch, followed by Three, and Peter eggs them on from the safety of the couch. It’s like watching cats wrestle, really--there’s an indistinguishable tangle of limbs and shouting before Peter Three’s shocked cackle emerges from the pile. 

“P-Peter! Help!” Three wheezes, holding his hand out for rescue.

“Oh, you want my help? Yeah, sure, I’ll help.” Peter cackles evilly, kicking off the couch and launching himself at Three.

“Wait, hold on--”

…

“98 percent viable. We did it,” Peter Two breathes, holding the hologram in his hands. The simulated core spins lazily. After hours of calibration and recalibration, the algorithm finally holds steady. Three squeezes his shoulder and laughs quietly, happily. They’re going home. 

“Should we tell him?” Three casts a glance over to the couch. Peter’s out cold, curled up under a threadbare blanket that refuses to let go of its musty smell. Despite the bags under his eyes, he looks peaceful. 

“Tomorrow. You both still owe me shawarma.” Two smiles, knocking their shoulders together. 

[amethystpath-writes]

The Coalescence of Saviors and Rage

NOT A PR0MPT

“We do not have to do this!” Hero cried. Her sword touched Villain’s as the two stared one another down, circling each other like two vultures scavenging for mice. The only difference was there was only one vulture here, and it wasn’t Hero.

The snow falling didn’t feel cold; it didn’t feel like anything. Hero wondered, could Villain feel the chill of the air or was he just as absent in its presence as her? Because even as the falling snow reached Hero’s lashes, progressively blocking her vision, she had no mind to care. If it came down to it, at least she wouldn’t see herself hurt Villain- or see him hurt her. The heavy snow was a blessing more than it was a curse.

“I do not want to do this!”

Villain didn’t say a word back. Was it contempt? Sadness?

“Say something, Villain. Tell me this was not for nothing.”

All that time spent together…walks through the woods, running from guards, killing the king. They did it together. Hero became fond of Villain after all that time, after all those risks and life-or-death situations.

“We were supposed to be the heroes.” It was a statement, but anyone could have told that Hero was begging, reaching for the stars- the sun- and trying to understand. “You told me we were helping the lands.”

Still, Villain would say nothing, only continue in his circular pattern as he and Hero stood off.

“Do you remember my bear attack, in the midst of our journey?” she asked. “You were furious, stabbing the beast again, and again, and again. You screamed, Villain.” After a snow-filled pause, Hero finished, “Rage was never meant to be a savior, but can you not see that you are mine?”

Are, not were. Hero refused to see the man who saved her, who applauded her, and encouraged her with the cold eyes he possessed now. She refused the man who simply pretended all along to be the antihero, only to become this husk of a being- someone who spoke no words, but exhausted every ill intent.

“Say something, dammit!”

“Corpses speak not to anything but the dirt they rest beside.”

Hero watched Villain’s eyes stray from her own. A blanket of dread shrouded her shoulders and neck and she felt herself tense beneath the weight of it. The voice didn’t belong to Villain; it belonged to the king. The same king she just killed, whose blood was stained on her sword- still straining against Villain’s own weapon.

In all her sadness and confusion, there was no room for the sound of hooves. Villain had been stalling her, awaiting the moment she would be captured by the king and his men. Villain was no conspirator of the kingdom like Hero, but he was a conspirator of her own since the beginning. She understood now.

“You knew,” Hero said. She said it to the king, still behind her, basking in his quiet victory. The king’s success was much louder in her head, throbbing with unappreciated annoyance. Her sword slid off of Villain’s with a shing.

“Nothing goes unseen within my walls. You were foolish to so openly announce your rebellious constructs. You think my guards do not check town bulletins?”

“The man I killed unknowingly in your stead,” Hero began, “who was he?”

The king chuckled behind her- sent a rumble through the ground and into her feet. The man was a devil. “A supporter of your little charade. My men caught him pressing posters between the rock walls- thought he was being subtle.” The horse which the king rode took steps towards Hero until she could feel the creature’s breath lifting her hair. “The unfortunate part of his death is that you were supposed to die in his stead, just as he died in mine.”

Hero’s head snapped in the king’s direction. “You mean you would have had me killed before I pulled my sword.” She wouldn’t ask what happened; a part of her already knew as she met Villain’s eyes again. The coolness was gone and replaced with a tear-red brim of emotion.

“The corpse chose dirt,” the king replied.

“And in the dirt, I will remain.”    (Et in luto, manebo.)

His Majesty brought no guards to ride alongside him, and therefore, no one could stop Villain as he sprinted towards the king, sword still raised as it had been aimed at Hero. As quick as lightning, his arms lifted so the tip of his sword could meet Life’s beating window- the king’s heart.

Once almighty, atop a great horse, the king now slumped, and his red painted the ground just as Hero remembered the bear’s did when rage became heroism. Villain, she thought, was always her savior.

******

Master list: @whatwhumpcomments @faeruine​

If you would like to be added, please comment, PM, or send an ask! Thank you <3 <3

[iamthepulta]

I'm inserting all my sources into Obsidian's Loom/Excel feature and I feel like such a baby newb.... I don't know what I'm doing. I just want to keep my sources straight and I have a really bad memory and I don't know how else to do it.

(If anyone has suggestions, please suggest. <3 )

[mediumorange]

Chapters: 3/7 Fandom: Brokeback Mountain - All Media Types, Brokeback Mountain - Annie Proulx, Brokeback Mountain (2005) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Ennis Del Mar/Jack Twist Characters: Ennis Del Mar, Jack Twist (Brokeback Mountain), Jack Twist's Mother (Brokeback Mountain), John Twist Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It, seriously there is a lot of angst though Summary:

August, 1983. Ennis’ postcard to Jack has come back stamped ‘Return to Sender.’ He finds Jack in Lightning Flat, determined to help his father save the failing Twist ranch. His father does not want to be saved.

Chapter 3 is up! Go check it out :)

[queenofbaws]

Hi Queenie! How are you doing?

Since I don't know if you'll get this request (thanks Tumblr!) I'm sending you the requests all together, you can pick the one you like best! Have a nice day!!❤

 “do you think we’d still be a couple in an alternate universe?” “go to bed.” “what if we already got married and have five kids.” “go to bed.” 

Conrad and Fliss

 “what if aliens think we’re the aliens.” “the hell are you talking about-” 

Chris and Josh and Ashley

 “i’m still worried about tomorrow…” “do you want to talk and try to get your mind off of it?”

Nick and Abi

"I'm just saying, close your eyes and picture it, okay: Cozy bungalow on the coast, skylights everywhere, a view of the water from the back deck so you're never worried about pirates making off with the Duke, one of those smart-fridges so none of our seven children run out of GoGurts - "

"I hope you're the one planning on pushing all these children out," Fliss murmured, laughing tiredly despite herself, "I really, really hope that's part of the plan..."

" - I was about to go into my sick 401(k) and my many, many successful investments, but I'm starting to get the sense you're not taking this hypothetical very seriously, and since both of our names are on that future lease, I gotta be real with you, Cap'n - "

"Connie," Julia snapped from the other side of the deck, her and Alex little more than dark shadows beneath the stars, "some of us are trying to sleep after nearly getting murdered, and I'm very, verrrrrry quickly reaching the point where I'd rather go back inside and take my luck with the freaking bioweapon over listening to...to...whatever you're doing right now!"

"I'm coping, JJ - ever hear of it?!" he pretended to snap back at her. "Now," Conrad sighed, setting his head back down on the wadded up shirt he'd been using as a pillow, "where was...oh, right, my amazing 401(k)."

six sentence sat(or)sunday!!!

[descriptionofaruby]

on the one hand it's hard to know where to begin on the other hand all of this anguish and self doubt and hate is really probably the stress killing me and its killing me pretty good. my family is worried about me

[pipperoo]

it is kinda funny shifting focus between two ghost aus every week bc they each have wildly different lore (which i’ve barely dug into). a few times i’ve gone, wait he can’t do that here, that’s not how this ghost system works!

but also i’m going from the fun ghost band shenanigans to whatever the fuck max and grace got going on in their dynamic (which is considerably less lighthearted)