#SO SORRY for rambling. but also not that sorry

[lazylittledragon]

please keep doing the right thing by not calling out this or any other imitators of your art. if they're not impersonating you, deceiving people about whose artworks were made/posted first, or threatening your livelihood (which is a wholly seperate issue of economics), there's no material damage being done here. that just leaves the shitty feelings you get from being aware of the imitation, and i have faith that you can get over those and move on with your life.

fact: your art is technically skillful and broadly appealing to tumblrites both in style and subject (big fandoms, popular ships, familiar tropes and ideas). that's why it's popular.

fact: social media incentivizes creators to post whatever content gets the most engagement and viewers to engage with the same kinds of content over and over, regardless of who copied who.

fact: the only thing no one else can copy is the fact that your art was made by *you*. if that's not enough for you to feel secure in the inherent value of what you make, i'm afraid there's an part of you that fears that your work is replaceable.

the discomfort and "creepiness" you talk about sounds like you're stuck in zero-sum mindset: this person can only gain something by taking it away from *you*. and that's just not true. what do you feel you're "losing" to them in this competition? praise? attention? social media points? money (see above)? unpack that.

fact: your art will be harder to imitate and less attractive to imitators if you get weirder and more experimental with it. which i would love to see, btw.

i appreciate this !! but also i should clarify: i'm not upset because i'm jealous of this person getting attention or i feel like i'm 'losing' to them in any way. i'm very secure in my own work now and if this was a stranger i probably wouldn't care as much. this is not any kind of 'threat' to me and the amount that this affects my actual life is very minimal

i'm upset because this is someone who i gave the benefit of the doubt and actually befriended, who went from taking small stylistic choices i made to potentially ripping off entire characters/comics that i wrote, and did it to my face. and i don't think it's an overreaction for me to be weirded out by that

[wafywaify]

i hate svsss fics that downplay sqqs (yuan) trauma incredibly.

and not in the sqq pov where hes just an unreliable narrator, no, I mean when the author very clearly did not understand how dramatic what happened to him was. i dont see them very often but every time i do i just sigh and leave it lol.

i doubt this is done on purpose but for those who actually enjoy that uh view of things (?) thats fine, totally cool. kudos to you and everything- but at least put a warning in the tags. im begging.

ive gotten really into some of these fics without realizing and its just so disappointing but i cant just leave it unfinished, yknow? the shen yuan in me wont allow it

like bro literally got half his limbs ripped off by a person with the face he loved and has died for MULTIPLE TIMES. and then was raped..? by that same person??? (not that im blaming binghe, they were both victims) but like. CMON??? oh and dont even get me started on the whole "binghes going to want revenge after i unwillingly had to push him into literal hell, i must prepare" and the entire holy mausoleum arc.. aint no way hes totally chill after that man. for years he was just waiting for death while also mourning white lotus bingbing..

give me more fics of sqq having breakdowns, ptsd, trauma!! he deserves to cry!!! sqq is just as traumatized as binghe!! let the man sob!! preferably in binghes arms!!!

[secretaccountlol]

GDA SUPERHERO No More, pt 2

part 1

18 + theres smut in here go away!

Authors note : Hi, so for the ppl who liked the last fic, heeyy besties! I decided to make part two i might do more chapter might not. I've decided to not force myself to write a masterpiece everytime lol as always I read every repost n comment!

If you like father figure cecil and donald youll love this.

Warning : Angsty!! All the angsty : not directed at mark though, more about readers past. flashback! So many flash backs! Reader is a damn mess! Can you blame them?

Reader is AFAB, if i missed anything let me know! I try to be incluvise as I can!

also no beta reader sooo sorry for typos or runons lol!

SUMMARY :

With new found freedom, mark elects to show you around, but everything just reminds you of the GDA.

4,139

1 Smut scene : blowjob, sub! mark x dom! reader

Is this what a loving home felt like? Your gaze lingers on the photo of young Mark and Debbie on the flat sun-warmed tile, of the well-loved shoes, near the door, the framed flowers lined the walls. 

Your eyes trace the wall, the frames had been moved, plaster poorly concealed scratches, but the wall still bore scars.    It was crystal to you, they use to hold different moments, tender moments. Maybe her and Omni-Man, her son and Omni-Man, maybe? 

All three of them, in all likelihood.

You wanted that.

“Sooo.. What brings you to our humble abode ?” Debbie shatters the silence first. 

“I- uhm. Well, I was hurt. I remember what your house looked like from the GDA’s database.” You gnaw your lip as you watch Debbie’s face plunge into a frown before perking up, a sunken burn bubbles up in your body, you shouldn’t have mentioned it, GDA. 

“I- haven-haven’t been to your house before, Ms.g-Miss Debbie. It’s very nice, very homie. I wi…wish I could have grown up here.” You try to flash a joyful smile, but it falls stiff, an anxiety-induced squeak follows it. 

Mark's palms soothe your scorching skin as they brush against your skin under the table. 

“They uh- recently left the GDA, for me actually.” Mark's eyes shift you, throwing you a quick smile and a squeeze.

Normally, you lob a razor remark, but under the soft but stout perception of his mother, your lips confine your sounds.

Debbie endured so much from what Cecil told you. How could she stand before you? Welcome you with a soothing smile. How could she be like spun sugar, so sweet? 

Your empty plate seems very interesting to you right now.

“I don’t know how you do it, you’re so strong. Miss Debbie.” Your eyelashes shoot up as you realize a sentence slipped from your mouth, “I- I’m so sorry I didn’-“

“No no it’s fine, I- thank you. It makes me feel… Better-“

Your neck cranes up to watch her speak, though you’ve stopped taking in the words falling from her mouth.

You rake over her features, her button nose like Mark's, her dark circles, her laugh lines. 

The look of a mother, a true parent. You catch part of her rambling as she mutters the word “family,” her head motioning to the photo you scanned before. 

Your gaze snaps back to the photo of them again. 

You had that, Cecil was like a father to you, and Donald, too. You reminisce as you continue to stare. Did he throw away the photo you shared of each other on his desk?

One of you smiling, holding a fish, his mouth uncharacteristically in a slight smile. You had begged him to let you go catfish noodling after you watched YouTube videos on it when you had free time after training. 

He surprised you, after a mission completion, asking Donald to take you, but you insisted that he’d come too, literally dragging him to the car. 

You remember as your tingly skin soothed against the crisp river. Your giggles swell in the air as you look back at them. Donald and Cecil wore matching grins as you ran back to them, fish in hand. Donald swings a camera out from the back of his jacket, a clicks. 

That’s what made it so grueling to leave, made your core heavy.

You should have aired it out, let Cecil- no, your father talk to you. 

But then again, how did that go for Mark, for Debbie?

It hurts, everything hurts. It burns, it aches, burrows deeply into your essence, his words torment you as you Sonic booms out of the room. The last flash of his face was one of chagrin.

Mark was right, was family worth the pain?

“Oh, honey,” Debbie’s voice awakens you again. Mark’s arms wrap around you like a life jacket. Your fingers pat your face, which is wet with tears.

“Oh- I- I’m so sorry I didn’t realiz-, I’m sorry -“ your words spill from your mouth as embarrassment creeps into you. 

Debbie takes your chin gingerly, dabbing your tears away.

“Don’t be.” 

“I totally ruined breakfast, I’m sorry, I’ve never - I’ve never really had a sit-down breakfast before, and then we talking about family, and I-“

Debbie’s hands press into your shoulders, a gentle squeeze.  “I’m just happy to have someone who enjoys my cooking as much as you.” 

She motions to your bone-dry plate, and you flush. 

“Yes- it was very, very good. You should keep that new recipe.” 

—

“What do you want to do today?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s your first day out. We- should do something? Y’know?” Mark belly flops on his bed, it protests with a groan.

“Mm, no I don’t know.” Your eyebrows heighten. 

“Okay, well most young adults like to go shopping, eating, go see movies, look at nerdy shit?” Mark grins, you tilt your head to the side as your feet swish, oscillating. 

“Nerdy shit..?” 

“Yeah, yeah!“ Mark ripped his body from the bed, hauling your body up to meet your gaze. 

“Like figures?” 

You shake your head. 

“Like- like uh” he snaps his fingers. 

“Like you know! Cartoons?”

Your face moves slide to slide, thinking. “Uh- okay?”

“Comic books?” He stares at you in disbelief. 

“Nope.” 

“Oh my god- movies?” His hands eject in disbelief.

“Oh! Yeah, I like movies, they're nice. Never been to a movie theater though.”

“Oh, we’re fixing this. I have a whole world to show you. Like god, were you kept in a pris-“ Mark seizes mid-breath. “I’m sorry I shouldn-“ 

“Mark, it’s fine. I didn’t grow up in a prison anyway. I just- didn’t think of that stuff much, that’s all.” You exhale, “I don’t think he kept me away from it intentionally. Donald used to bring me unicorn toys, and I did watch YouTube and stuff.” You smile at the memory. 

Donald's meek voice wakes you up from a nap, your name is softly spoken, congratulating you on a job well done. Pulling a plasticy box from his vest, squeaking as he straightened the plastic. 

“It’s a toy,” he tells you, he laughs nervously, “You might be too old for it but-“ you hold your breath as you hesitate before grasping the toy.

“What is it?” You ask, Donald's mouth plays a smile, “a unicorn, mythical creature- at least that’s what we think- but “

You nod along as he speaks, giggling as he moves his hands around. 

“He used to bring me dolls and stuff.” You smile at Mark, “I was a pretty big fan of Mythical Monster World.” 

Mark's eyebrow raised, “Mythical Monster World?” 

Your body spine cracks as you whip around to fully face Mark, “Yes!! Mythical Monster World! They are these girls who are based on mythological creatures who are going to high school. I've always wanted to go there, high school? and - and they’re a lot of funny puns! Like a lot, like they have one on the back of the box, that went like. ‘What’s a dragon’s favorite snack?’” 

You giddily bounce as Mark beams, “Come on, guess! Guess!” Your hands flap at his face, his hand clasps, planting a kiss on the palm of your hand. Before thinking. 

“Uh- I don’t know .. humans?” 

”No! Hot tamales!” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you're cheesing.

“That is hooorrrible!” Mark laughs into your palm, his breath tickles your senses as you watch him writhe and cringe.

“I’d listen to a thousand puns if I get to see you that happy all the time, though.” 

“I-you-“ The room feels hot as you stare up at him. 

“Leaving you speechless is a close second, though.” Mark's lids dipped as he spoke, hands grasping at your waist. 

Your brows pinch together, throwing your hands on top of his. “I- you shut up-“ his lips flushed at yours, a groan slips through your lips, you can’t tell if it’s frustration or arousal.

Your fingers trail down his chest, flush against his shirt, fumbling to find its edge before his hand catches yours.

“Tsk, we’re going slooow, remember?” Mark smirk pissed you off.

“You wanted to go slow, not me. Personally I’d like to fuck the shit out of you. “Your remark, plain and simple, ignites a fire in his pants, sweeping upwards to his face.

“Fuck- “ 

“Yeah, exactly. I wanna fuck.”

“No- god- fuck you so much right now.” His hand swipes at his face before striking his forehead repeatedly as he whispers “no horny thoughts” to himself. 

“I know how to help with that.” 

His head tilts as he looks at you through the slivers of his fingers.

“I-i- fuck!  Nopppe! Nuh-uh! Your bedroom eyes aren’t gonna get me this time.” His neck juts to the side, barring him from your face.  A wicked swell in you, you sink to your knees,  slow, soundless collapse. 

“Mark, please, I’d like to repay you for last night. Please?” 

His breath hitched as his eyes cast down, before shifting away. 

“Oh god, you’ll be the death of me shit.” His breath was barely above a whisper. 

Your thumb grazes the zipper of his pants, slow as a tongue along a seam.

“Come on, Mark. At least you could look at me before I suck your cock?”

His fingers drag his cool covers, crushing them in his palm, his eyes downcast as his heart fills with your face. “I- fuck, how do you even know how to dirty talk?” 

“Cecil and Donald, despite being literally government officials, were very bad at figuring out parental controls.” 

You kiss his clothed member, your warm tongue mouthing it through his precum-stained underwear. 

“Oh I’m sooo cooked.” 

You watch as he loses his composure, that confident façade falling as he twitches.

“Please, take it out?” Hitched breath followed as your kitten licked the soil fabric.

A vicious grin adorns your features.

“Aw but you said you wanted to take it slow, remember?”

“No-Nono- please, please don’t use my words against me right!” He whines, like actually, through gritted teeth.

You’ve never felt so egged on. 

“Beg.”

“B-be,hh beg?” 

“Yes, Mark. Beg” 

“G-fuck, please! Please-please” your slips through his waistband, he’s thick and so deliciously warm as you let his cock slink out of his boxers.

“Fuck! Thank you thank-“ 

“Don’t stop begging.” 

You don’t look at him, only his leaking tip as it bobs up and down. twitching. 

He felt like ropes were bonding his hands to bed, “please- ba-baby? Please, I’m dying over here- I need your mouth- or or your hand, anything! Just please! Don’t leave me like- like this- ah!” Mark falls rigid as your thumb glides over his slit.

“You’ve never called me baby before.” You drag your hands down, grasping his cock firmly to the base of it before repeating the motion, Mark bucks up, jerking to match your pace, whines falling again and again.

“Pleas- ahn. Faster-? “ 

“Oh? So impatient-“ Your shrill springs a whimper from Mark.

“No-please don-don’t tease me! I can’t fucking hand- god just go faster please!” Your name falls from him in a broken plea. 

Oh, that was it, that was all you needed.

“I’ll do you one better.” 

Your mouth dove to capture his length, you feel the warmth of cock as he twitched in your mouth, fuzzy your head tilts up to watch him writhe. 

“Fuckooohfuck-oh fucking fuck”  He repeats like a mantra, as you descend your throat down his cock.

“Wai- hu-am- no- pull back I c-“ Your tongue flattens, rubbing against the vein that trails down his shaft as you. Mark whimpers and whines, fuel your hunger as you bob up and down.

His palms grip the back of your head, trying to pry you off your hands grip his thigh as you gag, plunging him deeper into your throat. 

“FUCK!” He tugs at your neck as a warning, chanting. “ please- sto- wait-hhgn, I do- fuck I’m ggo-“ 

A warm liquid flows cascades into your mouth, slivers of spit still connect your lips and Mark’s cock as you pull away. 

“Holy- holy shit..” A huff of air explodes through his body as he crashes down onto the bed.  

“How-how’d you- you were so-? Fuck- you swallo-so much?”

You shrug, shoulders raised as you gaze at the floor, swiping your fingers at the puddle of cum.

“I dunno, porn. Wanted to be prepared for an encounter.”

“Prepare for an encounter?” He groans, shifting back up, to question you about your choice of words

“Dude! Gross don’t finger paint with the cum on the floor!” 

—-

“Okay, so shopping first, then eat, then we can maybe look at some nerd shit as previously discussed, which is more shopping because I - like NEED to pick up the new seance dog comic.” Mark hands scratch his chin as he rambles. 

Your eyes light up, a mall. The bright colored playpit, the end rows of stores. The clothes, you can’t decide where to look. You're finally here! not because villains are attacking, or you're saving people from rubble, but because you’re a customer, because you want to be there! It’s all so- so- 

All so- overwhelming. 

You hold tight to his arm as eyes dart to the couple chatting away, their kid running around them in a pattern. 

The teens laugh at their phones as they dance to TikTok. 

One word repeats, Overwhelming.

“I think we should go here first” Your name name doesn’t resonate with you as you keep repeating your eyes darting to the same people. 

Doesn’t make sense, you have fought wars, smashed a head with your bare hands. 

But you're bested by a busy mall. 

Soft hands caress your face, “Hey, you’re okay.”

Your eyes shine in the defused light of the mall’s skylight, you nod.

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

“Look I- I’m not the best with clothes, honestly I should’ve asked Eve to come, but I kinda wanted to spend more alone time with you.”

“Selfish.”

“You know it.” 

“Well, will you ask Eve.. to teach me how to do makeup maybe?” Your eyes flicker to his, you chew on your nail as you watch his eyebrows knit together.

“Aw, of course, I’m sure she’d love to- y'know! I bet the other girls on the team would love to style you, too!” He scoffed, upset at his obliviousness. 

 “They’d wayyy be better than me! Stupid-!” 

“Mark- wait..” 

“Hm?” His head lolled toward your face, etched in worry. 

“Mark. I’m essentially homeless. Even if I could buy these clothes, where would I put them? We should just walk around, I would still like to eat at the food court!” A bitter smile played on your lips. 

“Mm, no! We’re shopping, you have a place, it’s called my home.” Mark’s hand snakes over yours, a tight grip as he tugs you towards the store.

“I- what home? Your mom’s home! That’s not your home, you can’t just- like invite me to stay there! It-“

“Ohhh, tsk, but I just did-!” He shakes his phone in front of your face, your hands grasp the slide of the screen, “Oh my god, stop shaking the damn screen! How- when did you text this? I didn’t even see you reach for your phone! Mark, I can’t inconvenience your mom and you like that- I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome.” 

He stops dragging you, his body 180 degrees towards you. You exhaled as you flinched from surprise. 

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

His hands float next to his head in air quotes, “I’m overstaying my welcome, I should leave, I’m a burden.”

You cross your arms, “I-i didn’t say that last one.”

“Oh, but I know you’ve thought in your head.” 

You groan, yup. He got you there.

“I know you like the back of my hand, you can’t hide anyttthing for meeee!” He pokes your noses, you grimace as your hands swipe it away, he’s tugging you away again into the generic clothing brand. 

“New beginnings mean a new you. Where you shouldn’t feel like a burden. People like you! Eve likes you!”

He takes your hands in his arms and pulls you towards the t-shirt rack. He drops it as you immediately relocate your arms, wrapping them around your body. 

“We’ve established that even if you don't have people- who- uh like youu-” He pauses, lips pursed as he thinks, staring at a shirt that adorns a silly phrase. He takes it off a rack.

“Put your arms in a T-pose.” 

“T-..pose?” your eye squint.

“Uhm okay?” Your hands fall from their self-soothing gesture and move up to a lopsided T. 

He holds up the shirt, he hums an approval, throwing it over his shoulder before turning back to the rack. 

“Plus-“

“You can just meet new people! Like best friend William? Dude, he’d love you. Both of you would torment me with stupid puns and snarky jabs. “ he throws an elbow at you which you quickly dodge.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe what?”

“You don’t know for sure he’d like me, but appreciate it.”

Mark sighs as he drags his hands across his face. 

“What happened to that bold snarkiness I love? This mopin’? It isn’t you.” 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you decide to leave the only ‘family’ you’ve known, Mark. You’re gonna be depressed for a while.” You deadpan.

“I-“ his mouth sags for a moment before pressing into a thin line. “Right- uhm.”

You watch as he gnaws on his bottom lip, rubbing the shirt cloth through his fingers as he thinks. 

“Cecil-“ he sighs, “Cecil and Donald- they’re.. reasonable people. I’m sure they don’t hate you.” Your lids lower, you can hear the clicking of his molars as he mutters, he turns towards you again, pushing another shirt on your body and a matching set of pants. 

It dawns on you again, as you watch Mark’s eyes try not to flash with anger as he tries to soothe your sorrows. 

He did not have the same working relationship. Cecil was afraid of him, he didn't know why Cecil does what he does for the greater good, not like you do. 

To you, Cecil is a parent, to him, he’s an enemy, no- 

He’s a frenemy, they’re no love there to cloud judgment, at least not anymore, not on Mark’s side.

But he still tries to comfort you, both of them do. 

Your lips curl into a tight lip smile as you listen to Mark try to speak ‘compliments’ as his enamel crunches and jaw strains. 

“If you truly wanted to speak to them again, they wouldn’t cast you aside.” 

The memory of Cecil clouds your mind as Mark quiets down, throwing pants over his shoulders, ushering you to the next rack.

“ I feel…bad.” You trace nonexistent lines on the white floor of the GDA. 

“Feel bad about what, kiddo?” he doesn’t glance at you as he taps at the screen,

Your biting your lips, and digging your shoe into the ground.

“You’re going to break the floor again if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry.”

“Why are you upset? Talk to Shrink about it yet?” 

“Nope.” 

“That’s what they’re there for..” he clicks one final time before shifting to you.

“It’s Mark, isn’t it?”

Your head bobs up and down as you frown, an exhale escapes Cecil’s lip, hands sliding into his pockets, leaning against the console.

“Kid, you did what you were told and you did good.” 

“I know but-“

“First time doubting my command?” His head tilts.

You hug yourself, that was it- but the words can’t leave your mouth. 

 “Look, you’re not going to agree with everything I tell you, it’s fine. Honestly- I’m surprised it’s the first time you’ve doubted me. Donald’s been my right-hand man for years, and he doubts me on the daily.” He taps his foot,

“I liked Mark.” 

“You did?” No judgment, just repeating your statement.

“Yeah.. he was nice, funny.” 

Cecil groans, you know he doesn’t expect this from you, you’ve never trickled your heart out like this, emotions aren’t easy for you, especially talking about it. 

“Look- Kid.” His hands grasp your shoulder, soft as you look from the floor, eyes weaken at your misty tears.

He rubs your shoulders, “Hey, Mark and Debby. They’re reasonable people. He- can’t-..he won’t be mad at you forever. He’ll understand you did what you had to do, we did what we had to do.“ He pats your shoulders as he brushes past. 

“Go to your room, Go relax“ he shuffles at the door. 

”You should really talk to the Shrink.” The soft shhh of the door leaves you in your thoughts.

You swallowed harshly, he lied. 

He’s never done that before? Why - why would he do that?

Mark was not easily swayed, Stubborn to a fault.

You know that, he knows that. So why would he say something so wrong like that? 

The idea repeats in your head as you stroll to your room, tinkering in your brain, there is no logical reason. 

Your back shifts on your bed as you lie down. 

That only left emotional reasoning.

He did it to protect your feelings, to make you feel better.

That makes you smile.

A soft mutter of your name plays in your ears. 

“Hey, you okay? You’ve been quiet for a while?”

“I- yes. I was just thinking about how similar you and Cecil are right now.” You grin, leaning against the coat rack of the store, Mark's face twists into a very unpleasant expression.

“Ugh- dude. Gross! Don’t compare me to your pseudo-dad.” 

“Yeah, I know, Sigmund Freud would be so proud right now.”  That earns a gag from Mark as you both rock up to the cashier.

“Wait, Mark, I don-“ 

“I didn’t expect you to pay anyways, dumbass.”

“Dumbass- Dude fu-“

You open your mouth to protest, trying to shove him away as his hands clamp down on your mouth, pulling against his back as he leans forward to the cashier.

 “So sorry about her, my partner just haaatesss when I spend money on them, what can you do, y’know!”

The cashier gives a hearty laugh as he pulls you closer, lips gracing your cheeks.  

Your cheek flushes behind his hand, and with that, he shuts you.

“I think you look fucking adorable.”

Your eyes pan down your body, baggy jeans and a T-shirt with a silly graphic of a kitten that says “hang in there”, stupid beanie crowns your head, and you tired scuffed sneakers.

“I feel like a dork, and I know you're lying!  You’re literally snickering at me!” You thrust a finger at him as you approach the house door. 

“You’re cute when you're angry.” He shrugs, keys jingle as he unlocks the door.

“Won't be so cute when I shove my foot up your as-Hi Miss Debbie!” You grin anxiously as she raises an eyebrow at you both before slipping into her soft embrace again.

She speaks your name as she stirs a pot of food.

“I set you up in the room.”  

“Oh, Miss Debbie, I told Mark not to burden you with that. I-I’ll find-“

She starts stirring the pot, Your hairs stand as you watch her eyes settle on you intensely. “You’re not a burden. Plus, when Mark is gone, you can keep me company, hm?” Smiles adorn her face once more. 

You nod, breathless. “Okay.” 

You see where Mark truly gets his drive from. “And what are you wearing?” She points her spoon, letting it trail down your body, sauce drops slowly from the spoon before she starts stirring again. 

“Uh- Mark took me shopping.” 

“He has terrible taste. “

“ I know right?” 

She rubs her hands together, wiping sauce on the kitchen towel.

“Come upstairs with me I have some old clothes you can pick from in the wardrobe “ Mark gently guides you towards his mother as he kisses your cheek, Debbie’s stretches her hand to you. 

”Don’t worry, I have all sizes since I used to volunteer when I was younger I just hoarded them all, just in case!” She throws a chuckle in the air.

“You used to volunteer?” You blink, taking her hand as she leads you.

“Yeah! It's very lovely, would that.. interest you?” 

You think for a moment, a chance to meet the people you’d been working for in the shadows.

“Yes, I think- I think I would.” You smile lightly, Debbie’s eyes crinkle in delight, “Wonderful.”

“That’s great! I can call Amber. She's great with that stuff- and she always needs help!!” 

Mark‘s sudden yelp spooks you, causing you to grip Debbie’s hand tighter. 

“Mark! Don’t yell in the house!”

“Sorry..” 

[monster-disaster]

The bite marks and back scratch marks made me twirl my hair. lol!

Got me thinking what type of monster marriage rituals you think exist?

For humans we got the dresses, rings, and walking down the aisle, so I’m curious to know what other things the monster groom would have the human bride do?

Uh, I love this! I think there are a bunch of rituals that aren’t so common nowadays, they got forgotten, mixed in with human or other monster traditions, but there are still a few that stuck around.

(I'm rambling, and I'm extra sorry for my English.)

WOLF-SHIFTERS are pack creatures, always have been. The need for big families, close-knit communities, and strong bonds is basically in their DNA, so when a couple decides to get married, it’s not just about them tying the knot, it’s about welcoming a new packmate too (shifter or not). It’s a celebration of love, yes, but also of belonging. It’s loud, joyful, and a little wild. And because shifters blended into human society pretty easily over the centuries (thanks to their human forms), their wedding rituals look familiar, just a little more untamed if you look closer. No one is surprised by the bunch of unruly pups darting between chairs, howling and growling, or when wolves start wrestling in the grass after everything is said and done. Most weddings happen outside for that exact reason. Nature feels more like home. Forest clearings, fields full of wildflowers, anywhere with sky and space and soft ground to shift on. And look, it’s nothing new, but shifters don’t do distance. They stick close to their partners the whole day. The groom is (let's stay with monster!groom and human!bride, but it's true with two grooms or two brides too) not standing at the altar with some polite distance between him and his bride. Oh no. He is at her side every second he can be, brushing against her, scenting her, pressing soft kisses to her cheek or the side of her neck. He is all over her. And would it be cliché to bring a chasing kink into this? Maybe. But let’s be honest, that’s probably one of the oldest wedding-night traditions out there in shifter culture. It’s not just a kink, it’s a ritual. If the bride still has the energy to run, the shifter is more than happy to chase her under the stars. To catch her, pin her down gently in the moss, and make her his with the moon watching above. It’s playful, sacred, and a little primal, exactly the way they like it. _

In the past, I think ORC wedding rituals used to stretch on for days, sometimes even weeks. It wasn’t just about the ceremony, it was a whole event, all about proving devotion and strength. The orc bride or groom would show off in every way they could to prove they could take care of their partner. Hunting, crafting, fighting, cooking, whatever their skills were, they put it all on display. And when the big day finally came, the whole clan gathered around. It looked like a human wedding in some ways, but instead of exchanging rings, they used jewelry or (more often) handmade beads and decorative trinkets braided into each other’s hair. It didn’t have to be fancy, what mattered was that it was made with love and effort.

Nowadays, the showing-off ritual is kind of mixed into day-to-day relationships. When it comes to the wedding itself, they will absolutely still make or give their loved one hair accessories, and they will braid it into each other’s hair during the ceremony. Handmade is best, always. It’s not about the price, it’s about the meaning behind it.

Orc weddings can be just as rowdy as wolf-shifter ones, but the energy is different. The party is more focused on celebrating the couple. There’s always music, dancing, and tons of food, but they also have games and little competitions.

In the old days, the party ended for the couple when the groom would just toss his partner over his shoulder and carry them off into the night, literally stealing them away. It was dramatic and bold and got the whole crowd cheering, but now, things are a bit more equal. It’s not a rare sight to see the bride slyly luring her husband away when no one is looking, tugging him by the hand into the shadows with a mischievous grin that tells the orc everything he needs to know about the night ahead of him. _

With MINOTAURS, it was always more intimate and still is. Their weddings aren’t flashy or overly complicated. They’re the kind of gatherings where everyone pitches in. Family and friends cook, decorate, gather flowers, and set up the place. It's about creating something together.

Don’t get me wrong, minotaurs can absolutely be loud and love a good party, but their wedding rituals have a softer tone. Warm, steady, full of meaning. The day itself is about the couple, their love, and celebrating a new chapter. There’s joy and music, but also quiet moments, shared glances, heartfelt toasts, and the sense that something truly sacred is happening, even if it’s just in someone’s backyard or a field of wildflowers.

Over time, they adopted some human traditions, made them their own, but always kept some rituals close to their hearts. I can picture them using Stefana crowns (I hope that’s what they’re called). Delicate, handmade pieces crafted by family, woven with flowers, tiny beads, bits of ribbon, or polished stones. There’s one for the bride, and for the minotaur, it’s something decorative that fits around his horns. The two are tied together with a long ribbon, connecting them, a symbol of unity and the path they now walk side by side.

And while wearing rings is totally normal among minotaurs these days, it’s also not uncommon to see a small band or ring slipped onto one of their horns. It might be simple or engraved, but it’s always personal. Some even add more over the years; a ring for a child born, one for a major anniversary, or a vow renewed. Their horns become a quiet history of their love and life. _

If you marry a RAKSHASA, get ready to be pampered on your wedding day thoroughly and lovingly by your soon-to-be husband. The ceremony and the party afterward? That’s for family and friends. But before all of that, it’s just the two of you, tucked away in your own little world. And he makes absolutely sure it’s one of the best, most indulgent days of your life.

Rakshasas, being the big cats they are, adore comfort. Softness. Luxury. And on your big day, he insists you get the same. The morning starts slow and sweet. He wakes you gently, kisses your forehead, maybe purrs against your neck, and brings you breakfast. Then comes the bath. A shared soak in warm water filled with flower petals or herbs, the kind of scents that make your whole body sigh. He washes with care, long fingers massaging your scalp until your whole body melts. His touch is slow, teasing, and affectionate. He scrubs your skin, kneads your muscles, and holds you close. He drowns you in love, in care, in pleasure, and takes his time doing it. And he doesn’t stop there. He helps you with your dress, and if he’s practiced (and trust me, a lot of rakshasas absolutely will take the time to learn) he’ll do your hair too.

And of course, you return the gesture. You dress him in fine fabrics, soft layers that flatter his build, maybe even something traditional from his culture. You comb and groom him, tend to his jewelry, and by the time you are both done, you are glowing. Not just from the effort, but from how close you’ve grown through the ritual of preparing each other.

When you walk down the aisle, it’s together, hand in hand.

The party is for the guests, yes, it’s loud, vibrant, full of good food and dancing, but it never really touches that soft little bubble you and your rakshasa built earlier in the day. Through it all, he keeps you close. His arm around your waist, lips brushing your temple, low purrs just for you. The world can spin and celebrate, but the two of you stay wrapped in that private, intimate warmth.

_

I put NAGAS and DRAGONS in one, because honestly, in a lot of ways, they feel very similar. Especially when it comes to love and marriage. In the past, both species were deeply solitary. They didn’t seek out big families or surround themselves with friends. They lived alone, and when they chose a mate, it was rare. Sacred. Back then, marriage wasn’t really a concept for them. There were no ceremonies, no celebrations. Just two beings deciding they belonged to each other. That was enough. No need for witnesses. No need for traditions. It only started to change when dragons and nagas began mingling more with other monsters and cultures. So whatever kind of marriage ceremony they have nowadays comes from others. And even now, they only do it if it’s important to their partner. And when it’s over, when the guests are gone, they will pull you close, curl around you, and whisper something low and soft, in a language older than time. A promise that doesn’t need to be spoken out loud. A vow that’s just for the two of you. _

INCUBI and SUCCUBI are a lot like nagas and dragons in this sense. In the past (because of their nature, and more importantly, because of how the world saw them) they didn’t really have the luxury of settling down. Most didn’t even consider the idea of getting married. They were treated like temptations, like tools or taboos, not people you built a life with. So they learned to keep things light, temporary, easy to walk away from. And even now, marriage still isn’t really a priority for them. It’s not something they grow up dreaming about. It doesn’t define love for them the way it might for others. But it’s also not that rare anymore. Things change. Cultures shift. And they have found ways to belong. These days, when an incubus or succubus falls in love, really and truly, they are willing to go through whatever their partner wants to make it official in front of the law too. Not because they suddenly believe in the idea of marriage, but because their partner does. And that matters more. And when the night’s over, when the party fades, they don’t just undress you. They unwrap you. Like a gift they have waited their whole life to open. Something just for them. Their love is physical, yes, but more than that, it’s focused and fierce. _

Back then, for GOBLINS (and for the most part of the world) marriage was more of a contract than a romantic gesture. A business deal. Who had what, who gained what, how to merge households, goals, or fortunes. Love didn’t have much to do with it. And while the world has shifted and changed, for goblins, it’s been harder to let go of that old way of thinking. Even now, it’s not unusual for them to approach the whole ceremony like they’re finalizing a deal. Efficient. Straightforward. They often need their partner’s guidance to understand why things like flowers, vows, or a first dance might matter. Left to their own devices, some would just sign the papers, shake hands, and move on. Done and dusted. But it doesn’t mean they are loveless. Not at all. Goblins just... express affection differently. They are often very practical in their emotions. They’ll make sure your favorite tea is always stocked. They’ll learn how to fix things you break. They’ll remember the tiniest details of what you like or don’t like.

In the past, when arranged marriages were the norm, they often didn’t even know their partner before the wedding. Getting to know each other after the ceremony was part of the ritual, a tradition of slowly, carefully building something real. And this part is still very much alive in modern goblin culture. They don’t care much for big weddings. But the honeymoon? That’s a different story entirely.

That’s where they shine. Once everything official is done, goblins take pride in making sure their partner is completely comfortable. If their partner is okay with it, goblins absolutely prefer to disappear from the world for a while. No distractions, no outside world, just the two of you. And they plan everything carefully; good food, cozy settings, maybe a remote little cottage packed with all your favorite things. Just hide away and spend time together. It’s intimate in a quiet, thoughtful way.

[oh-no-its-bird]

On top of everything else that's happened in the last month or so

(girlfriend breaking up with me / me running off in the night w the friend I was supposed to be maid of honor with bc her (now ex) fiance came home drunk and scared us, while ofc we also both were in swimsuits and had like NO money or even shoes due to incredibly poor timing / Getting stuck in Dallas for TWO MONTHS longer than I meant to be due to bullshit work transfer systems (and admitedly my own inability to remember that deadlines exist) / that same friend going BACK to her shit boyfriend alone to a city 4 hours away from anyone she may call for help if things go wrong / me now no longer having a place in dallas to stay for these next 2 months bc I was SUPPOSED to stay with that friend but her bastard boyfriend doesn't want me in his house anymore bc he knows I'd tell his girlfriend to dump his ass)

I have now lost my fucking house keys.

Anyways I may or may not be way less active for a bit so this is the formal apology and explanation for that. Sorry guys, we are NOT going back to ur normally scheduled rapid fire ninja content as promised for like. A minute. Possibly. We'll see. Sometimes my own motivation wave surprises me.

Tbh it's my own fault for daring to become a fanfic author tbh. Should have known the "sorry I didn't update, my house burned down teehee <3" curse would come for my ass

[jaggedwolf]

with every episode of TLOU S2 I keep going "please stop having characters explicitly state how they and other characters feel" and then the next episode is like NO WE MUST DO THIS EVEN LOUDER NOW

[tinglecannon]

Hi hello I am thinking about your interpretation of Klint as a neat freak and the fact he left blood covering such a large amount of the inside of Balmung's collar. Insane.

Hello!!! I am so thrilled to hear you thinking about this because I have many times myself haha!

I think it's funny that Barok harped on about Klint's fastidiousness wrt the ink on his fingers yet the interior of Balmung's collar was full of blood stains, and to me that works with two other hcs I have on Klint: being colorblind, and wanting to be caught

Being colorblind (+ neat freak) works to how the exterior was completely clean yet the interior wasn't, so there's a chance he didn't even notice the blood (shout out to Godot for making this plausible for AA universe) or he incorrectly thought he cleaned it all after each kill. Either way, since the blood stains were on the inside of the collar it would've been easier to ignore if he was able to discern them since he wouldn't be seeing that side of the collar unless it was removed, and if he stubbornly only cleaned the outside while Balmung was still wearing the collar then he wouldn't ever have to face them.

I don't think that's something he'd be able to easily put from his mind though...but if he wanted to get caught? Well, that could outweigh the compulsion to clean properly.

Whether he couldn't see for sure but rightfully assumed there was still a mess OR he could tell there was, he maybe intentionally left Balmung's collar stained even if the knowledge of a mess bothered him because it would eventually incriminate him. Kind of a balance of easing his need to clean by leaving the evidence intact (which his crumbling integrity as a prosecutor was maybe desperate to salvage). Considering the collar's state and how in his will he genuinely praised Genshin for catching him I do think this hc is a bit canon-supported whereas the hc he was colorblind isn't (the symbolism of it tho...could only see black & white...his colorblind dog acting as an extension of himself to do the killings...there's gold here haha)

On a side note, the blood stains plus these hcs of mine and how Balmung was sent away with Lady Baskerville all combine to imply that Klint maybe withdrew from poor Balmung despite his loyal dog only doing as told even if Klint knew it was unfair, which after everything breaks my heart further :(

On another side note, looking at a pic of the collar again, the blood stains are on the back where the buckle is, so I wonder if like, Klint expended the effort to rotate Balmung's collar before the kills, and if that was some guilt induced action like he was ashamed to be sullying his wife's life/family/future with his actions, so that's why the crest at the front was always clean.

[pizzapottah]

I’m gonna pack my things (and leave you behind)

summary: You’re five years old when Darth Vader kills your mom. Or — so you think — your parents.

pairing: han solo x skywalker!reader (eventually), platonic skywalker family x reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings: so many feelings, reader's anakin and padme's daighter, also she's a itty bitty haunted by the force, anakin and padme die but it’s not really explored much (yet), mentions of childbirth, nightmares, mentions of anakin’s demise on mustafar, one swear word i think

author's note: I know y'all want an update on the heir and the wolf and that the star wars fandom is as dead as pope francis but PLEASE HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE 🙏🙏🙏 this is for the 2 people that said they would read it lmao

divider from @saradika

You’re four years old when your mum comes back to your apartment on Coruscant with the happy news. 

She nears your room, where you're trying to screw back together a toy lightsaber that you somehow managed to dissect — tongue sticking out of your mouth, a concentrated pout prominent on your face. You’re really your father’s daughter, she ponders sometimes, thinking back to that blonde boy on the sand planet that managed to build a whole robot with scraps. The nurse droid, RO-N4, is dutifully watching your work, assuring that you don’t hurt yourself in the process and hinting at the pieces that should go back together; she raises her head when she sees that Padmé has returned. 

You jump up when you notice her, running to give her a big hug, almost making her lose her balance; but she’s used to it, and wastes no time in hoisting you on her hip. The robot stands up, ready to gently reprimand you, but your mother gingerly shoos her away with a smile. “Why don’t you go out with Threepio on a walk? I’ll stay here with her. We have something to discuss.” she winks at you, “Some serious girl talk to do, am I right?”

You giggle — that childish, innocent laugh that makes hours of relentless debates in the Senate worth going through — rubbing your cheek against hers. “Yeah! I have shoooo many things to tell you, mama!” 

The robots follow the senator’s suggestion, stumbling their way out of the door, and you soon go back to the area dedicated to your toys to show her your hard work. “Look, mama!” you’re basically jumping up and down in joy, holding up the pieces of the once toy lightsaber. “This is the cyber crystal–”

“Kyber crystal, sweetie.” 

“Ky-ber crystal. And then this is the one part of the handle with the switch–”

You could go on and ramble for hours, she thinks. She’d happily listen to all and any of your thoughts and wonders and never get tired from it. Soon enough, Padmé’s lying down on the soft sponge puzzle pieces of the playmat that serve to prevent any possible injury from falling over. We’ll need to change those soon, she thinks absentmindedly, she’s already grown out of the always-falling-over phase. 

She isn’t sure of how much time passes; at some point your ramblings slow and you scoot closer to her, sniggling in her lap. “Mama,” you mumble, yawning. “‘m so happy that you’re here. I missed you a lot today.”

Her heart breaks. A hand carding through your locks, she smiles sadly, “I know, sweetie, I’m sorry that mama has to work so much. But I promise it’s just so that once you grow up you will be able to live in a peaceful Galaxy, without ever worrying about learning how to fight like your papa.”

You perk up. “But I wanna be like papa when I grow up.”

She shakes her head, feigning her best scandalized expression. “How dare you? What am I, chopped liver?” she takes you in her arms and blows raspberries in your cheeks, making you squeal and thrash around. “Nooo! Don’t, mama, it’s ticklish!” 

“What about being a senator, mh?” she offers, not unkindly. “We can fight too, you know.” She puts on her best imitation of Palpatine and presses a matter of utmost importance, “Senator Skywalker, what do you think we should have for dinner as of today?” 

Your chuckle makes your little chest rumble against her belly. Your surname is not Skywalker — it is Amidala, often Naberrie when on Naboo, but never have your parents referred to you as that; they mostly leave it out when asked, avoiding the question but never stating either the truth or the cover-up. There’s still hope to change the Order, Anakin always says, that one day she can wear my surname without it causing a scandal. And Padmé believes him: and she believes that when the time comes, you’ll be rightly known as Senator Skywalker. 

Suddenly, you go quiet. “I want papa,” you whisper it like it’s forbidden — it kind of is, but you shouldn’t know that. Padmé’s heart breaks a little again. Anakin was sent out on a mission two weeks ago and hasn’t even been able to keep in touch ever since, making you miss him terribly. 

She laughs as softly as she can — she doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. “No can do, sweetie. Papa isn’t due to be home in at least another three days, but I’m sure that once he’s here he’ll be elated to spend some time with you. Besides, you can’t eat papa for dinner.” she rests her cheek on her hand, patting the free space next to her. “Until he comes back, it’s just you and me. What would you like to do tomorrow? I have no Senate meetings.” 

You scoot closer, lying down on the spot she just patted, curling against her chest, “Can we see Ahsoka, then?” 

She chuckles a little quieter now. Her and Anakin still don't know how to explain to you that she left the Order a while ago and has no intention on returning to Coruscant any time soon. “Ahsoka’s away like papa, honey. But I’m sure that once she comes back, she’ll be just as happy as he will to spend time with you.” 

She smooths your hair back, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, pressing her hand up and down your back. She wonders how good of a sister you’ll be; and even if she knows you’ll be wonderful with the new baby, she still can’t bring herself to say it out loud. “How about I make some shaak meat and then get you prepared for a good bubble bath?”

You look up at her, pouting, “But I’m big now! Do I really have to bathe?” 

Padmé bursts out laughing. “You’ll have to clean yourself your whole life, sweetheart, to hopefully not smell like a bantha.”

You huff, glaring at her. “Papa barely even showers.”

“Papa stinks. He was raised on a planet with barely any water and still considers showers optional. Do you ever hear me tell him how I love his perfume? No, that’s because he doesn’t use any. You hear me sending him to sleep on the couch because he smells terribly, though.” 

You end up eating your dinner — vegetables included — without a fuss and going to take your bath like a champ. Somewhere along that timespan both the nurse droid and C-3PO came back home to be of help in cleaning the kitchen as Padmé prepares you for bed, lying down next to you and reading to you one of the stories in the hologram that Anakin bought on one of his last missions. 

MId-story, she notices you get eerily silent. She carefully turns her head, trying to understand if you’re already sleeping, only to find you more awake than her, eyes open wide. “Is… is everything alright, sweetie?” she asks, a bit bewildered– just a moment ago, you looked like you were about to fall asleep, and now you look like you’re ready to fight everything that could be thrown at you. 

“Mama,” you whisper it like it’s a secret, “I just remembered. How are they?”

She blinks, confused. “Who?”

“The twins,” you say, “Luke and Leia.” you pat her belly as if to state the obvious. 

She looks at you, horrified — she found out she was pregnant today, and no droid or doctor mentioned twins. “I– sweetheart, what?”

You lean your head, confused. “I saw them yesterday in a dream. They asked me about you.” 

Her heart almost stops. She laughs nervously, looking at you with wide eyes, expecting you to say something about the weird and absolutely not real dream that you had, but instead you just stare at her, completely serious. “What… what do you mean?” 

You frown. “If you don’t know, then I can’t help you. Nighty night.” you tuck yourself under the covers and curl above her chest once again, sighing happily. 

Padmé’s heart feels heavy. It’s happening again– you murmur something about having had a dream, say something even more alarming, then completely ignore what you just said and act like nothing happened. It’s getting worrying — Padmé managed to get you out of the Jedi program last year just because of her status as senator, but she is sure that this year, she won’t be as lucky. The quantity of midi-chlorians in your blood can’t be hid, unfortunately, and in probably less than a year she will be forced to give you up to the Temple. 

Anakin’s sure you will make a great Jedi, but your mother’s worried — and how can she not be? Her husband’s more away than he is at home, and with the war going on, it’s already a miracle he manages to visit Coruscant. The fact that you seem to possess your father’s horrifying ability to dream about possible futures doesn’t ease her worries. 

“I’m just worried about her–” 

“But why? She’s young, she’ll be trained–”

“She will, but I don’t want her to be haunted by the thoughts of possible futures and whatnot.”

It’s late. You’ve already gone to bed, shushed by Anakin’s stories and anecdotes from his latest mission, and even if this should be a carefree and happy moment because her husband has managed to come back home unscathed again– your mother just can’t get something out of her head. 

Anakin huffs and puts his hands on his waist, looking at Padmé like she’s crazy — there it is, where you got your attitude from. “I can always call one of the Temple guards and tell them that there’s a Force-sensitive kid here. They can train her until I can take her as Padawan; it’ll take, what? Six, seven years? Hopefully I’ll be done with the war by that time and will be able to focus on her as my padawan.” 

His wife crosses her arms, glaring at him, “I don’t want her as your padawan,” she grits out, “I want her safe, here, where we can have a decent relationship and she won’t be stripped away from my arms.”

He leans his head and raises an eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I can’t make her dreams go away. I don’t even know how to make my nightmares go. But at the Temple, they can teach her how to control them, how to use them for her own good– for the Order’s and the Republic’s own good–”

“You say that just because you wouldn’t have any problems in seeing her,” she sniffs, “you’ll be a welcome, familiar presence in the Temple — but it is known that they don’t let anyone outside of the Jedi enter.” 

His shoulders drop, and he starts shaking his head. “Padmé…”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me that we have to give her up to the Temple, because I don’t want to and I won’t–”

“But we’ll have to, Padmé, they’ll teach her everything she’ll ever need and–” 

She bursts out crying. It might be the pregnancy, or the fact that she still hasn’t told him about it and it’s eating her alive, but she’s much more emotional than usual. “I don’t want them to take her away from me!” 

Anakin’s eyes soften, his posture breaks, “Oh, dear,” he mutters, pulling her in his arms and letting her cry out in his chest. “It’ll be alright,” he murmurs, lips pressed to her head, “we’ll find a solution for everything.” He still doesn’t know when or how, but he’ll try with everything he has to solve this situation to the best of his ability.

He had honestly thought Padmé was exaggerating when she said that you were having visions, probably thinking it was just baby babbling or something, but he is proven wrong that same night, when he is abruptly woken up by the sound of the door of their bedroom opening. 

“Papa?” you call out from the doorstep, voice sleepy. 

He manages to get himself out of bed — when he’s home, night duty is always on him, as Padmé already deals with it enough while he’s away — and, yawning, he walks off to you and kneels down to your level, sending a glance to your bantha plushie safely tucked under your elbow. “What is it, sweetheart?” 

Blank stare on your part, you look at him like a war veteran would. “You were being burned, papa.” 

He blinks and counts to five before accepting that it’s way too late in the night — or early in the morning, he has no idea — to deal with this type of shit. “Okay, listen– how about we go catch some fresh air outside, hm?” 

You let him pick you up without any protests, curling up in his arms as you whimper quietly. He drags his feet along the pavement of the apartment, sliding open the door to the terrace that overlooks the whole city; it’s like it never sleeps, always someone going around and about with their speeders, lights often left on in the apartments below. The night air sends a chill down his spine and he instinctively holds you tighter in hopes to shield you from the cold. 

“Mum told me about these dreams you’ve been having,” he starts slowly. 

You hum, pressing closer to him, the plushie squashed between you two. Your eyes look tired, almost older than you actually are, and his heart squeezes at the sight. “Papa, do you know Darth Vader?”

His heart skips a beat. He knows no Vader, surely not a Sith named like that, but the fact that you dreamed about it almost makes his knees buckle. He mentally promises himself to make some digging in the archives and reports for any Vaders that might be hiding out there. “I don’t, sweetheart. Do you?” 

Your brows furrow, your little hand patting the skin above his heart. “I don’t think I do.” 

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Well, what does he do in your dreams?”

Your frown deepens. “I never see him. But Obi-Wan’s afraid of him– or, or angry at him, I’m not sure. Maybe both.” 

His frown mirrors yours. You’ve never met Obi-Wan aside from a time or two when he was assigned as bodyguard to your mother, but that was years ago; you shouldn’t be able to remember him. “How do you know who Obi-Wan is, sweetheart?” 

You stare at him like he’s stupid. “Isn’t he a friend?”

“I mean, I guess he is, but you’ve never actually met him, have you?”

“Then I think I will.” you cuddle back on his shoulder like nothing happened. 

Yeah, we gotta send this one to the Temple, he bitterly thinks. The thought of your mother alone in this apartment after years of having you around makes him sad, but there’s no one else apart from the masters there that could help you — he would try to, if the war wasn’t stripping him of all of his free time. 

Anakin has no time to properly train you. As of now, he could manage to give you chopped notions and barely any principles; in the Temple, all the Jedi solely focus on the younglings’ training, a luxury he can’t afford right now. 

She’s still so young, Padmé’s voice rings in his head, I don’t want her to forget about me. 

Six years old might be already too old for a youngling, Anakin ponders, but five years old would be perfect. They still accept kids that age. 

Another birthday for Padmé, he decides, another birthday and then off to the Temple she goes. 

Except, he doesn’t know there’s no time for another birthday. Not for Padmé, anyways. Nor for him, too, some could argue. 

“Papa,” you mumble, “could you sing me that lullaby?”

He chuckles affectionately. “Aren’t you getting a little too old for that?” He teases, with no actual intent in ever stopping to sing Ghost Star to you. You could be forty and him on his deathbed and, if you asked, he’d still sing it for you. “Ghost star, wonder where you are; Ghost star, are you very far? All night long, I will sing your song, if you watch over me…”

You do end up properly meeting Obi-Wan. That is, unfortunately, after — for what you know — both your parents die. 

The air in the spacecraft is eerily still, as even C-3PO is stunned to silence. The tears on your cheeks have long since dried, and you keep fidgeting with a small, faintly glowing cube in your hands  — the only thing you managed to take with you when your mother loaded you into the spaceship directed to Mustafar. She’s — was, was, was — able to open it, but you still have no idea how to do it; your father promised he would have taught you to, but… well. He now never will. 

The cries from the med bay stopped a while ago. And while you’re still so young, you know that the silence means nothing good. You might not be a master of the Force, or know enough about it to understand fully what it means, but you’ve felt it — your mother’s presence slipping away in favor of two smaller ones. 

Finally, after a time that seems never-ending, Obi-Wan emerges from the door connecting the hallway with the infirmary, his expression full of sorrow. He looks surprised by your calmness, almost as if he had expected you to have gone crazy by now. “Hi,” he breathes lowly, tired and remorseful. How do you tell a kid her mother’s dead when just a few hours ago you had to break the same type of news about her father? 

After he understands that you’re not going to reply, he gets closer and kneels in front of you, taking note of the cube you’re holding in your hands — a holocron. Does she know how to open it, yet? “Hey, kid,” he tries as softly as he can, “I…”

“Mama’s gone, isn’t she?” You interrupt him. Obi-Wan almost stumbles; the look in your eyes is scaringly similar to the one Anakin had sometimes, strangely old for your age. “I felt her slipping away like papa did.” 

His lips are pressed into a thin line as he puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’m really sorry,” he says it even though he knows it won’t change anything. “We tried everything, but even the medical droid had no idea what to do.”

“Oh,” C-3PO mumbles as R2-D2 beeps sadly. “This– this is horrendous news.” 

You nod absentmindedly, like you’d seen it coming. “Are Luke and Leia okay?”

He raises his eyebrows. “Who?”

“The twins. Are they okay?”

As even Padmé looked surprised by the fact she was having twins, he wonders how in the world you knew and gave them names. Your mother left no names behind, and he had thought about just naming them after your parents, but if you already had names picked out… then it’s not his place to name your siblings, is it?

“They are.” C-3PO sighs in relief as R2-D2 lets out a happier beep. “Would you like to see them?” 

You nod timidly, almost stumbling as you stand up from the chair you sat in and taking Obi-Wan’s hand when he offers it to you. You’re still gripping on the holocron like a lifeline, its dim glow faltering every now and then. “Do you know what that is?” He asks, pointing at it as the door to the infirmary opens. 

You glance at it, unsure. “Dunno. Mama always played the hologram inside when I missed papa, but I tried opening it and it didn’t work.”

If Padmé managed to open it, then Anakin must’ve programmed the holocron so that the Force frequency needed to open it was small enough that she could play it; even if you were a prodigy like your father, though, it would be impossible for you to open it without directions or a minimal training. 

The nurse-droid your mother brought with her is feeding some milk to one of the twins when you enter — Obi-Wan guesses she might have had it with her the whole time, because he doesn’t remember this ship having such a thing as baby formula in its stocks. 

RO-N4 places the infant back in the cot with the other twin as soon as they burp, and since you’re still too short to properly look at them Obi-Wan has to take you in his arms for you to have a good peek. 

“This is Leia,” he murmurs softly, pointing at the baby with small tufts of brown hair. “She was born first.” He then points to the smaller, uglier and balder twin, “And this is Luke; he was born right after.”

You coo, pushing your index finger against Luke’s cheek. “They’re so ugly,” you state, not exactly with the intent of insulting them– just saying what’s in your mind. 

Obi-Wan chuckles fondly. “Well, I’m sure you were at least as ugly as them when you were this little. Pretty much everyone is.”

You turn to him, holocron still in hand, hesitantly nudging it to him. “Mister Obi,” you say, calling him with the nickname that later on will stick to him for pretty much your entire time spent with him, “do you know how to play this?”

He nods, taking the holocron in his hand and changing his hold on you so that he can use his other hand while still keeping you upright, “This is a holocron. It’s used by Force users to store information and files, and it opens if infused with the Force. Let’s see…” 

He concentrates on the cube, focusing a small amount of Force within it, then delicately twists the corners as it starts to glow steadier. Just as he expected — the smallest amount of Force that even Padmé could’ve been able to conjure up. The holocron starts to float, projecting a hologram in the dim-lit room. 

It starts with Anakin, clearly just knighted as a proper Jedi: he’s still a bit scrawny, his hair’s yet to grow after the braid and the small ponytail for padawans had been cut. He looks a bit embarrassed to be in front of the camera as a small baby’s cries echo in the recording. “Do I really have to do this?” He mutters. 

A laugh comes from the side, and the baby’s cries get louder — maybe closer to the camera. “Of course you do!” It’s Padmé’s voice, amused but clearly tired, stabbing directly into Obi-Wan's heart. That poor, poor girl… “It’s the only way she’ll stop crying, and since you’re mostly off-world, she’s mostly crying. This will solve a lot of my problems — even the droids are starting to go mad.” 

A pair of arms and a swoosh of a dress appear to the side, and suddenly a crying infant is trusted into Anakin’s hands. It’s you, his master realises, crying as if the world’s about to end, face all red and pudgy, definitely a bit less ugly than your siblings. Your father’s eyes soften in a way that makes Obi-Wan’s heart ultimately crumble. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, cooing and humming as he presses kisses all over your cheeks. He winces as your face contorts even more, “Now, c’mon, don’t look at me like that,”

“Please, Master, just sing the song!” It’s C-3PO’s voice in the distance, full of despair and anguish. “Another sob and the metal holding me together might just turn to rust!” R2-D2’s beeping seems to be of the same idea as him. 

Anakin huffs, glaring down at you with no real hostility. “You’re one hell of a spoiled baby, you know that?” 

Your cries continue nonetheless. He glares at the camera. “Padmé, I love you, but if anyone else ever sees this, I’m divorcing you,” 

“You would never,” your mother’s knowing voice is a mere rumble in the distance as Anakin settles to hold you tight to his chest, pressing a kiss to your forehead before starting to sing. 

“Ghost star, wonder where you are; Ghost star, are you very far? All night long, I will sing your song, if you watch over me. Ghost star, hiding in the night, all your friends are all so bright… when the sky is clear, I can sense you near, looking down on me. Ghost star, silent in the sky, now I start to wonder why. Show me your light; I've waited all night. Ghost star, won't you sing with me?” 

He sings the lullaby multiple times until you’re completely knocked out, dismissing Padmé when she offers to take you back to your room, preferring to keep you close for another while. His stare as he looks at you is so tender that Obi-Wan can’t believe he just had to leave him to die.

Soon enough the recording restarts, the same banter and song again, but he lets it play. Every word is a guilt trip, every laugh a stab in his chest, and the image of Anakin with a baby happily sleeping against his chest might just be the end of him. 

By the time he finally shuts the holocron off both you and the twins are passed out; he tries to convince himself that the hole in his chest isn’t gnawing away at the last bit standing of his sanity. He looks at you, carding a hand through your hair, of the same tenderness as your father but with the same curl of your mother's, and decides here and there to never tell you about what really happened on Mustafar. Not that he really had the intention to do, as of now, but… you don’t deserve to know about Vader. Obi-Wan won’t let you live with the knowledge that your father killed both himself and your mother, no. 

And so, the lie about Darth Vader killing both Senator Amidala and her loyal guard, Anakin Skywalker, who lost his life fighting for hers, is born. 

[phantombegruvia]

in your post about sorry about my nan you mentioned a theory about how all the shows link together

my friend and i have been amateurly finding silly links between shows so i’d love to hear your theory ❤️❤️❤️

(feel free to ramble)

Ohmygoshhhh, okayokayokay, this will be a very ramble-y post so RAGH

This is my theory/headcanon about how the Astral Plane could be the thing that links [at least some of the] longforms together, especially the supernatural themed ones.

But first, I want to point out that magic has always existed in the SFTH-verse. This is seen in the existence of witches; Old Lady Margaery, the witches in Moist & Magical, The Dark Moons of Slough and for the sake of this theory I'm going to say that Miss Twiliger (Green Leaves on a Summer's Day) is also a witch.

There are also two types of witch;

"immortal" witches - however they can be killed (OLM)

What I call "generational" witches - witches whose powers get passed down from generation to generation (Moist & Magical)

Miss Twiliger is both. She's lived a very long time (but this is mostly because of her feeding on youth), and some of her abilities passed down to her son.

Flaschem Naschem is also an example of magic that has existed for a long time - Marigolds, Bluebells and Hugh is set in the 1870s. Maybe Margaery, or another witch, created the Bluebell King?

So, yes, magic has always existed in the SFTH-verse, but I don't believe that magic can just be created, it needs to come from somewhere;

The Astral Plane - the place where spirits rest. Where the supernatural is the natural.

The witches have some sort of connection to the Astral Plane, giving them their powers. And for the longest time, only biologically human females could access the Plane. That is, until Jasper was given his grandmother's abilities.

For the longest time, the supernatural was kept within the confines of the Astral Plane, only the witches being able to access the smallest fraction of the Plane. Only beings made of magic are able to see into it, but even then, they can only do so through death (The Grape Depression).

That is until the wall that separated the Astral Plane and the Human Plane was broken.

The Xavier family (The Leftenmost Window), following my definition, are technically witches, and generational ones at that. They, out of everyone I've mentioned so far, have the strongest connection to the Astral Plane so far. It was their story where the Astral Plane was introduced. The Xaviers physically went into it, we saw it happen once, but we know that the mother had gone into the Astral Plane at least once before - at the end of the Boer War.

This caused the wall between Planes to begin to fracture, and for it to further break when both Samantha and her mother went into the Astral Plane. This therefore caused holes in reality to form, allowing the supernatural to creep into the Human Plane, and the non-connected to see (and sometimes enter) the Astral Plane.

Holes can be torn when a pilot goes too fast, and causes him to be stuck in the Astral Plane (The Pilot's Final Flight). Maybe a haberdasher sees the ghost of his old bosses daughter (The Meringue Haberdashery). Maybe a young boy discovers a hole in his wall leading to one of the Astral Plane's most sinister inhabitants (Strange Noises From The Hole In The Wall). Maybe the Astral Plane also serves as a prison for the most devious of phantoms (The Phantom of Hornchurch). Maybe the Astral Plane was the home of a little girl of extraordinary powers (She Came From Beyond). Two friends forced to trial their friendship in some sort of twisted performance on a stage where death isn't permanent (Sorry About My Nan).

The Astral Plane could also have different names; The Beyond, Hell, maybe even The Vault.

Overtime, the inhabitants of the Human Realm learn to control the Astral Plane, even without being connected to it. Mary invented time [astral] penetration (Murders in Space). An aspiring TV presenter could have gotten his hands on this technology - going back in time to a time where television was first taking off, making it easier to become a host (Beetroots & Murder), maybe experimenting with it more and going forward in time a little, and continuing to be a competition host (Burglary & Bobsledding), maybe he accidentally travelled to a different timeline, where the Xaviers never intervened with the first world war, and found himself in Germany, 1916 (Ballet on the Battlefield). Maybe André Beetroot is connected to the Astral Plane more than we know.

Okay, I want to go back to the witches now, I couldn't find a suitable place to out this bit so I'm putting it here. A lot of people headcanon that the football family in The Neighbour's Under The Bed are related to the Xaviers. But I raise you this, what if they are related to Jasper (And Mr. Rumple (Priscilla's Final Petal))? I already said that Jasper was the one to break the mould and allow biologically male humans to also be connected to the Astral Plane. And, as I said, Jasper is a generational witch, his powers gets passed down to his ancestors - but what if it weakens as generations pass? What if Rumple caused their bloodlines connection to dim when he banished Annabelle?

Anyway, TLDR; everything is connected through the Astral Plane, the Xaviers are witches and accidentally caused all the horrors™, all of SFTH's horrors™ are originally from the Astral Plane and André Beetroot is our favourite camp time traveller.

Thank you for reading if you did and let me know if you have any questions :)

[dough09]

Mini Highland Cows

 incase you don’t know who they are, PLEASE look them up. THEY ARE SUPER CUTE.         Also instagram is infected by them (for valid reasons!)... at least my page Itoshi sae x reader Summary: You are obsessed with the fluffy mini highland cows on social media so you make a presentation for Sae, just to persuade me. Yet he just won't budge... or will he? plus he learns that you've been spying on him uNinteNTionAllY

Sae knew you were chronically online. Oh yes, he had experience too. His PR team constantly mentioned that you shouldn’t post so much about his private life, so you stopped. By stopping you just went in the shadows and posted pictures on a private account no one except you and Sae knew about.

Naturally by spending most of your time there your feed swarmed with cute and fluffy cows. Each time you at least send Sae about 30 posts. Daily. You obsessed over them while talking about nothing with him.

Begging him to get one for you also became part of the usual, same old routine. Yet he never complied. He said it’s a hassle and he won’t keep an animal in his apartment. Let alone a cow.

It didn’t matter if you wanted a dog, a cat, a parrot, or even a fish. He always mumbled that “It’s a hassle, and who's gonna feed them? You?” He knew that eventually it’d be his responsibility to clean its dirty stuff away, take care of them etc. You’d just give them all the love.

So when today you didn’t let him into the house unless he got you a cow he got really ticked off. He already had a long and shitty day, and now you. He loved you dearly but your absurd ideas often annoyed him.

“Say you’ll get me one!! Pleasee” you looked at him with puppy eyes. “No.” he tried pushing you out of his way. “You seriously won’t let me go inside my home? Just to be clear, I’m paying for this place..parasite.” He glared. Not meaning half of those words. “That’s mean.”

He only shrugged and picked you up to finally come in. “Try and persuade me then- to get you that cow-” What he didn’t expect was a full on presentation in the living room. “Why is getting a mini, warm, soft and cute Highland cow is totally worth it” so the title read.

He took a deep breath knowing this will be a long few minutes. He prayed it won’t be hours. It’s also useless, he will never give in, maybe to a smaller animal yes, but not to a cow.

“So first of all, their appearance should speak for itself- but that never made you excited, sooo here’s a few fun facts. These highland cows can produce milk- only a few gallons, so less than their bigger cousins but you can make cheese and butter from it…” So on and so forth. You rambled like this was the day of your life.

He swore he felt his eyelids closing at one point. The videos you showed did make him smile a little, but it wasn’t enough. “Say, cariño, do you really want to lock a cow here? In this apartment? Without grass and only a few “edible” flowers? Do you really think he’d be happy here?” He countered. Always wanted to ask you that but he was worried it might really make you upset- and he couldn't bear to see you cry. But dire situations, call for dire measures.

“W-well…that’s.. I’ll take him for walks-” “You want to take a cow, on walks? In Madrid?” 

Silence. Utter silence filled the room. He raised his brow expecting an answer while knowing you can’t.

“I mean no.. but then- then promise me to get a cow when we move-” “Who said we are moving?” he squinted his eyes suspiciously. “I saw your phone- and I saw.. houses” He sighed. “When did you go through it?” “I didn’t!!! I just…saw.” He nodded like he never believed a word.

“Whatever, we are moving because some fans discovered this place, only a few streets down though.” “oh..sorry.” “You are hopeless, don’t say sorry for such trivial things, it was bound to happen.” He opened his arms and gestured for you to come closer.

You sat onto his lap and he enveloped you into his chest. After a few seconds of embracing each other you spoke. “Soo…can I have a cow?” “Sure.” “but- WAIT WHAT? REALLY?!” “Obviously not. Look I had a long day, I’m exhausted, I came home and you are annoying me.” 

“Sorry Sae” “Yeah it’s not that I care just…”

“Fine, no need to get a cow.” He rolls his eyes and hides a smile into your neck. “Can I still have a cat?” you mumbled softly. “Y/N” he groaned.

[rtv-puzzlevision-studios]

☆ THE RTV!PUZZLEVISION TOUR [Part 3]

Note: I didn’t want to push the post back again, so you’re getting it the next part now, and I will add more drawings later!

Participants actions:

Becky

Nicknack

Lucas

The Scammer

Marie

Creature

Lilith

Grinnames

Messy

Lari

Rayas

Nira

Nia

Harley

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A few minutes before the vote…

The purple meme guardian figured to stay in the main hall for now, leaning against one of the pillars of a nearby door.

Waiting for questions, so he could distract himself.

Most for now were going to Meggy, probably because he didn’t look to be in a too good mood and while he appreciated that the people seemed to respect that, he also really hoped for a distraction right now.

It didn’t take long until one arrived.

The asker was a black haired girl with black and red horns and long red ribbons that were wrapped around her torso.

What SMG3 focused on more were the sharp toothed grin and swirly eyes however.

A pretty sick look, he approved of everything except the fact she wore no shoes.

Who did that?

“Question! For all of you!  Why did y’all start working here? I was wondering because well… as cool as working for Mr. Puzzles is, it seemed surprising to me that all of you just got up and began working in a film department all of the sudden! So… what made you want to work here? Why the change?”, she now voiced her question.

Ah, what a question to start off.

“Well, Mr Puzzles first made us the offer after, uhm, the whole incident with the old home.”, Meggy awkwardly began. “Back then SMG4 rejected it on behalf of us, but we eventually agreed to star in a few movies anyway, you know for trial, before….well…”

“E-either way!”, Tari now cut in, awkwardly rubbing her neck with her one remaining hand. “After the whole incident with SMG4…we kind of needed to take our mind off the whole thing. Find something new. So, Mr. Puzzles offered that we could work for him instead! Surprisingly enough our movie somehow still was successful besides all…well-”

“Besides 4 losing his marbles and nearly killing Mario.”, SMG3 added dryly, before noticing the eyes on him and clearing his throat. Damn it. “Sorry.”

Yep, maybe answering questions wasn’t a good idea after all.

“I will, uh, check on Eggdog.”, he quickly excused himself, escaping the look of very that had once again settled in the eyes of his friends.

God, he was starting to get sick of it.

Having escaped that awkward conversation, he took a deep breath, before starting to walk through the hall without any real destination.

That was until he noticed a girl with a fox-like appearance and striped vest step a bit too close to the staircase to his liking.

She better not think about going up after he just told everyone the room was off limits!

Now changing course over there, he made himself known by clearing his throat, before noticing the plushies on the floor and picking them up for her.

Right, they handed those out at the Art Department, right?

“I apologize…”, the girl now started rambling. “I came to pick up my plushie... um... Animsay came and... I got spooked badly... I wasn't going up the stairs. I would never go against the rules you set. Oh... and Hi.”

Of course it was Animsay, that one was nothing but trouble.

He was about to reply as the muffled whine of Eggdog could be heard from upstairs.

SMG3 sighed internally.

Sorry buddy, but those were too many people for you and Mr Puzzles doesn’t like you either.

SMG3 still remembered the last time Eggdog growled at the tall TV head for the entirety of their meeting.

“Is there... a dog up there?", the girl now casually asked, the previous nervousness replaced by curiosity.

"...Yes. But, I cannot bring him out. And if you are curious, I already fed him before you guys came. And, again, not going up the stairs.", he quickly responded before she could get any ideas.

Fans could be like that after all.

"Alright.", she answered politely to his surprise. That easy?

SMG3 now handed her the Mr Puzzles plushie back.

Okay, maybe he was being way too uptight here.

Relax, SMG3, relax.

“Hey SMG3?”

He turned around to come face to face with the ribbon girl from before.

Come to think of it, he should probably apologize for leaving like that just now-

“I just wanted to let you know that you’re the reason I came to the tour. I just loved watching you be yourself, so confidently and unafraid!”

Oh.

Well, this was another pleasant surprise.

Especially given he, uh, wasn’t exactly at his best today.

“You inspire me, man!”, the other now continued, bowing her head. “ I wouldn’t have started watching the show without you!”

Show?

Ah, she probably meant one of the many they starred in lately.

“Thank you, heh.”, he now meant, actually managing a somewhat proud grin. “Always happy to cast inspiration into the world.”

"Anyways! I hope you and the crew don't mind a special surprise in the fridge later!”

SMG3’s grin got a confused edge. “In the fridge? Wha-”

Aaaaand she was gone.

Well, he guessed he would have to find out later.

Mood slightly lifted, he figured he could return to answering some questions.

Maybe even show off some old props, add more to the tour day and all that.

He also noticed that brown haired girl with glasses and blue-eyes watch him before, so maybe she had questions.

Turns out, someone had other plans because in the next second Boopkins joined him out of the guest room.

“Three! You should totally join us in watching some anime! It’s really fun!”

The meme guardian visibly grimaced because he was well aware that his and Boopkins taste in shows was VERY different.

Still, it wasn’t like had anything better to do right now…

“Ugh, fine.”, he agreed, to which Boopkins replied with a “Hurray”, grabbed his hand (cmon man, he had an image to keep!) and dragged him over to the guest room.

In it were a few other participants including a girl with cat ears and pink eyes and the girl with the striped vest and fox features from before.

"...Fine, what are we watching?", he now grumbled to Boopkins who happily walked over to the seats.

"We are watching a Pokemon short! It's pretty good.", the fish replied, now waving to the fox girl. "And she picked just the right one that is an old classic."

SMG3 looked over to he at that, raising an eyebrow.

The other simply nervously evaded eye contact.

A shy one, he figured.

“Decent choice", SMG3 now commented, relieved that not one of those weird romance flicks had been chosen.

Not that he minded romance per say, but Boopkins had a peculiar taste that he found horrendous.

Guess he could stay here for a while and enjoy some good old pokemon.

☆

A few minutes later the results were in.

“ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP! WE ARE GOING TO THE SOCIAL MEDIA DEPARTMENT NEXT!”, RTV announced, before turning to Swag, Lucian and Chris. “Do me a favor and get the rest of the participants if they aren’t here ALREADY. We don’t need some getting left behind.”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Ugh, you take the guest room, Chris, I don’t wanna deal with all those otakus-”

“I literally saw you watching anime this weekend-”

“Nu-uh.”

“I did.”

“You did not. Anyway, I can’t hear, you bye-”

“Swag, I swear to-”

BAM!

Chris turned around with a slightly embarrassed smile as Swag slammed the kitchen door in his face, before pointing towards the guest room.

“I, uh, will be on my way.”

With that he quickly walked away to gather the rest of the participants.

“I’m honestly surprised they haven’t blown anything up yet…”, SMG3 muttered to Lucian who let out a loud sigh.

“Don’t jinx it. I had to confiscate a rocket launcher last week.”, he meant, before patting the man’s back and moving out to the gaming room. “Hang in there, man.”

“Always…”, SMG3 muttered back, before stretching and looking up to RTV who seemed to be thinking about something.

Whatever it was, it couldn’t be too good as his expression was turned into a scowl.

SMG3 followed his gaze and saw it land on the head of the Social Media Department.

Why she was even here, he had asked himself the second she walked in. 

Where had she been all this time anyway?

He heard something about a vacation, but this was a bit of a spontaneous return, no?

Honestly, given the boss and her seemed to have a disagreement in opinion (and she rarely did her work), he thought she either quit or was fired.

Shrugging to himself SMG3 turned his attention away from Animsay and now spun back around to RTV.

“Uhm, I will go check on the storage area since nobody seems to be looking there…?”

The TV head took a second to register that Three was talking to him, before his smile was suddenly back as he looked down at the meme guardian.

“Sure, you do THAT!”

“Alright…”, SMG3 mumbled, before strolling in the direction of the door.

“Oh, and Three?”

He halted, looking back.

RTV had his head slightly tilted, giving SMG3 that knowing look that he knew all too well by now.

“If you would LIKE we can talk later.”

Ah great, he probably saw how rudely he had dismissed the kid earlier on.

“Yeah….yeah, I will think about it.”

With that SMG3 quickly continued his way to the storage.

It wasn’t like he didn’t appreciate the offer to talk, really, it was nice to be offered to talk about your problems.

Especially when your friend group hadn’t been what it was before and the people you were closest to were gone.

However, recently things have gotten even worse.

Stress, Fights and the slow but sure dread of starting to doubt his own memories.

At times past events just seemed foggy and every time he tried to look past it, a headache immediately followed.

Was it amnesia?

Is this how Alzheimer started?

He had no idea, but he had been through these one-on one talks with Puzzles before and while they sometimes helped, he felt like this was something he would have to start dealing by himself.

It was also not lost on him that his headaches often appeared after his “therapy” with Puzzles.

So until he figured out what was happening, he would kindly reject the offer.

Maybe he would ask the head of the Health Department later vaguely about issues with memory.

However, as he scanned the area for the white squirrel that was part of said department, he could not find her.

Later then.

SMG3 reached out for the door handle, before having to sidestep before he was able to be hit by the door that opened in the next second.

“Hey-”

The person coming out wearing a long hoodie and jeans, halted briefly, the cap with the Puzzlevision logo hiding their eyes, the rest of their face features being hidden by a black mask.

“...sorry.”, they muttered after freezing for a split second, before quickly moving past Three.

Three gave them a perplexed look, before opening the door back up for him to step in.

For some reason the voice sounded awfully familiar…

He sighed.

Probably a fan he met before or something…

The storage area was dimly lit, old props and furniture collecting dust on the shelves and in corners.

For now, it seemed like everyone had cleared out of here already.

Not much to do after all.

Letting himself flop on a nearby box, SMG3 grabbed a framed picture from next to him, brushing off the dirt and dust with his sleeve.

The smiling faces of the old SMG4 crew looked back at him.

To think there was a time where he disliked them all.

Right now, he was just really missing the old times.

The times where he would fight with them over the most stupid stuff for entertainment only, the times where they teased each other without feeling like walking on eggshells, where Saiko and Bob still talked to him and when Mario and SMG4 were still there. Before SMG4 lost it.

In hindsight he should have seen the signs.

It was him who went through similar struggles, he was the one helping SMG4 out of that perfection mania and yet he failed to see that SMG4 never got better.

Why else would he do this to Mario?

To his friends?

If Puzzles wouldn’t have been there…

…

…now with all these questions being asked…when exactly did they first meet Mr. Puzzles? It was right after they lost their old castle, right?

So why did it feel so-

SMG3 hissed at the sudden stinging in his head, massaging his temple with one gloved hand.

Alright, enough of this.

He didn’t need another headache today.

This whole thing was one already.

Putting the picture to the side, he stood back up before making his way over to an old mirror, giving his reflection a critical look.

Man, he looked like shit.

And here he tried to at least look presentable.

Hah, he must have looked like a roach next to Mr. Puzzles.

Trying to somewhat sort his dark hair by brushing through it with his fingers, he suddenly spotted something that made him frown.

The trapdoor in the far corner of the room was left open.

It never was supposed to be, Security made enough of a fuss about it.

Walking over to it, SMG3 closed it with a quick shove, before pushing a narby box over it.

Problem solved.

He would scold Boopkins later for it, the guy always forgot to close stuff.

Hands in his pockets he now walked back out, watching how everyone started to huddle up in the group again.

He now briefly noticed that Rayas wasn’t there, probably having gone to somehow take that drawing off her vest.

From all participants, she had probably been the most chill to speak to.

Though, he also couldn’t put the dish from Grim- Grinnames (?) aside, that one was hella good too.

Whatever it was.

In hindsight, he probably should have asked.

But yolo, right?

No risk, no fun.

While his mood has slightly taken another drop down, he still noticed how much at ease the gang was right now.

Tari seemed more cheerful, Meggy seemed more content and Boopkins, well, was still as happy as always.

It felt good, seeing them like this…

He just wish he could be the reason for them to be like this.

☆

Back in the main hall, Animsay meanwhile had taken a seat at the railing of the stairs, kind of just waiting for the voting to end.

When the result was announced, she made a triumphant gesture which quickly was hidden by an innocent wave in RTV’s direction who was glaring at her.

Too bad, too sad, they were going to her department after all.

Jumping down the railing, she now watched how the people started to gather.

Her gaze briefly fell upon the blonde scammed who he seemed to hide something beneath the stairs.

Who knew what she was doing, Ani sadly didn’t despite knowing what was written down right at this moment.

Some viewers liked to keep it interesting, she could respect that.

Walking past the blonde woman, she gave Marie who just returned from her talk with Meggy and Tari a wave, before jumping over Creature who was still watching the stars with amazement in their one eye.

How long had it been for Ani since she last watched the stars?

Hm, not too long.

Way too long for me.

Yeah, well, your point of view didn’t matter right now.

Humming the smaller TV head walked in the direction of the bathroom, giving Becky a peace sign as she passed her, noting that she looked quite better than a few minutes before. As Ani passed Lilith, she briefly gave the sketch a look.

Man, was she motivated to draw right now, but duty came first.

“Looking good!”, she commented, her screen giving a long smile, before she finally moved on to her actual destination.

“Knock, knock!”, she called, while actually knocking against the bathroom door.

When Nicknack heard Ani's familiar voice she almost choked, triggering a coughing fit, but she quickly covered it up with a harsh groan.

She took her head out of her hands and looked over to the shut door, now speaking more groggy and pissed to cover up her emotions.

But we know better, don’t we dear readers?

"WHAT the hell do you want, Ani?”, Nicknack’s voice sounded through the door.

“Well, I kinda wanted to see how you’re doing and this sounds like your average mood which means you’re super duper depressed.”, Ani smoothly replied leaning next to the door. “Anyway, the tour is continuing!”

Smiley face.

Nicknack remained quiet for a second, the Ani could hear her starting to shuffle around.

The sound of her getting up.

Ani never really understood why she didn’t just refuse to do what RTV wanted of her.

What’s the worst he could do?

Fire her?

He ruined her eye.

Yeah, okay, but it could have been worse plus he wouldn’t pull that in front of all these participants.

Personally, Ani was quite happy when Nicknack finally stepped outside now, looking grumpy as ever. She liked her, she was very entertaining with all her misery.

Angst always was good stuff.

Who she didn’t expect though was the small white squirrel following her out.

Nira of the Health Department, another last minute one she now remembered, silly her.

“Heyaa!”, Ani greeted the smaller head, a grin plastered on her screen as usual.

“Let’s get this over with….”, Nicknack sighed, to which Ani gave two thumbs up, before skipping over to the main group. 

“Thaaaanks for that, Lucian!”, she grinned, taking the latte which the head of security had been handed previously handed by Rayas, before stuffing it in Nicknack’s hands.

Rayas was right, the girl needed it alright.

“...you’re welcome…”, Lucian grumbled, following them back to the group.

Time to get back to the main event!

☆

Most of the people had gathered back by now, getting ready to move to the next department.

Lucian now took his position at the end of the group, waiting for RTV to take the lead again.

Absent-mindedly, he noted how another person with a cap had now joined the people walking more towards the end of the group.

Hm…

Did he see him before…?

Motion from his side, made Lucian turn his attention towards another masked participant now coming towards him.

There was something slightly eerie about the many eye holes the participant’s possessed and the general way she carried herself so Lucian couldn’t help but slightly tense as she came closer.

“Relax partner, I’m not here to do anything bad…At least not to you or your fellow pals." 

How…very calming.

Still, he noted how she wasn’t nodding in RTV’s direction at that.

Another one who had a quarrel with the boss it seemed.

Well, who was he to blame?

"And what do you want?", he asked, before scolding himself lightly to come off this harsh.

She hadn’t even done anything.

“I just wanted to give you this…”, the other replied, before handing him a piece of

[Oh?]

When Lucian took it and unfolded it, he slightly froze at the drawing of him and Colores.

Happy, without a Puzzlevision uniform.

Something that could have been.

He felt his heart ache.

"Let’s be honest…You and her don’t get nearly as much credit as you both should. I mean- if it weren’t for you two, I’m pretty sure RTV would have taken more punches in the face than can be counted on fingers, or he would’ve gone insane from managing all the fan-related stuff, haha!" 

Lucian was only partially listening, most of his attention still focused on the drawing.

Why he wasn’t this appreciative of art before, he didn’t know.

Right now this piece of art was the only thing showing him what a better world could be like.

"...Hey bud...I hope everything works out for you and your sister, and you don’t have to keep the drawing if you don’t want to! I just thought it’d be nice to give you both a bit of recognition- without, ya know...Having to deal only with the "you-know-who" fans.", the girl now continued, before punching his shoulder lightly.

He finally managed to snap out  of his trance at that.

“Alright, enough of my yapping…Take care, and thanks for your time.", she now added before making a sudden turn around, quickly disappearing in the crowd, while Lucian still was fighting with his words.

“Thanks…”, he now spoke to air, before looking back at the drawing, one thumb gently stroking over it.

This.

This was what he was enduring this for.

With a swift motion, he then carefully folded it in half, before putting it in a side pocket of his utility belt before anyone could give him weird looks.

He really had needed a reminder for what he was still working for.

☆

RTV in the meantime had waited until everyone was gathered before taking the lead again.

“Well, if you’ve said your GOODBYES then we can get moving again!”, he spoke, before leaning down to Lucian. “Do what I TELL you for once and keep an eye on her.”

He nodded in Ani’s direction.

She had been way too civil for his liking and he didn’t trust it.

Usually it meant something was about to happen.

Lucian followed his nod before sighing.

[Come on.]

“You’re asking something impossible of me.”, he flatly gave back, but still followed the order and joined Ani who gave him a cheerful wave.

Odd, he had expected more complaining.

RTV scoffed, now taking the lead again, opening the doors of the castle again with a swift motion, before leaving Chris and Swag to keep them open.

“BACK we go to Block B! No worries though, you don’t have to walk the STAIRS again. The Social Media Department is on the ground floor!”, he explained, now leading them back out again over the courtyard.

☆

Close to the end of the group, the participant that had previously nearly run into SMG3, was now trailing along as well.

Pulling the cap deeper into his face, a set of blue eyes was nervously flicking from one side to another.

So far nobody seemed to have noticed that SMG4 hadn’t even been part of the group before, but for how long?

At least the Puzzlevision logo and mostly hidden face seemed to keep the system from recognizing him, but still.

This plan was reckless and that meant a lot for his standards.

Yet this weird tour had also one of the very few chances they had to get in without anyone ringing alarms.

Unfortunately, despite a bunch of unholy amounts of planning and screaming at each other, the plan already was horribly derailing

The plan had been the following: Use the underground tunnels to gain access to the castle: Check.

Let SMG4 sneak into the castle: Check.

SMG4 sneaks into his old room and uses the pc there to gain access to the headquarters files and system: Gone horribly wrong.

The blue meme guardian had just been about to walk up the stairs after having a near stroke following the surprise encounter with SMG3, as he was stopped by Chris who had started rounding people up in that area.

Arguing wasn’t an option, least he needed was more attention, so SMG4 begrudgingly had followed him to the group, ducking his head more and more when not only half his old crew, but also enemies game into view.

It was a wonder nobody had recognized SMG4 yet, but he knew the more time he spent here, the more likely it was going to happen.

And then it would be a goddamn miracle if he survived.

Taking a deep breath, SMG4 tried to keep at the back of the group, but also not the far end.

Unfortunately, he also had his run-ins with Puzzles’ hitman and he still remembered all too well the view of the gun barrel in his face.

Lucian on the other hand probably still remembered the knife that Beeg lodged into his shoulder afterwards.

And what was up with the tour anyway?

SMG4 had long known that Puzzles was meddling with things he shouldn’t but who the hell were these people that looked exactly like some of his fellow resistance members?

For example he was pretty sure that the masked person he saw talk before to Lucian had been Lari, or did look a LOT like her, because he could recognize that hair anywhere.

He then looked forward where a certain dragon shapeshifter was walking, wearing a cap like him, vigilant and having that same unmistakeable armband that the Marie he knee was wearing too.

If both hadn’t previously walked past him without even sparing him a glance, he really would have believed they followed him from their base over here.

But they didn’t.

So who were these people? 

As several more people passed him, the meme guardian quickly pulled his cap a tad more over his eyes, before hiding his hands in his hoodie.

Looks like he had to trust in another part of the plan.

Beeg and the rat keep an eye in case things go wrong: In progress.

☆

“I say we leave that dimwit.”

In one of the underground systems beneath the studio, Mickey Mouse was currently about to leave and call it a day.

Unfortunately, a certain mini sized version of the same idiot that messed up the plan was now holding him back by his tail.

“Ugh.”

“Listen.”, Mickey argued, folding his hands together in a pretend calm gesture. “We kept an eye out, nobody ever said anything about going in and saving his back!”

“Uuuugh.”

Mickey frowned, before sniffing a crossing his arms, turning his head away.

“Hah, I’m above that!”

A sharp tug on his tail made him flinch and he snapped around again to glare at Beeg.

“Fine! You’re going to lose anyway!”

“Rock, paper scissors!”

“Augh, ugh, ugh!”

“...”

Mickey squinted at Beeg’s round hand stump that had suddenly grown two fingers to cut his flat paper hand.

“Oh, you cheater!”, he exclaimed, throwing hands in the air in resignation, before wiping a tear from one of his cartoon eyes. “I’m so proud…anyway!”

They both now turned to the open vent through which they had previously watched what had been going on in the castle.

“Guess we are going back in there…”, Mickey meant, unenthusiastic about the thought of getting dust on his already battered clothes again. “Do you still have the map?”

As an answer, Beeg pulled out the map of the ventilations system from who knows where, before rolling past Mickey and straight into the shaft.

“Don’t think about sneaking to that dog again! Your weird shaped friendship almost got us caught!”, he called after the little guy, only receiving a slight echoey grunt as a response.

With a loud sigh, Mickey now followed back in, trying to keep up with the rolling blue thing that was Beeg in front of him.

Previously, before SMG4 went in by himself, they tried to save themselves some trouble by accessing SMG4’s old room through the vents.

Unfortunately, the area there had been riddled with motion triggers, triggers that were even for his cartoon shape difficult to pass by and Beeg almost jumped right in when he heard that egg shaped dog in the room below whine.

So that was quickly scratched off the list of options.

The other option, SMG4 just managed to fail, so in Mickey’s option this whole thing was done.

But no, rescue operations had to commence.

This was what he got for letting Didney make hero propaganda in the masses.

Grumbling, Mickey crawled through the thin metal system, his round ears having been pressed flat on the ceiling.

Probably serving as a good mop for all that dust.

“You know, there is absolutely no way the TV snob doesn’t know about these tunnels when he even rigs the ventilation.”, Mickey now spoke up again. “My best guess is that either the system is too big or that he didn’t think someone would use them to get in and that’s why we are still here.”

“Augh…”

“Okay fair enough, he probably also didn’t expect us to enter through the sewer system and break a way through those sealed off entrances.”, Mickey admitted, before sniffing at his clothes. “I didn’t expect myself to do that either…”

Beeg now stopped, letting out a grumble, before rolling to the side into another shaft, revealing to Mickey the placement of yet another row of motion triggers.

“This way too? Well, I tried to tell you, guess we have no choice-”

Another grumble and a threatening move into the mouse’s direction.

“Hey, hey, hey! I was just joking! Fine, let’s find another way to the….Social Media Department? Where are we anyway? I lost track a few minutes ago…”

“Aeugh...”

“...what do you mean you don’t know?!”

Mickey now robbed closer, trying to spy through the grid nearby.

Just a hallway, could be one of many in this maze of a building.

“I thought you could read the map!”

“Ugh!”

“You guessed?!”, Mickey repeated, before letting out a dry snicker. “Yep, that’s it for me. See you, I’m out!”

When Beeg attempted to drag him back by his tail this time Mickey retaliated.

With a frown, he snapped around, arm growing comically longer as he tried to get the other to let go by dragging and pulling him.

But the little shit was tough.

And grew just a little bit bigger before rolling on his side.

Squishing Mickey’s hand.

Letting out a few curses that would certainly fall under Didney censorship, Mickey flinched back, ready to kick that oversized ball of a menace right through the walls of the vent-

Beep. Beep.

Both froze.

Then they slowly turned to look at Mickey’s tail whose tip hung right in front of one of the motion triggers.

“Oh boy…”, Mickey gulped.

☆

For a second, RTV meant to hear a distant yowl and he turned his head back to the hallways they came from, but could not spot anything.

Hm, probably just his imagination. Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, he now opened the next double door, before pointing forward at the corridor of doors similar to the of the Art Department above.

“Welcome to the Social Media Department!”

His smile slightly strained as the head of said department ran past him in the next second, spinning once around.

“Whooooo! Home sweet, home!”

Decisions had been made and oh, how he regretted them right now.

Letting out a low sigh, he then motioned towards Animsay.

“Animsay will now explain to you the BASICS of this department.”, he explained, before stepping into the corridor where Animsay now opened the door to the biggest office room of the department.

As soon as she entered, each monitor that sat on the many desk rows including the giant screen at the end of the room flickered on, displaying the Puzzlevision logo.

“If you prefer old-school you’re absolutely in the wrong place here.”, Animsay now said, before jumping on the long desk at the end of the room to give herself a better view over the participants that now entered the room. “We are all digital, baby!”

Putting hands on her hips, she now gestured around the room.

“We are mainly responsible for making ads AND as the name says, manage pretty much everything connected to social media!”, she now began pacing on the desk, raising a finger. “Into that counts the creation and coding of websites, boosting and advertising Puzzlevision media and posts, but also…moderation.”

She now stopped pacing, folding her hands in front of her, head tilted to the side.

“After all, the internet can be a nasty place! Accusations are thrown around to defame, insults are spam posted, inappropriate content, yada, yada, you know it all!”

She pointed at herself.

“We take steps to dim it all a bit down, keep it cool…”

A shrug.

“And sometimes when alarms are being raised due to threats and concerning comments or we simply find information that may be searched for, we give the goods over to security and law enforcement! Ain’t that right, Swag?”

Said guard frowned, pointing an accusing finger at the smaller TV head.

“You sent the cops my address three times!”

As a response, Animsay made a slow bow.

“Only to show you the dangers of sharing it with others online!”

“It was just our employee group chat!”

“Yeah well, personally your comments about your tank also made me very uncomfortable and so for the sake of society, I thought it was time to act.”

“Oh, you bi-”

“Back to TOPIC.”, RTV interrupted them, feeling a headache coming.

“Sure!”, Animsay meant, the scribble smile never having left her screen. “What else is there to say? Well, my office is next door but that’s not really interesting. There are a few side offices as well for brainstorming or if you prefer a smaller environment. Oh yeah and then there is the room to the room one day further where we talk to-”

For a second, the line on the screen seemed to glitch out and Animsay halted, before moving on like nothing happened.

“Well, sadly it’s off limits! Unless, boss over here allows a look?”

She now turned over to RTV whose expression temporarily turned into a frown.

Last thing he needed to explain was the whole contact past the 4th wall and the tumblr inbox.

“Off-limits I’m afraid.”, he curtly answered, offering an apologetic smile into the round. “VIP only.”

Animsay now clapped her hands together.

“Welp, that’s all then! If you have questions they can be asked now!”, she grinned, now flopping down to take a seat.

☆

While Animsay went on to answering questions, RTV kept a close eye despite having almost all of the security watching her.

Lucian because he ordered him too and Swag because he was still not over his little dispute with her.

There were reasons why Animsay wasn’t too loved among staff and aside from her too cheery attitude, it was also the fact she was one big troublemaker.

Older staff would sometimes tell the stories about how calm and docile Animsay had been once upon a time and then she suddenly switched, changed her name, changed her attitude, personality and then one day she started to appear with the TV head.

RTV gave the clunky thing a glance.

At least the program seemed to work well enough to keep her from spilling anything confidential for now.

Bzzt.

Pulling out his phone, RTV briefly noticed that he had not been the only one getting a message, in fact Lucian had too, meaning this was from Wr3n.

The fact that he was messaging them both could only mean so much good.

We got a rat in the building. The mini version of SMG4 is there too.

Got them out of the vents. Taking chase right now.

Elimination or Capture?

RTV’s hand visibly tightened around his phone.

Of course.

Of course they would take the chance when he got almost all of his staff at home.

Eliminate.

He didn’t need to read Wr3n’s next message.

It popped into his head the second he read the first text.

A rat never came alone.

It’s likely SMG4 is here too. 

There was no way he would refuse the chance to visit his old friend.

Look how his dear friends were holding up.

With a motion of his hand he ordered Lucian to give the sign to blockade the exit.

The head of Puzzlevision then started to slowly walk through the group, giving each face a close look.

He could skip all the non-humans already, the girls too, look out for clothing that hid facial features.

In the middle of the room, he stopped, before slowly turning towards a guy with black hair, a cap and black mask attempting to hide the familiar facial features. They did at first, the Puzzlevision logo also keeping him safe from Wr3n’s detection.

But now that RTV was looking closely, there was no more hiding.

He would always recognize this thorn in his side.

“SMG-”

In the split of the second he reached out, the meme guardian had suddenly pulled something out of the pocket out of hiss hoodie.

And shot.

RTV didn’t feel a bullet bury itself into his screen.

Instead something akin to an energy ray hit him.

In the next second the whole room could watch how RTV’s TV head heavily glitched out, before instantly growing black.

Not a moment later the whole man fell to the floor with a loud clang, screen splitting slightly at the impact.

SMG4 stood there for a second, EMP gun still pointed, before his eyes flickered from side to side.

First in the participants around him and then to the security guards who were now pulling their weapons.

He was so screwed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Unless…

Well, this is a poll-based adventure after all! So…what do you guys want to do?

Few seconds for them, 1 day for us.

Please wait this time with writing your actions until the poll is decided, as I will drop an extra part with the result, describing in a shorter part what happens next!

Tag List:

@niranutcake @fenicearts420 @leirom71000 @entityarts @alelathedragon @mylifeisfakeenjoy @lari-the-dragon @lislelycan-i-am-dumb-lol @rat-n-atty @nia1sworld @untitled14360 @Irayasostripes @theclosetcreature @jovialoddity @purpdrawsthings @varian-the-alchemy-boi @beckycat19 @runrabitrunrunrun

[bougiebutchbinch]

When it comes to Starscream redemptions (or more accurately, his defections to autobots) mid-TFP plot, I lowkey suspect that, well, at first Starscream will not in fact talk about his abuse. Making himself look very useful would be absolute priority and mentions of actual abuse (not that he fully sees it this way) would be disguised as expressions of dissatisfaction with his (totally former) leadership - Megatron never really appreciated him and was for most part turning worse. Megatron is super unstable! Don't you see? And look, he almost slagged me, why would I want to go back to decepticons! I was simply trying to prepare for the harder times- after years of breaking my backstruts for the sake of the cause!

It would be even funny if the first time he actually reveals a bit of info that is recognizably abuse to Optimus would be by a complete and utter accident (he would never admit it to himself). But he starts talking about it more. Carefully, to maximize on the guilt-tripping potential and the sympathy point (the autobots catch on... and they might catch on some things Starscream himself didn't). And he is mentally patting himself on the back the entire time thinking how he managed to make it naturally look like Optimus is winning his trust here with his primely nonsense! Ha! (If he starts getting attached at any point btw he will rationalize it as them being simply beneficial to his continued survival. And also the autobots too think that he is mostly out for himself, including Optimus so it's not like anybody disagrees on this)

(sorry for getting rambly, your posts are cool and your insight deep and thank you for the cool take 'starscream will use his abuse as a manipulation tactic and also will fumble bc the abuse did in fact fuck him up)

(also I have found out not so long ago about the Redemption Center storylet where G1 Starscream lost his memory for a bit and Optimus found he actually liked him and the experience really deeply affected Screamer! Neat! I wonder if such plotlike could have been pulled off in tfp)

oh hey also a very fun interpretation that I love!!! Thank you!

I am getting sleepy so my response is kinda less long than this lovely ask deserves, but please rest assured that I am sinking into everything you've written like it's the softest fluffiest pillows and snuggling myself up in the ongoing suffering of our favourite metal murder-chicken

[siegescript]

Calculated Risks

Summary: You took a calculated risk, but when some unexpected variables were introduced into the equation, the result was… less than desirable—Law is decidedly unhappy about it.

Content Warnings: non-graphic discussions of a near-death experience; non graphic mentions of severe injuries; depiction/usage of needles in a medical context (IV line); depiction/usage of strong narcotics in a medical context (IV painkillers)

Highlights/Tags: hurt/comfort, gender-neutral reader, Reader x Law, established relationship, reader is a Heart Pirate, Law is upset because he cares

Word Count: 1.28k

Author’s Note: The reader’s drug-addled ramblings were heavily inspired by voice recordings I found chronicling my own experiences with being administered IV painkillers in a hospital emergency room a few months ago—thankfully, for a medical issue far less dire than the ones I’ve alluded to here! They were also inspired by me being a total dork with a fascination for math, in case that part wasn’t obvious.

“Shit, (Y/N), what the hell were you thinking?!” Law barked, flinging the medical bay door open and storming into the room. He made a beeline for the supplies he needed as Penguin and Shachi followed after him, bringing you in on a stretcher and transferring you over to the infirmary bed. You winced slightly and bit back a curse as they accidentally jostled you a bit, and Penguin grimaced sympathetically as a means of silent apology. You forced the best smile you could manage under the circumstances and directed it at the two of them to show your appreciation for their help, and they nodded at you in acknowledgment before darting out of the room and finding somewhere to make themselves scarce.

“Actually, you know what, no—don’t answer that question until I’ve calmed down,” Law growled, punctuating his sentence with the snap of bright blue rubber gloves against skin. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“Law, it just looks bad. I’m honestly fine,” you insisted, gingerly attempting to push yourself up into a sitting position.

“Stop—stay still, dammit, I told you not to move!” Law bolted across the room to grab your upper arms, counteracting your movement and carefully lowering your torso back down onto the bed. “I’m the doctor here; I’ll tell you whether or not you’re fine, not the other way around.”

“It was just—” The words died on your tongue as Law paused mid-Scan and swiveled his head to fix you with an intense, withering glare.

“It was just what, (Y/N)?! I’ll tell you what it was—that was stupid, reckless, crazy, irresponsible, stupid, dangerous, completely batshit insane, and did I mention stupid yet?”

“That makes three times you’ve mentioned stupid now, yes.”

“Good! I’ll mention it as many more times as I need to in order to get it through your impossibly thick skull: that was stupid, (Y/N). That was so stupid.”

The hardness in Law’s expression melted away as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath, struggling to hide how shaky his breathing sounded. He clutched the edge of the bed as he leaned over you, and if it hadn’t been for the medical gloves covering his hands, both of you would’ve been able to see his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. He caught the edge of his stool with his foot and dragged it over to your bedside, all but collapsing onto it as he sat down next to you and took one of your hands in his. You couldn’t help but smile at your joined hands as he laced his fingers through yours and gently pressed his thumb into the center of your palm to ground himself.

“Fuck, (Y/N), that was beyond stupid. You could’ve died out there if you hadn’t gotten lucky,” Law said. “Look at the shape you’re in right now—this is what you getting lucky looks like, and you can barely even move. Don’t… (Y/N), don’t scare me like that.”

“I know I should’ve been more careful,” you sigh, turning your head slightly to look into his eyes. “Law, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m sorry, too, (Y/N), for all the shouting I did. I shouldn’t have blown up at you like that. I—”

“You freaked out because I scared the crap out of you, and I wouldn’t have scared the crap out of you if you didn’t care. I get it—you know I would’ve done the same thing if it had been the other way around.”

“Still, losing my cool and yelling at you wasn’t exactly the best practice, medically or romantically.” He managed a hint of his usual smirk as he added, “I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you once you’re all healed up.”

“Careful, I’ll hold you to that.”

“Oh, will you now?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“With the kind of painkillers you’re about to be on? Good luck remembering this conversation once that stuff has a chance to kick in.”

“You mean you plan on drugging me into a mindless stupor in an attempt to make me forget your promise?” You pouted playfully at him, forcing your face not to betray the grin that threatened to peek through. “Aw, but that’s cheating.”

“Don’t worry—I’ll remember it for the both of us.” Law leaned in and pressed a kiss to your temple as he stood up. “Now, let’s get you medicated so that I can do my job.”

“Sounds like a plan. This shit hurts.”

“I know it does.”

Law crossed the room to open up a cabinet and grab some supplies for starting an IV line and preparing a dose of pain medication, bringing them over to your bedside. His hands moved with a practiced, methodical precision as he set up the IV and administered the painkillers. You continued to watch him work for a few more minutes until your eyelids began to droop and a pleasant fuzziness crept in at the edge of your senses and made its way into your bones, dulling the once-searing pain down to a distant ache.

Time seemed to slip through your fingers like water, and you floated on those waters in a dreamlike haze. Before you even realized he was done working, Law was shutting off the overhead lights in the infirmary so that they weren’t shining in your face, leaving a small table lamp on to illuminate the room enough to see by. Your eyes flickered open at the disturbance in your surroundings, although you weren’t quite sure when you’d fully closed them. You made a very weak attempt to sit up, but whatever Law had given you for the pain had made lifting up just one limb feel like an impossible task, let alone your entire torso. He resisted the urge to laugh at the almost-bewildered face you made when faced with the task of moving your body, but he did allow himself to crack a small smile as he leaned into your field of view to grab your attention.

“Oh, hey,” you mumbled groggily, eyes half-lidded.

“Hey there, you,” Law answered. “It’s almost time to eat. I’ll step out and grab us both a plate in a bit, okay?”

“M’kay. What’s for lunch?”

“Dinner, actually—you’ve been out for several hours now.”

“Oh…” You trailed off into silence before a confused frown formed on your face and you slurred, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really. I told you those painkillers are strong stuff—you got pretty banged up back there.”

“Look, it was a calculated risk, and—well, I… kinda miscalculated.”

“(Y/N), that was one hell of a miscalculation.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, well, whenever you’re calculating risks in the future, how about you stick to the risks that involve calculations of the “basic arithmetic” variety instead of the “multivariable calculus” variety?”

“Ah, c’mon, babe, basic arithmetic’s boring—you’re not even gonna let me take a lil’ bit of trigonometry risk?”

“Absolutely not—I’ll let you get away with linear algebra, maybe, but that’s it.”

“What, no geometry risks either? Shapes’re forbidden now? M’not allowed to dabble in shapes?”

“Nope, the forbidden shapes are indeed forbidden; I am hereby forbidding them. No geometry risks for you.”

“Aw, but I like shapes. They’re fun.”

“You can enjoy all the shapes you want as long as they’re risk-free, you doofus.”

“Mmm… Guess that’s fair.”

“I’m glad we can agree, sweetheart. I’m going to go get us some food, and when I get back, I’ll help you sit up and eat.”

“Sounds good, thanks. Love you.”

“I love you, too.”

[rafesorchid]

COTTON CANDY SKIES

plot: after a clumsy first meeting, rafe falls fast for the sweet, scatterbrained reader, and their slow friendship turns into something softer—leading to a shy first date.

CONTENT: Light swearing, slow-burn romance, awkwardness, fluff, light public embarrassment.

part 2

have fun!

you were sprawled on your bed, phone upside down on your pillow, legs kicking in the air, waiting for rafe to text back.

you’d sent him a very important question three minutes ago and it felt like a lifetime.

baby: do u think fish get thirsty or no??? baby: bc like. they r in water??? so do they still drink???

you stared at the screen, chewing your lip.

then you gasped when his name popped up.

rafe: baby i ain’t even sure how to answer that rafe: you’re somethin else

baby: lol is that bad baby: i feel like it’s a good question??? baby: i googled it but the answers were too science-y and i got confused

rafe took a second.

then:

rafe: it’s a good question rafe: real good rafe: and you’re real cute for askin' it

you buried your face in your pillow, squealing.

then you scrambled to type back:

baby: awwwww stopppp baby: i was gonna ask u another question but idk if ur busy???

rafe: never too busy for you baby rafe: call me

your heart thumped so hard you thought it might actually launch you off the bed.

your thumb slipped a little — you meant to hit “call” smooth and cool, but almost hit “facetime” by accident — and somehow, you managed to tap it right.

it rang once.

then twice.

and then —

“hey, sweet girl,” rafe’s voice rumbled through the speaker, warm enough to melt you into the mattress.

you swallowed.

“hi rafe!!” you said way too loudly.

then you winced.

“sorry i didn’t mean to yell. i just got excited. i also didn’t mean to call i was trying to text but my thumb is slippery from lotion and—”

you were rambling.

again.

but rafe didn’t seem to mind.

you could hear him smiling.

“s’okay, baby,” he said, voice all syrupy. “like hearin’ your voice better anyway.”

you kicked your feet harder, cheeks burning.

“what were you gonna ask?” he prompted, voice easy and low.

you flopped onto your stomach, squishing your face into the pillow for a second before mumbling,

“do you think clouds taste like cotton candy or like whipped cream?”

there was a pause.

then a deep, helpless chuckle.

“you’re fuckin’ adorable, you know that?” rafe said.

you blinked at the ceiling.

“…is that a compliment?”

“best one you’re ever gettin’,” rafe promised.

“also,” he added, “definitely cotton candy.”

you giggled.

“that’s what i thought too!”

for a second, neither of you said anything.

just breathing.

just feeling the line buzz soft between you.

you fiddled with the string on your hoodie, heart thudding too fast.

you weren’t even dating — not really — but talking to rafe felt like being caught in a daydream.

bright and easy and warm.

then rafe cleared his throat.

“hey,” he said, a little rough. a little shy. “you free saturday?”

you blinked.

“i think so,” you said. “unless i forgot something. sometimes i do that. one time i double-booked myself for a dentist appointment and a haircut and i got my teeth cleaned with half a mullet—”

rafe was laughing, deep and wrecked, before you could even finish.

“baby,” he said, still laughing, “i’ll take my chances.

wanna take you out. like— like a real date.”

your stomach did a full somersault.

“like… a real real date?” you asked, voice small and hopeful.

“yeah, sweet girl,” rafe said, soft and sure.

“been wantin’ to.

figure it’s about time i make it official.”

you buried your face in the pillow again, squealing so quietly he almost couldn’t hear it.

“okay,” you said, breathless. “i’ll go! but only if you promise not to laugh if i spill something. or if i trip. or if i get spaghetti in my hair. that happened one time too—”

rafe cut you off with another warm, easy laugh.

“baby,” he said.

“i’m gonna think you’re perfect no matter what you do.”

you blinked fast, the lump in your throat sneaking up on you.

no one had ever said it like that before.

no teasing.

no hesitation.

just real and simple and true.

“okay,” you whispered.

“i’ll pick you up at six,” he said. “wear whatever you want. you’re already perfect to me.”

you nodded even though he couldn’t see you.

“okay,” you said again, dazed and dreamy.

rafe stayed on the line a second longer.

like he didn’t wanna hang up either.

“sleep good, sweet girl,” he murmured.

“dream somethin’ pretty.”

“like cotton candy clouds?” you asked, sleepy and giggly.

“yeah, baby,” rafe said, voice all honey and smoke. “just like that.”

you fell asleep with your phone still clutched in your hand.

dreaming of pink skies and a boy who looked at you like you were made of sunlight.

author's note

i'm literally sosososos grateful for all 81 of you <3 if you want more specific drabbles/fics send in an ask! love u all lots <3

[a-restless-zoomer-9910]

Love this image, but here's something off-topic cuz I need to get this outta my chest that is Aladdin-related.

OFF-TOPIC RAMBLING HERE

Oh yeah I get the reference now, omg haha aladdin reference...... Yeah.... I don't like that movie for a good reason. It's racist as hell, and also inappropriate for some damn reason. And wait, what was that blue guy's name again? Genie? Sorry on whoever made him but that's such a LAME ASS NAME. No hate to Genie, but I thought his jokes were corny as hell. Never understood most of the pop culture references cuz I'm not a millenial.

I heard someone call Djimmi a sad pathetic excuse of Robin Williams, and I actually wanted to punch a wall because my lovely comedian Robin Williams has NOTHING to do with Djimmi himself, they HAD to bring it up because "OMG DJIMMI'S A GENIE, LIKE THE GENIE FROM THAT RACIST ASS MOVIE HAHAHA".

Oh, and someone said this to Djimmi like: dude the Genie from aladdin is more magical than you. SHUT YOUR DUMBASS UP-

And also saying something so fricking dumb like saying this to Djimmi: You're just an Aladdin ripoff! MOTHERFRICKER JUST BECAUSE HE'S A GENIE, DOESN'T MEAN HE'S A FRICKING ALADDIN RIPOFF, DUMBASS-

And the worst thing I've ever heard from something Aladdin-related to Djimmi: THE GENIE IN ALADDIN IS BETTER AND STRONGER THAN YOU! What did Djimmi do to be compared by someone who has nothing to do with him other than the fact that they're both genies ;-;

Now back to you, organizedchaotics, I understand on when you drew Djimmi while you're stressing out, Djimmi just magically makes things better although he's fictional. He's such an amazing character, heck, when I fell in love with him for the first time, I felt mature because Djimmi is a smoking character, even though others just avoid watching shows or playing games with smoking in it at a young age. Reminder: DJIMMI is from a KID'S GAME. And Djimmi is LITERALLY smoking, you know, SOMETHING A KID'S GAME CAN'T HAVE.

Was stressing out a bit, so I drew a Djimmi. Djimmi magically makes things better.

[esperfruit]

It's been on my mind for the past few days but I finally found a way to articulate it. Blue Morpho ramble brought to you by Esper:

Don is a coward.

He might not be aware of it but he's avoiding accountability for his actions like the plague. Yes, he regrets the affair and wants to atone for it but he probably thinks suffering all this pain of the blackmail is taking responsability. But no it's not. As long as his wife is still in the dark about his actions it's not taking responsability. Telling himself: "I am in pain. I suffer humiliation and exploitation for years. That's what I deserve. See, I am sorry and I'm atoning." But the only thing he's accomplishing is fueling his self-loathing and making himself and by extend his family suffer even more.

If Don had truly taken responsability, he would’ve confessed his sins to his wife, apologize and take every consequences that might come for him. May it be a punch in the face, a kick in the nuts or a big fat divorce. And if it is a divorce and his wife gets custody of Malcom they could agree on him paying child support, which would be no problem because he's rich and he could still see his son as they could agree on that Malcom needs both of his parents in his life.

Also I do not want to hear him say: "Jonas talked me into it." Which to be fair is true but this is not about Jonas, this is about him. Don agreed to it anyway. He could have just said no. It’s not like he was explicitly forced into the tape incident.

And if she does not divorce him, Don would have to live with a potential permanent stain on his marriage and it is all his fault, he has no right to complain.

But instead Don clings to the illusion of a perfect family. A family he doomed because of Jonas's bad influence and his own foolishness and self-pity.

I love Don's character so much, he's so interesting and so tragic. And I also really sympathize with his pain and hold him accountable for his own actions, calling him what he is: A pathetic coward