#also dunno if i like the green eyes more or if i like the brown ones more. i will just draw felicia until i die and figure that out ig <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[pbnmj]

i am only half joking about this version of peterfel. it was just supposed to be the joke on the bottom left but i spiralled (ft. the miles + felicia being the sibling duo that i deserve)

[leclsrc]

hi auds bear!! dunno if you saw charles' insta story of his new sky ad but now begging for a 2k celebration blurb of dad!charles <3

misspelled – cl16

genre: fluff, 2k celebration, girldad!charles

“It’s L-E-S, love.” He points to the piece of paper peppered with doodles. “Go ahead for me.”

The sun is high and sweltering, with noontime March heat, but still Charles is undeterred in his quest to get your daughter to spell his name properly. The evening prior, you’d presented him with a welcome home card signed by her, and addressed to Daddy Charlse—cue the Leclerc dramatics.

He’d pressed about a thousand kisses to her tiny face, thanking her over and over and keeping the card in his bag so they could cook dinner together. But once the pasta was finished and the toothbrush jingle was sang (twice) and he’d stowed her off to bed (three storybooks later), he padded over to your bed and sighed lowly, stopping just shy of the foot of it. Already you’d sensed his incoming anxious complaint.

It comes. “So. Charl-s-e.” 

“She’s four, honey.” You’d shut your book softly, smiling. “She spells her grandmum’s name as Packal.”

“It’s because I’m always out for work, isn’t it?” He climbed into bed beside you, perching his chin on your stomach. “And this is also because Max keeps insisting he babysit, sweetie. I swear, he’s brainwashing my baby girl.”

You laughed; the vibration extended into him and he smiled fondly at your reaction. “Charles, it’s nothing. They’re working on spelling at school, you know—she’s got a few words she gets wrong sometimes, the same ones. But she’s learning.”

“Charl-s-e,” he’d repeated sullenly. “Charl-seh.”

“If it matters that much, why don’t you try teaching her tomorrow?” You swept your hand through his hair, mouth in a half-smile. “Make an afternoon of it.”

He’d taken your advice very seriously—woken up a bit earlier, cooked them both pancakes (and you French toast, as always) and led her into the yard for some daddy-daughter time. “If you’re thirsty, I made lemonade,” you sing-song from the patio door. “You two’ve been at it for a bit.”

There are scrapped pieces of paper with his name misspelled on most of them—there is the occasional success, though you’re guessing Charles wants just one more—and drawings of your family all over them. You already sense the influx of pictures Charles has on his phone, of these drawings and cards he always posts on his Instagram or sends to you.

At your announcement, Julia looks up, green eyes piqued with interest, grip on the red crayon loosening. But her father’s faster, gently coaxing her back into the mini lawn chair that sits on the yard. She nods along his careful instructions, writing slowly, sun filtering through her light brown hair.

You get short moments of reprieve like this during the season. It’s rare for Charles to visit if he’s in the thick of it—most of the time you travel to a different city to see him, Julia going from your hip to his arms in seconds once he spots the two of you. But this moment is irreplaceable: the sunrays on the grass, the lemonade waiting to be drank, the pieces of paper with Mommy and Papa, bunchfuls of grapes on the patio table. 

He tries again. “Come on, love. C-H-A…” 

She bounds into the kitchen five minutes clutching a final paper, which she shows you with a sun-tinged face of pride. CHARLSE, it reads still. You pour her a glass, wait for Charles to finish packing up the rest of the art materials Julia was too excited to do herself; he comes in a bit sweaty from the sun asking to see the card.

You hand him a glass and press a kiss to his cheek. “Still S-E,” you say, both of you reading over the various scribbles.

“I don’t care.” He pauses. “You see this?” He points to the lower part of the page. 

Best Daddy Ever is written on it in wild vivid colors. You beam, love bubbling up in your chest overwhelmingly. He takes it from you and tacks it onto on the fridge, smiling. “She wrote that. I couldn’t have asked for a better card.” 

[izelthewashbear]

Would you still love me if I was a snail? (fragment)

How about some Wild Life Treebark fic? :>

Martyn's ears suddenly perked up. He grabbed his shovel like a weapon and looked around.

"Who's there?"

"Who? Who's where?" Ren huffed, looking around.

"I-I dunno, I just heard someone... Someone, going like... 'Woo-wheey'?"

"Are you feeling okay...?" Gem asked, half concerned and half amused. The Listener turned towards her with a bitter smile.

"Absolutely not! But thanks for asking."

"Guys, look!" Ren grabbed Martyn by the arm and pulled him closer, then pointed at something. It was moving in the grass, but it was really hard to see... The Listener squinted, trying to see the incoming danger.

"Is that... A snail...?"

Slowly but steadily, a snail was crawling towards them. It didn't look like a normal snail - for starters, it was much bigger, almost the size of a person's head. It also appeared discolored - its foot and head had a yellowish color and its shell was a combination of brown and white, with a big green spot in the middle. Blue, beady eyes at the ends of its upper tentacles were staring at Martyn. The blond man crouched and reached out towards the gastropod.

"I think it is... Why is there a snail...?" he huffed.

"It kinda looks like you, dude" Ren pointed out, his tail wagging.

"I-I guess it does...?"

Suddenly, the snail loudly yelped and lunged towards Martyn. The Listener let out a startled scream and fumbled back, narrowly avoiding being touched by the mollusk.

"It attacked me!" he huffed, scrambling back away from the snail. "Guys, move back!"

"Awwwww, it looks so cute! And look, there is another one coming!" Gem pointed out, seeming more so amused by the situation than startled by the strange animal.

"There is?" Ren huffed, following where the woman was looking.

"Ren! A little help, please?" Martyn huffed, attempting to crush the snail. Its shell didn't even crack from being hit repeatedly with an iron shovel. In a last ditch effort to distance himself, the blond man kicked the gastropod away.

And with the smallest of touch, he turned into a cloud of smoke.

[uniquevoidflowers]

Y'all asked for it. Drawings and explanations under the cut of Legend, Wind, Warrior and Hyrule (just to be clear don't expect anything bc I dunno how to draw really):

Starting with Legend (top left): The prince ofc. He's 17 in this au, and it's ok to ship him with Marin and Fable. The getup he has on in this drawing, he never wears when he sneaks out but when mostly when he's in the castle. He dyed half his hair. It was supposed to be red but it came out pink instead. He ended up secretly liking the pink though. Although not coloured atm, his outfit is red with the exception of his pants and belt. The little details on the sleeve are gold, his belt is brown. His pants are a creamy brown.

Little facts about him ig:

-Hates feeling vulnerable

-Fears being trapped or losing reality

-was very sickly as a child

-very good at many instruments; he enjoys learning them

-refuses to sing though

-wants to learn how to swordfight

-collector (he also enjoys collecting things)

-born in Castletown, Hyrule

_____________________________________________________________

Wind (top right): He's 14 and has a dark brown eye colour. Lots of freckles. His shirt is a bright green. He likes blue more but his Grandma liked him to wear green, so he wears it to honour her. His pants are a simple brown. His Grandma, passed when he was 12, and his parents had been missing even before that. He now lives with Green, Red, Blue and Vio. Aryll, his sister, lives there as well.

More little facts:

-loves seafood

-picky about other foods

-protective of his younger sister

-Aryll WAS kidnapped before :)

-used to pretend to be a pirate as a kid, still loves reading about them

-loves acting

-optomistic

-chaotic

-hates cold tempatures

-fears the dark, and losing his sister again

-loves bugs

-loves thunder and rain

-born in Outset, Hyrule

_____________________________________________________________

Warrior (bottom left): He's 22. His armour is a uniform, but the scarf was made by his mother before she passed away. The back of his scarf has a signature by her. He rarely parts with it. The uniform was inspired by botw's Hylian knight armour. He's Legend's personal knight, promoted after helping greatly in the war. Armed most of the time.

Little facts:

-Has 5 other sisters

-good with kids

-twins with one of his siblings, Linkle

-was popular among many ladies when he first joined knighthood

-also hates cold enviroments

-fears being hated, or failing

-has a 'soldier' mode where he doesn't show his emotions and is very calculative and serious

-born in Castletown, Hyrule

___________________________________________________________

Hyrule: He's 16. It's ok to ship him with Dawn. His clothes were made by Blue, they're a darker green. Messy hair, never takes care of it. (even if he needs to) and gold outlines on his clothes. He's a great friend of Legend's, meeting him a year ago.

Little facts:

-timid around strangers

-had an older brother but he ran away awhile ago

-very good at survival

-has magic abilities that he discovers later in the story

-looks up to Legend

-kinda skittish and jumpy

-bashful

-self-worth issues

-born in Selina of Calatia

[demoniccrowz]

whats the. emeralds one about!!! the one wip with tommy and sbi :33333

I just spent like ten minutes looking for this print to make sure I was ranting properly about it before I decided I literally remember it fine so anyway. Sir, we don’t take emeralds. (Tommy/SBI)

the basis: Tommy works the night shift at a bakery near the edge of the city. Between the hours of 12 am and 4 am, the only customers that come in are cryptids and monsters from the nearby forest. They pay very, very well. The bakery is probably run by Niki, though she’d be a background character, and probably not show up like. At all.

writing this after I wrote the other stuff: I accidentally wrote the first draft of what would probably be drug out into two chapters. It’s under the cut. My bad. Designs (also under cut) are subject to change.

Um, first night he meets Wilbur, a man with no eyes who tries to pay with an emerald. Second night, nothing happens. He wonders if he hallucinated everything. The third night, he meets Philza, a man with black wings and bird talons, who pays like a normal person but tips him a crow feather. He’s confused, but the crow feather looks nice. Someone told him crow feathers are bad luck, but�� the feather gives him a warm feeling. Fourth night, Philza comes back. He seems very happy to see that Tommy has stuck the crow feather behind his ear. Philza tips Tommy several more feathers. Fifth night, he meets Techno, a man with tusks and pig hooves, who pays like normal but tips him a golden doubloon. I dunno, he probably gets run out of town at some point, once someone sees the crow feathers. Philza, Wilbur, and Techno rescue him from the mob. They steal him away. Found family occurs.

Tommy moved to the city a few weeks ago, and started hearing the stories almost immediately. Everyone he talked to warned him away from the woods, with tales of what happened to people who stayed out too late or who walked near the woods after dark. The city seems to almost have a curfew, though it isn’t explicitly stated anywhere Tommy can find. Yet, like clockwork, at 11:30 the streets are deserted. The busses don’t run. People are inside, whether at their homes or somewhere else. Businesses stay open, sometimes, but no one enters or leaves. The entire city holds its breath for five hours. Then, at 4:30, it’s once again bustling. Tommy doesn’t believe the stories, of course. It’s just superstition. He signs up to work the night shift (sometimes dubbed the cursed shift) at a bakery in desperate need of workers. It’ll be easy, he decides, to take the shift when there would be no customers.

Yet… there were customers. The first night, a man with tinted glasses and a brown trench coat walks in and orders a few loaves of bread. Tommy goes about his routine normally, until the man hands him a green gem for payment. He stares at it in shock, trying to tell if the man had just handed him an ACTUAL EMERALD. “Sir? We- we don’t take… emeralds.” Tommy looks up at the man, who takes the gem and removes his glasses the squint at it.

He has no eyes.

The man laughs, putting the gem back into his pocket. “Of course, of course. My mistake.” He gives Tommy a fifty dollar bill, grabbing his bag of things and leaving before Tommy can give him his change. Tommy stares after him. Maybe there is something to the rumors, he thinks as he stares at his shaking hands.

He tries to brush it off.

[monzamash]

when we first met — charles leclerc

summary – the love story of sophia ricciardo & charles leclerc, a story so magical that even a princess would be envious. pairing – daniel ricciardo's sister x charles leclerc (she/her pronouns) warnings – moderate language, implied sex, google translated french word count – 1.6k a/n – thank you @lverofminemcyt for the request! Such a great idea and maybe I'll continue this story in a longer format in the future. But for now, enjoy! masterlist

You were 20 when you met Charles for the first time

– or more accurately, gawked at him from across the paddock at Silverstone. You’d read in the news that there was a rookie driving for Sauber – a young, Monégasque man who by all accounts was the "next big thing" in the world of Formula One. You tried to keep up with the comings and goings of the sport while ignoring all the slander being written about your brother, Daniel. Hard to do but not impossible.

“Is that the new guy?” You asked Max once you were far enough away from the handsome stranger who was heading in the opposite direction. Max followed your eye line and scoffed, visibly irritated by your question.

“Yes but I wouldn’t say he's the new guy. He’s been racing his whole life and the pain in my arse for just as long,” Max grumbled. You weren’t aware of the rivalry between the two young men but after a long, detailed explanation, you understood that Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc had a checkered history.

“He’s not worth your time, Sophia.”

Of course you didn’t listen to Max. The ‘karting incident’ he described when they were literally children sounded like child’s play (because it was) and you weren’t the type to take one persons word for anything. Max had become a fast friend to you in the paddock when you’d join your family on race weekends but he had a reputation for stretching the truth and you weren’t about that.

The first time you were officially introduced to Charles was at Seb Vettel’s birthday party three days after his stunning British GP win. And the celebrations were in full effect. Daniel was also in the points that weekend and practically begged you to come along, not that you needed a lot of convincing. You knew a certain Monégasque driver would be there and you loved a party, especially one thrown at Lewis Hamilton’s lavish London pad.

It didn’t take long for your paths to cross, almost as if you were both searching for a moment to be introduced. Charles had been guilty of staring at you across the paddock on race weekends and it was shocking that the two of you hadn’t officially met yet. But he felt like he knew you already.

“Dunno know if you two have met yet but this is Charles,” Daniel introduced, putting a particularly thick French accent on your new acquaintances name, making you both snicker silently, “And this is my much younger and much less attractive sister, Sophia.” Arsehole.

Charles extended his hand towards you and as cheesy as it sounded, you could feel the sparks flying as your hands clasped together. They were softer than you imagined, bigger than you imagined and boy had you been thinking about them lately – pathetically desperate, of course. His green eyes glistened under the dim lights and you could have sworn they sparkled like in the movies. His dimples danced on his rosy cheeks as he smiled small and it was if time had stopped, you couldn’t look away.

“Hello,” You squeaked out, unable to form a full sentence before Charles stepped in and saved you from total embarrassment, “Nice to meet you, Sophia."

The way your name fell from his perfectly accented lips had you spinning and clutching his hand for way longer than normal. But Charles held on too, taken by your light brown eyes that were gazing into his own. He felt like you were staring into his soul, searching for his darkest secrets and he loved every second – the intensity intrigued him. Your long brown hair cascaded down the back of your silky dark green dress, accentuating every curve that had him scrambling for his words again. He was in love.

“So, yes, your Daniel’s sister,” Charles quickly cleared his throat and gently dropped your hand before stuffing his own, shaky ones into his jean jacket pockets. Get it together, he thought to himself.

“Umm…” You had been so caught up in your daze that you hadn’t realised Daniel had left your side and was making his way around the house, greeting everyone he set eyes on, “Yes… Yep! Danny's little sister.”

Little sister, you grimaced internally. You were hopeless when it came to matters of the heart, which was why you were perpetually single with no end in sight.

“I assumed so,” Charles politely replied with a nod, “So are living here in London or…”

Charles knew the answer to his question. He’d found himself mindlessly scrolling through your Instagram after the Monaco Grand Prix, hoping to find out everything he could about the mystery woman he'd noticed wandering around with the Red Bull Racing team. That’s how he found out you were Daniel’s sister and felt his heart skip a beat when he got to the end of your profile and hadn’t seen a photo of a boyfriend.

He brushed away that thought almost immediately, knowing it was probably a case of wishful thinking. There was no way you were single, he thought. From his perspective you seemed to be the life of the party, much like your older brother. You waltzed around the paddock as if it was your own fashion runway, saying hello to everyone you passed on your walk to the RBR motor homes. Smiling until your cheeks hurt. Charles was convinced you were an angel sent from above.

“Well technically I live in Oxford – doing university there at the moment or at least trying to,” You explained, nipping at your bottom lip nervously, “But Danny has an apartment in London that he rents here and I crash there when he’s away, which is pretty much all the time.”

Charles smiled and tried his best to follow what you were saying. Although he had worked with a few Aussies in his short career, he still struggled to understand some of the lingo from time to time. But he didn’t care if he only understood every fifth word you said. He could've listened to you talk about the fine arts degree you were studying or that the uber you took to the party charged you extra forever and a day. He was utterly captivated.

And that was the beginning of your blossoming friendship. Charles had become your new comrade around the paddock on the off chance you got away from uni and showed up at a race. You had also been making a few extra trips to Monte Carlo to visit your brother – or at least that's what you said to your friends and family. The friendly smile emoji quickly turned into a heart when you signed off a message and you could feel your heartbeat skip every time his name showed up on your screen. Charlie ❤️

Six months. Six whole months of flirting and pretending like you wanted to be anywhere else but with the man of your dreams. Every day started and ended with him, either via text or on Facetime and all that back and forth, wondering which one of you was going to make the first move was answered in a matter of seconds. There’s nothing quite like a few too many glasses of red wine to reveal one’s true feelings.

“I’m in love with you, chéri. Have been since the second I laid my eyes on you.”

The rest of that night with Charles was a blur and before you knew it, you were tangled somewhere between his chest and bed sheets, moaning his name into the cool Monaco air. His fingertips explored every inch of your skin with feverish lips following closely behind, leaving small, barely visible marks as he went. His eyes rarely left yours as you savoured every movement, every kiss, every breath – you wanted it all with him. All those sleepless nights wishing you were the one making him moan with pleasure, hearing your name tumble from his mouth like you’d never heard before. Watching his eyes roll into the back of his skull, gripping, praying that he could hold on a little bit longer. He'd yearned for it for too long to not savour every second.

All your wishes had been answered as you laid in Charles’ arms, slowly returning to earth and closing your weary eyes. Sighs of contentment the only sound swirling through the air.

“Tu es envoyé de ciel, mon amour.” you are heaven sent, my love.

You didn’t speak French but whatever he'd whispered sounded sweet as he gently pressed his lips to your temple and said goodnight.

Whenever you took a second to reflect on your four-year relationship with Charles, you realised that you'd effectively grown up together, side-by-side. He was sitting in the crowded auditorium when you graduated from University, cheering you on when you received your bachelor’s degree and you were standing in pit lane when he won his first GP in Belgium, crying and celebrating in equal measures. You were both very different people compared to the two stuttering 20 year olds loitering in Lewis Hamilton’s mansion, searching for the right words to say.

“I’m so unbelievably in love with you, Charles.” You whispered in Charles’ ear as he popped open the champagne, laughing hysterically when gravity brought the cork back down to earth and landed in your lap.

You couldn’t stop staring at the diamond that now sat proudly on your left ring finger, endlessly pinching yourself that it was real. He’d caught you by surprise on your birthday, no less. Out on the Mediterranean Sea, looking back at the place that you now called home. Charles had anchored down the boat and dropped to one knee before you could even comprehend what was happening. Your hair blowing around in the wind with Monte Carlo twinkling in the background as the only a light source. You bobbed up and down in the bay, not knowing if you were seasick or lovesick - or both. Either way, you were gripping onto Charles for dear life as everything you'd ever wished for came true right in front of your eyes.

He carefully placed the ring on your finger once you whispered a soft ‘yes’ into the ether, eyes teary and smiles the size of the moon on your windswept faces. You couldn’t believe that the man of your dreams had asked you to marry him. You were on top of the world but most of all, you felt like the princess Charles had always claimed you to be.

“And I’m in love with you, Madame Leclerc.”

let me know what you think!

[robby-bobby-tommy]

I haven't watched purgatory streams cuz I am too busy rn, but here's some hcs

- Only emotionally charged scars stay on the body. Like both Phil and Fit have their scars because they felt so betrayed. The other wounds heal with respawn.

- Fit thought that Pac not only helped to kill him, but also agreed to be a bait to lure 2b2t veteran in a trap. After this "betrayal" Fit's eyes change.

- as a dumbahh who watched arcane, I really like the idea of eye changing with emotional stability. Like powder — blue/grey eyes, Jinx — pink eyes. So I have a HC that after the incident Fit's usually brown eyes change to almost toxic green eyes.

- Fit has severe PTSD about 2b2t. The betrayal triggered it and now he doesn't trust people.

- also Fit has 2b2t gravured in his prosthetic arm/gauntlet.

- every time étoiles kills someone, they have a star shaped scar.

- Phil has star shaped scar. Also the majority of his scars from nightmare and code fight. Also some from earth smp.

- Phil had a very speedy, flying oriented battle type. Now he has a different fighting skills, but likes to attack from above (using paraglider)

- Fit's battle skills are way more grounded, he puts way more force in his punches and swings. He also used to fight with only gauntlets/bare hands, so he's a master of hand-to-hand combat.

- Étoiles is just a goat, but he's something in between. He's also very grounded, but is jumpy.

- Roier is a funny but quiet kid, when it comes to battles. Nobody expects it, but he's a pro. He's super good at breaking through shields and at unarming opponent.

- Fit and Phil train together, and it's fun. But sometimes when crowza accidentally triggers PTSD, Fits fighting style suddenly changes. He now doesn't fight to better his skills, he fights to survive. His punches become more chaotic and heavy. They both apologize later.

- Jaiden is literally "I'm a helpless little girl. And j set the building on fire by accident, tooootaly by accident. Also I brought this dynamite. Goodbye:)" And then everything blows up. She's the epitome of "act weak when you're strong".

- Pol (i sadly haven't watched any of his streams cuz of language barrier, but I think he deserves more recognition) only pretends being oblivious and indifferent towards federation. Like he's the first person from all frozen members to remember his past and cooperate with cucurucho.

- I kinda feel like Rubius is one of the old residents of the island.

- Aypierre is Ayanami Rei (/j but I honestly don't understand his lore. I use Tumblr as a news channel and I still don't know what happened to Pierre. Is he ayrobot? Do they now share a body???)

- after the nether Forevers hair go to shoulders.

- Rubius once was just a man. He was an original old resident. After a few years of working with people on the server he was promoted to an angel/devil entity. For it was funny at first, but soon enough it became boring, cuz he wasn't allowed to interact with people apart giving them quests. So he disguised himself as a man and left the island. Later he came back on train with everyone. For escaping and messing with people, giving them illegal stuff ect he was demoted and "fell from heaven". (This HC has literally no reasons, but I like it.

- Carre likes to stretch like a cat.

- team bollas sleep close to each other, but don't go under blankets, cuz in their base there's literal lava above the celling.

- Fit is severely touch starved but he doesn't always trusts enough. During qsmp he became more affectionate, and started to initiate touching. He always puts his hand of someone's shoulder to comfort them (baby steps). I don't feel like after purgatory this stays like that.

- it's not my headcanon, but I adore when people draw Bagi muscular. Like, I dunno why. But I love it so much.

- Missa is a real skeleton, so when death duo reunited for the first time, Phil literally detached wet cat's skull from the neck, yelling "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN"

- Some people have things that represent their close ones. Phil has skull, trinket (is it how it called?) of his kids on his back, flowers from forever, star keychain from étoiles and a bomb from Fit. Fit has Philza's feather, a necklace with a pacman on it, a bolt from Tubbo, and Ramon modifies his arm a lot. Ect ect.

- waaaay back when Slime went on a rampage after Juana's death, Fit called him to a tête-à-tête dialogue. At first he pushed Slime to the tree and put elbow on his neck, but during Charlie's monologue he let his guard down and even wanted to place his hand on the shoulder. Yet before that they were interrupted by Roier. (Also Charlie asking advice and trusting Fit all this time was quite sweet. Like, he even asked advice when dead eggs came back)

- during purgatory Phil balances himself with weapons.

- Charlie always suspected CodeFlippa wasn't the real one, but he deliberately chose to ignore that. Ignorance is a blessing.

- gladiator by Jann but Étoiles, you see what I see???

- Phil and Fit are terrible sleep bros. When they went to adventures with kids and had to sleep in the open, Fit couldn't sleep, listening to players steps, and Phil tried to figure out mobs. Also they play footsie (they said it on one stream, this is cannon. I really dunno are they besties or homos anymore)

- one of the ways to know if an avian on the server is sick is to see how their feathers react to water. If I'm correct, irl birds have a special stuff on them to not get wet. Only birds with sickness appear to be wet (mb not all birds are like that, I don't remember)

- just "are we still sisters?" Dialogue from arcane but Bagi and Cellbit

- everyone has bags under the eyes

That's all for now.

[talesfromthesnogbox]

Nailed It

Summary: Eddie paints Steve's nails, Steve realizes some stuff. That's it, that's the fic.

Words: 1,745

Notes: This is all because I got my nails done on the weekend and thought "hmm, it's like super intimate having someone touch your hands for the better part of an hour"

AO3

-----

“So, whaddya say Harrington, yours next?”

His Saturday afternoons off had become Steve’s sacred Eddie days. He loved hanging out with Robin, but she usually worked the closing shift Saturday, and ever since adopting Eddie into their rag-tag group, Steve found himself wanting to hang out with him more.

On this particular Saturday afternoon, Steve and Eddie found themselves in Eddie’s messy bedroom of the new townhouse the government had gifted the Munsons. It wasn’t anything unusual for them, lounging on Eddie’s bed, a joint half-smoked between the two of them, a Bowie tape on in the background. But today, Eddie had pulled out something new.

From his closet, he’d pulled a dusty basket out, filled with nail polish in a rainbow of shades. He’d picked a forest green one, and got to work on himself, buffing his nails carefully and painting the varnish in smooth coats. Steve watched aptly, almost missing Eddie’s question.

“Sorry?”

Eddie smirked, and gestured to the basket. “Pick a shade, you want in?” 

Steve scoffed. “Isn’t nail polish—”

“Dude, if the next words outta your mouth are ‘for girls’, I—”

“No! No, that’s… I just… I don’t think it really fits my whole…” Steve waved his hands around his torso. “You know? You’re… well you’re you, it goes with the whole metal thing. I’m…”

“Hawkins royalty?” Eddie deadpanned.

“Come on, that’s not what I meant. You don’t think it would look out of place wearing black nail polish with my whole… I dunno… prep thing?”

The other boy scoffed. “Who said it had to be black polish? There’s a world of colour here Harrington, pick one.”

Steve eyed the basket carefully, looking through all the options. Eddie really did have a wide array of colours to choose from. It was clear Eddie used nail polish as yet another way to express his loud personality, stomping over gender norms and challenging people’s perception of who he is by the array of soft pinks next to the shiny black and vibrant red. He thumbed over the tops, picking up a few colours he thought could look nice, pretty even. 

It had taken El calling Steve pretty for him to understand that it wasn’t just something you could call girls. Boys could be pretty too, hell he’d even thought that on a few occasions, seeing men in passing with soft billowy shirts and perfectly coiffed hair. Steve looked back up at Eddie, his tongue between his lips as he focused on steadying his non-dominant hand, his hair half tied up falling in his eyes… and oh, he thought, a moment of understanding washing over him, Eddie is also sort of… pretty.

His cheeks burned red and he turned his attention back to the basket of varnish in front of him, picking a random colour from the bunch. It was fairly neutral, a soft terra cotta orangey brown that didn’t seem to be totally opaque; he thought it would look nice against his skin. “This one?”

Eddie nodded his head in approval of Steve’s choice, shaking his hands to dry the paint on his own nails. “Go wash your hands, scrub the gunk under your nails, I’ll start after mine are dry.”

Once Steve’s hands were sufficiently clean, Eddie got to work. He shook the bottle and twirled it between his hands, then took Steve’s hands in his to inspect his canvas. Steve almost immediately flushed. 

You see, Steve loved holding hands with the girls he’d dated. It was customary to hold a girl’s hand while you walked, or over the table waiting for dinner, but he’d never had his hands held so delicately by someone else.

Eddie thumbed over Steve’s nails, checking for rough or sharp edges. He definitely didn’t notice how Steve gawked at him.

“Looks good man, tell me if you hate the colour and I can start over.” 

Steve nodded, speechless in the moment while Eddie shook the little bottle again and twisted the lid. He took Steve’s hand again, shaking it a little.

“Dude, let go, you’re tense as hell.” 

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, just not used to this.”

“Don’t worry big boy, I’ve gotcha.” Eddie threw to him with a wink.

Steve flushed at Eddie’s words, watching him go to work on his nails. The other boy was once again lost in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips as he swiped the paint over Steve’s pinky finger. He gave Steve a look, searching for approval with the colour, which Steve nodded to, and let Eddie continue. 

It was a wonder to Steve just how soft Eddie’s touch was. His hands were rough in a way that he could tell Eddie had been helping his uncle with their new vegetable garden in the backyard, the tips of his fingers calloused from playing his Warlock. But despite all that, his touch was just so damn gentle. Loud, boisterous Eddie with the touch of an angel.

“You good up there Steve-o?”

Steve blinked, and shook some hair from his eyes, coming out of his Eddie-induced trance. “What? Yeah, yeah I’m fine, why?”

“Well I’ve asked you like three times what you think Robin is gonna say about this.”

“O-oh.” Steve chuckled as a deep flush painted his cheeks. “Robs will love it, she’s begged me to let her paint my nails every time she stays the night like a ‘proper slumber party’, maybe I’ll actually let her do it sometime.”

“Oh? And why haven’t you?”

She’s not you. 

Steve shrugged away his answer, brushing off Eddie’s question. Every instinct within him told him to flirt, but this was Eddie, this wasn’t some random Hawkins girl he’d met up with on a whim. The Harrington Charm™ wasn’t meant for just anybody and —oh… did he want to flirt with Eddie? 

“Dude.” Eddie snorted. “You look like you just saw a ghost. You’re not gonna hurl on me, are you?” 

“You wish Munson.” What???

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he paused. “No, I really don’t actually.”

“Yeah, no you’re right.”

The other boy tightened the cap on the nail polish bottle, setting it aside. “Are you like… good? Like are you okay man?” 

Steve straightened, taken aback by Eddie’s question. “Yeah, yeah! Totally. I’m great, I’m just…” Eddie looked at him expectantly as he looked down to check out his nails. “Do you think they need another coat?”

Eddie smiled and took Steve’s hands again. “That can definitely be done. But I think they need to dry off a bit more first.” 

“Cool.” Steve and Eddie locked eyes, Eddie still holding Steve’s hands. 

“I can like… let go if you want me to.” 

“Yeah… no… yeah I’m good like this.” 

“Cool.” Eddie echoed Steve, not letting go. A few moments passed, before Eddie broke the tension with a sharp inhale. “Alright I think they’re dry enough for round two.” He got back to work, and this time, Steve had no issue unabashedly staring at his friend.

The tongue poke of concentration was back, and Steve wondered if he even knew he was doing it. His hair was a mess as per usual, but today he’d pulled the upper half of it back into a messy bun, leaving his neck exposed. His jaw looked strong, clenched, and his neck long and biteable. Biteable. I’ve never thought someone’s neck looked biteable. Eddie wore a tank top today, loose around his thin frame, but Steve noticed the definition in his arms; it was clear that toting around amps for Corroded Coffin had been paying off, among other things.

But still, his touch was so incredibly soft. 

People had Eddie all wrong. Sure, he was an oddball at times, making nerdy references, listening to loud music, wearing all the chains and the leather and the hanky that alluded to his preference for S&M, but he wasn’t some big scary mean nerd. Eddie could be a lot, but he could also be caring, and sensitive, and funny. He didn’t take bullshit from his friends, he held his inner circle to a higher standard, and knew that they’d expect that of him in return. Eddie was good, and oh god, do I have a crush on Eddie? 

Steve flinched with the realization, Eddie smacked his hand, bringing him back to the present. “Gonna make me get it all over you, hold still.” And wasn’t that something Steve had probably said in a much different scenario.

When he was done, Eddie pulled Steve’s hands up to eye-level to admire his work. “Not bad, usually Red complains that the colour bled into her cuticles but I think she just likes to complain. Whaddya think?”

Steve (reluctantly) took one of his hands out of Eddie’s grasp to look at his newly painted nails. It actually looked quite nice, and something about the fresh coat of paint made him feel different, like he was breaking out of a mould he once shaped.

“It looks awesome, thanks man.”

Eddie smiled bashfully, fiddling with the bottle. “No sweat. Hey, give it a sec and I’ll give you some lotion.” He pulled out a green tube and spread a dollop on each of Steve’s palms. “Wayne swears by this stuff in the winter, his knuckles get really bad.” With both of his thumbs, Eddie got to work rubbing the lotion into Steve’s palms and over his knuckles. “Wouldn’t be a proper manicure without a little massage, would it.”

All thoughts left Steve’s brain, it felt like Eddie’s fingers left a trail of fire where they went, gently but firmly coating his hands with lotion. It was good, Steve was relaxed, and he felt closer to Eddie than he ever had… but he didn’t want to move away.

“There. Now you’re done.” Eddie brushed his thumbs lightly over Steve’s palms, still not letting his hands go.

“Hey Eds?” Eddie quirked his brow in response. “You wanna grab dinner?” 

Eddie’s face was unreadable. “Like… out somewhere?”

“Yeah.” Steve paused. He’d never asked out a guy before, would Eddie think he was asking him to dinner just because he was the only gay guy Steve knew? Would he think Steve was trying to make fun of him? “Or, I dunno, we could order a pizza or something.” Nailed it coward.

The other boy smiled. “Sure Harrington, but if you fuck up those nails with pizza grease or something, I’m not redoing them.” 

Steve chuckled and smacked Eddie’s arm lightly. Maybe next time.

[panfluidme]

One shot request: (no death) Martin and Chris were like really far from the Tortuga and Martin gets injured (potentially fatal) and all Chris can do is to try and save him/protect him until they can get proper help. Martin also starts rambling about silly stuff while it's happening (examples: his favourite creature, what he'll get Chris for his birthday) also I love all your wild kratts angst fics 💗💗

I'm so sorry this has taken me for fucking ever, lol

I hope that you enjoy this. I kinda went off prompt

CAN'T THINK RIGHT

Martin was losing blood, quick. And Chris could see that. Him losing blood was absolutely terrifying; pulled right out of his nightmares. The color made him feel sick; why did it make him feel so sick?

Chris pressed his hands against Martin's side, trying so hard to keep himself as calm as he can be. This was a lot for the young man. His fear was strong, tears welled up in his chocolate brown eyes, but he needed to keep himself calm for Martin.

The older hummed softly. He stared at Chris as he blinked rapidly to in a vain attempt to get rid of the black dotting his vision. He let out a giggle, causing the younger to pause then look at his face.

"What are you giggling at?"

"Chris is so funny. He whined when it was purple martins or when he was blueeee."

The man in question blinked, confused. "Why do you bring it up?"

"I dunno. It's just funny. He whined lots over it. I do feel bad cause there's no animal that has Chris in the name." Martin let his head lull back.

"Deep breaths and stay awake, okay? I'm going to call Aviva here in a moment." Chris grabbed his Creature Pod with one hand and dialed Aviva.

"Hola," the inventor greeted cheerfully.

"Martin's hurt. A tiger bit him and cut up his legs."

"I'm on the way. Where are you?"

"I threw a sandwich and the tiger went after it. I found a ditch. We're hiding inside."

Aviva nodded and shouted at Jimmy to hurry. "I'll send a first aid kit over."

Chris nodded and looked at Martin, giggling to himself. "Avivaaaaa! I got Chris a blanketttt!"

"For?" she asked while searching.

"His birthday."

She chuckled. "Yeah?"

"It's a green lizard."

"I'm sure he'll love it." Aviva sent the first aid kit to them. She looked off screen and sighed. "I gotta go. Keep him awake and talking."

Chris nodded as he used the limited supplies to stabilize Martin for the time being. She hung up to tell Jimmy exactly where to go. Martin kept giggling and pointing out random things.

"Chrisssss!"

"Yes?"

"The sky's blue," he said so simply, Chris couldn't help but start laughing. "I like blue. I like green cause green makes you happy. I like when you're happy."

Chris stared at him then smiled softly. "Really?"

Martin nodded. "I don't like green more than I like blue, blue's better than green in lotsa ways, but it makes you soooooo happy, I can't not like it. You bein' happy always makes me happy, even if I'm upset with you for whatever reason. You're my favorite person," Martin's voice was getting a little weak.

"And you're my favorite person. So you gotta live for me, okay?"

"M'kay." He coughed a little then smiled at Chris. He poked Chris' cheek. "'Member when you learned how to ride a bike?"

"I do." Chris nodded.

"I'm sorry for getting you in trouble cause I accidentally wrecked the bike. I wanted to ride and I didn't have a bike. I was just too big for you baby bike. I did talk to mom an' dad to explain what happen, which is why your punishment disappeared."

Chris chuckled a little and put his forehead against Martin's cheek. He noticed that Martin's eyes were drooping. "Stay awake for me, okay?"

"I'm tryin'. It's hard."

"I'm sure it is."

The two could hear the Tortuga arrive.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

hey hey hey I have had a hell of a day (Actually Hell) because I did too many fun things (a problem apparently) and then also we put up the christmas tree leading to the inevitable christmas tree installation arguments (they pop up every year like clockwork!)

anyway i have been overstimulated and stressed (just want to emphasize that there is NO pressure here whatsoever! id like to avoid any semblance of that actually and I know you're already working on 12 days so take your time) and it would be very cathartic to see chris dealing with similar issues (the Wonderful guy. we are pretty similar.) thanks a lot for reading this, even if you don't write anything !

Sorry this took so long, Anon! I swear I've been trying to get this written for literally almost two months now

CW: Some references to Chris's past, overstimulation, anxiety

"Hey, where did Chris go?" Laken blinks and looks around, but the living room of the house they rent - filled with laughing, happy people - shows no sign of Chris's telltale lavender hair with its new-penny copper roots.

One of Brit's friends just shrugs at them and gestures, vaguely, in the direction of the kitchen. "Dunno. He wandered off a while ago, maybe that way?"

"Oh, okay. Huh." Laken steps back, the circle of laughing people closing up tight as soon as they do. Their dark eyes scan the room, but there's no sign of him.

He'd been doing great - all but holding court, one of the most popular people at the party. He's sort of famous, since the Olympics, and people had been peppering him with questions and compliments, crowding around wanting nothing more than to be friends with the ex-pet who stood up to the bad guys on live TV. They'd seen him dancing, too, the music loud enough to nearly make the walls shake. The easy, unselfconscious dancing they loved in him the most.

He'd seemed to be enjoying himself, at the time, but...

Where has he gone?

They weave around people, stopping to pick up an ornament that has fallen off the tree. The scent of pine is subtle and ever-present, and they carefully work the ornament's little loop back over a branch, ruefully watching a couple of pine needles come loose and drift down. The damn thing is already starting to turn a little brown around its edges, thanks to Laken's roommate having insisted on buying it literally the day before Thanksgiving.

Laken doesn't even celebrate Christmas, not since they stopped going to Mass on Christmas Eve years and years ago. Still, in a house they rent with three others, they're the only one who doesn't at least pay lip service to the holiday.

And even if they don't give a fuck about Christmas, they do like having an excuse to throw a party.

The tinsel wrapped in spirals around, over, and below the ornaments glitters in the light, and the look makes them think of Chris, and how his eyes have always looked just the same, to them, when they're out at night and the moon hits the green of his irises just right.

Their search leads them to Ben, contentedly sitting on the couch, a drink in one hand and his phone in the other, quietly reading something there while the party is in full swing around him. He glances up and then instinctively, immediately, uses a finger to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "Hey, Laken. What's up?"

"Is Akio not coming tonight?"

"Oh... no." Ben blushes - it's adorable, and Laken can't help the smile playing around their lips. "He's got some kind of meeting with the gymnastics team, or his coaches? Or... something like that. He said sorry, though."

"Nah, no problem. But, hey, so. Uh, have you seen Chris, like within the last ten minutes or so??"

Someone puts Christmas music on and Laken shudders as they hear that damn 80s pop song start up again. If they have to hear that fucking song one more time...

"Nope. Not in a while." Ben shrugs, taking a drink. Whatever he has in that cup is pinkish-red and probably far more alcoholic than it tastes. Laken's roommate had insisted on a signature cocktail. "You could check outside? Sometimes when there's a lot of people, to Chris it's... too much."

Laken nods, still scanning the crowd, but their stomach knots a little with the first hit of real anxiety. Ben is right, Chris can get overwhelmed by too much noise and movement, but also he's been drinking tonight - they saw the same red punch in a cup in his hands earlier - and he has a tendency to get... hazy, when he drinks. Flirty in ways that aren't natural to him. Willing to let people hug him that he doesn't like, unable to bring himself to stop them. Sometimes his stammer smooths out, which makes people who don't know him feel more comfortable and people who do know him nervous. He starts tipping his head to the side in a way that makes the sweep of his growing-out hair hide the scar on his forehead, biting his lower lip when he smiles. It makes Laken feel a little sick to see it happen and realize Chris doesn't even notice when he's doing it.

The last thing they need is to have to come up with an explanation for Chris losing track of himself again, or why he's eating olives off the charcuterie board Brit brought knowing damn well he'll just go to the bathroom and get sick all over the place again, or... fuck, what if somebody hits on him and he's too drunk to stop it?

That hasn't happened since college, but...

They pull their phone out, uneasily checking for a text, but there's nothing. If he went outside, he'd text, right? He does, he always does. Texts can be easier and Chris is always a little nervous about being outside alone.

He insisted on coming tonight, said he was feeling good lately, but-... what if-...

They flinch when fingers touch their arm, only to see Ben must have stood up when they weren't looking. He slips his own phone into his jacket pocket and looks Laken over more closely. "Hey. It's okay, he's probably fine. You know he gets weird when parties are really going. It's like a light switch, enough to too much, I totally get it. It's why I'm on the couch fucking around on Kindle instead of, you know... talking to people." Ben says it like talking to people is literal hell, and... okay, Laken can see how that might be the case. "He probably just needed to get away from it and wandered off."

"Uh, yeah. I know." Laken rubs at the back of their neck, fingers moving through the soft, shorn undercut beneath their longer black waves. "I'm sure that's it. Just... you know, sometimes he... when he gets nervous..."

"I got you." They adore Ben, sometimes, for how often they don't have to finish the sentences they don't want to say. He knows what words haven't yet spilled, unwilling. Sometimes he acts like he belongs to us, not like he loves us. Sometimes I can't trust him to find his way back on his own. Sometimes I feel like Jake, and I hate feeling like Jake.

Words die in their throat.

Ben squeezes their arm, gently. "Let's split up and search around. I'll go outside, you go around the house, okay? We verify how he is, then whichever one finds him tells the other. Sound good?" Ben smiles, and Laken relaxes a little, finding a smile for him in return.

"Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, Ben."

"No problem." Ben has always understood Chris, thanks to his little brother being similar in some ways. He understands Laken's worry, too, because better than anyone else here - he knows how Chris sometimes gets lost in his past, especially if he's drinking, worse the maybe twice Laken's ever seen him try an edible or a pill.

What if he got drunk and someone offered him something and he took it? Drunk Chris sometimes isn't a Chris who can easily turn down anything he's offered.

This party was a stupid idea.

Laken takes a deep breath and squares their shoulders.

Chris is not a child.

He is a goddamn grown man and Laken is not his keeper. They're not his parent and they're not a babysitter. They're definitely not his fucking... owner or whatever the bastards that hurt him would have called it. They're his partner. He can handle himself, better than they could if they'd lived his life, and they need to trust him to either know his limits and to get away if he can't say no, or to come to them if he wants to ask for help. Otherwise, they're not any better than the bullshit he's been buried in for longer than he's known them.

Ben goes to check outside, slipping silently out the sliding door onto the back porch where a small crowd has congregated in a cloud of skunky smoke, while Laken heads upstairs, peeking their head in to room after room with no sign of him anywhere. They see some movement under a pile of coats, but that's... definitely not Chris, based on the very female voices who yell at them to give them some fucking privacy, please.

"Sorry, Brit," Laken calls, closing the door tightly. "And, um, Leigh. Just looking for Chris-"

"Well, he isn't in here or we'd have kicked him out already," Brit says, cranky but without any real anger in her voice. Laken doesn't recognize the redhead whose eyes pop up from beneath the pile of coats next to her. "Check a different room."

"Yeah, I will. Uh... keep having fun, I guess-"

"That's the plan! Now leave, please!"

The door latches as they close it, and they exhale. There's one room left, at the end of the hall, and they can hear a familiar murmuring from behind the door when they press their ear up against it.

Laken knocks, rapping gently with their knuckles, and turns the knob when they hear no answer - but no demand to stay out either. The murmuring goes silent. They sigh, and the door swings open, light cutting across the carpet until it reveals their wayward boyfriend.

No one has claimed this bedroom yet, so it's bare and empty except for a couple unpacked cardboard boxes, Brit's exercise bike by the window, a couple of her yoga mats, a laundry basket with a few folded towels, and a bare mattress the last housemate had left behind on the floor when they moved out.

Laken's lips press together, eyes scanning the room. Chris's phone is on the mattress, along with an empty beer bottle, but Chris isn't. "Chris? Cariño?"

A muffled rustling makes them jump, heart in their throat, and then they realize the sound came from the closet, where the folding doors are closed. Laken pulls them open to reveal Chris curled up, knees nearly to his chin, an open bottle clutched in one hand, his chewy necklace in the other. He'd chosen the bat one tonight, and his hand is closed around it in such a tight fist Laken can tell his knuckles are white even in the dark.

Chris doesn't look at them. He's swaying, rocking forward and back, his eyes focused on something far, far away from them. There's red lines on his left wrist, where he's dug his nails in, scratching not quite deep enough to draw blood, but close. Laken takes a deep breath, shifting into a crouch.

"Talk to me, Chris."

"No." The answer is flat, and they watch his thumb rub over the little nub of the silicone bat's nose, the points of its tiny ears. "No, no, no. No."

At least he's saying it out loud.

That alone makes the knot of anxiety in their chest start to loosen. If he can say no, he isn't gone, maybe just... standing a little farther back, inside his own head, than the surface.

"Okay. Okay, that's fine. No talking, that's fine. Are you okay, baby?" Laken keeps their voice just above a whisper and lays their hand on the wood trim that frames this shitty excuse for a closet, the floor creaking under them. "You... kind of vanished on me, there."

Chris's eyes flick to them and then away again. "Loud," He manages, and he sounds like he's forcing the word out between gritted teeth. Maybe he is. "Too, too, too... too loud. Too much, too... many."

"I guess Ben called it." Laken sighs, pulling out their phone and sending Ben a quick text that they found Chris and everything's fine. they get a thumbs-up in reply almost immediately. Ben must have been as anxious as they are, if he was just watching for their text to come in. "Do you want me to call Jake to come get you, or..."

"No!" He snaps it, and Laken tries not to wince. He's just struggling with the noise of the party, they tell themself, he's not actually angry. Chris almost never gets angry, and even then it's only at himself. Which... is worse, somehow. "No. Just... Quiet, it's... it's it's quiet."

"Right. Do you want me to stay with you? Be quiet with you?"

He shakes his head, but he doesn't say anything else. His mouth moves, but no further sounds come out.

"Chris, did..." They want to ask, did someone say something to you? Sometimes people said things, referenced pets or something in a way that set him off. But even if someone had... he probably wouldn't tell them, at least not now, not when every word seemed to have to filter through layer after layer of self-protection in his mind. "Never mind. Is there anything I can do for you? Water, or..."

He shakes his head. "No. Just. Um. Quiet... quiet, now. Please?"

"Yeah." Laken leans over and presses a kiss to his hair. He tips his head against their lips and they exhale in relief. "I love you, Chris. Come back if you can, but if you can't, that's okay, too. Just don't hurt yourself, okay? Things should start winding down in a couple hours." They take the little plastic bat and push it against the hand that's still scratching at his shoulder, until he takes hold of it again, pressing it against his mouth and running it back and forth, back and forth.

Chris is quiet, but as they open the door to head back into the hallway, they hear a quiet, "Love, love you," from Chris, barely audible.

They smile as they close the door. Down the hall, the sounds of the party hit them like a brick, beckoning them back to the noise and the cheer and the awful fucking Christmas music still blaring at top volume. Someone yells something out and the whole damn crowd cheers, making Laken wince at it feels nearly deafening.

Maybe Chris has the right idea.

-

@finder-of-rings @endless-whump @arlin-always-writing @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @whumpyourdamnpears @cubeswhump @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @outofangband @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[katyspersonal]

I wanna a share a headcanon I have regarding the Good Hunter! ^^

This I came up with mainly due to the fact for some bizarre reason renders,art and figurines of The Good Hunter can't seem to decide at all what hair color this guy has!

The male one at least- either has black (artbook), brown (artbook and some renders(?)) And lastly white (mostly seen on figurines) and it seems to be on a FS default character that I found on the Sliders page of the Bloodborne wiki.

So to the headcanon I cooked up, whenever the Hunter consumes an Umbilical Cord... his hair becomes more and more white.

Like at 1 cord, maybe its not super noticeable, the hair just seems to have brightened in shade a bit.

But at 2, strands of hair have gone completely pure light grey.

3 is when patches of the hair start going full white.

And at 4 is the moment the hair has gone full white.

I dunno, i'm just spitballing 'ere but I thought it would be fun to share! :D

No, listen, your headcanon absolutely makes sense! Okay before we go, I want to post more of the Default Hunter images:

Here we have the hunter featured in merch, the hunter from licensed comics and the hunter(s) from character creation presets! And I agree with you that the mysterious unused face gotta be default one, because, yes, this is the placeholder used while working on the cutscenes:

( x ) Despite Paleblood Hunter being listed as young ( x ), he does strangely have grey hair! And yes I knooooOOOOOW that people CAN get grey in their like, 20s or something, but Paleblood Hunter arrives to Yharnam specifically "seeking the paleblood"! My interpretation of this was some sort of calling, when one day their hair and eyes became pale of color. 'Paleblood' has to do as much with Arcane as it does with beasthood! :p

Your idea kind of works even better:

Paleblood Hunter is strongly implied to be from the same country as Brador, who ALSO has green eyes and dark hair, much like preset Hunters (and those featured in artbook?)! They are portrayed as a guy with grey hair and eyes specifically in Hunter attire, and explaining it as gradual progression in Yharnam is a really cool headcanon!

[lovelessbachelor]

9, 11 and 15 for the ask game mwah mwah meah /plat <333

Mwah Mwah Mwah! Okay, I admit I had a lot of fun with this one. So. Long read ahead X'D

a radio fizzles to life, crackling with energy. The broadcast begins, illuminating sharp, tinny voices.

Oh, why, would you look at that! We got our first questions, O joy!

there's the sound of shuffling papers, and someone's throat is cleared.

Okay, these come from blog name cinnamon-phrog. Prynhawn da, Caru! Or, I suppose it is nos, now. I hope you're doing well.

Let's get crack into these queries! Dear, you've been quiet… These questions ARE to you, you know…

A second voice cuts through the static, curling the air, the accent seems unfamiliar.

Ey, yeah, yeah, I know. Ya neva lemme come in ere when ya on air.

Well, I'm also not on air very often. Since when do you keep count?

I don't, but, ey, maybe ya do instead. Ya seem the real bees knees at this thing.

there's a slight pause, a chair creaks.

Aha. Trying to stall? What, you don't think you have the voice for radio?

a splutter can be heard through the static, or it's a spike of interference.

Nah! As if, brah! Your voice was made for radio, anyway, ya can't say nuffin, muffin.

EW, don't call me that. And you'll be fine, we have a script.

Das not a-

there's the sound of frantically shuffling pages getting picked up by the microphone.

Shhhh, stalling!!!

Right, first question :

the host clears his throat, and a beat on the table gets picked up, from the wafery sound of a page being flipped, you can surmise on what it was.

Fresh, whats my beige flag?

…Ya what now? Ya don't even like beige, n'less is like a light brown.

No, no, not like that. I'll be entirely transparent and admit I don't quite know what it is, either. Perhaps the middle of a red flag, and a green flag?

Ohhh, ya, alrigh. I geddit.

Do ya, Fresh? Do ya?

AAAH, shuddup. Oh, ya, I got one.

there's another swell of static smearing the sound, picking up suddenly.

He keeps on tryna-

No I don't!

Yeah, ya do! Ya aaaalways like hey for no particular reason can I measure ya a minute and I ask why and ya like-

the broadcast fuzzes, it spikes like laughter.

-an I walk in on 'im with a roll a that paper and a thing on the floor-

It's PATTERN paper and a BOOK OF PATTERNS!

Ah, I caught ya!

Lies!

it cuts out again, fading in and out before settling in stronger.

Even so, I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting to make you a doublet!

Yeah dere is! What am I a blood sucking, door-not-entering vampire?

it's hard to hear, but the host squeaks in amusement

No, you misunderstand! I think that you in a doublet with a peascod belly would be SO-

the connection is abruptly cut off, filling the room with angry static. When it comes back, you can make out a high whistle.

Woahhh, can ya even say dat on radio?

I'm not sure, let's just hope it didn't pick up.

And if it did?

Nnnnext question!

Fresh, what would you consider MY colour, and what would you consider yours?

Are dey seriously askin ME ya favourite colour?

Uhm, yes? Maybe. Not entirely, actually, it's more like what you'd consider MY colour. Like what you'd associate with me most, what I wear the most or something.

Pft. C'mon, homes, dat ones easy. Have ya even met dis guy? Is pretty glarin'.

Now what the [FUNK] is that supposed to mean- are you seriously still doing the censoring thing?!

EY, don't rag on me, whaddif deres kidz listening!

I suppose that's a good point. How nice of you.

Bleeehhh.

a pause, then…

! Whad was dat for!

The sweet taste of revange…

a megamind reference doesn't seem thematically appropriate, but the host will include it anyways. It's MY show, dammit!

Regardless, you still didn't answer the second half. (even if you didn't really answer the first half, either…)

Whad was dat?

Nothing.

'Key, well, I dunno. I dun have A colour, das pretty crystal.

Maybe your colour is the inclusion of all of it?

Beeep, eeeerk, big word aleeeert! Neeerd!

None of those were big words…

What's the most useless fact he knows about me…

Ya said dat out loud, sweet.

Oh, dear, did I? I was just wondering about it.

Why's dat?

Not sure. I can't predict what you could possibly say here. Not that I do anyway, but you understand what I mean.

Nah, I don't, actually.

Also, ya always start walkin on ya left foot first, and finish on da right.

Wait wha-

the sound of wood scraping against a floor can be distantly heard from the broadcast, and there is silence for a long few moments

…Oh my stars, I do. Well, it might be biased, now…

Hah!

That's crazy. Hold on… You could remember THAT and not my favourite colour?!

Dere was nuthin about dat!

Well sure. But you couldn't even answer straight about what my colour was, so I'm more than a bit suspicious.

Aw, c'mon! Ya favourite colour is… Uh… Uuuuh…

See? Viewers, it's green and purple, for the books.

Ya can't blame me, ya have two!

Yes, and your colours consist of the entire colour wheel.

Das cus I don't look bad in nuthin, baybeyyyy!

Oh, like a pair of breeches?

Nah, ya reaching.

Breeching, actually. It was and is the practice of giving a young boy his first set of trousers or, well, breeches. This is usually done around the age of 6-8 ish, so the very beginning of childhood and the end of infancy. Before this age, a child was practically-

Wait, why do I need ta know dis?

Ugh, you're no fun!

I just noticed, we got through all the questions.

What'd we get, three?

Yes, three. Now those are done we'll sign off for now til we get more questions.

Jus like dat?

Yup! Be sure to tune in!

[honeysuckletoast]

I finally finished writing the first chapter of the drabble Academy fic I've been dragging my feet on.

Miss Avocet's Academy for Ymbrynes.

(A/N I will eventually get these uploaded on AO3 and fanfic. Net. I also have each character's descriptions if anyone wants to see those! If you have any requests for future chapters, feel free to PM me

And thank you to @weirdddgirl for her help in giving me feedback and with the bio's for the characters)

**********************************************************

This is our newest ward, Miss Alma Bentham.” Miss Avocet presented the young girl proudly in the class room. Alma looked around at the other girls. There was around 5 of them that Alma could see, plus the other headmistress who wasn't present. She hadn't met miss Bunting yet, having arrived last night and missing breakfast with the others from sleeping in.

“I wish Jack and Myron were here…” the peregrine thought as she looked up at the black haired woman standing beside her. Neither Alma or Miss Avocet knew where they would be placed, but Miss Bobolink assured her they would be very close by.

“And Roisin, stay back a minute please dear.” Alma snapped back from her thoughts as the girls all started to pack up from their desks and shuffle out from the classroom discussing their plans for the free afternoon.

“I wonder which one’s Roisin” Alma murmured, eying a few of the younger girls who walked by. “They all look friendly…..at least all except that girl” she thought at the sight of a tiny girl with brown hair and gold rimmed glasses who was having her ear talked off by another girl who was practically bouncing as she walked off

“We could go down into the town and get croissants Alice!” The blonde haired girl shook the supposed Alice’s arm, getting a more than displeased look from the girl.

“Millie stop your gonna hurt her fragile bones” another girl teased as they all left, continuing their banter down the hall.

“Wait everyone's gone, where is Roisin-” Alma started until a sudden flash of green and white sped in front of her, nearly sliding into the wall from the force as she tried to stop herself.

“You wanted to see me miss? I'm so sorry I’m late getting back, Miss Bunting needed help carrying her old desk downstairs.”

Alma's forest green eyes widened at the huge figure as she steadied herself. Bright red hair cascaded down the woman's back, reaching past her cream colored blouse to her dark green skirt, even all kinked up in curls. The 10 year old girl felt herself start trembling as she grabbed Miss Avocet’s hand, shuffling behind her. “She's even taller than Miss Avocet.”

“Alma, this is Roisin Gannet. She's our oldest ward and she's very friendly. She's gonna take you around and introduce you to the other girls while I go to see where your brothers will be placed, right, Miss Gannet?” Miss Avocet asked sternly.

“yes Ma'am." the girl echoed as she bent down to be half her height, but yet was still taller than Alma. "Do women even get this tall? Or this freckled?" Alma thought as Miss Avocet took away her barrier and stepped away, transforming and flying out the window. Roe picked up her head mistress's clothing, folding them and laying them on top of a light green changing screen that sat in the corner of the room besides a skeleton that was standing posed like a flower girl, a withered bouquet of daisy's in the bony hands.

“Why do you guys have a skeleton? Is he…..you know real?” Alma asked roe amin a whisper as if the skeleton could hear her.

“Oh! That's mister tempus, he's our mascot of sorts." roe explained as she walked over “I dunno where miss bunting found him, but I think he is real.” Roe held up the skeletons wrist “do you want to come see?”

“No no thank you!” Alma gave a curt wave as she looked around the room to see if there were any more objects of interest. Besides a few hand drawn diagrams and a huge bookcase in the left corner, nothing else caught her eyes.

“Oh yer’ so tiny!” Alma jumped as Roisin was suddenly in front of her again, “sorry, forgot to actually introduce myself, “I'm Roisin, but you can call me Roe if it's easier. I'm 16 years old, and I'll be showing you round’ the academy!” Roe chipped then offered Alma her freckled hand. The Peregrine looked back at the window where Miss Avocet had left, but no bird remained in sight.

“Guess I don't have a choice.” She thought as she took the huge hand being offered to her. Roe smiled, holding the door open for her.

“Now, I know my accent is thick as fog, if ya need me to repeat myself, don't worry, just ask” Roe advised as she worked down the hall, shifting slightly as she looked out to the courtyard. “say, I noticed yer a bit frightened. Is it me causin’ ya the fright ?” She asked gently, bending down again to be Alma's height with a tiny smile. Alma blinked, looking at anything but the woman in front of her.

“I-i shouldn't lie, mama gets mad when we lie…..but maybe I need to do so she doesn't kill me?” Alma wondered silently as the hand that was holding her was placed on hsr shoulder. Alma tensed, then looked up to meet Roe's gaze

“Woah your eyes!” Alma forgot her terror for a moment as she stared at her baby blue eyes. The woman grinned “I know, they are a bit of an odd shade” she said. “And if you're scared of me, please don't be?” Roe said awkwardly. “I-i know I'm a bit tall and big” she shuffled “I know I scare the kids sometimes too. Just comes with being over 6 feet ya know?”

Alma shuffled her feet, nodding silently. "I probably made her feel horrible" Alma wondered as she looked input the window to the forest just beyond the gates.

“But I promise, I'll try to be the best sister and friend to ya. So if you need anything, just ask okay? Miss Avocet told me yer room is across from mine, so if ya need anything’, night or day, just come in okay? You might have to nudge my shoulder though” Roe explained, but looked away towards the window as she dabbed her eyes

“I didn't mean to make you cry!” Alma exclaimed and quickly hugged the gannet tight. Roisin couldn't help but laugh slightly as rubbed her eyes.

“It's not you love. I had a baby sister yer age.” She said gingerly, fiddling with her hair as she spoke “she's no longer with us, ya know? Just found out a month or two ago.” the gannet sighed. “She was the same height as ya, just as shy too, you just remind me of her a bit”

“oh….i’m so sorry” Alma squeezed her hug tighter. Roe smiled, bending down to hug her back.

“Thank you” She smiled “now let's go meet the other huh?” Ama nodded, finally feeling a bit more at ease as she took Roe's hand back.

Roisin took her down a long corridor to a set of French style doors. “Let's see ... .ah Millie and Alice! They are both around yer age.” She smiled and ushered the girl inside. Alma stepped in as roe shut the door, immediately being bombarded by a girl with bright blond waves and two mocha brown eyes.

“Hi Alma. My name is Millie! Millicent thrush! I'm 12 years old and I hope we can be friends! I love your hair, and your shoes! Do you like the color blue? It suits you! You can sit next to me in-

“Don't scare her off her first day Millie my goodness!” A strict voice came from the next girl sitting next to her. “You're gonna give her a stress induced heart attack!” She snapped as she closed her book. Alma stood up on her toes, reading the cover while Millie gave a half response to Alice.

“The Blue Fairy book”. Alma read aloud as Alice quickly grabbed the book off the table, holding it in her lap as she avoided Millie's smug gaze.

“Don't be like that Alice” Roe warned gently. “Millie is like a child, very easily excited by life’s little joys.”

“Maybe you should try it sometime Alice! It's so much better than gloom and doom!” Millie poked Alice's cheek lightly. The tiny girl huffed but sat up straighter when she realized it was her turn to introduce herself.

“Good day. I'm Alice Mariie Jones, or Alice Treecreeper. I'm 13 years old.” she said, moving to resume her reading. Alma looked up at Roisin who gave a soft sigh, turning towards the huge glass windows that lined the room. Soft green curtains covered each one to prevent most of the light from seeping in.

“Alice, you must open these while you're reading, you know what Miss said about your eyes becoming easily strained!” Roe said as she opened the curtains but continued speaking “Alice is a little…..introverted. she prefers her books to people” she said as she opened up the window, sticking wood inside the base to prop them open.

Alma nodded, taking a seat in the third arm chair in half circle.

“I love the book you're reading, Alice.” Alma tried to start a conversation. “My mama read it to me and my brothers.” Alma commented on the fairytale book, then turned and looked around the elaborate parlour, taking note of the multiple bookshelves stacked with books of all shapes and sizes. Neatly tucked into the walls. “You all have enough books to have a library!” She exclaimed

Millie rolled her eyes “reading is my least favorite thing, and that's all Alice does! She's the most boring roommate!” She lightly nudged Alice who didn't respond, simply turning her page with contained annoyance.

“wait until you see the real library. Miss Avocet believes strongly in reading” Alice commented as she pulled her tan shawl tighter to her shoulders. "So Alma, do you have a favorite book?” Alice asked curiously. “Millie doesn't know how to read, nor will she ever be able to learn how, it's nice that someone else enjoys it here”

“Do you see how she treats me?!” Millie flopped back on the fainting couch dramatically as Alma giggled, but then paused for a moment and thought “I don't think I have a favorite one. I like most everything I read” she finally gave an answer. Alice nodded, looking down at her book again

"what's your favorite book?” Alma asked back. Alice closed her book again, but didn't pause at all to think as she took her glasses off to clean them.

“Gray’s Anatomy.” She said automatically as Millie couldn't help but stifle a chuckle.

Alma tilted her head, her brows furrowing slightly as a quirked smile adorned her face. “isn't that an adult book?” she asked, remembering seeing Myron with a book similar to that name. Alma had barely taken a glance at it before her mother told him to stop reading it since it was for adults, and took it from him. “Wonder if she ever gave that back?” she thought as Alice nodded.

“Yes, it's a medical book. I like studying the human body and its capabilities, especially in a peculiar sense.” Alice shrugged “My parents never had children's books like this, they said it’s brain rot.” She held up the book. “but I really like fairy tales alot too,” she admitted sheepishly

“We all like different things” Alma smiled “I like fairy tales also. They are probably my favorite genre to read.” She said as Roe came back from opening the last window.

“We all like to cling to our fairy tales until the price in believing them becomes too high” Alice shrugged “then we are pulled back to reality.”

“Alice, she’s like 8 years old,” Millie teased as Alma's hand was taken up by roe to move on.

“Come see us if you have free time today! I can show you how to get to the candy store !” Millie bounced in her seat. “and I think I'm down the hall from you if you ever need anything!” She welcomed Alma, getting up and hugging the tiny girl. Alma broke into a smile “she's so bubbly”

“That stuff is bad for your teeth and you sleep like your dead Millicent” Alice flipped her page and continued reading “I'll be awake if you need anything ever though.” Alice called after Alma as the door clicked closed.

“We should keep moving, yes?” Roe asked, “Enid and Cathy are down in the garden.”

Alma nodded, following the tall girl outside into the vine entangled archway. Fresh honeysuckle had bloomed on nearly every square inch of the trellis that marked the entrance to the courtyard. Flowers of many different shades and sizes dappled the grounds underneath the towering willow and maple trees. A few wooden swings creaked in the light winds that brought light wisps of fresh rain on the horizon.

“who takes care of the gardens here?” Alma gasped as Roisin as she moved a few willow branches back to reveal two teenagers were seated on a conversation bench, chatting away underneath the dark clouds.

“Miss Avocet assigns us each a plot to take care of, well” the gannet paused “she might assign you to just help someone else sense all the beds are taken up.” roe answered as she ushered Alma underneath the branches. “It's a friendly competition. Every year whoever has the best bed at the end of harvest gets to pick a field trip!”

“And I seriously was thinking about giving in and backhanding this guy, because how rude to be so disrespectful to an miss Sandpiper!? she's so fragile as is and-

“Enid, Cathrine, say hello!” Roisin exclaimed loudly, catching both of them off guard as a warning to shut their mouths. Both of the girls quickly hushed, turning towards the taller woman.

“Oh my goodness….” The teenager to the right blinked, moving her long black braids to the side.“She's so tiny!”

“Alma, why don't you introduce yourself?” Roe nudged her forward. Alma looked up at her and then back at the two women.

“I guess the others were very kind” Alma stood up straighter and curtsied “I'm Alma, Alma Bentham”

“Oh love we aren't worth even a curtsy! Save that for the important people!” One of them laughed gently then continued “I'm Cathrine, Cathrine swallow, or glassbill.”

Alma felt her face flush “o-oh okay” she took Roe’s hand again. “Why do you have two last names? That's fancy” Alma asked.

“Well, I'm a swallow, but there is already a Miss Swallow. To avoid confusion, I picked a different name-”

“By slamming two of the weirdest words together-”

“Ah, yes, coming from the person who couldn't spell Swallow the other day I had to choose two words I was positive you could spell Enid.” Cathy teased. Alma couldn't help but giggle at the two.

“She has me there, I can't spell to save my life.” Enid laughed. “But hello, I'm Enid Finch. You might've met my Auntie, also miss Cora Finch While at the council,

“You have an aunt who's an ymbryne too!?” Alma gasped “Miss Bobolink told me that was impossible yesterday!”

“it's rare. Most of us don't have any ymbrynes or even other peculiars in our families. I just got….lucky. One in a million chance” she shifted, looking down at the floor as a less-than-well hidden frown appeared.

“So what's your bird Alma?” Cathrine quickly picked up the conversation before the young girl could ask anymore questions.

“A peregrine” Alma rocked on her heels. “Miss Bobolink told me birds of prey are rare” she recounted the woman from the council when they met last week.

“They are. Peregrine's are beautiful!” Roisin chimed in “I suppose that's where you got that feather clip on your hair huh?” she asked, her fingers lightly brushing the top of the feather

“That's from my old ymbryne miss Dottrel. She made it for me!” Alma unclipped it and held it up for Roisin.

“I didn't know you had an Ymbryne before this” roe took the clip and started to examine it.

Alma nodded as she rubbed her right eye “They told me I was too young to come to the academy. She took me in when I was really young and kept me until I just turned ten last week!”

“You must be very impressive then!” Cathy said as she stood up to stretch. “Miss Avocet doesn't usually take girls this young, it's amazing that at this age you were even able to transform!” Cathy added, “took me till I was 14 and I'm only 15 now!” she said as Enid stood up with her

“It is indeed impressive.” Enid chuckled softly. “Maybe if your skills are as good as your manners, you can teach the boy I encountered yesterday at Miss Loon's loop.” she muttered more to Cathrine as she suppressed a laugh.

“I suppose it's time we head in for supper, no?” Cathy asked as she moved the vines back. Enid got up with a nod.

“Yes, I'm surprised miss Avocet even let miss Bunting back in the kitchen to cook after last week” roe laughed. “Miss bunting nearly lit the kitchen on fire last week.” Roe told Alma who cupped a hand to her mouth.

“I didn't dear. She's still not allowed to cook for one reason or another.” Miss Avocet suddenly appeared from the side of the house with two young men in tow.

“Jack! Myron!” Alma grinned, running up and hugging Jack tight. Miss Avocet watched with a faint smile

“We have decided that your brothers will stay here so as to not break your family up. You all seem very close and I want you to grow up with them.” Miss Avocet explained. Alma nodded, hugging Myron who more readily accepted the hug than jack. Miss Avocet smiled, then looked over at the trio of teenagers.

“Enid why do you have that sour look on your face?” Miss Avocet asked “that's unbecoming of a young lady to stand there with your mouth agape” she chastised. Enid quickly shut her mouth but turned to Catherine and Roisin

“That's the boy! The boy from yesterday!” She hissed, holding Cathrine back so the others could walk ahead “that's who was rude to Miss Sandpiper!”

Jack turned, his eyes narrowing onto Enid as glared right back.

[sminny-wew]

Meeting of the Nettos

-

THUD!

After what felt like an eternity of freefall, Megaman.EXE suddenly hit solid, hard ground.

"Oww..." The orange navi groaned from his landing spot on the ground. After taking a moment to recover and gather himself, Megaman pulled himself upright and tried to inspect his surroundings.

He blinked his green eyes in confusion. He was standing in some kind of strange, white void. He squinted his eyes, straining to understand how far the space stretched, but no matter how hard he focused, he could not make out any sort of horizon; there didn't even seem to be a floor, despite the ground feeling completely solid beneath his feet. It couldn't possibly be the real world, but this place didn't feel like anywhere on the net, either. Was he dreaming somehow?

"Where the heck am I??" he cried out.

"Whoa! Another navi me?!"

Megaman whirled around at the voice of a sudden new presence in the void, and found himself face-to-face with...

...himself?

The other navi definitely had his face, but certain other details were different. He had the same orange gloves and boots, but his bodysuit was a plain black compared to his own dark orange. He also wore a full orange helmet, with a white antenna on both sides and short tufts of dark artificial hair poking out at the back. All the same, the Hikari family crest rested on the front of his helmet, the sides, and on his chest. But perhaps the biggest (and most curious) difference was that the other navi had brown eyes.

Hub's eyes.

"Whoa...!" The delayed shock finally struck Megaman, and he jumped in surprise. "Who are you? Why do you look like me??"

"That's what I wanna know!" said the lookalike, seeming oddly less surprised than Megaman figured he should be, and far more excited. "You're a Netto too, right?"

He blinked. "Huh?"

"Ah, wait, you go by Lan, don't you?"

Megaman's eyes widened slightly at the use of his real name, and he forced out a rather unconvincing laugh. "I dunno where you got that name from, but you're looking at the one and only Megaman!"

The other navi's eyes lit up in a surge of excitement. "No way! You go by Megaman too??"

Megaman deflated slightly. "Y-Yeah...? Is that name common around...wherever we are?"

"Sorta," said the other Megaman, "But in my case, I'm not usually a navi."

"Aaaaand you lost me," said Megaman, his brows furrowed in confusion, and brought a hand to his chin. "Hey, wait. If you're really another me, then...were you made the same way?"

The other Megaman shrugged. "I dunno, did you and your Rockman fight an ancient net entity that grants people's wishes by warping reality?"

Megaman merely blinked in silence.

The other Megaman grinned sheepishly, rubbing his hand against the nape of his neck. "Guess not."

Megaman let out a small sigh and shifted into a sitting position. "Normally I don't like to talk about when I was made. But, weirdly enough, I feel like I could talk to you about it because you remind me of more than just...well, me. You kinda remind me of Hub, too."

The other Megaman tilted his head with curious interest, moving to join him on the ground. "Who's Hub?"

"He's my operator. He's kind of shy and quiet, but he's a really nice and friendly kid. He's also really smart and focused!! Without him, I never would've stood a chance against World Three or anybody else!"

"Hey," said the other Megaman suddenly, "Just, out of curiosity, are you and Hub...twins?"

Megaman's eyes widened. "I...how'd you know?"

The other Megaman gave a weak smile. "Normally, I can be pretty clueless about a lot of things. But, if you're me, and you're a navi, and you were made, then...I think I understand."

Brown eyes locked with green.

"You were the one who had HBD, weren't you?"

Megaman gulped, but it was more of a phantom reflex than anything else. "...Yeah. When we were born, Hub turned out perfectly healthy, but...I wasn't so lucky." He shook his head, as though to ward off any negative thoughts. "But Dad didn't wanna give up on me. He worked day and night, trying to incorporate my DNA with the Navi Project to bring me back. And eventually, right around Hub's 10th birthday...there I was, all finished and ready to meet him. We've been together ever since: stopping netcrime and making the world a better place for humans and navis to live peacefully." He tilted his head downward. "I just wish we weren't always separated by a screen."

A silence hung between the two orange navis. Neither was entirely sure what to say next.

"...Are you mad at your dad?"

Megaman looked to his counterpart. "For what?"

"For doing that to you. Did he ever make you feel...inferior? Like you were just a backup of the real Lan?"

Megaman's brow raised. Where was this coming from? "Not...really? I mean, for a while I couldn't tell Hub who I was even though I really wanted to, and it was kinda hard to keep it secret, but other than that...Dad always seemed to think of me as Lan. I mean...I feel like I'm the real Lan. Never really had any reason to doubt myself."

The other Megaman hummed flatly. "Gotcha."

Feeling a sense of concern, Megaman side-eyed his counterpart. "Is...is your Hub okay?"

The other Megaman gave a solemn nod. "His name's Saito, actually, but he also goes by Rockman. And...he wasn't okay for a while, but I didn't know it at first. He'd been building fences around his true feelings and keeping them hidden, so I never knew just how much he was hurting." He brought a hand to his chest. "He was so scared at first when the entity switched our places. I had to keep reminding him to breathe just so he wouldn't pass out. I could tell he was really excited to be human and getting to just, live, y'know? But he felt like he didn't deserve it, like he'd stolen my life from me. Like he'd stolen Saito's life."

He looked back to Megaman, though the melancholy on his face had given way to vigor, and his brown eyes shone with it. "But after everything we've been through together, especially on Torishima...I feel like those fences are finally gone, and me and Saito are closer than ever! Brothers, no matter what!"

That smile was infectious, and Megaman couldn't help himself. "Yeah...just like me and Hub! Nothing can stop us, 'cause no matter what, we're always connected!" He then sighed defeatedly. "I just wish one of them was here now, they could help us find a way out of this place."

"I guess we better go find the others then."

Megaman did a double take. "Others??"

"Yeah! You didn't think we were the only ones here, did you?" He stood up and gestured for Megaman to follow him. "C'mon!"

The two walked for some time, though exactly how long, Megaman wasn't certain. For all he knew, time may not even exist in this endless white void. But, soon enough, they came upon a growing crowd, and Megaman's eyes widened.

An entire group of other Lans, or Nettos, or whatever they called themselves, stood amongst each other. They were either chatting, laughing, or just looking around in excited confusion. Some were navis, just like him. Others seemed to be completely human. At least one of them even appeared to be a girl.

Netto Megaman slung his arm around his shocked counterpart's shoulder. "We still don't really know where we are, but since it just seems to be other Nettos and Lans here, I've been calling it 'the Nettoverse'! Pretty cool, huh? It's like something out of a superhero movie!"

His mind spinning faster than he could keep up with, Lan Megaman shook his head.

"This...is...AWESOME!"

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

Hiii! So, I'm kinda nervous to try but I wanna try the whole matchmaking thing for DC if you don't mind?

So, I'm 5'1, have shoulder length fluffy black hair, I have brownish yellow skin, have a scar above my left eyebrow from some stitches I got there, and dark-ish brown eyes.

I'd say I'm an energetic person, but at the same time have almost no energy for anything if that makes sense? I'm energetic if it's something I like, tired 24/7 otherwise. I'm self diagnosed with Autism and ADHD, waiting on an official diagnosis when I have the money for it. My favorite colors are green, blue, purple, red and black. I like dancing, singing, am super into music, learning how to skateboard right now, I love riding bikes, I am obsessed with reading, I enjoy theatre and am probably a theatre kid. I also like watching anime. I don't really have any close friends, but I do have a lot of friends and acquaintances! I'm a social butterfly and can Yap about anything I'm passionate about. I'm bisexual (masc leaning) and Genderfluid. I love animals and currently do ballet. I'm also a math whiz and a science whiz.

My fashion sense leans on more goth, punk, emo, alt, and Cottagecore. I constantly wear platforms and spiked rings, sometimes dangly earrings. I also wear fingerless gloves a lot. And I mostly wear black.

I dunno what else I can use to describe myself, so I hope this is enough?

Your DCU Ship: Tim Drake

Explanation: starting off with physical attraction, I think he would be very attracted to you. He’s not much taller than you. He’s about 5 inches taller than you and I think that he likes that you’re shorter than him because it’s often hard to find a person that is shorter than him.  he would also probably find your scars pretty bad ass cool and definitely ask lots of questions about where you got them and if you were ever insecure about your scars, he would just tell you how cool they make you look. he also thinks that your brown eyes are really pretty, and if you ever tried to insist that they were just plain brown eyes, and there was nothing special about them then he would definitely start comparing them to all sorts of pretty brown things like the rich soil of the earth or the darkest chestnut wood, chocolate, and coffee or things like that. yes this does make sense. I’m kind of a similar person and also I think that you and Tim would be a great balance. He’s always kind of tired and he doesn’t really sleep or he’s alarm clocks and he’s always kind of drained so I think that you guys will make a good couples, especially with your constant energy. I feel like it would energize him a bit, and he would make you a little bit less chaotic and give you a little bit more motivation to do things. If you were ever tired because it was a boring day then I’m sure he would make coffee with you and then try to cheer you up a little bit and you guys will be just cute little coffee, grumpy people together. He would also totally do a lot of outdoorsy activities with you even though he’s more of a stay and read person. He’s more of an introvert so I feel like your social butterfly would kind of bring him out of that a little bit and he could help you kind of not overwhelming yourself with social interaction. also, if you’re into math and science, you guys would totally geek out together like I feel like you would be so cool. You guys could just go into a room and talk for hours about that stuff and never get bored and I feel like he’d be very happy that you share some of those more similar hobbies to him and I mean he is literally a better detective than Bruce Wayne himself. He’s extremely intelligent so he would love discussing those things with you, as a kid, he listens to musicals. I feel like not a theater kid himself, but he would listen to musicals with you, and I feel like he would listen to his musicals on his own anyway, and he would come to all of her shows and always be super supportive. he also really loves your fashion taste and I feel like that’s kind of what made you stick out to him in the first place as he was like oh my gosh that person is so cool and I’m such a nerd. I’m such a dork like and he was super awkward approaching you and then you approach him and started talking to him and he probably got pretty flustered and awkward and I don’t know. I just feel like it would kind of be a really funny interaction for you to guys to have because I mean, I have a theory that he’s incredibly confident as red Robin his superhero persona but when he’s Tim Drake, he is so awkward man. He cannot hold a conversation and then red Robin. He’s like so smooth talking that’s my theory. anyway yall r cutieee 💙

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

How does hair color work in the legacyverse? We see normal hair colors seen in real life with the Ninja, but we also see there's a colorful variety of hair color too. Harumi has white hair, Jesse has dark-pinkish hair, Skylor has red hair.... etc What hair colors are considered common? What are considered uncommon?

In the beginning times hair color was fully connected to the elements like eyes are (for example, my attempted connection of pure red hair with Amber, and the reddish-orangish tint with Speed ) buuut that idea obviously fell apart quickly haha.

It’s generally just dependent on parental/family genes, and hair color is one of the most complicated traits to “predict” at a genetic level anyway due to the sheer amount of varying factors that go into it. Sure, Lloyd is blonde, but if it’s a (generally) recessive trait in both his parents then yeah it’s not a horrendously outlandish thing to occur in him, just highly unlikely (…but Lloyd is a highly unlikely individual anyway so whatever). Similar with Harumi.

I’d say in terms of rarity, black/brunettes/blondes are pretty common, while almost-white and pure red are much less common but certainly not impossible.

And then, we have some cases where an element does have an effect on the master -> not sure how many people picked up on this, but Jesse’s family is full of brunettes. Compare his hair color to Miranda’s—hers is much more explicitly brown, yet his hair is pinker/more of a burgundy color (which ofc Cam inherits for herself). In early drawings of Jesse he used to have a bit of an undercut, and that undercut was colored closer to what his “natural” color should be. But now his hair is just full of magic like the rest of him~

And then there’s Tox too, who…had a lot of things turn lime green on her when she inherited her element. Similar to Nya Post-Seabound shenanigans; vibing with the idea that some of the blue stays in her hair hnggg

And then there’s people who’ve dyed their hair to some degree (Bridget, Sally, potentially Libber if I’m feeling spicy)

…And I dunno what’s going on with Sunni’s hair lmao (but it’d probably make more sense if I ever get around to drawing her non-important but still interesting siblings)