#also : reads ur other ask

[drenched-in-sunlight]

saying this as respectfully as possible but. Do not put fandom content creators on a pedestal. We are also just fans contributing to a community just as you are. We have boundary on our own work and that’s it. What I say is not and should not be considered sth the whole fandom should listen to. I’m just a normal ass person ranting about things on my blog. If it does not have a fandom tag for others to engage in, do not make it out to be me trying to start fights or addressing the whole community. Because it’s not.

I’ve said it before and I will say it again, my art, my lore talk, is biased. I’ve never tried to hide that I view Marika a certain way and will always develop my theory following that base assumption.

Aside from translation stuffs and pointing out in-game items, everything else I say you can look at it, agree or disagree, and move on to form your own opinions. Just because I draw stuffs doesn’t mean you get to saddle me with responsibilities about managing fandom expectations. What the hell? I’m a fan artist, I’m the last person who you should look at for “leaderism” (?) WHAT?

I can and will be a hater in my own space, like I know sometimes other artists will just post their stuffs and not engage too heavily with fandom, and for a while I did try to do that here (because I’m already a dramatic ass on twitter), that’s just not me though.

You will get art and you will get my opinions as well.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

ORV is about enduring the horrors in real time.

(for @everyonesfavoritebastard)

[floofanflurr]

With you having done a few underfell fics, I was wondering if you had any headcannons for underfell gaster specifically?

Since in your finding home series hes a big softy and I want to know if you see that extending to the fell universe

EHEHEH!!! Thank you for asking!!!! :D I freaking love asks.... So for your question! I tend to change up my headcanons depending on what story I'm writing, so I'll just answer this for How To: Gaster specifically, I suppose?

Underfell Gaster Headcanons:

He's not actually related to Sans or Papyrus at all.

He's a dickwad, and harsh, and spits insults and threats at anything that moves...

He also tosses bread and scraps to the skeleton orphans when he passes them on the streets simply because he doesn't need the trash anymore, okay?!

...He remembers a time when the world wasn't so cruel. When he would have taken in those skeleton children in a soulbeat.

He upends his garbage can over Sans's and Papyrus's head sometimes. (It's nobody's business if that trash can has some gold and a few papers advertising under the table jobs that need someone scrappy to work for them, and very little actual trash.)

(It's also nobody's business if he threatens said places that if a small skeleton shows up, they will hire him.)

As soon as Sans looks old enough to ditch his stripes, Gaster yoinks him off the streets and glares at him as he sets him in the lab. "WELL? GET TO WORK! I DON'T KEEP TRASH EMPLOYED."

(Sans is not, in fact, old enough to remove his stripes, but no one else needs to know that.)(Gaster knows.)(The entire lab knows.)

(None of them say anything.)

Those that work at the labs are off limits to other monsters. Everyone knows Gaster will be pissed if something happens to one of his employees or their families, because he despises inefficiency. And Gaster is not a monster to get on the bad side of.

No one mentions anything about the small area in Gaster's office that's set up with a few desks and education materials that are much too entry level for anyone that should be working at the lab—elementary school level, really.

No one mentions Papyrus showing up when Sans works.

Gaster will spit insults at Sans and Papyrus, but he also makes sure that if Sans is coming in in threadbare clothing, or the boys are looking a bit dim from lack of food, that Sans gets a raise. They live much better than orphans should, really. (It's still not enough. But it's as much as anyone can have in this fucked up reality)

Gaster is harsh to his employees, but he does still praise them in a standoffish way when they preform well. Positive reinforcement is scientifically proven to be important, after all. He's not particularly kind about his praise, and much of it is backhanded, but he still gives it.

He refuses to admit how much he loves that Sans pokes fun at him and teases him. And his heart certainly does not melt when Sans drags Papyrus in on their lunch break if Gaster hasn't stopped to eat yet. He's quite annoyed by how Sans won't leave until Gaster eats too, in fact. (He's not)

When Papyrus is a bit too bright and optimistic, a large part of Gaster wants to scream and clock him on the skull and hide him away because he's going to get himself killed.

He can't. Every time he'll meet Sans's sockets—too young, too tired, too jaded, and yet still not scolding his brother—and clam up. If anyone else in the lab tries to harass Papyrus or Sans, Gaster will simply yell and threaten them about something unrelated until they shut up.

(The lab is a haven of safety. The employees love Gaster for it. They also have a soft spot for the boys. In a way, they're a community, committing the treason of caring for these children instead of killing them.)

(They're harsh and sometimes cruel, but Gaster does not tolerate dust being spilled in his lab for any reason. Arguments must be taken outside. And really... none of them care to take those arguments outside.)

Gaster is thrilled by how intelligent both the boys are, and he can't really hide it. The children are brilliant, and Sans has moved onto graduate level texts while he's still young enough to be in stripes, technically. Papyrus isn't far behind.

Gaster is the only one Sans trusts to babysit Papyrus.

Gaster loves babysitting Papyrus. (even if none of them call it that)

Gaster starts to melt behind closed doors when it's simply him and the boys. His insults falter. His digs lack the barbs they once had. The praise softens and becomes more commonplace.

(Gaster is one of the reasons Papyrus learns kindness.)

Gaster starts to clean out his apartment and reevaluate if he has the space for three. He knows its dangerous—that being claimed by him would put a target on the children's heads... but he can protect them, can't he?

Perhaps. Just maybe. There's a possibility. That Gaster is planning on asking Sans and Papyrus if they want a place to stay—with him.

...But you know how the story goes from here, I imagine. Just when he's trying to gather himself to ask, he falls into the CORE.

And he shatters.

Sorry boys, better luck in another universe.

(...He's still watching over them.)

[thedeadthree]

-ˋˏ .·:·. ⊱ 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐛𝐲 @pavus — day one: 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞.

— 𝐈𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐄 𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐕𝐀𝐑 . 𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐃𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐀 . 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄.

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐀𝐒. 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐒.

— 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (mutuals can opt in/out via 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 <3):

@loriane-elmuerto, @carrionsflower, @auricfog, @girliefailure, @sunsofdawn

@risingsh0t, @griffin-wood, @lilywatt, @full---ofstarlight, @grapecaseschoices

@tommyarashikage, @shadowsofrose, @shadowglens, @weisshaupts, @queennymeria

@deadrlngers, @d-esmond, @courtana, @gothimp, @wlwaerith

@unholymilf, @aezyrraeshh, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @shellibisshe, @florbelles

@celticwoman, @neonshrike, @cloudofbutterflies92, @adelaidedrubman, @carlosoliveiraa

@pinkfey, @spookyrares, @yharnams, @aceghosts, @confidentandgood

@theelderhazelnut, @leviiackrman, @ellierenae, @anoras, @lavampira

@dialdrunk, @full---ofstarlight, @imogenkol

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[astrobei]

for @quinnick: kiss prompt #4 - lips barely touching

The car is out of gas. Will is about ten seconds away from maybe-dying (again). Mike Wheeler has been abnormally quiet today.

At least of late, one of those things is more abnormal than the others. 

The car is always out of gas. Will doesn’t know when the last time they’d filled it up was, but he does know that it’s not his problem trying to figure it out. That’s Hopper’s deal. Or his mom’s, maybe. Or Nancy’s, or Jonathan’s, or–

Whatever! The point is that the car is out of gas, Mike and Will are stranded at the currently closed general store, and they’re probably about to die.

Again.

“Mike,” Will tries, for maybe the hundredth time. “It’s not your fault, okay, it could’ve happened to anyone–”

“Yeah,” Mike grumbles miserably, as they round the corner, from aisle four – cleaning supplies and household items – into aisle five – canned goods. Most of the shelves are empty, turned over. Mike picks up a can of pickled green beans, pulls a face, and puts it back on the shelf. “But it didn’t happen to anyone. It happened to me.”

Will takes a long, deep breath in through his nose. God forbid Mike Wheeler ever let anything go. “You didn’t know,” he huffs anyway. “It’s not your fault.” The store is dark, which is great for being able to roll your eyes without Mike seeing. Will’s flashlight sputters, briefly, the bright circle of light flickering in and out of view. He smacks it against his palm once, twice, and it steadies. “Seriously,” Will adds, as Mike slows to a stop in front of him. “Stop beating yourself up. So we have to wait for a ride. Big deal.”

Mike turns around to face him. His expression is mostly unreadable in the dark, but Will’s flashlight catches the edge of it – worried, a little guilty. “Yeah,” Mike says softly. “Except there are things everywhere and waiting for a ride is just– we’re sitting ducks here, okay,” Mike frowns. “I don’t like it. It feels like tempting fate.”

“Well, the simple fact of my existence feels like tempting fate sometimes,” Will jokes. It works, for a split second – Mike’s furrowed brows smooth out into something halfway amused, and he makes a noise that might be a laugh.

“Not funny,” Mike says anyway. His lips twitch.

“You laughed!” Will insists, smiling. His voice carries down through the hallway in a vibrant echo. “I know you did!”

“Shut up,” Mike whispers, looking away. “Would it kill you to keep your voice down?”

It might. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind, he’s vaguely aware that they’re not safe here, out in the open, and that the whole point of them coming inside instead of waiting in the parking lot was to hunker down until Jonathan and Nancy could get another car here to pick them up. And also, preferably, get some gas.

Somewhere significantly closer in Will’s mind, though, is the knowledge that this is the most Mike has said – and the closest he’s come to laughing – since the car had stalled on the way from the cabin to the general store ten minutes ago, and Mike had just barely had time to pull into the abandoned parking lot before it had stopped altogether. He knows Mike doesn’t like this – being caught off-guard, out in the open. Even minute changes in the plan – which you’d think they’d all be more prepared for, considering the way things have been going lately – get Mike a little keyed up.

And the sorry, borderline pathetic part is this: despite it all, despite the ever-present threat of danger, and the impending sense of doom that’s been hanging over their heads for what seems like forever, Will feels vaguely pleased with himself anyway, seeing Mike hold back a smile instead of forcing one on his face.

So yeah, it might kill him, if he kept his voice down. That’s okay. Will thinks it would be worth it, sometimes – the danger and the doom and everything else – to hear Mike laugh.

God, what’s wrong with him? That’s embarrassing. That’s so embarrassing.

He shakes the thought off. “Whatever,” Will says instead, praying the cover of darkness is hiding the blush that’s rapidly rising to his cheeks. He angles  the flashlight away from them anyway, just in case, and Mike’s face falls back into silhouette. “You know I’m right. You’re doomed just by being here with me.”

Mike shakes his head. “You know I don’t think of you like that.”

Will frowns. “Like what?”

“Like– like a bad luck charm,” Mike waves his hands around. “Or whatever.”

“I didn’t say bad luck charm,” Will exclaims. “Ouch! Stop putting words into my mouth.”

Mike grins. “Would you rather have, uh,” he picks up the nearest can to him, something small and vaguely gray, “tinned sardines in your mouth? Tinned sardines in water? Oh, gross. Never mind, actually.”

“I would rather not,” Will decides, even though the shelves are so bare that they might have to suck it up and take home the tinned sardines in water after all. “Would you like some, uh. Tuna?”

“I guess we know why there’s so much fish,” Mike sighs, leaning heavily against an empty shelf. “Nobody wanted it.”

“You mean the ten people outside of our circle of friends that are still left in Hawkins? Yeah,” Will scoffs, then sets the can back down with a soft clink. “I guess not.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment. It’s quiet in the store, the room dark and lit faintly by Will’s flashlight and the display in the corner. It lights Mike up a faint blue, catches the edges of his jaw and where his hair is curling softly over the hood of his jacket. 

Will’s flashlight sputters again. 

When it comes back on this time, it’s more faint than it was before. It’s dark in here, Will realizes, a bit belatedly. Like, really dark.

He takes a deep breath and shuffles closer to Mike, just a little, like the shape of his body all leaned against the empty shelves is a grounding force. Mike gives him a look that Will can’t quite decipher in the dark.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Will breathes out. The proximity is helping, a little. “Just– waiting for our ride.”

Mike leans in a bit closer too, places an arm under Will’s elbow. It’s a light touch, nothing forceful, but the semblance of support is there. “You sure? You look a little pale.”

Sometimes, Will hates how well Mike knows him. He doesn’t get antsy in the same way Mike does in situations like these, but he’d be lying if he said they didn’t affect him at all. It should be expected by now, the automatic fight or flight. 

For some cruel reason, it still isn’t. “You can’t even see me,” he says, but lets himself lean into the touch anyway.

“I can see enough,” Mike says easily. “Do you want to sit down?”

Will shakes his head. The only thing worse than waiting out in the open is sitting out in the open. At least when you’re standing, you can run. “No. I’m fine.”

Will can’t see Mike either, but he’d be willing to bet real money – that he doesn’t have – that he can tell exactly what Mike’s expression looks like. The pause grows, swells and swells and swells, until Will is sure Mike is going to say something–

There’s a clattering outside.

Instantly, Mike’s hand tightens its grip on Will’s elbow. “Did you hear that?”

“Yes,” Will hisses, twisting around to try and see through the windows. “Of course I heard that, Mike.”

“Do you think that’s–”

“No idea,” Will whispers. With no small amount of reluctance, he tugs his arm out of Mike’s grip. He misses the warmth of it almost instantaneously, and the tugging in his stomach is only amplified by the way Mike automatically leans in behind him, places a hand on his back to replace the absent touch, like it was never gone at all. Will swallows, and flicks the flashlight off. “Now be quiet.”

“The windows are boarded up,” Mike says, decidedly not being quiet. Will wonders where the Mike Wheeler of fifteen minutes ago went – the one that was sulking and fidgeting in silence the whole way down the first aid aisle. “They’re boarded up, so nothing can get in. Right?”

“We got in,” Will points out, which Mike seems to realize at approximately the same second he does. It’s getting a little hard to think, with Mike so close to him.

Will really wishes Mike would pull his hand away.

“Right,” Mike whispers, breath ghosting gently over the back of Will’s neck. “Okay. That’s fine. That’s fine.”

Fine, Will thinks. That’s one word for it.

Another clattering. It’s closer this time.

Will freezes.

Jonathan and Nancy are probably about ten minutes out. Twenty if they had to go back to the Wheelers’ for the other car. So they’d probably be fine if they stuck it out here, because the chance of something happening across them now, in the brief period of time where they’re stuck without a ride, in a building equipped with close to nothing that could help, is small.

Small, but not nonexistent.

Will isn’t really feeling inclined to take that chance. “Come on,” he says, then spins on his heel, grabbing Mike’s hand and tugging him in the opposite direction. “Come with me.”

Mike follows easily, stumbling slightly with the sudden movement. “Wh– where are we going?”

“Just come on,” Will says, then tugs Mike around to the back of the store. He yanks open a door, and shoves him inside. “Get in.”

“Whoa,” Mike says, as Will tumbles in behind him. “Will, what–”

“Would it kill you to be quiet?”

“Sorry,” Mike says, then does, at last, fall silent.

Immediately, Will wishes he hadn’t said that. It’s dark in here – even darker than out in the front of the store – and the only noise is the faint hum of a generator, somewhere behind the walls. It’s grating and stilted. Will wonders when the last time it had been repaired was.

Plus, it’s really–

It’s really fucking dark in here.

Will lets out a long, slow exhale, and reaches out to feel for the wall beside him. His palm comes into contact with chipped paint and he follows the shape of it down, lowering himself onto the ground.

“Will?” Mike says, and Will is in half a mind to say that thing about being quiet again, but–

It’s dark. It’s really dark.

“Yeah,” he says, barely audible even to himself over the faint hum of the generator, and the louder hum – demanding, prominent, persistent – of his blood rushing through his ears. “I just– sitting. I’m sitting.”

There had at least been some light out in the front, but this storage closet might as well be a void. It smells vaguely of dust, something stale and unknown and probably untouched for who-knows-how-long. Will takes another deep breath in.

“Where?” Mike asks. “I don’t want to step on you.”

Will cracks a smile. “Here,” he says, and holds a hand up in the air. “Right here.”

There’s a quiet shuffling sound as Mike moves closer, and then Will feels fingertips brushing against his. Mike latches on immediately, gripping tighter onto his hand and sits down in front of him. 

Will still can’t see anything – he can’t see anything – but he can feel Mike’s presence like it’s a tangible thing.

Mike could let go of Will’s hand now. Now that he’s found him.

He doesn’t, though.

“Hey,” Mike says, then there’s another faint shuffling noise. “Where are we?”

“Storage closet.”

“Huh. How did you know it was here?”

Will cracks another smile, despite himself. “My mom worked here, remember? For, like, years.”

“Right,” Mike laughs, and then he’s moving closer, knees bumping against knees in the dark. “I forgot. It doesn’t feel like the same place.”

“Tell me about it,” Will sighs. He’s probably breathing in dust and debris and soot and all sorts of gross stuff, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He presses his knees against Mike’s a little harder, just because he can.

“I remember,” Mike starts, readjusting his grip on Will’s hand – fingers interlocked, a firmer grip – “she’d give me free candy from the front counter. Whenever I came in with my parents, I mean. My mom was so confused about why I kept asking to tag along to Melvald’s with her.”

“That’s not fair,” Will laughs. “She never let me have any candy.”

“You were a menace all hopped up on sugar,” Mike points out. “I knew how to behave myself.”

That’s a damn lie, and they both know it. “Liar,” Will says quietly, leaning his head back against the wall. “You’re such a liar.”

“Maybe so,” Mike hums. “But I’m still the one who got free candy, so–”

“Mike!” Will shoves lightly at his knee, and Mike’s answering laugh fills the small space instantaneously. It’s loud – too loud, because they’re supposed to be hiding, goddamnit – but the nagging little voice at the back of Will’s head is vanquished almost as quickly as it came. “Shut up.”

Mike, as always, ignores him. “Why don’t we turn on a light?”

“The fuse is probably blown,” Will responds. “If there’s even a light in this stupid closet.”

“I mean this, idiot,” Mike says, and then clicks the flashlight back on. The batteries must be dying, because it flickers to life weakly, steadying out into a dim yellow-white. “Obviously.”

“Don’t waste the batteries,” Will says at once, trying to grab for it. “Come on, Mike–”

“Jonathan and Nancy will be here any minute and then we can go put in new batteries,” Mike says, holding it easily out of reach. “No point sitting in the dark, right?”

“Mike,” Will tries to protest, but it’s useless. Mike’s made up his mind.

Slowly, and a little far away, Will realizes what Mike is trying to do. He’s not being subtle about it, but subtlety has never been Mike Wheeler’s strong suit. He’s always been exuberant, quick and spontaneous with his actions, and this is no different. Sitting up close, closer than would be strictly necessary in any other situation. Turning the light on, despite the dying batteries. Telling Will about coming here as a kid, all those years ago. Making him laugh. Diffusing the tension.

Jesus, and he’s still holding Will’s hand.

A wave of affection washes over him, sudden and overwhelming enough for Will to feel borderline nauseous.

This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. Mike can’t just sit here and touch their knees together and hold Will’s hand, and–

“Look,” Mike is saying, and then he’s holding the flashlight under his chin and grinning. “Don’t I look freaky?”

In all honesty, Mike looks fucking hilarious. The direct light casts long shadows across the dips of his cheekbones, the shapes of his eyelashes distorting wildly as he blinks. “No,” Will snorts, rolling his eyes. “You look ridiculous.”

“Really?” Mike grins, in a way that means he knows just how ridiculous he looks. “Not even a little?” He waggles his eyebrows, and the resulting effect is so comical that Will can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him, sharp and sudden and real.

“Mike,” he chides, for the millionth time. “You’re going to kill the battery.”

Mike looks way too pleased with himself. “Worth it,” he says anyway, as he sets the flashlight down. It evens out the sharp angles of his face, now that it’s farther away, lights his cheeks and nose and eyes up into something softer, more open.

Something about the steadiness of Mike’s expression is brighter than any source of light. Suddenly, it’s too much. Suddenly, it’s blinding. 

God. He’s so screwed.  “For what?”

“Getting you to laugh,” Mike says, simple and easy, like he’s reciting times tables instead of proceeding to turn Will’s entire world upside down on its pathetic little axis.

Will feels his lungs stutter on his next inhale. He looks away. “Don’t do that.”

The gleeful expression falters on Mike’s face. “Don’t do what?”

“Don’t,” Will says, “don’t– you’re being so– so–”

Mike looks caught somewhere between confusion and amusement. “So what?”

“So,” Will tries again, and then Mike moves closer, and the difficulty of articulating a halfway decent sentence immediately increases tenfold. “So.”

“So,” Mike echoes, shifting so the side of his thigh is pressed up against the side of Will’s. He’s being slowly backed into the corner, but the thought isn’t terrifying like it might have been five minutes ago. Suddenly, Will is overwhelmed in a completely new way. “So what?”

“Nice to me,” Will gets out. “Stop being so nice to me.”

Mike pauses, then says, incredulously and half-laughing– “What? Why?”

Bad choice of words. “You heard me,” Will says anyway, because he’s nothing if not stubborn. “You’re being too nice.”

“I should hope so,” Mike says. “I mean, you’re my friend.”

Maybe Will is imagining it, but the sentence feels unfinished. Like there’s a second half to it that Mike is keeping for himself: You’re my friend – right?

The obvious answer here is that yes, Mike is his friend. But that answer feels unfinished too, like a lie by omission. Will tries to imagine it, doing these things with anyone else – what it would be like if Dustin was holding his hand, or if it were Lucas sitting next to him this close.

The conclusion he comes to, almost immediately, is that it would be weird.

It would be really fucking weird.

That feels like– something. An admission, maybe. Because the fact of the matter is that things with Mike have always been like this, and they’ve never been like this with anyone else, and Will doesn’t think they can be like this with anyone else without it being the most unsettling thing that’s ever happened to him.

The silence, he realizes, has gone on just a second too long.

“Yeah,” he blurts out at last. “Yeah. Obviously.”

Something settles over Mike’s face. “Will–”

“Forget I said anything,” Will backpedals, a little bit desperate. “Never mind. Be as nice to me as you want.”

Mike bites down on his lower lip. It looks like he’s holding back a smile. “As nice as I want?”

Oh, no.

“Sure,” Will tries. “Do your worst.”

Mike lets out a shaky exhale. He presses in further, leans in closer until their shoulders are almost touching. “How about this?”

“That’s not nice,” Will says weakly. “That’s just an invasion of personal space.”

“Seems pretty nice to me,” Mike mutters under his breath.

Will inhales sharply. “Mike.”

“What?”

“What are you– doing,” Will whispers, stumbling over his words, just slightly, as Mike places a hand on his arm.

Mike’s gaze does not waver. “Is this okay?”

Is it okay? Will thinks his brain might be halfway to leaking out through his ears. This is–

This is–

“Yeah,” he hears himself say. “Yeah. Great.”

“Okay,” Mike whispers. He’s so close now that Will could count all the freckles spattered across his nose, if he wanted to. He could, and the thought is dizzying, dizzying – suddenly, it’s not the claustrophobia that’s making him feel like this. It can’t be, because Mike is in front of him, and he’s so close that Will could just lean forward and–

He could just–

“Mike.” And maybe he’s a bit of a broken record, but he can’t come up with any words other than his name. He clutches at Mike’s knee and meets his gaze and prays – to whatever deity allowed him to get trapped in a storage closet with Mike Wheeler two inches away from his face – that Mike Wheeler will find the courage in him somewhere to close the fucking gap.

He doesn’t, though, which is a sign that the universe must be majorly fucking with him. Not yet, anyway. Not anywhere near as fast as Will needs it to be – if this is what he thinks it is, it’s nowhere near fast enough.

In actuality, what it is is excruciating – the way Will’s heart is beating so loud that he’s sure Mike can hear it, in the proximity. The slow circles Mike is tracing over his other hand – the hand that he’s still holding. He’s so close that Will can discern the warmth emanating off him, the familiar scent of soap, can feel Mike’s eyes trained steadily on his mouth, and yet–

Either Mike is actually moving at a speed of one nanosecond per minute, or time has slowed to a near-stop around them. Mike’s grip on his hand is agonizing, caustic in all the places where they’re touching, each slow circle of Mike’s thumb against his wrist driving him slowly and steadily out of his mind. Do it, Will thinks, like maybe if he thinks it loud enough, Mike will be able to hear him. Do it, do it, do it.

Mike’s lips touch his.

The world stops moving.

It must, anyway. Or maybe it’s just that Will doesn’t think he’s breathing anymore – he doesn’t know if he can find it in him to remember how. All he’s aware of is this: Mike’s hands on his arm, his wrist. Mike’s leg under his own palm, warm and steady and pressed up against him in a smooth, unyielding line. The pressure of the wall behind him, the strands of Mike’s hair brushing against his face, and Mike’s lips – gentle, gentle, gentle, and nowhere near enough.

It’s like Mike is waiting for something. Waiting for Will, maybe.

God, okay.

Fuck it, Will thinks, from somewhere far off in his own head. Fuck it. Fuck this. 

“Will,” Mike whispers, pulling back a precious few millimeters, and that’s it. That’s all Will can take.

Will lifts his hand off Mike’s leg, raises it to his wrist and tugs. Mike topples into him with a small gasp, Will falls backwards into the wall, and then they’re kissing.

God. Okay.

Mike steadies himself quickly, braces a hand on the wall behind them and leans in, firm and enthusiastic. His hand, Will notices, faintly and with no small amount of affection, is shaking. Just slightly. Will’s trapped between them again – Mike and the wall – but this time he can’t find it in himself to care even the slightest bit. As if there’s anywhere he’d want to go that wasn’t here, as if he’d want to be somewhere without Mike’s hand carding through his hair, or without his lips moving softly against Will’s own, or the noise he makes when Will presses forward, too fast, too eager, too betrayed by his own fluttering pulse – something like a laugh, trapped deep in his chest.

Suddenly, it’s not enough. It’s not enough. It’s–

“Mike? Will?”

Shit.

In a flash, Mike pulls away, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked and breathing like he’s just run a marathon.

Shit.

“Yeah,” Mike calls, voice cracking just slightly on the syllable. “We’re in here!”

Shit.

“So,” Will says, aiming for nonchalance. He fails immediately. His voice cracks too. Great. “That–”

Don’t freak out, he thinks. Please don’t freak out.

Mike, to his credit, is not freaking out.

“Yeah,” Mike says, voice a little high-pitched but surprisingly even. He clears his throat. “Um. Yeah. You were–”

“Yeah,” Will finishes, rather lamely. He’s grinning like an idiot. He doesn’t even need to look at himself to tell. His expression is mirrored, perfectly, flawlessly, brilliantly, on Mike’s own face.

The closet door gets thrown open, and there’s a blinding, sudden light– “What the fuck,” Mike exclaims, squinting and throwing a hand up in front of his eyes. “Nancy?”

Jonathan peers around her shoulder. “What were you guys doing in here?”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t–

Will can’t help it. He looks at Mike, and they immediately burst into laughter.

Shit.

[themyscirah]

Complaining abt Suicide Squad yet again but the fact that they have Waller exposing the alien community to space racist attacks and talking abt how she got to her position through deceit and being a terrible person and stuff is just. Ahsfiwueh JUST SAY YOU DONT KNOW WALLER.

Anyways literally the 3rd mission of the Squad ever (and the first framed as smth Waller picked and not orders from above) was the Squad discrediting and stopping a rogue vigilante who was only arresting POC and funneling white people into white supremacy groups (of which he was the most prominent member) in SUICIDE SQUAD #4. and it's explicitly framed as this mission being personal for Waller that she's hiding from the government bc its illegal like. Guys. Please why are we having her incite (space bc comics) racist attacks now

Also the whole "Amanda got her position through deceit and being a terrible person" NO. she KEPT her position through being shitty and playing complicated political games!!! She wasn't always that way like there is a difference and it is IMPORTANT ppl PLEASEEEE. In Secret Origins #14 we learn Amanda's backstory and she used to be a normal, caring person! Like even after she entered into working in government and politics she wasn't automatically morally bankrupt like please people. She was originally given control of the Squad by Reagan (*sigh* 80s comics...) to distract and get rid of her because she was so successful at pushing progressive social policy in Congress. Acting like she's this static pillar of evil is such a waste of her character and so fucking uninteresting and disrespectful to her arc it drives me MAD.

Like I am NOT saying Waller is all sunshine and rainbows, she fucking SUCKS (said w love <3) but like there's a human being there. It's a progression, she has a character arc like please, DC, please!!! They've fucked up Waller so bad and made her so opaque and uninteresting she can't even be the protagonist of her own story for fucks sake!

Like I don't know how many times I have to scream it until DC hears me or remembers but WALLER IS THE MAIN CHARACTER OF SUICIDE SQUAD. ITS HER BOOK. yet right now she's a cutout to be used as the villain wherever the writers please. Even in her book we get none of her perspective really displayed, no exploration of her thoughts with any kind of understanding of the role she traditionally has played and was made to play in the story.

[kulliare]

tagged by @shrips for 9 books you'd like to read in the new year! ty for the tag-- i tag @halfagod @albatrossisland @eponine119 @tru-lyly

[reel-fear]

If you want my opinion, I think we should give Lone Wolf the benefit of the doubt, yes it does look a little bit cheap in some areas but the game does look pretty fun and both the art and characters are still on point. Alice and Sammy are also returning so that’s a plus! I think it’s best that we stay optimistic for this game and Bendy’s future.

That's fair and I respect your opinion, I think my thing is I'm worried people are too optimistic about Bendy's future games being better than the ones they've already created because the team behind Bendy is very anti-listening to feedback. Which means it's likely these games won't improve unless fans make a bigger push to be more critical of them and show the devs they won't spend their money unless the team can prove they care about this franchise and aren't gonna let the polish drain just because it makes more money.

I criticize Bendy not because I want it to die or be bad, I only do it because I hope one day either 1. A competitor rises up and gives the fans essentially a better version of Bendy that they deserve and they can use my feedback and others to see where it can be improved. or 2. The bendy team listens to my feedback and the general fandom's to make future games better. Plus generally get their act together.

As it stands the trailer is rushed and cheap, which is bad because a trailer for a game should be the most polished part of the affair. I mean this is what is supposed to convince people to buy the game when it comes out! I had the same problems with The Cage and I'm unhappy to see this becoming a pattern. [I mean that's a game I'm even more confident is going to horribly crash and burn cause I honestly don't know why'd they make a midquel to a game which everyone hated the ending of-]

Look. I understand some people feel a sort of loyalty to the Bendy devs, it's hard not to feel like you're in some sort of friendship when it comes to such a small indie team. But at the end of the day you have to remember defending them when they mess up only gives them more reasons to ignore feedback and most of all you don't know Mike or Meatly as people outside of what they Choose to show in their public image. So when the public image they've crafted is one that's bad and leaves people worried about how the games they're making are gonna turn out. Nobody can be blamed but them. And if you really care about them and/or Bendy it's better to boost feedback even if it's negative.

Like sure Sammy and Malice are returning but look at the treatment they got in Dark Revival! Meatly and Mike have never addressed how poorly done the original characters were in that game and I think it's cause far as they're concerned it was perfectly fine and people are complaining about nothing. [That or enough people didn't seem to care for it to matter to them whether that point was valid or not] Despite the fact Sammy was shot down for a gag after finally speaking up [and was in a ton of Dark Revival marketing material] and Malice was nothing more than a rip off of her chapter 3 self with no interesting changes, we never got to hear her thoughts on how the world is doing, on how she feels now hearing her enemy, the ink demon, was supposedly killed, or on Wilson, the keepers, etc. I mean it was a huge waste and with the promise Sammy will be 'restored to his Chapter 2 glory' I want to call this poor writing out now rather than wait for the cage to come out and pretend I never saw it coming.

Criticism is a good thing for Bendy, we should embrace it rather than shunning or discouraging it. I hope most of us can agree on that. Even if I seem harsh, I would rather lean towards that, than risk going too easy with my words and being ignored by the devs.

[welcometoteyvat]

Hello! Do you have any recommendations on Zhongli/Xiao, or Chongyun and Xiao (either romantic or general) fics?

rubs hands together indeed i do. also highly recommend checking out the authors bc a lot of them have other incredible fic for the characters you're looking for!!

zhongxiao

Give me your heart (and I'll show you how to feel) by peredain (M, ongoing, 40k, some dom/sub themes, modern au) i will love modern aus until the end of time and this one has good plot, descriptions, and the feels. also i love that the yaksha group dynamics are fleshed out in this! they're so rare to find

fault lines by viverella (T, 23k, oneshot). scream. the tenderness and tension in this is so gentle. i fell to my knees bc these two old men. zhongli's voice is so nicely written :')

to carve nature at its joints (author commentary) and for services rendered by yelp (oneshots, 1k and 2k) the first is based on xiao's dream eating ability, and the second is about morax's inevitable erosion. the author has such an ability with words and their descriptions of xiao's loyalty, and zhongli's trust. i cherish greatly

bird in a cage by stormyseasons (gen, 33k, complete) i need to finish this but ohhhhhh it is insane,, the tenderness..... it traces xiao and zhongli's past through the archon war. also yaksha dynamics in this are so good

xiaoyun

i linked 4 in this post (please read these they're incredible) but heres more

lonely reflections (complete, 41k, M) and the sequel paper cranes (ongoing, 14k, E) by NocturnalFriend. chongyun's demon hunting expedition in the chasm takes a wrong turn. ive been meaning to read both but have heard v good things

intact by blurredbarcode; oneshot, gen, short and sweet!

reduced to just standing around, how absurd by justafellow04 this one's cute! it's an elaboration of a lantern rite lore bit that says chongyun's yang doesn't actually help xiao and its sweet :-)

also while im here: self promo of my xiaoyun writing exercises lol (v short drabbles of these two in different scenarios)

xiao and chongyun

"I won't let you become me, you'll be so much more" (170k words, ongoing) by snubton, which I think a lotttttt of people are fond of; I haven't read it myself (..writing style turnoff) but I've heard a bunch of good things. chongyun and xiao mentor mentee journey basically

after winter comes spring. 1/5 chapters, unfinished, featuring chongyun's yang energy and a flashback. it's sweet <3

[doostyaudi]

OH BTW, I got inspired by your twisted Vee and made my own version of her :D! I tried making her a bit top heavy but idk if it worked. I thought you might like to see that too :D! I drew this a few days ago. I would've drawn the Spundle and Shelby interactions but i'm so sleepy from work sobs

I LOVE THIS?? WHAT.... SHES SO GORGEOUS HI VEE 💖💖💖

[ahalliance]

how do i turn qantoine’s spontaneous marriage proposal to qetoiles into evidence of his early-days fear of qfrench drifing away and keeping secrets from one another

[lokh]

when i finished reading the book i just sat there for a few minutes

[pickled-flowers]

Saw some of the grossest parenting today in the bus

[mousemannation]

bestie do you listen to any tennis podcasts? if so do you have an recommendations?

i do enjoy the body serve but i want to listen to podcasts that aren't so north american if that makes sense (no shade to people from na)

ah, i don't listen to any regularly no 🙈 i did go and just search alex de minaur in the podcast app and listen to episodes of various one's he's been on sfhsfhk but im not tuning in to one every week.

i totally get u on the non-NA thing though, that's definitely a thought i've had since the most popular one's tend to be american (served, nothing major). there is Tennis Insider Club which is Caroline Garcia's podcast where her and her partner Borjia Duran interview players- I've heard good things about that one, although it's relatively new so there's not a huge back catalogue.

i'll leave this one open to my followers, share the good tennis podcasts with us!!!

[moonshine-nightlight]

Hi, hi! I've been reading some of your work and when I saw you had a tumblr I just had to come pay your inbox a visit.

I just wanna say, I really love how you write! It's so, so easy to get immersed in your stories, to the point where something kind of funny happened in my case actually XD

So there I was at midnight, browsing the monster romance side of AO3 when I came across Finally Woken. I was looking something on the shorter word count side, but the summary had me very interested. So I go, hmmm I think I'll just read the first chapter to see how it is and if I like it I'll come back to it tomorrow. I definitely liked it, but wanted just a bit more, so I clicked on the second chapter. Then the third. And fourth. And so on until oops, I binged it and it was 4 am hdjsgaca

And then the next day, I was once again browsing. And came across Don't shoot the messenger. And I go, well last night was a success but tonight I definitely only read the first chapter and then if I like it finish tomorrow. Aaaah the lies we tell ourselves. Did not even notice it was the same author until I was halfway through it. This one I managed to finish before 4 am at least XD

And then! The next day! Once again browsing in bed! I come across Sacrifice! Once again didn't look at the author until later! Take a guess at what happened next, surely you will never expect the outcome! (The outcome was exactly the same. I could not stop reading. My self restraint is in shambles.)

So yeah! I just wanted to one, come and thank you for such wonderful stories, and two, compliment the heck out of your writing skills because your pacing, and atmosphere and descriptions are top notch. Like the sense of anticipation before Satrasi knew what that captain had done was chef kiss, or the sense of dread building up to the ritual and then calm once Tai finds the reader. Or the sense of domesticity as time passes with Heshi.

All reader characters and monsters feel unique as well! My personal favorite story so far is Don't shoot the messenger, Satrasi has me swooning fdhdgzh But honestly I loved all of them so much and they're going to my favorite monster romances stash. Oh also, I'm 100% going to go back and reread, kudos and comment more thoroughly on each story, but I was on another account like a fool the first time I read them all gahdgdh So hopefully you'll see me in AO3 soon as well!

Alright I've been rambling enough already haha, so yeah! Tldr, You're a great author, I am weak and procrastinated going to bed because I wanted to read your stuff, love what you do, take care! :D

@roaring-letters

thank you so much! this was such a good message to get and i've been hoarding it for lik 2 months lol because work has been so busy which is why it was even better to get such a nice ask - it really cheered me up!

i'd say i;m sorry for the accidental repeated trapping and keeping you up until 4 am but its kinda the greatest compliment ever lol so i guess i'm not sorry

i'm so happy you enjoyed the stories and the characters and the atmosphere of the stories! my writing means so much to me and i'm always worried that i'm not getting whats in my head down onto paper right so comments/asks like these are so so heartwarming because it makes me feel lik i am in fact getting it right :D

thanks again!!!!