#I just take her out sometimes for enrichment

[kittymeiga]

🌱🐈‍⬛ Meiga exploring the great outdoors!

[fingertipsmp3]

Also I can’t figure out if my life genuinely does suck or I’m just having an existential crisis because my period starts in approximately 48 hours

[bekolxeram]

I'm usually very block happy, but sometimes a couple of hot takes from the opposite side of the fandom manage to slip through. I'm no saint, I admit I do get quite worked up at first, but after some time, I realize they give me new perspectives to scenes I've watched countless times and discover things I didn't pick up before. So this one is for all of you, staunch Tommy haters, thank you for enriching my viewing experience.

In 7x04, when Tommy goes to Buck's loft to talk things out, this line gives some people the ick, because it echoes what Taylor said in 5x05. In that episode, Buck thought his team was off because they blamed him for Chimney leaving. He talked to Taylor about it, she shared her own experience with her boss being sulky around her, and it turned out her boss was just in a lot of physical pain, she ended the conversation with "maybe not everything is about you". While what she said was absolutely right, and she made an effort to make Buck feel appreciated at the end of the episode, but I can also see Buck not feeling supported emotionally at the time the conversation occurred. In a fashion true to her profession, Taylor delivered it in a very blunt, direct and advisory way. Her being right did not cancel out Buck feeling insecure about everyone acting weird around him and him not knowing why.

What Tommy says here though, is in a a completely different context.

Before all of this, Tommy has already reassured Buck that he's not trying to replace him, that his place in Eddie and Christopher's life is irreplaceable.

Look at Buck's smile, he's apparently in a better mood than before. It's like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

So going in this next part, Buck is more receptive to what he frankly needs to hear: Eddie isn't hanging out with Tommy because Buck did something wrong, he just enjoys Tommy's company.

We've witnessed Buck's growth over 7 seasons, now he can recognize that getting jealous easily is one of his character flaws, he tends to overthink and make other's action personal when he's feeling insecure in a relationship. He's telling Tommy this probably to signal that he understands he messed up and he understands what he did wrong. He never expected Tommy to validate his feelings.

But Tommy does empathize with his predicament.

Buck doesn't understand what Tommy, the cool, confident (and hot) pilot would be jealous over. And he almost can't believe Tommy gets what he's been feeling.

Tommy tells Buck that he's envious of the ride-or-die familial bonds within the 118 nowadays, as if he didn't also put his career and life in danger just to save Athena and Bobby (probably Hen's career as well), after one phone call from Chimney.

Now it's Buck's turn to reassure Tommy.

Another hot take I've seen from the other side goes like "if Tommy was nicer to Hen and Chimney back in the days, he wouldn't have to be jealous over what the 118 has now". You know what? Judging by Tommy's face here, he probably would agree. This is not the face of a man who is proud of what he did. This is the face of a man who is burdened by guilt and regret, this is a man haunted by his past, this is a man who doesn't think he deserves the praise.

Buck even cites fake mouth static as an example of Tommy's effort in aiding the 118's clandestine rescue mission, and they naturally fall into a flirty dynamic. I have no explanation for that, except, your honor, this is exhibit A against the "no chemistry" allegation.

Buck then spells it all out for Tommy that he also put everything on the line just for the 118, without hesitation. Tommy looks like he still has a hard time accepting it as an act worthy of redemption for his past behavior.

We've all made mistakes, and we all know we can't go back to the past and change what we did, so the best way forward is to change ourselves and be better. Judging by Tommy's "and [Gerrard] didn't make me a better person" line in 7x10, he quite possibly reflected on this a lot. Yet, sometimes you still can't help but doubt yourself over if you've learned enough from your past, if you're a good enough person now. I can't imagine how good it feels hearing Buck say out loud that he actually likes the person Tommy is now.

Apparently Buck likes Tommy so much that he came up with excuses just to hang out with him and get to know him.

Tommy is pleasantly surprised, because he did tell Buck to call him when he wants to go up. In fact, Buck can call him for whatever reason, Tommy accepted the Harbor tour request, there's nothing indicating that he would feel weird just hanging out with Buck. Tommy just doesn't know how much of a overthinker and bi disaster Buck truly is yet, but that's the story for another time.

Buck and Tommy really don't know much, if anything, about each other at this stage, as you can see in 7x05, but they're already validating each other's feelings. We've seen Buck get his feelings ignored, hurt, dismissed and kind of fetishized for 6 seasons, now this is something he's been looking for the whole time, for someone to understand what he's going through. At the same time, this interaction must also be quite freeing for Tommy, who's been haunted by demons from his own past.

[br-uwu-cewayne]

Other cities’ “Scared Straight” programs are just… field trips to a Gotham school/museum

complete with any non-fully murderous villain robbing the place that night realizing what’s happening and full on jumping into the role, being extra EXTRA over the top to sell the point just like the inmates in the show XD

the batman will even linger a bit before making the bust, to help both the kids AND villains (“It provides enrichment for them,” Bruce shrugs one night after finally intervening after Harvey and Two-Face worked together brought some poor girl who thought she was tough shit to tears, via an incredibly thorough and frightening lay out of the legal battles she was going to face in the ten years if she kept this up and every argument the prosecution would use and exactly how fucked she was if she didn’t learn to stop running her mouth and bragging and ESPECIALLY not talk to FUCKIGN COPS. “It’s nice to see them taking an interest in actually bettering these kids lives, in their own way.”)

Red Hood even plays villain again for it sometimes.

Meanwhile, Gotham “scared straight” programs are just. Making Gotham darling and beloved wayward-problematic-pill-popping-party-animal-playboy-turned-pillar-of-the-community-philanthropist-and-loving-father Brucie Wayne go through their public social media like the Celebrities Read Mean/Thirst Tweets series with a sad/disappointed 🥺 “You know, it’s really hard to see you all struggling with stuff like this, it really reminds me of a lot I went through. It’s never to late to turn it all around, I promise.”

[sky-scribbles]

Today I decided to take out the Bhaalist cultists on the top floor of Felogyr's Fireworks. I'd attempted this a couple of times only to be thwarted by game crashes, so I wasn't about to beat around the bush. I detach Astarion from the party and cast Greater Invisibility and Pass Without Trace on him. Then, like any responsible vampire spawn owner, I send him upstairs to his most enriching environment: a room full of oblivious cultists whom he can murderise with impunity.

As the bodies begin hitting the floor, the various guards and staff decide that the three adventurers loitering suspiciously on their landing are the source of the problem, and engage them in combat. As long as I remain focused on Astarion, however, who is upstairs gleefully stabbing cultists, the guards can do nothing but glower at my party, weapons drawn, in Faerun's most awkward staring contest.

At last, one of the cultists rolls high enough to see through Astarion's invisibility, and Astarion gets shunted into the initiative order with everyone else. At this point, Avery the fireworks boss comes running upstairs, sees his staff brawling with us, and decides the only way to save his business is Explosions.

He casts Fireball. Gale fails to Counterspell. My screen fills with fire and 'Object took 74 fire damage!' notifications. Grimly, I look to the party portraits to see who needs healing, and... no one has lost a single hit point. Bewildered, I swap to Astarion to see what's happening on the top floor, and everything begins to make sense.

BG3, I have noticed, gets a little confused if anyone casts an AOE spell in an area that has two overlapping elevations. Such as the landing and top floor of a fireworks shop. Sometimes, it will ignore the conveniently clustered trio of adventurers that were clearly Mr Fireworks' target and sail impossibly over their heads to strike the upper floor of his shop.

The only PC up there is Astarion. Astarion, the rogue with Evasion, who can negate all damage from explosions by succeeding a Dex save.

The upper floor is the fireworks laboratory.

As the camera focuses and the smoke clears from the chain reaction of detonating firework crates, Astarion stands untouched and triumphant amid a pile of smouldering corpses. The remaining cultists burn feebly at his feet. So do the few unlucky guards who had made it upstairs. Avery, understandably stricken at the realisation that he has murdered his own staff and is winning worst boss of the year, runs into the corner and stands facing the wall.

We take out the few remaining employees, and I instruct Astarion to begin looting bodies. Immediately, a Flaming Fist guard sprints through the door to the shop, dashes past the multiple lightning-struck, radiant-flame-scorched, elemental-fist-pulverised corpses now lining the stairs, past the blood-covered adventurers on the landing, and attempts to arrest Astarion for theft.

Astarion, with a dozen bodies crumbling to cinders behind him, insists that the vial of deadly poison he's clutching was his to begin with, and that he wouldn't have had to steal it back if the guard would just get better at her job. He rolls a natural 20 on deception. Chastened, the guard relents.

We exit the firework shop. Not a single hit point has been lost.

[monimccoythings]

Human!Alastor x Daughter!Reader: Devotion

These are all part of the same AU, I suppose, or not. But I like to think they are all part of the same AU, sometimes I forget what I write. Now this are just some deranged feelings and thoughts of Alive!Alastor.

Reminder: Alastor is in hell for a reason.

Tw: obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, mentions of blood, implied murder, manipulation.

tags: @anonymousewrites, @nonetheartist, @littledolly2345, @sunnyx07, @ouroborostheunholy, @mo-0-o, @sydneyyyya @lbcreations-blog

Alastor had never been a sentimental man. Of course he loved his mama, she was a wonderful woman and her death had definitely caused him a great amount of grief.

And then you came along.

Your soft skin, your chubby hands that tried to grasp his larger fingers to no avail, your wide unfocused eyes that darted everywhere, taking notice of everything. How delicate you felt in his arms, you fit perfectly, like you were made to be there.

How easily he could break you, he ponders. One little snap and there would be no more of you. It would be so quick and simple. There was only one little thing.

He adored you.

Your quiet little coos, your incomprehensible babbling that sounded like you were trying to carry an adult conversation with him, the way you squealed with joy whenever one of your favorite songs started playing on the radio. You were delightful, and provided him with more enrichment than any of the bumbling fools he usually associated himself with could provide.

As years passed by, you started to get bigger, your world expanding, your knowledge growing. And with it, came the risk of having you slip away from him.

He had modeled you to be his perfect little angel, his little fawn. His obedient child. He would not allow anyone to take you away from him. He was your guardian, your protector. Some asshole looked at you the wrong way while you two were going on a walk? He was never heard of again. Some low-paid teacher was becoming some sort of role model to you? Ooops! Accidents happen!

He found that his reasoning for protecting you was also a good excuse to indulge in his darkest desires. A way to calm the itch that was always nagging at the back of his head.

Alastor did it for you. He was making the world a safer place for you. No matter how much fun and enjoyment he got out of it. None of those buffoons would ever taint your innocence with their dirty souls. Not even himself.

He would take his secrets to the grave, always hidden behind a wide smile. he would be the good father, the charming radio host, the modelic citizen. The blood in his hands, as delicious as it tasted, would never stain your clothes.

No one would keep you two apart, he would make sure of that. He was all that you could possibly ever need. Your world started and ended with him, as it should be. Let him be the barrier between your purity and the rotten society that lurked outside.

He suffered everytime you were forced to spend time apart of each other. Couldn't you see it? Did you feel it too? Whenever you were in school or he was working, it was complete suffering for him! His fingers drumming impatiently on the surface of the table, counting the seconds until he was back at home with you. Only the mental stimulation that took directing, writing and starrring in his own radio show for which he held great passion and the delightful hunt his side job provided were enough distraction to cope with his sorrow.

When did he become so emotional? He should be feeling embarrassed of himself or at least be very thankful that his mask of sanity wasn't cracking with all those feelings. Instead, he found himself embracing them. He embraced the painful worry about your wellbeing and his influence over you, the obssessive and twisted love he felt, the need for control, to ensure you remained his innocent and good child, and the bitter despair at your absence that sunk into his heart like a knife. Only his little baby could give him such a rush.

He was sure that not even death would be able to take you from his hands. He would personally fight God, the Devil, and anybody who got in his way. Alastor would tear the fabric of reality apart just to get to you.

You would never run away from him. There was no reason to, as he had made you as devoted of him as he was of you. Or at least he hoped so.

Having you leave him would surely break his heart, as it would mean to Alastor that you had chosen to do things the hard way. But maybe, after a very detailed and complex planification on his part and some casualties orchestrated by him, Alastor might be able to convince you to return back home, with a grim reminder about the dangers of the outside world.

For there is no safer place on Earth than in your father's embrace.

[tare-otome]

Kotallo's Salutes - Updated!

"May the Ten walk with you..."

Something Kotallo does that i love is how he salutes Aloy. I've never seen this salute and now i want to do it all the time.

What i like about the first one is the swooping hand motion, a flourish on top of the standard one we're used to in present time. To me it imitates the flight of the metal flying machines their mythology of the Ten is based upon, and i love that spin on a salute that just further enriches the lore of this world.

--Update!

"May the Ten guide your way..."

^ I randomly saw this one and it further solidifies my headcanon! It takes more effort to swoop your hand out like this than do a regular salute, so it must be intentional! Idk why i'm so obsessed with this idea lol😅😵‍💫

I can just see the old fighter jets that now litter the lawn of Memorial Grove, in their prime.😍 Or the flight of any Glinthawk, Stormbird or Sunwing!

Extras!

"We walk the warrior's path..."

Also i love how he looks at her. And his blinks haha. He's so sincere and respectful...sometimes lol.

"And keep an eye on the sky."

"Strike true as the Ten."

"I'll see you back at base."

-- I love how solid that one is.

She even starts mirroring his salutes ♥️

[writing-relatedactivities]

A Very Ask A Manager Thanksgiving

So I love advice blogs (I maintain that comment sections on advice blogs are the best free tool for writers to explore different viewpoints, which really enriches your characterization), and for a few years now, I have had this idea that I want to do a do an Ask A Manager themed dinner, purely to delight myself. Meant to do it as a cookout this summer, but timing never worked out, so I broached the idea of doing it for Thanksgiving. My partner, who is also a nerd and therefore very supportive of my advice blog love even though it is not one of their interests, was down, with their only condition being that I should still make my cider bread with maple butter.

The menu:

Appetizers

Chips with:

Guacamole in honor of Guacamole Bob, of "ordering extra guacamole is wasteful of member dues” fame. (This being on the menu may also have been a factor in Partner being willing to have our holiday take on an Ask A Manager theme, as I once took a community education course on grilling that taught me nothing about its ostensible subject matter but did teach me to make a bomb-ass guacamole. The secret is that your first step should be to pulverize an entire head of garlic into a paste in your mocajete.)

Three store bought salsas, where the trick is to "fold" the salsa to get the best flavor

A bottle of hot sauce so we can get fired after a coworker steals our spicy food

Main Course

"Duck club" sandwiches in honor of the secret office sex club where you get points for sex in different locations, and quacking is involved. (These were very decadent and if anyone's interested in a great duck recipe, I used the Duck with Lemon recipe from A Feast of Ice and Fire.)

Sides

Cheap-ass rolls that I definitely deliberately brought to upstage you, yes you, the person who signed up to bring Hawaiian rolls! It's definitely not an overreaction on your part to declare that "they can all take Santa and stick it up their ass!" You're definitely not getting fired for being wildly hostile! (These are actually homemade rolls, but I weighed "buy actually cheap rolls and be done" or "spend a couple hours adapting a corgi butt roll recipe to a human butt roll," and chose in favor of the pun.)

Dessert

Bribery cupcakes, from that time a letter writer brought some cupcakes over to chat with her neighbor, the son of the Chief of Police, about a disruptive noise issue in her workplace and some commenters decided this constituted bribing a public servant. (The recipe is in the comments on that link; I made the carrot cake version. However, I realized halfway through that I was somehow low on vanilla despite obsessively buying fancy vanilla extract every time I am in a spice shop, along with a bunch of other things I don't need because buying cool spices makes me feel like a wizard. Anyway, half of these had vanilla in the filling/icing, and the other half had cardamom extract.)

A birthday cake that somehow crosses boundaries by...being too fancy? Being paid for a staff person? Not involving the wife in the planning? Anyway, the real answer to the letter writer's question is, "Eh, I don't think it's a big deal" because different offices have different norms around birthdays and it's whatever, but sometimes a low-stakes office norms question hits just right and you get 630 comments of people debating The One True Way to Do Office Birthdays, and whether or not buying a cake means you're angling for an affair. (Okay, not all the comments are about that particular letter. Anyway, I picked up this fancy-ass cake at Marc Heu Patisserie, and appropriately enough, the guy ahead of me in line was picking up a cake for his boss.)

And of course, what Ask A Manager column would be complete without chocolate teapots?

Beverages

Mudslides, because "girls love chocolate." And magic tricks. And being played "You're So Vain" on the piano with a mournful stare. Partner and I are both notorious lightweights but I had been snacking all day as I cooked so I was mostly immune. Partner took one sip of this drink and immediately began loudly telling me how their one colleague doesn't sing enough to his Pre-K students, and "this classroom will do anything if you sing to them!" After dinner, they lay down on the floor and sang the Slippery Fish song.

The full spread:

[darkdemeter]

Hey hey, could i please have a request?

So imagine that the reader is traveling with death to restore the humanity and they get along so well and are kind of flirty and the reader is falling for him. One day they meet Vulgrim and she out of curiosity falls into his serpent hole and is transported to the past to meet the young and unruly death, who we know was a menace when younger. And then they have their interactions the reader goes back to the current version of death. How do you think that would go?

Have a lovely day and thank you for your work!

EVEN DEATH WAS ONCE YOUNG

◤✘DARKSIDERS COLUMN | Death x Female Reader

NOTES: ↳ OH. MY. GOSH. ANON! Writing this was the bomb!! Interesting concept, a wonderful opportunity to explore pre-horseman "younger" Death. I tried to keep a balance between his more mature personality while also having some fun with giving him a bit of spunk -- I couldn't stop giggling! WARNINGS! ↳ Just death being a bit of a young menace, but he kinda cute doing it sooo.... but like there's also fluff/hurt stuff?

✎5.4k ────────────────

When people used to say: “I wish I could meet the younger version of you.” They don’t actually know what they’re asking for. Because who in their right mind would want to meet Death in the prime of his bloodlust? 

The thought struck a fancy with you after your encounter with the demoness, Lilith. Her presence exotic and threatening without explicitly doing anything remotely violent. It was the sensual octave that carried her words like a lullaby you had found forbidding to hear, yet you fall prey to the temptation to hear just one more word.

That didn’t stop you from hiding behind Death, his back rigid to the point the knocks of his spine straightened slightly when her hand lingered a little too close to brush a stray framing of hair out from your face. 

But it was what she recounted that piqued your curiosity. Her children. Enriching lore of a species most loathed from long ago, a bloody crusade where they met their end by Death’s hands. From her retelling and the mystical pulse of life that beats in the embedded shards in his chest, even speaking of them appeared to pain him both physically and mentally. A burden you could never carry for him nor tell him to abandon. 

For a human, whose patience often wanes at the smallest of inconvenience, you show a lot of compassion and understanding for the weight on his shoulders. And never would you know exactly how thankful Death has become for your company. At times almost yearning for it whenever you are but a few feet away, or the thought crosses his mind to take you back to the Tri-Forge and leave you in the Maker’s care. Your fragility means more to him now than it has before, sometimes just looking at you eases just a fraction of that guilt he pushes deeper down. 

You’d both formed far too much of a bond so unnatural to the opinion of others, yet it fell into some assortment of right for you. 

You can’t possibly imagine being left behind, not now. Not after how far you have come all this way together. 

But yes, that saying. Did people ever realise what it was they were saying? 

“Meeting the mother-in-law already, baby albums and all.” Your voice crackles on the hot, muggy wind that travels through this slice of inferno, sky a spiral of darkness and hellfire smog. “Dare I say it, I wish I could meet the younger—”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence,” he warns with a low and thorough rasp that rattled in his chest. 

You cannot help but spare him a teasing wrinkle of your nose and puckering your tongue out between your teeth, body twisting from side to side innocently.

You can’t help but chuckle with a slight bounce in your step. “Sounds like you were quite the bad boy.”

You merely roll your eyes as he gruffly replies with a huff, “Your perception cannot possibly begin to fathom the prime of my youth… or handle it.”

Despite his attempt of coming off cool and collected, you could hear the bitter coil of something else underline his words. 

Oh, how mystical and dark and brooding he always was and portrayed himself to be. You’re sure that there is something a little less grim beneath that rough exterior. Hell — and that saying excludes your current locale — you have witnessed it before in the engagements of fun conversation that go back and forth to the point that a victor who gets the last say is indeterminable sometimes. So he’s not completely a lost cause of being impenetrable, he’s entertained you before with quite a few situations that you classified as flirting. Who knew that Death himself could make you blush bright and red?

He was close to claiming that title of victory this time, until you pad along to stop right in the middle of his tracks, his chest barely able to stop from bumping into you and causing your balance off kilter for a moment. 

“Come on, Death, at this point of travelling together, I can handle anything.”

He looks past your nonchalant grin and over your shoulder, seeming to cock a brow beneath the greying bone of his mask.

“Really now?” he hums, “Duck.”

“Wh—” you dare not finish to question him as you immediately take to assuming position, ducking low to the ground in preparation of an oncoming ambush unseen by you.

But it never comes. You hear a gravelly rumble of a chuckle emit from the reaper before you, his shoulders jostling a little with the motion. Your lips purse together and you scowl at him with everything you can muster to no avail of affecting him.

“Oh, ha ha. Very funny,” you snark back, walking alongside him as he continues to set your traversing pace. 

Noticing that he was heading back the way you came, you jutt a thumb to point behind you “Aren’t we meant to be going that way?” 

“Your sense of direction has improved astonishingly, girl,” Death snickers dryly, the slur of flirty endearment almost lost in his words. He continues, “We’re paying a visit to Vulgrim.” 

Ugh, even saying that name brings a ghoulish, slimy chill to climb your spine uncomfortably. 

“Horseman,” The greenish bulbs of his eyes shrink behind a wrinkling brow of pale, craggily skin. Then his eyes see you and the form in which they almost bulge from their sockets sickens you. “And your little human companion! Your scent is just as… lovely as ever, my dear.” 

The gaping maw of his lipless mouth twists into a creeping grin so unnerving it causes knots of fear to tie in your gut. 

“Uh, no,” you say with an adamant shake of your head. No way in this life or the next would you trade your soul to Vulgrim of all fiends. Death had warned you to just keep your soul to yourself in general if offered to sell it for a little something in return. 

“Your dealings are with me, Vulgrim.” Death is clear and quick to establish your presence before the serpent hole. The demon trader, sighing grimly with a black, slimy tongue ringing over his cracked and deformed fangs, addresses Death. 

“Very well. Let us see what I have to offer… and what you can afford.”

Vulgrim usually dances about his serpent hole but never ventured too far if he can help it, usually to usher you away from it with a warning, “If you know what is best for your longevity, stay away from there.” 

And most of the time, Death kept a watchful eye on you to keep you from falling face first into the next trap of trouble. However, this time around, the pool of green mist is left surprisingly unguarded. With a curious tilt of your head and scrunch of your nose, your boots pad on over as you walk towards it. 

You can’t make out a bottom through the wafting cloud of mist that rises from the hole. Still you arch your body to peer over the edge and down into it as though you’d find something soon enough if you just inch that little bit—

“Human!” Death bellows as he rushes to you, only just seeing your form stumble and fall forward. A yelp of surprise turns into a blood-curdling scream as you sink into the smoggy abyss. The green haze around you fades into a darker shade until all around you is black nothingness. Your voice throws over into a thousand echoes that follow you. You’re still falling. At least it feels that way and for a moment you think you’ve closed your eyes; it’s hard to tell with the inky black around you.

A bright tone paints onto the surface of your closed eyes and you fall onto ground, dusty and hard, small rocks jab and scrape as you land. The brunt of the fall knocks the wind from you and you take a moment to recover your bearings, soon to rise to your feet and brush off the smears of dirt on your clothes.

“Okay. Duly noted: do not go anywhere near serpent holes,” you affirm strongly with newfound belief, only to be met by silence.

No scolding words that apprehend your actions. Not the familiar grasp of a cold, large hand that strangely warms you and causes your heart rate to pick up a little faster. No, you turn and shift on your heel to scan all directions about you. 

“Uhm… Death? Vulgrim?” You’ve spun yourself into a circle a million times over by now. “Anyone? Hello?”

For certain this is not the same slice of hell you had accompanied Death to and no serpent hole was in sight. Instead, you're in some cavernous valley of dust land and patches of grass and foliage, in the distance stands the mounds of high reaching cliff sides. 

Where exactly are you? 

As a human evidently from earth, you had never once had the ability to traverse any realm unfamiliar. In fact, you never knew of the possible existence of them. And after meeting Death, you were strictly told to stay close. Realms harboured dangers of their own, a breed of some civilisation that undoubtedly hurt you if you ran off by yourself. 

And now you’re beginning to feel that seeping dread of despair dawn within you. That sulking hopelessness that you have cast yourself to some unknown corner of the cosmos, and Death has no idea where you dropped off to. 

“Death?” You ask aloud again. Were you lost forever? 

You begin to head off in a direction, putting the sun to your left as you look around for ideally any serpent holes that can hopefully drop you back where you belong. With Death. Without him here, you feel like a newborn fawn stumbling on its legs. He always made you feel safe, always ensured he was between you and whatever threat that tried to get you, even if he got hurt because of it. 

You continue to call out to the wind that sweeps over you, the sun beating down hard. You brush aside a flurry of hair from your face, your pace slowing exponentially as you practically stumble through this unknown territory.

That’s when that sixth sense kicks in. You’re not sure if you had been ignoring the signs before or if the feeling just came, but all the same you feel that you’re being watched.

You’ve barely dived out of the way before something large crashes behind you, the scraping of claws digging into the crusty soil and the shifting balance of weight kicks up a cloud of dust behind the force of the leaping attack. Turning to face whatever it was, you grimace at the sight of a mangy looking hound that dwarfs you. Its skin is a burnt hue of reddish pink like it suffered constant exposure to the sun, what matted fur that lined its spine and cuffed around its ribs was a dark, sandy brown with dark, faded stripes. Its ears twitch as a high pitched wheeze passes through its open jaw that pries open like a snake. Rows of black teeth are coated in an oily surface of dripping saliva. 

You see another grapple down the cliff face to join the first, this one notably smaller, but not by much. Then another of the same size joins the second, each one stalking closer to corner you in. 

A piercing sharpness fills your chest and your hand grasps at the handle of your dagger. A simple form of defence, highly unlikely to fend off the predators easily, but better than nothing. 

Right about now, that favourable reaper of yours would be excellent company. There were so many things you wished you had said, times you procrastinated moving that bit closer to his side by the evening campfire meant for your safety and sanity. You fear that this is your end. For your quest in restoring humanity, one more human will be lost today, and Death will have to bear that burden. It saddens you in a way. That the guilt would eat away at him. 

One of the smaller hounds takes no more than a few steps forward, just about ready to pounce at you before a humming force sings through the air and with a meaty crunch of bone and mushed brain, an all familiar scythe fatally sheathed in its skull. 

You fall back on your arse, a relieved grin digs deep into your cheeks as you think Death has somehow found you. 

You look around, eager to see him, barely catching something fast cut through the corner of your vision. The next thing you know, the head of the second smaller hound rolls over, its tongue hanging loosely between its jaws, the decapitated appendage just resting at the heel of your boots. The sight makes you grumble in dull disgust.

However, you are brought into the shadow of the larger creature that now towers above you, caught with a gulp in your throat. By your lucky stars, its attention diverts from you and to your rescuer and dives forward. 

You only just turn your head when a pained shriek howls through the air and a severed limb flies some distance away. Followed by another and then a third limb, leaving the defeated creature to begin crawling away with a distorted whine. 

His silhouette bathed in the scorching sun is a sight of relief, though his attire had changed. Not the draping tabard of violet tied about his waist or the deep purple scarf hung over his shoulders. Mostly an assortment of bandages wrapped and woven around his arms, clad in iron fittings. He steps after the beast, following along the weeping trail of blood smeared into the dirt, scythes coming together as the long staff of Harvester and placed to his back. 

Your face contorts in response to the sheer brutality before you, visage twitching in your frazzled comprehension. Yes, Death had a very violent tendency to be dangerously savage, but he was well versed in being precise, but never at this level. Seeing him utilise naught but his inhuman strength at his disposal and his hands, he rips the hound’s upper jaw clean off until sheets of sinew and muscle were reduced to hair-thin threads. 

He drops the unhinged part to his feet with a wet, clumpy thump. Even you have to internally argue that Death may have lost himself a little there. When his head turns over his shoulder, the flicker of an amber glow catching you in his sights, you cannot help the reaction to freeze as you roll onto your belly. 

Something unfamiliar resides in his gaze like he’s seeing you for the first time. But rather than the confusion of an older entity seeing one of the many souls still alive, there is a frenzy of anger – adrenaline running a high river through him, driving him bloodmad. 

His upper body then begins to turn only to halt when you utter his name, form rigid in his study of you. Again, you try, “Death? Hey, it’s me.”

Immediately you’re met by the unsheathed blade of Harvester aimed against you and you skitter back with a hiss as the massive blade knicks your cheek. 

“Hey! Careful with that— what’s gotten into you?”

“Who are you?” 

Your face scrunches, a morphed complaint of your confusion. He only attempts to raise his scythe to your neck with a threat to render you headless at his whim. 

“I-it’s me, hello!” you laugh with bitter nervousness, “you know me. Y/N, the human you’ve been travelling with.”

He gives no form of recollection. Not that he’s easy to read with that mask of his, hiding all but the expression in his eyes. Or the way he narrows them upon hearing one word: Human. Call it intuition, a gut feeling, a divine touch; you feel that that word held some powerful trigger to the Horseman before you. And none that you had seen in him before. Almost a zeal of intense excitement flourishes in the furnace heart of his eyes. 

“A human?” Harvester balances in his grasp to lean against his shoulder, a curious tilt of his head somehow influences you to mimic the action with an affirmative hum.

“Uh-huh. We were on our way to restore humanity. We went extinct, remember?” 

“Really now?” 

When he begins to stalk closer and inching the gap between you shorter, you find yourself taking a few steps back. Something was… off. Death isn’t like his usual self. The concept of humans didn’t really phase him in such a way before. He just thought of humanity and their restoration as a mere key to gaining his brother’s freedom. Somehow integral to the balance but never once serving importance to him. But now, before your very eyes, he appears with a dark excitement as he looks you over. Like your very existence piques him. 

Was he flirting with his leash ten yards behind him? 

Now that’s very unlike your old reaper—

There’s a thought: he is not… that old. Sure, old by some standard in the scheme of time, but compared to when you were travelling together, you come to realise how noticeably younger he is. And still, he advances towards you until his shadow overthrows you, drowning you in it. 

Even if you wanted to chalk up your thoughts to some conspiracy, you also notice that there is a sore lack of soul-cursed shards embedded into the taut muscle of his chest. 

Alright. Now you’re beginning to put the pieces of this puzzle together. You have somehow landed in the great, great past.

It’s like your wish became a manifested reality. 

Bathed in the sunless dark of his shadow, your feet intend to shuffle back, only for his arm that handles his massive scythe extends forth, the pole of it acting as some guard that keeps you from moving any further away. 

You mumble to yourself then, resigning in your compliance to remain where you stand. He may not be trying to directly hurt you now, but if given the motivation, you could yet stand corrected. 

He continues to stare at you, long and hard pressing, you feel like an ant under the heated blink of a glass scope that is threatened to burn. A matter of curiosity is all you can surmise it to the way his neck extends forward, bending down until the bone form of his masked nose hovers over you, near deathly silent but still largely inhaling your scent.

The act is enough for that heated flush to deep into your skin. 

“Hey—hey, easy there, big guy,” you warn, voice wavering from the way he merely tilts his head before leaning in again. “No, I said n-no! Stop that—no, that tickles!” 

Upon you practically beating him away with the ferocity of your mitten gloves, he then circles you like a predatory beast. 

“How is this possible? Humanity’s creation has not yet come,” he inquisitively says. 

You give a shrug, choosing to be a little more careful of your words. Would anything you do or say alter time itself and affect your supposed present? 

Just with you being here would be enough to do just that if Death’s claim that humans weren’t born yet is true. 

“Uh, well… it’s not so simple to explain. You see, I er—”

Shit this was getting more and more difficult to explain with the growing anxiety dangerously lurking over you like a foreboding cloud. 

“I’m not from here.”

You can almost see his brow curve upward under the mask. “Evidently,” he drawls deeply in response. 

With a roll of your eyes you try again. 

“All I know is that I somehow fell through some serpent hole and got transported back in time. Now, I gotta find a way back.” 

“You mean to leave?” 

Already turning your back on him – unaware of such a grave mistake – you only nod in response, your eyes last to leave him. Who knows how much longer you will have to endure here before Death finds and rescues you from his younger self. 

But that just isn’t in your stack of cards. Again you’re almost blown to the four winds and land on the cushion of your arse, grumbling in pain as you stare up at him, standing right in the way of your path.

Your lips purse tightly together, you hiss, “Death!” 

He crouches in front of you, ignoring the way you attempt to pry him and push him away as he moves a hand forward. He holds your wrist at bay before you can land a firm push to his mask to shove him away, his amber eyes dance with a certain level of intrigue and his head tilting to the side leaves his raven hair to saddle alongside the motion. 

He peels the grubby article off your hand to reveal the bareness of your skin and you find yourself holding your own breath. 

His own hand measures yours, palm to palm and you feel the roughened contour of his skin. His body radiates with an off-centred heat, not entirely cold as he is in the present with you but the morph of warmth isn’t so smothering unlike some infernal realm you know. You almost see the softness that crosses his features beneath the boney helm of his mask, like the cracks of emotion are being revealed without your exact know-how. 

But you’ve known Death for some time now. You’ve been in his company. If this is some revelation of a breakthrough, then you see it before your very eyes. 

Each finger lines to one another. A curtain of silence falls over the both of you until your eyes meet. A smile creeps over your lips then. 

“Must you truly go?” he’s sudden to ask beneath the gravel baritone of his chords. With a sigh, you only nod your head. 

His eyes harden at this, something distraught lines his concealed face only to be betrayed by the levelled glow of his eyes, but nevertheless he stands, no longer keeping you from running off. As you make your way to stand on your own two feet, brushing off the particles of dirt off your clothes, you notice Death’s prolonged stare. 

“What is it?” 

He only shakes his head, a gruff response of, “Nothing.” 

Though his reply is suspiciously vague, you both venture off into the great unknown, however much you believe that Death is more accustomed to the land than you. 

Hours pass as the sun begins to ride your backs and no sight of any serpent holes, leaving you with a feeling of exhausted anguish. As the night creeps in as a shadowy blanket over the sky and turns the humid air colder, you pull your shawl over your body as a chill licks your spine. 

Death — no not your Death, the younger one — takes notice, eying you from the side of his vision. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You jerk your head in his direction with eyes wide in your perked alertness. “Hm? Oh, I’m just cold is all. Usually I’d have a fire set up by now to rest…”

Would it be wise to add that it was him — older him — beside you and ensuring you settle into your makeshift camp? Unsure, you keep that to yourself. 

When he places an overly large hand to your shoulder, you stumble on your heel and pause, watching Death’s head scan the horizon and the upper cliff faces until he stops. You turn your head and notice just in the crevice of shadow and fading sunlight the blackened mouth of a cave. 

Your eyes light up at the thought of rest despite your circumstances and you already begin your trek towards the rocky climb, though you now see the rather steep slope it resides to reach the haven. With a grumble, your determination steers you to climb anyways, your feet stumbling and causing small pebbles to scatter down the face. 

Hands then grab hold of you and before you’re able to fight or protest, Death scuttles up in a matter of seconds with you hanging on for dear life. After he sets you down, you huff out, “Thanks.” 

He gives a gruff sound in response with a curt nod, then turns to scour the new site of camp. It wasn’t so much as a cave as you thought, moreso of a sheltered crop in the rocks, providing enough area to protect you from the elements but also invites the cool winds to breeze on past. 

Making a fire was a challenge than it usually was, making due with what you had on hand, and Death sets Harvester to his side, leaning it against the wall. He doesn’t think you pose that much of a threat to warrant its persistent sheath. 

He however finds some interest in how you kindle the birth of flames, crafting it from almost nothing. 

Looking up at him from your position, you laugh softly to yourself. “Yeah, I know. Humans are so weak and strange. But it’s what we do. How we were made, I guess.”

“I didn’t say anything like that,” Death says with a clearly risen brow. His answer does bring you surprise. After all, Death had many times sighed and chuffed about how humans did the most silly of things – things that were key to your survival, keeping that in mind. 

“Well… you will. Someday.”

“How is it that you know me?” he asks, crouching on the fire’s opposite side, facing you. As much as you think it unwise to share anymore knowledge, you cannot deny that you feel almost safe around him, no matter the fact that he’s younger. In the prime of his bloodlust. 

But he hasn’t killed me yet. Tried to, but hasn’t. 

“It’s going to sound strange but… I’m from the future. And in that future, we are travelling together.”

“Because you said something of Humanity’s demise.” 

He’s Death alright. A keen observant to detail. You nod in reply before continuing, “and as I said, I fell through some sort of timeline and landed here in the past. The way, way past. So far that humans aren’t even created yet, as you’ve said.”

To this, he nods in turn and it brings you to smile. You feel as though he silently applauds your own recollection for detail. 

“Death, how old are you?” 

Yes, it is indeed perhaps a very stupid decision to ask his age, but the nature of curiosity humans are notoriously known for gets the better of you. His eyes flicker with momentary stutter, taken aback by such a question, but one he doesn’t ultimately deny in answering. 

“Today is my day of creation… I’m a thousand-and-one—”

Your eyes go wide and you shoot up to your feet with a cheer. “What? Happy Birthday!” 

Your voice is a loud noise to the shell of his hearing and it spurns him to the defence, beckoning Harvester to fly to his hand within an instant. You’re quickly covering your mouth, uttering your apologies at spooking him. 

Settling back down, this time to his side, you flash him a shy, toothy grin. “But that’s exciting!”

“What is a ‘birthday’?”

You gasp at the shocking revelation. “It’s a celebration. When humans are born on a certain day, it’s a tradition to celebrate it every year.”

Then it pops into your mind, again sending the nephilim beside you to flinch at your motion, you stir up a fuss of plucking a twig from the flames before it’s entirely devoured. Holding it, single flame slow to eat away the kindle, you beam as you stare at Death with large, doe-like eyes. 

“Make a wish!”

“A what?” He scoffs, only to see you dramatically roll your eyes until they’re nearly rolling out of their sockets. “A wish. You make a wish, something you really want, and then blow out the flame. Another tradition on your birthday.”

His eyes narrow to thin points, sceptical that perhaps you were using something to your advantage. When he sees that you don’t have any ill intent to deceive him, he shuffles in his spot slightly to face you, body arching ever so over yours; his height even at this level towers over you. 

You whisper softly, “Like this.” 

Making the motion of blowing out the makeshift candle with your mouth, the campfire casting an orange hue to your skin paints you in a fine detail that the nephilim cannot help but study closely until a there’s a skip in his chest.

His hand raises to his mask but stops and you see the hesitance to continue any further. Understanding that it very well could be because of your presence, you tilt your chin down and squeeze your eyes shut. 

A gust beats across your face, skirting the wisps of hair away and then just as promptly as he’d lifted his mask, he’d lowered it just in time for you to peel your eyes open. Again, you smile. 

He’s the first to crack through the veil of tension between you both, standing on his feet. 

“Get some rest, girl.”

The next day, you finally see in the distance the familiar halo of green and sick looking mists, but it is your ticket home nonetheless. You skip ahead and towards it, laughing at the thought of reuniting with Death and telling him of your adventure.

But then you stop. Not another skip in your step. You turn around to see Death, body rigid but his chin is aimed down and his eyes don’t exactly meet yours. Approaching him cautiously, you halt a few feet before him, hands pinned behind you. 

“I guess this is goodbye…”

You don’t very much like the eternal sound to your farewell. Like you’re losing him forever. 

He drawls out, low and lessened of any sort of emotion, but you swear you note a hint of sadness in his tone. “My wish didn’t come true.”

“What was your wish?”

His eyes rise to meet yours and you feel your heart splinter. Why did it feel so wrong to want to go back to Death in the future? Why did everything that wasn’t with him feel so, so wrong?

“I wish that you would stay here.”

“I can’t stay. I’m not from this time.” Your words do little to ease that which internally troubles him. Your hands coax his jaw to lift upwards until he stands, prouder and much taller over you that you have to balance on the toes of your feet. Then, you sweep your arms around him. His body is stiff to meet your hug but you care little in that regard. He’s always been one less evident of his affections, a tendency you’re completely fine with. 

“But I promise that we will meet again in the future. After all, that’s who I’m going back to through the serpent hole. To you.”

There it is, that flicker in his eyes that reveals in them a shiny glow of fire that you feel warms your heart in many ways. Pressing a chaste kiss to the toughened chin of his mask, you offer one last smile and bid your farewells with a wave, promising that you will see each other again before you jump into the serpent hole, disappearing into the green mists. 

You yelp as the void sends you crashing yet again and you fear that you have stumbled into yet another realm in another time. But for the first time, you find yourself relieved to hear Vulgrim’s slimy voice announce your arrival. 

“Ah! And there she is, the curious little mouse who doesn’t keep away from serpent holes,” he snides with a raspy coil like a snake getting ready to strike. 

“Vulgrim,” you poke your tongue out, brushing your hair from your face and you look to see Death charging his way to you. 

“There you are,” he says almost wistfully, hands pressed to your shoulders. A tender action even with the glare clear in his gaze. “What were you thinking? What happened to you?”

You know that beneath the roughness of his callous tone, he means well. He was worried and the look upon his younger self’s face as you left, you find yourself pulling yourself into him and embracing him. 

“I promised you that we’d meet again.”

His arms weave themselves around your waist, holding you to bear you closer in his embrace. “Yes, you did.”

[choccy-milky]

Their kids are so cute omg i'm gonna dir of adorableness

lewis: then die LMFAOO NO BUT FRR THANK UU IM GLAD U THINK SO🥹🥹💖💖💖all the love for them (esp lewis) gave me the idea to draw him deflecting all the attention so ty for giving me the excuse to post it....we luv our aloof distant boi🥰

its funny bc i was JUST talking about this recently, but i dont like pet names at all BAHAH, hence why seb and clora dont call each other anything, not even nicknames.... seb calls her the light/princess/a bird sometimes as playful and teasing jokes, but doesnt actually address her like that. and clora always calls sebastian by his full name as well, bc i was basing her dialogue/my writing off the game dialogue...bc for as close as anne and ominis are to seb, both of THEM call him sebastian in full, so maybe it was a victorian thing that nicknames werent really common? plus clora's so proper that it just feels like its in her personality to always call seb "sebastian"... i feel like if she ever DID call him "seb" he'd do a double take and be like ...HUH? who are you???......are you polyjuiced? LMAO. i do imagine seb calling clora "love" when they get older tho (not in hogwarts) bc i like how simple it is, and imagining him saying stuff like 'careful, love' makes me🫠🫠🫠🫠

aw TYY💖💖 honestly i didnt give the victorian setting TOO much thought, other than making clora more modest/not used to wearing trousers etc. like the actual victorian courting process was that youd ALWAYS be chaperoned by at least 1 other person and you wouldnt be able to kiss or anything, so the fact that our mcs are in a co-ed school with free reign already ruins that, so i wouldnt worry too much about it. a lot of it you can just wave off with the excuse that wizard society is more advanced than muggle society, which is true anyway LOL. i just kept the parts that i thought were fun/made it feel victorian ENOUGH but got rid of the stuff that was too annoying (one big example being the amount of clothing they wear....i said it in the notes for one of my chapters, but i wasnt about to make seb go through like 5 different layers just to touch cloras titty LMFAO) and no i didnt have 1 specific website i used, id just google "blank in victorian times" and look through all the articles and resources i could on that subject, and take little bits of it. SO YEA i wouldnt worry about it too much, just take what you want if you think it could enrich your story, and leave stuff out if its annoying to deal with BHAHA. and GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR WRITING!!💖💖

BAHAHA yeah sebs bark was defs bigger than his bite when it came to actually having kids/getting clora pregnant LOL. he defs loves the pregnancy part, but i feel like seeing her go through the actual labour was super hard on him/made him feel guilty bc he hates to see her in pain, let alone bc of HIM. not to mention that i imagine he would still work even once they have kids, so to leave clora with like 6 kids by herself isnt something he would have wanted to do LOL. once both lewis and celeste are in hogwarts tho i actually imagine seb and clora still doing curse breaking as well (albeit less dangerous jobs/not as far away) BUT YES having a third kid that looks like seb and is sassy like anne would be SO CUTEEE...a happy accident is a good idea too, tho i kinda like the idea of it being cloras idea.....like, she gets baby fever again now that the kids are kinda growing up and sebs like no i dont wanna put u through that again... but obvs seb wouldnt be able to resist if clora was begging seb to put a baby in her LMFAOOO its already as good as done at that point😇😇 AND THANK YOU, and im glad you liked it!!!🥹💖💖💖

@the-kcm-muggleborn AWWW ur right thats so pretty.....ty for showing me!!🥹and im glad it make you think of clora...SHE WOULD APPROVE OF THESE STUDIES👌⭐🌙

[iwillnotdieamonster]

"This is a beautiful letter from Fiona Apple explaining to her fans why she must postpone a concert date. I am impressed at the way she was instantly able to make the decision to choose love over her career. Indeed, the world needs more of this.

It's 6pm on Friday, and I'm writing to a few thousand friends I have not met yet. I'm writing to ask them to change our plans and meet a little while later.

Here's the thing.

I have a dog, Janet, and she's been ill for about 2 years now, as a tumor has been idling in her chest, growing ever so slowly. She's almost 14 years old now. I got her when she was 4 months old. I was 21 then — an adult, officially — and she was my kid.

She is a pitbull, and was found in Echo Park, with a rope around her neck, and bites all over her ears and face.

She was the one the dogfighters use to puff up the confidence of the contenders.

She's almost 14 and I've never seen her start a fight, or bite, or even growl, so I can understand why they chose her for that awful role. She's a pacifist.

Janet has been the most consistent relationship of my adult life, and that is just a fact. We've lived in numerous houses, and joined a few makeshift families, but it's always really been just the two of us.

She slept in bed with me, her head on the pillow, and she accepted my hysterical, tearful face into her chest, with her paws around me, every time I was heartbroken, or spirit-broken, or just lost, and as years went by, she let me take the role of her child, as I fell asleep, with her chin resting above my head.

She was under the piano when I wrote songs, barked any time I tried to record anything, and she was in the studio with me, all the time we recorded the last album.

The last time I came back from tour, she was spry as ever, and she's used to me being gone for a few weeks, every 6 or 7 years.

She has Addison's Disease, which makes it more dangerous for her to travel, since she needs regular injections of Cortisol, because she reacts to stress and excitement without the physiological tools which keep most of us from literally panicking to death.

Despite all this, she's effortlessly joyful & playful, and only stopped acting like a puppy about 3 years ago. She is my best friend, and my mother, and my daughter, my benefactor, and she's the one who taught me what love is.

I can't come to South America. Not now. When I got back from the last leg of the US tour, there was a big, big difference.

She doesn't even want to go for walks anymore.

I know that she's not sad about aging or dying. Animals have a survival instinct, but a sense of mortality and vanity, they do not. That's why they are so much more present than people.

But I know she is coming close to the time where she will stop being a dog, and start instead to be part of everything. She'll be in the wind, and in the soil, and the snow, and in me, wherever I go.

I just can't leave her now, please understand. If I go away again, I'm afraid she'll die and I won't have the honor of singing her to sleep, of escorting her out.

Sometimes it takes me 20 minutes just to decide what socks to wear to bed.

But this decision is instant.

These are the choices we make, which define us. I will not be the woman who puts her career ahead of love & friendship.

I am the woman who stays home, baking Tilapia for my dearest, oldest friend. And helps her be comfortable & comforted & safe & important.

Many of us these days, we dread the death of a loved one. It is the ugly truth of Life that keeps us feeling terrified & alone. I wish we could also appreciate the time that lies right beside the end of time. I know that I will feel the most overwhelming knowledge of her, and of her life and of my love for her, in the last moments.

I need to do my damnedest, to be there for that.

Because it will be the most beautiful, the most intense, the most enriching experience of life I've ever known.

When she dies.

So I am staying home, and I am listening to her snore and wheeze, and I am revelling in the swampiest, most awful breath that ever emanated from an angel. And I'm asking for your blessing.

I'll be seeing you.

Love,

Fiona"

Credit goes to the respective owners.

[bugcatcherkit]

very curious about your thoughts on a tome teru ritsu shou friendship. you are one million percent correct but i am also extremely curious what you think her individual dynamics would be with everyone in the group, how she starts hanging out with them, and the general vibes of their private minecraft server

oh my god thank you hfhhehvhe i lovee having space to ramble about my interpretations !!!!!! I am trying so hard to make this short and coherent (I didn't sleep at all last night) so bear with me ok. This got long sooo ...

Tome and Teru bond first by virtue of being work besties turned regular friends. Well, work besties as in Teru hangs out there and helps out a lot but would never officially take the job. Anyway they get along great because they can match each other's weird and eccentric vibe while also having an underlying bit of Understanding between them due to the whole "tried to rationalize their isolation with specific escapist fantasies that indulged it instead of addressed it" thing. I think they help each other bridge whatever gap remains from their difficulties in connecting the supernatural/extraterrestrial/super-powered world and experiences with the regular/normal/ordinary world. like theyre a good balance for each other. Theyre both So Much that it kind of cancels out. I just like to think they help ground each other. This is very important for their enrichment.

Some of their enrichment activities include: Tome trying to get Teru to fucking Relax For Once by introducing him to video games like pokemon but it kind of backfires when he gets Way Too Into It (this is where minecraft comes in also). Making a super expansive OC world and continually referencing it to each other much to everyone else's confusion. Trying to cure their intense boredom by hanging out together but never really knowing what to do, so they're just bored together. Their text messages are mostly funny images they found, not actual conversations. Their solidarity with each other is almost unmatched. They have a warriors bond.

Anyway. ANYWAY. I think Tome is just kind of absorbed into the Teru-Ritsu-Shou friend group mostly because of Teru, and partly because sometimes, very occasionally, Shou will be at S&S because of Ritsu, who is usually there only as a favour. Ritsu and Teru do the exorcism stuff and Tome and Shou have to sort the filing cabinets for the 5 millionth time because Reigen is running out of things that Tome can do. Shou does not mind these tasks. I think Teru and Shou both like having little menial tasks to do whereas Tome doesn’t. For Ritsu is depends on the task and who it’s for a think. But ANYWAY. Anyway they just grow closer from there probably unless I think of something better.

I like to think of the Tome and Shou dynamic for similar reasons as the Teru-Tome dynamic (character comparison reasons). Shou craved normalcy and decided to chase it post-canon. Tome wanted the complete opposite. So I don't think they would exactly see eye-to-eye immediately (why would she want to give up that normalcy vs why would he want mundane normalcy). I think Shou might even find her View of Things a little bit annoying, mostly because I think he'd be high-strung post canon and she is just not helping that, as opposed to him actually disliking anything about her. But because they are both quite considerate of other people, they work through these things and become bros. He actually probably really appreciates her Severe Genuineness and (mostly) unwavering will regarding her passions/beliefs. She probably likes his appreciation for simple normalcy and relaxation because it hammers in again that doing stuff like that isn't a waste. They love doing so much Nothing together because they both like to take it easy. I think they would enjoy parallel playing.

When they hang out they have to stop EVERYTHING they're doing to watch an ant carry something 4x its size across the sidewalk because it is so exciting to them. Shou is in on the OC world by the way. Tome and Teru and Shou develop it like they're in the writers room of a high-budget TV show. He updates her on every little thing his hamsters do.

For some reason I found the Ritsu and Tome dynamic like the most difficult to think about out of all of them. They're probably the least close? Ritsu treats Tome as Mob's friend in the same way that Mob treats Shou as Ritsu's friend -- with immense care and consideration, but not a lot of close contact outside of a group. He tries to be sooo polite with her but she Does Not match his energy. So after a certain point Ritsu just kind of gives it up. Then they start annoying the shit out of each other. I do think that Ritsu looks up to Tome based on what he knew about her in middle school and how he knows her post-canon. Because she never conformed to people’s expectations in the way that he did, and she is committed to a Fun and Meaningful Existence in similar ways that he wants to be. My ideal dynamic is a Ritsu who gets Weirder and a bit more childish around her, because he deserves it I think. I know I said they wouldn't be close but this is how they can bond more.

I HAVENT EVEN GOTTEN TO THEIR MINECRAFT SERVER YET. Tome and Teru are the powerhouses of the server because they are so cracked at the game. the only difference is Teru takes it so damn seriously and Tome actually likes fucking around. She's putting herobrine portals around and convincing Ritsu he's on the server. Teru is doing it all he's farming he's mining he's building elaborate builds he's setting up economies because probably has the most consistent resource supply. Where's that post where it describes him and Ritsu as "they keep making more elaborate redstone powered industrial farms" I swear I saw something like that. That is them.

I wouldn't say Shou sucks at survival mode but he probably isn't terribly good at it either. He seems like a "load in a flat world and build stupid things and spawn in the max number of mobs allowed in any given range." He's always asking people for stuff because he keeps dying and losing his. Or he gets lost frequently. He's followed by at least 7 tamed wolves at a time and every time he loses one he makes everybody stop whatever they're doing to come to the funeral he puts.

The only thing stopping Ritsu from basically speedrunning the game is the fact that he is scared of the cave noises/the monsters/the nether. Also him and Mob have to share an account so sometimes he'll load in with nothing because Mob got them killed last time he was on. Tome and Teru both suck at bringing beds with them when they go out on in-game days long adventures and everyone else is soo mad at them. Is this too elaborate. I could probably go on I just haven't played minecraft in a while.

[acerobot]

Putting Ford in a wandavision scenario is honestly so inspired. Ford loves his niece and nephew so much and has some level of fatherly instincts (seen with him wanting to raise the shapeshifter baby in journal 3) so Bill giving him kids to get attached to is so fucking good.

How do the kids work actually? Are they just figments that bill is puppeting directly or do they sort of function on their own, similar to the beings in Mabel’s bubble?

I'm so glad you like it, anon I honestly didn't think anyone would take interest in this so it means a lot that people are. Those are definitely a part of the reason behind this! Well, loving his Niece and Nephew, I won't claim I've read the third book. But this man Loves his family, straight up pulled a gun on a bus driver so his niece could bring her pig home. Love right there. But yeah, I have a friend describe the kids as Bill providing enrichment for Ford, and I love that dearly lol The kids(I realize I never mentioned their names in the post, so they're Caesar and Dorabella, after Ciphers cause puns) are more like the beings in Mabel's bubble for sure! They do their own thing, starting out as simple personalities and 'designs' that evolve over time. Such as gaining interests in new things they're exposed to, and changing how they act, behave, and even how their body works as they gain new knowledge and everything like that. I'm not sure if I explained that last part very good. I guess an example would be they initially didn't react to pain, so think of them getting hurt in a bike accident or falling, even big injuries like a broken arm wouldn't get a reaction until they learned they should through Ford's reactions and media like books, movies, etc.. A constantly evolving being.

That being said, they are still just a creation of Bill, despite becoming something more than their initial creation both purpose and traits wise. So he can look through their eyes and such to monitor Ford, if needed, but he usually doesn't actively control either one of them, he has other things to do. I can see him doing it sometimes though, or at least influencing their actions to guilt Ford into staying and such. On that last part(Apologies for the long reply anon), being Bill's creations he can also get rid of them at the drop of a hat. And Ford, well, he's AttachedTM. These are his kids despite being fake, they've grown and changed and he Has bonded with them

Unfortunate in that Bill can take them away if he feels as though it would make Ford behave, and also from what Ford has seen it doesn't seem they can leave the little 'bubble' of a town their in. So taking them and running is just not on the table. Very good motives to stay with risk of these kids he's bonded with being essentially erased if he doesn't. I did promise the friend I mentioned earlier I wouldn't have Bill perma delete them tho, so, unfortunately for Bill, he's a little attached himself. Don't let anyone know that. Those kids are theirs, his and Fords, it was inevitable. Not saying he hasn't temporarily done it when he deemed it necessary tho.

[aliea82]

Saw this

And then this would not leave my head!

Words:3807 cw:bullying, discrption of injury, injury care.

"I am not yours to protect"

Steve stands against the side of his car as he waits for the kids to emerge from School. It was their monthly Friday night treat, Steve would take them all out for dinner and then to see a movie.

Eddie had started to join them, making the ride less cramped as he would take Dustin, Mike and Lucas, while Steve had El, Max, Will and sometimes Erica if she didn’t have plans with her friends.

As the bell rang he watched the crowds of kids leave, slowly disappearing from the school grounds until Steve stood alone still, a frown on his face.

Just as he went to push away from the car El and Max appeared running towards him, worry on both their faces.

Moving towards them he caught them both by their shoulders as they started talking over each other.

‘Wow, wow, slow down, one at a time guys.’

They both stopped, and then with a silent look at each other Max started to talk.

‘Eddie, he...he was meant to meet Dustin before coming out and when he didn’t he got worried. You know how he’s been struggling since coming back.’

‘Yeah, I do.’ Eddie was quiet about the bullying, but Dustin wasn’t, keeping Steve in the know about how the jocks still had it out for Eddie despite his name being cleared.

‘Dustin found Eddie, but he won’t come out.’

‘Okay, show me.’

El grabbed Steve’s hand while Max led them both into the school.

Steve tried to keep his cool, kept telling himself things couldn’t be that bad, that he knew Eddie could stand up for himself, had seen it, but the way Max was, the worry clear as day on her face made it hard for him to keep calm.

‘They had been at him all day.’ El spoke quietly as they made their way towards the gym changing rooms.

‘What do you mean?’

‘The ex-basketball guys, they...they kept at him all day, in the hall, at breaks, during lunch, they didn’t stop.’

When they got to the changing rooms the girls stopped, staying outside while Steve went in finding the boys minus Dustin, by the lockers.

‘What’s going on?’

‘He won’t come out, Dustin is in there trying to talk to him, but he refuses to leave and he won’t tell us why.’ Lucas explains looking towards the shower blocks.

‘Okay,’ he grabbed his keys from his jacket giving them to Will. ‘Go wait for me by the car, take the girls as well.’

He didn’t expect an argument and was almost proud as they did as they were told, leaving him as he walked into the shower blocks.

The sound of water filled the area as well as Dustin’s voice talking gently.

Dustin was stood right at the end of the long hall of shower cubicles, talking through the curtain, but stopping as he saw Steve.

The worry on the kid’s face matched that of his friends, but there was more than worry etched on Dustin’s face, there was anger also, something Steve hadn’t really seen before.

‘Eddie, Steve’s here.’

There was a reply but Steve couldn’t make it out through the closed curtain and falling water.

Dustin walked towards him, his eyes sad and furious at the same time.

‘I don’t know what they did, he won’t tell me, and he refuses to open the curtain or come out.’

‘It’s okay, I’ll see what I can do. Go meet the others at the car.’

Dustin just nods leaving Steve without another word.

Making his way down to the last stall, Steve stands quietly for a moment listening to the sound of the water before reaching out to the curtain.

‘Eddie, can I come in?’

‘Please don’t.’

Steve hesitates, his fingers curling into themselves.

‘It’s just me, the kids have gone, they won’t see.’

He waited a moment before gently moving the curtain aside, his heart hammering against his chest, bracing himself for what could be on the other side.

The sound of the water increased as he pulled the curtain back, but he became deaf as he looked down at his friend, huddled against the cubicle wall, water falling over his already soaked hair and clothes, bare feet placed on the floor, arms wrapped tightly around his legs, his face buried against his knees.

All around him were words, spray-painted on the walls, horrible, hateful words, some bleeding down the walls, colouring the water going down the drain, but most stark and vivid.

Murderer

Freak

Fag

Killer

Fagot

Loser

Steve stared, anger building, he couldn’t believe after all these months, after it was proven beyond reasonable doubt that Eddie was innocent, that this was still happening.

How dare anyone treat him this way.

Eddie was kind, gentle, funny, a nerd and a geek at his very core, someone the kids looked up to and loved to hang out with.

He didn’t deserve this.

‘Jesus,’ Steve reached out, turning off the water, wincing as ice-cold water soaked his arm.

Then, without a care in the world, he knelt before Eddie, the knees of his jeans instantly soaking up the water.

‘Eddie, can I touch you?’

Consent was crucial to Eddie, ever since the upside down and then months of hospital treatment, Eddie hated to be touched unexpectedly, but if he knew it was coming he sought it out, loving the attention, the affection. Steve would find him curled up on the sofa with El or Dustin watching TV, the two kids having formed a bond with Eddie the others hadn’t. Dustin for obvious reasons, El because as far as Eddie was concerned she deserved all the love and affection he could give after learning her full story.

When it came to Steve however, as soon as Steve asked for permission, Eddie couldn’t seem to get enough of the attention Steve wished to give him.

They had spent hours snuggled up on Steve’s bed, listening to music, talking shit and falling asleep together. Steve would spend movie nights playing with Eddie’s hair as Eddie sat at his feet, with El and Max using his legs as pillows.

But Eddie needed to give consent, it was a known rule amongst the group, one they all stuck to because they had all seen the consequences of unexpected touch.

So Steve waited, watching carefully for Eddie to give him the okay, which came in the form of Eddie’s fingers reaching out towards Steve.

As soon as Steve touched him, a sob escaped Eddie’s throat, and Steve pulled Eddie towards him, uncaring as his clothes instantly soaked through.

Wrapping his arms around Eddie, he held him close as Eddie buried his face against Steve’s neck crying hard as he clutched at Steve’s jacket.

‘I’ve got you baby, it’s okay, I’m here.’

Steve didn’t register the name he gave Eddie, he just held his friend, giving him the comfort he needed, his hand on wet curls, his other arm holding him tightly while he pressed kisses into the wet skin at Eddie’s temple.

It took a while for Eddie to calm down, his cries slowly stopping, but he held Steve as though he was a lifeline and Steve wasn’t going to let him go first.

When Eddie finally pulled away slightly, Steve pulled back as well, but only enough to look at Eddie’s face.

What he saw was heartbreaking.

They had beaten him.

His right eye was swollen shut, he had bruising around his jaw and his lip was split, blood oozing slowly from it. He was wearing a black tank top and Steve noted the bruising on his arms and the split skin on his knuckles, something he hadn’t registered before now.

‘Who?’

Steve demanded without thought, his anger overwhelming and clear in his voice causing Eddie to shrink back slightly.

Steve instantly berated himself, his face softening, his voice turning gentle.

‘I’m sorry, I’m not mad at you, I...’ he paused, stopping himself from needing to know who had done this. Eddie didn’t need to be answering questions right now, right now he needed to be taken care of.

‘Can you stand?’

Eddie looks at him with his one good eye for a moment before nodding. Steve helps him, then stops, taking him in once again.

‘Can you tell me where hurts the most.’ He was worried about possible broken ribs, even bruised ribs, he was also worried about his still-healing scars.

‘My face, they...they stayed away from my sides.’

With this knowledge, Steve assessed him again and could see what happened.

They had jumped him, he had fought back, getting in a few good punches before being caught, his arms held, before being punched several times in the face.

It was common knowledge about Eddie’s injuries, blasted all over the papers, deemed necessary to prove his innocence, that he too had almost died. Who ever had done this didn’t want to kill him, and so stayed away from his injuries, not wanting to cause what could be deadly damage.

‘Okay, let’s get you some dry clothes...where are your shoes?’

Eddie shrugged letting Steve lead him towards the lockers.

‘Did they take them?’

‘Yeah, and my rings, and ch...chain.’

Steve reined in his anger, he had to keep calm.

Together they got Eddie into dry clothes, consisting of school logoed sweatpants and hoodie, something he was sure Eddie had never worn in his whole school career. But they were warm and better than the freezing wet clothes he did have on.

They couldn’t find Eddie’s shoes anywhere so he ended up putting on a couple of pairs of socks on each foot just to warm them up.

‘Okay, so, what do you want me to do? The kids are waiting outside, you can’t drive. I can send Dustin and El in while I take the others home.’

‘I can drive.’

‘Not with your eye like that, and not without shoes.’

‘I can drive barefoot.’

‘I’m sure you can, but not today. So, Dustin and El?’

Eddie almost glares at him, or at least Steve thinks it is a glare, but with one eye swollen shut it didn’t have any intensity behind it.

‘Okay.’

‘Good, right, I won’t be long, okay?’

Eddie nods from the bench, his hands clenched together as he looks down.

Steve looks at him, before kneeling before him, his hands hovering over Eddie’s knees before Eddie nods again, and his hands fall onto his legs.

‘You’re safe now, I won’t let them hurt you, not ever again.’

‘You can’t promise that Steve.’

‘I can, and I will.’

‘What...You can’t protect me, not all the time.’

Steve sighs, his thumbs running gently over Eddie’s legs.

‘I need you to trust me.’

Eddie holds his eyes, searching them.

‘You don’t know who it was.’

‘I have a pretty good idea.’

‘You can’t do anything, I leave soon anyway, so why bother?’

‘I’m not going to let them get away with this Ed’s.’

‘I won’t tell you who did it.’

‘I already told you, I know who.’

‘What if you’re wrong?’

‘Am I?’

Eddie falls silent, his head lowering.

‘I don’t need saving, not this time.’

‘Eddie, ba-‘ he cuts himself off, knowing this time what he was about to say, ‘It’s not about saving you, it’s about making sure they understand that they can’t do this to people. What if this happened to one of the kids, to El?’

That was a low shot, El had been having problems when she first joined the school. The kids had rallied, Max and Mike especially, but it was Eddie who had put an end to it, stepping in when El had cried in his arms.

Steve knew Eddie would do anything for the kids, just like Steve would. But Eddie needed to understand that Steve wouldn’t let this go, that he would do anything to make sure he was safe.

‘Just...be quick, I want to go home.’

He stands, his hand going to the back of Eddie’s head as he leans in, his forehead pressing to Eddie.

‘I’ll be as quick as I can.’

He presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead before heading quickly to his car.

Eddie huddled in the back of the car, El playing softly with his hair while Dustin sat up front, his eyes watching the two in the back through the mirror.

Steve drove carefully, hands tight on the steering wheel.

‘He refuses to tell me who did it.’ Dustin says, his voice quiet.

‘It’s okay, I’ll sort it out.’

‘It has to been the ex team, they had been harassing him all day.’

‘Dustin, let it drop.’ He looks through the mirror, catching Eddie’s eye as he lent against El’s shoulder.

Dustin huffed, his arms crossing as he falls silent.

Steve knew he meant well, but the priority right now was Eddie, not the shit bags that had done this.

He dropped off the kids at Mike’s house, the kids gathering there for the night instead of going out.

Steve was pretty sure they would spend the night plotting.

He stopped El as Dustin went ahead, his hand gentle on her arm.

‘Don’t be stupid.’

She looks at him, her head tilting slightly. She knew what he meant, he didn’t want her to go looking, to lead the kids anywhere that could get them hurt. Monster hunters or not, at the end of the day they were still kids and humans were a whole different ball game.

She nods once, not saying a word before following Dustin into the house.

Getting back into the car, it’s to find Eddie up front, leaning his head back against the seat, eye’s closed.

‘Yours or mine?’

‘Yours, Wayne is working a double.’

‘Right.’

As they drive, Eddie stays quiet, his hands clenched, shaking ever so slightly.

Getting to the house, he goes to help Eddie out but the other brushes him off, heading to the house on his own.

Once inside Eddie disappears to the bathroom leaving Steve standing in the hall.

He waited a moment before heading to the phone and calling Robin.

‘Buckley house hold.’ It was her mum.

‘Hey Mrs Buckley, is Robin about?’

‘Hi Steve, yeah let me get her.’

Hearing her call Robin he waited, keeping his eyes on the stairs waiting for Eddie to return.

‘Hey babe, what’s up? Need help wrangling the kids?’

‘What happened with Eddie today?’

‘What?’

‘Eddie was cornered in the showers, he’s been...they...what did you see?’

‘Eddie said he had it under control, I...oh god, I should have called you. They had been at him all day, little things, but he seemed totally unfazed by it all. He was being himself and I just thought he was ignoring them. What did they do?’

‘It was the ex team right?’

‘Yeah, Andy led the charge, he’s been queen Bee since Jason... Steve, I honestly thought he was okay, I would have called if I thought it would go like this.’

‘Cover for me this weekend, I wont be in, let Keith know I’m sick or something.’

‘Sure, but Steve, promise you won’t do anything stupid.’

He was silent and he heard her sigh on the other end.

‘Look after him.’ She finally says.

‘I always do.’

He hung up and headed to the kitchen, putting the kettle on and setting up two mugs, one with coffee the other tea before grabbing the first aid kit from on top of the fridge and taking out what he needed.

Finishing up the drinks he set them on the kitchen island and sat down, waiting.

When Eddie came down he had changed into clothes of his own, as well as Steve’s own black knitted jumper, something Steve had gotten while Eddie was still in hospital, it had become their jumper, Eddie normally wearing it after Steve.

Steve found himself watching him, as he sat down, taking the mug of tea and holding it in his still trembling hands.

‘Can I check you over?’

There was a small nod, so he got up and gently reached out to Eddie taking his right hand and looking at the cuts and swelling.

‘Can you make a fist?’

The hand slowly curls into it self and Steve is satisfied nothing is broken, just bruised and sore. He did the same with the left hand before putting antiseptic cream on both and then wrapping them to help with the swelling.

He moved on his arms, gently rolling up the sleeves, the bruising obviously caused by being held, finger imprints all up his arms. He gently rubbed in ointment to help with bruising, apologising with every hiss Eddie made.

He quickly checked his sides, despite Eddie’s reassurance that they hadn’t touched him there, he just had to make sure.

Once happy he moved onto Eddie’s face, breaking a cold pack and instructing Eddie to hold it over his eye while he tended to the split lip and bruised jaw.

He then gently felt around the swollen eye, his fingers searching for the feeling of a broken eye socket, a feeling he knew well from the Russian encounter.

As he held Eddie’s face, he could feel Eddie watching him, his good eye never once leaving his face.

‘Don’t be stupid.’

Steve glanced at him, holding his gaze before going back to the damaged eye.

‘Nothing is broken, luckily, but you’re going to have a swollen eye for a while and a hell of a black eye when it settles.’

He got Eddie to place the ice pack back over his eye before gently checking through the still wet curls.

‘Back of my head. I fell, not sure how bad it is.’

Steve moved Eddie’s head down so it rested against his chest so he could search through wet strands, wincing himself as he found a deep gash and an egg sized lump.

‘Shit, okay, maybe I should have taken you to hospital. Why didn’t you tell me when I asked where you hurt?’

‘Cause you would have taken me to hospital.’

Sighing, Steve stayed quiet as he cleaned the wound as best he could, it had already stopped bleeding and the shower at the school had cleaned most of the blood from Eddie’s hair.

‘I’m going to have to keep an eye on you, you definitely will have concussion.’

‘If it means you can’t leave, I’m glad.’

Steve tensed, his hands stilling on Eddie’s head.

Eddie looked up, a smirk on his lips.

‘I’m not stupid, I knew you would leave and go off to be some stupid vigilantly hero the moment I fell asleep or something.’

‘They hurt you.’

‘I know, I was there.’

‘You should have called me.’

Eddie tilted his head, a habit he had picked up from El.

‘I’m not yours to protect.’

‘Yes ,you are.’

‘I’m not one of the kids Steve, hell I’m older than you, I can look after myself.’

Steve moved his hands to Eddie’s face as he tried to turn away, holding him in place.

‘I know you can, I’ve seen it, time and time again. But they obviously got the upper hand this time and I can’t...I can’t let that stand. I can’t let them get away with this.’

‘Again, I am not yours to protect.’

Suddenly his heart was racing, his eyes held Eddie’s as his fingers gently moved over damaged skin.

‘Yes, you are.’ He repeated, softer than the time before. ‘You...God. You have been mine for months.’

Eddie had gone still, his eye searching.

‘I don’t understand.’

‘I fucking love you is what I mean, I have been in love with you for months, and this is the worst time to bloody confess it because I will not let our first kiss be when your face is busted up, and you have a damn concussion.’

Eddie slowly smiled.

‘You want to kiss me?’

‘More than you will ever know.’

Eddie lowered the ice pack from his face, placing it on the side so he could pull Steve closer, slotting him between his legs.

‘So all it took was for me to get the shit kicked out of me for you to confess?’

‘What? No! Bloody hell. I...I wanted to tell you, to make it special, to take you on a date. Robin has been helping me plan it all.’

‘So when was this all going to happen?’

‘After you graduated, I didn’t want to distract you, I wanted you to get your diploma, and I was going to tell you then.’

‘That’s months away.’

‘I know, I was being patient.’

‘What if I didn’t want to?’

Steve felt his world drop from under him, his hands dropping to his side.

‘You...you don’t want to?’

‘Steve, sweetheart, I meant, what if I didn’t want to wait.’

‘Oh...ohhh.’ Steve smiled, his hands moving back to rest on Eddie’s shoulders.

‘You want me too?’

‘Jesus Harrington, I’ve been flirting for months. I thought you were just being nice, but then you flirted back. You let me be me, always, I feel more at ease when you are around. So yeah, I want you too.’

They stare at each other, the need for more palpable between them.

‘I still wont kiss you.’

Eddie groaned, leaning his head against Steve’s chest.

‘So mean.’

‘I know, but we have waited this long, a few more days won’t hurt.’

‘Might hurt.’

‘It really wont.’

‘Promise you won’t go after them.’

‘Eddie-‘

‘No,’ he looked up, his eye wide. ‘Promise me.’

‘I can’t.’ He moves his hand back to Eddie’s face, ‘I can’t not do anything.’

‘They are all just a bunch of ex-jocks, sore because they lost their spot due to a stupid vendetta that got their leader killed. I’m not afraid of them.’

Steve thought back to the shower cubicle, to the words written around him, to him crying in his arms.

‘I can’t let them hurt you again.’

‘I promise to never let them get me alone again.’

‘No, because like me that’s not a promise you could keep. Please baby, please just trust me to sort this out.’

Eddie smiled, and it would have been bright if not for the split lip and swollen eye.

‘Baby huh?’

‘Yeah, and stop changing the subject.’

‘Fine, but you do it with Hopper with you.’

Steve sighed, his wings being clipped with those words.

‘Fine, okay, I’ll take Hopper.’

‘Good.’

They fall silent, just looking at each other, the tension high.

‘I really don’t know how we will last, I really want to kiss you right now.’

Steve moved his thumb to Eddie’s split lip, pressing slightly causing Eddie to wince and pull back.

‘Really?’

‘Fine, you win, we will wait.’

‘Good boy.’

‘Holy shit...okay, that will not stand, when I’m healed I’ll show you that I am definitely not a good boy.’

‘Looking forward to it.'

[starlightswordfight]

FINALLY HC POSTING ABOUT THE KOPPAITES!!!!

– alph is not cis I don't know what to tell you. I personally really really like transmasc alph but I think it works in any direction you want to take it

– my god he is the second youngest of fifteen siblings. did not ever know an ounce of privacy OR of peace and quiet until he moved out, and now is incredibly sensitive to noise. he loves his family so dearly but It Got Loud In There. uses noise cancelling headphones during his work ONLY when it is safe for him to do so

– god awful sleep schedule PLEASE help him get out

– has an alarm for literally everything

– I think he would enjoy scrapbooking if he knew what it was

– makes this face often

– brittany, to my knowledge, is the only person in all four games to have a dress-like spacesuit! I like to think she made the adjustments herself or specifically requested for hers to look like that somehow

– wears glasses because of astigmatism. as it can be hereditary, this also applies to nelle. they're cousins but a LOT of their side of the family has it so they just are coping

– used to collect a lot of physical books but kept forgetting to actually read them and now she downloads books instead and also forgets where the downloads are so we are getting NO reading in

– she has a bad habit of hanging onto everything "in case we need it someday" and I mean EVERYTHING. she's working on it we're doing better

– she loves board games!! she also gets Very Very Competitive

– this one is kind of canon if you pay attention but I want to note anyway that she sleeps like a rock. when she's out she's out. hydrogen bomb detonation would not startle her

– charlie should've been an ornithologist and I do not know why he isn't one. I think he just keeps his interests separate from his work. ignore the rubber ducky rescue missions

– he's good friends with nelle, actually! went to her once when elizabeth was under the weather

– in canon he has also interacted with dobbs in the past, though they've since stopped interacting, which I believe is because of a falling out/some kind of big argument that they both regret but still refuse to work out

– gives his friends additional rubber ducks For Luck

– that overinflated ego is, to a degree, exaggerated. charlie in actuality is not half as confident as he acts. fake it til you make it

– walks into rooms then leaves the door open when he walks out and everyone hates it

– dobbs has a lot of scars, actually! the vast majority of them do not have any dramatic or harrowing reasoning. they're all mishaps. has one on his arm from trying to cook once and leaning it on the hot ass pan like I did and now it won't ever go away. the Battle with the Mashed Potato Ball

– WORLD'S WORST LIAR

– has a lot of different proficiencies/certifications, and some are very ... very specific. glad to know that you can forklift, don

– talks like "now listen here, pal" and "newsflash buddy" sometimes

– most likely to have a comically large backpack with every item in it would be don

– he should be good at cooking as a treat. this took years of practice; the mashed potato ball incident was a means to an end. I can't keep referencing my own leftover scar backstory. can they even fucking eat vegetables post cancelled everyone go home

– nelle has a debilitating caffeine dependency

– I think she should be a secret nerd for enrichment purposes. get her in tabletop and it's all over

– she has those mugs with the really really overly specific messages on them like how some t-shirts do it and none of them apply to her

– prone to migraines. they may be chronic. I'm sorry nelle I love you

– hi! my personal hc is that her and brittany are cousins. I just know that canonically they are Not sisters but basically anything else goes? anyway brittany's auntie bea is nelle's mom

– type of person to bring more than one umbrella when it's raining

– hi so yorke and dobbs while on pnf-404 have definitely directly worked with schnauz about perfecting the treasure apprasial AI

– energy drinks are to yorke what coffee is to nelle. don is so deeply worried about them both

– had an emo phase and only escaped it partially

– REALLY GOOD at procrastinating

– I know this man has shrimp posture. that has GOT to hurt

– yorke has more than definitely made really overly complicated machines/systems before to solve really mundane or stupid problems. "they call me the goldberg" "they WHAT?"

[kisaraslover]

DO U HAVE ANY BLUESHIPPING FIC REC?????PLEASENIMSTARVINGKSKSKKS

anon kskkasak ITS FINE ILL SAVE YOU OK? here goes:

Scenes from a Kaiba Marriage and Temptation by my blueshipping queen @kisara-kaiba as the opening. the peak of modern life blueshipping fluff, very lovesick, when im reading them its heart full, head empty. youre gonna be lucky to start them now cuz ill be rereading and drawing scenes from them this week👀. itll be like premium fanfic reading.

Enjambment -> this fic might be the single best written blueshipping fic by the virtue of MIRRORING their encounter in ancient Egypt beat by beat, including BOTH of their character arcs and the netflix show vibe of suspense and the sharp, cold and bleak setting is chefs kiss. changed my brain chemistry. still one of my favorite portrayals of Kisara.

Maiden with Eyes of Blue -> Sometimes time needs to slow down and a single scene should be a character study/ hashing out of things you needed acknowledged by canon, the situation is ESPECIALLY dire for Seto Kaiba as ive made my feelings on his writing known many times. This is it. Kisara isnt reincarnated in this one though, but her love for him can be felt in the air. Ngl you could just incorporate this into post canon and it would be fine. canon compliant+ canon enriching.

Shades of Water, Ice, and Sky -> I'm skimming through each fic to see what they were about and i just gotta say: why so heart-wrenching if so short?? theyre in love your honor.

Their Promise: Book I -> ok gonna be honest w you i havent finished this one and the main reason is that i cant go past the SPECTACULAR first chapter. ive started and failed to draw it in its entirety. i open it, i chew on the first chapter like a rabid dog, i close it more often than not. the second reason is it has a lot more angst and heartbreak than most blueship fics do and im weak to that sort of thing. still, if we follow their ancient egypt encounter beat by beat, which is a fantastic way of following and enriching the canon, their first meeting needs to be as kids with him saving her from a cage. chefs kiss.

who are you? -> JUST the right amount of Seto Kaiba immediate fixation obsession on Kisara (which means insanely obsessed)

You Will Crave Your Ancient Roots -> this is so good and so heartbreaking man. Seto and Atem are shot back into ancient Egypt and Seto is only able to slightly alter the events around Kisara. hes fated to fall for that woman every single time and *starts sobbing*

Ancient Rules -> all i gotta say is this Seto Kaiba gives me brainworms. hes chuck full of Passion and Cockiness and Insanity. blueshippers sometimes take out his insanity. he is very unsettling here i love it. Kisara is truly at his mercy..

never forget your first dream -> fem!Set and Kisara in ancient Egypt, this story twists more than just Seto's gender. im a yuri seto truther so its great to have written proof of it. jokes aside, very well characterized Set and Kisara, rich writing.

One in Forty -> pretty short but this one fundamentally changed how i viewed Kisara's canon influence over BEWD cards and her constant and unbendable favor around Seto. canon compliant + canon enriching.

ok so these are the cream of the crop for ME personally, might have forgotten some in my other folders, i might have missed reading some, its probably not all encompassing. but frankly ive liked and saved fics for a single resounding line, single funny joke, one interesting implication about the story or the characters the author wrote up so in my heart theyre all worth checking out, always. fanfic writers are carrying this ship on their backs and theyre all 9 ft tall and im just walking around them, clearing the path, giving them a sip of water and snacks etc. so THANK YOU BLUESHIPPING AUTHORS I LOVE YOUUUUUU