#and also. i am not immune to getting stuck in the 'i want to be a person who does X thing' oubilette

[starlit-mansion]

idk i've kind of been going through a phase lately where i feel like everyone around me has these unfathomable pits of passion for stuff (even if exhaustion/disability/burnout keeps them from doing as much as they'd want) and i am a distractible dabbler who never gets things done and never feels anything deeply. like i'm just kind of a placeholder person and YEAH that's mostly the depression talking but actually commiting to the stuff that i havent researched or proven myself about is probably the actual way to achieve that effortless expertise that everyone else seems to have

[felikatze]

ISAT and Ludonarrative Harmony: Combat is a Storytelling Tool

Or: How Siffrin is stuck in the endgame grind, forever

Please Note: This is primarily aimed at an audience that already played In Stars and Time, because I am bad at explaining things, and it's good to already know what the fuck I'm talking about. I tend to only bring up game elements as I want to talk about them.

Spoilers for.... all of ISAT! Especially Act 5!

(image to show how i feel posting this and as an attention grabber over my wall of text)

To pull a definition of ludonarrative harmony out of a hat, game writer Lauryn Ash defines it as follows:

Ludonarrative harmony is when gameplay and story work together to create a meaningful and immersive experience. From a design implementation perspective, it is the synchronized interactions between in-game actions (mechanics) and in-world context (story).

It is, generally speaking, how well game mechanics work hand in hand with the story. I, personally, think ISAT is an absolute masterclass of it, so I want to take a look at how ISAT specifically uses its battle system to emphasize Siffrin's character arc and create organic story moments. I want you to keep this in mind when I talk here.

So, skills, right? If you've played any turn-based RPG, you know your Fire spells, your "BACKSLASH! AIRSLASH! BACKSLASH!" and the many ways to style those.

Well, what does casting "Fire" say about your character? Not all that much, does it? Perhaps you'll have typical divisions. The smart one is the mage, the big brawny one is your tank, the petite one's the healer. And that's the barebones of ISAT's main party, but it's much more than that.

Every character's style of combat tells you something about them. Odile, the Researcher, is the most well-travelled and knowledgable of the bunch. She's the one with the expertise to keep a cool head and analyze the enemy, yet also able to use all three of the Rock-Paper-Scissors craft types.

To reflect her analytical view of things, all her skill names are just descriptive, the closest to your most bog-standard RPG. "Slow IV" or "Paper III" serve well to describe their purpose. The high number of the skills gives the impression there were three other Slow skills beforehand - fitting, considering the party starts at level 45, about to head into the final dungeon. She's also the oldest, so she's the slowest of the bunch.

Isabea, the Fighter, has all his skills in exclamation points. "YOUR TURN!!!" "SO WEAK!!!" "SMASH!!!" they're straightforward, but excited. He's a purposefully cheerfull guy, so his skills revolve around cheering on his allies. He's absolutely pumped to be here, and you see that from his skill names alone.

Mirabelle, the Housemaiden, is an interesting case. She's by all means the true protagonist of this tale - She's the one "Chosen by the Change God," the only one who survived the King's first attack, the only one immune to his ability to freeze time, the only dual-craft type of the game - just a lot of things. And her skill names reflect that facade she puts on herself - she can do this, she can win! She has to believe it, or else she starts doubting. This is how you get "Jolly Round Rondo" and "Mega Sparkle Heal" or "Adorable Moving Cure." She's styled every bit a sailor scout shojo heroine, and her moveset replicates the naming conventions of "In the name of the moon, I'll punish you!"

Even Bonnie, the Kid, who can't be controlled in combat, has named craft skills. And they very much reflect that Bonnie is, well, a kid. "Wolf Speed Technique" or "Thousand Blows Technique" are very much the phrasings of a child who learned one complicated word and now wants to use it in everything to seem cooler than they are, which is none, because they're twelve.

Siffrin's skills are all puns.

You have an IMMEDIATE feel for personality here. Between "Knife to Meet You!" and "Too Cleaver by Half," you know Siffrin's the type to always crack a joke no matter the situation, slinging witticisms around to put Sonic the Hedgehog to shame. It's just such a clever way to establish character using a game mechanic as old as the entire history of RPGs.

This is only the baseline of the way the combat system feeds into the story, though.

The timeloop, of course, feeds into it. Siffrin is the only character who retains experience upon looping, whereas all other characters are reset to their base level and skills. And it sucks (affectionate).

You're extremely likely to battle more often the earlier in the game you are - after all, you need the experience (for now.) Every party member contributes, and Siffrin isn't all that strong on their own, since they focus on raw scissor type damage with the addition of one speed buff. (Of course it's a speed buff. They're a speedy fucker. Just look at him).

At first, the difference in level between Siffrin and the rest of the group is rather negligible. Just a level or two. Just a bit more speed and attack. And then Siffrin grows further and further apart. Siffrin keeps learning new skills. He gets a healing skill that doubles as an attack boost, taking away from both Mirabelle's and Isabeau's usefullness. He gets Craft skills of every type that even give you two jackpot points instead of one - thus obliterating Odile's niche. Siffrin turns into a one-person army capable of clearing most encounters all on their own.

Siffrin's combat progression is an exact mirror of story progression - as their experience inside the loops grows, they also grow further and further away from their party. The party seems... weaker, slower, clumsier. Always back at their starting point, just as all of their character arcs are reset each loop. Never advancing, always stagnant. And you have Siffrin as the comparison post right next to them.

I also want to point out here a change from Act 2 to Act 3 - Siffrin's battle portrait. He stops smiling.

Battles keep getting easier. This is true both for the reason that Siffrin keeps growing stronger even when all enemies stay the same, but also for the reason that you, the player, learn more about the battle system and the various encounters, until you've learned perfect boss clear strategies just from repetition. Have you ever watched a speedrunner play Pokemon? They've played this game so many times, they could do it blindfolded and sleeping. Your own knowledge and Siffrin's new strength work in tandem to trivialize the game's entire combat system as the game progresses.

(Is it still fun? Playing it over, and over, and over again? Is it?)

You and Siffrin are in sync, your experience making everything trivial.

As time goes on, Siffrin grows to care less and less about performing right for their party and more and more about going fast. A huge moment in his character is marked by the end of Act 3; because of story events I won't delve too deeply into, Siffrin has grown afraid of trying something new. And his options of escape are closing in. They need an answer, and they need it fast. He doesn't have the time or patience to dumb himself down, so you unlock one new skill.

It doesn't occur with level up, or with a quest, or anything at all. At the start of Act 4, it simply appears in Siffrin's Craft skills.

(Just attack.)

No pun. No joke. Just attack. Once you notice, the effect is immediate - here you have it, a clear sign of how jaded Siffrin has become, right at every encounter. And it's a damn good attack, too! The only available attack in the game that deals "massive" damage against all enemies. Because it doesn't add any jackpot points (at least, it's not supposed to), you set up a combo with everybody else, but Siffrin simply tears away at the enemy with wild abandon. Seperated from the rest of the party by the virtue of no longer needing to contribute to team attacks (most of the time. It's still useful if they do, though).

Once again, an aspect of the battle system enhances the degree of separation between Siffrin and the static characters of his play. You're incentivized to separate him, even.

Additionally, there are two more skills to learn. They're the only skills that replace previous skills. You only get them at extremely high levels, the latter of which I didn't even reach on both of my playthroughs.

The first, somewhere in the level 70 range, Rose Printed Glasses, a paper type craft skill, is replaced by Tear You Apart. It's still a pun about paper, but remarkedly more vicious.

The second is even more on the nose. At level 80, In A While, Rockodile!, a rock type craft skill, is replaced by the more powerful Rock Bottom.

I didn't get to level 80. If you do, you pretty much have to do it on purpose. You have to keep going much longer than necessary, as Siffrin is just done. And the last skill he learns is literally called Rock Bottom.

What do I even need to say, really.

Your party doesn't stay static forever, though.

By doing their hangout quests, side quests throughout the loops that result in Siffrin and the character having a heart to heart, all of them unlock what I'd call an "ultimate" skill. You know the type - the character achieved self-fulfillment, hit rank 10 on their confidant, maxed out their skill tree, and received a reward for their trouble.

These skills are massively useful. My favorite is Odile's - it makes one enemy weak to all Craft types for several turns, which basically allows you to invalidate the first and third boss, as well as just clown on the King, especially once Siffrin starts racking up damage.

But the thing is. In Act 3, when you first get them, yeah, they're useful. But... do you need them? After all, they're such a hassle to get. You need to do the whole character quest again, you can't loop forward in the House or you'll lose them. If you want to take these skills to the King, you need to commit. Go the full nine-yards and be nice to your friends and not die and not skip forward or skip back. Which is annoying, right?

Well, I sure did think so during Act 4. After all, a base level party can still defeat the King, just with a few more tricky pieces involved. Siffrin can oneshot almost all basic enemies by the time of Act 4. It's this exact evalutation that you, the player, go through everytime you return to Dormont. Do I want this skill, still? Would it not be faster to go on without it? I'm repeating myself, but that's the thing! That's what Siffrin is thinking, too!

I also want to take a quick moment to note, here - all skills gained from hangouts have art associated with them, which no other skills do. This feature, the nifty art, hammers home these as "special" skills, besides just how they're unlocked.

Siffrin also has one skill with associated art.

Yeah, you guessed it, it's (Just attack.)

At first, helping the characters is tied to a hefty in-game reward, but that reward loses its value, and in return devalues helping Siffrin's friends every loop. It's too tedious for a skill that'll make a boss go by one turn faster. You, the player, grow jaded with the battle system. Grinding experience isn't worth it, everybody's highest levels are already recorded. Fighting bosses isn't worth it, it's much faster to loop forward.

Isn't this what all endgame in video games looks like? You already beat the final boss, and now... what challenge is left? Is there a point to keep playing? Most games will have some post-game content. A superboss to test your skills against, but ISAT doesn't have any of that. You're forever left chasing to the post-game. That's the whole point - to escape the game.

As most games get more difficult as time passes, ISAT only gets easier. The game becomes disinterested in expanding its own mechanics just as I ran out of new things to fight after 100%-ing Kingdom Hearts 3. Every encounter becomes a simple game of "press button to win."

The final boss just takes that one up a notch.

Spoilers for Act 5 ahead boys!

In Act 5, Siffrin utterly loses it. His last possible hope for escape failed him, told him there's nothing she can do, and Siffrin is trapped for eternity. So of course, they go insane and run up the entire House without their party.

This just proves what you already knew - you dont need the party to proceed. Siffrin alone is strong enough. And here, Siffrin has entirely shed the facade of the jokester they used to be. Every single skill now follows the (Just attack.) naming conventions. Your skills are: (Paper.) (Rock.) (Scissors.) (Breathe.)

To the point. Not a moment wasted, because Siffrin can't take a moment longer of any of this. Additionally, his level is set to 99 and his equipment becomes fixed. You can't even pick up items anymore! Not that you needed them at this point anyway, right? Honestly, I never used any items besides the Salty Broth since Act 2, so I stopped picking items up a long time ago. Now you just literally can't.

Something I've not talked about until now - one of the main equipment types in this game are Memories, gained for completing subquests or specific interactions and events. They all by and large have little effects - make Odile's tonics heal more, or have Mirabelle cast a shield at the start of combat. For the hangout events, you also gain an associated memory that boosts the characters' stats by 30. It lets them keep up with Siffrin again! A fresh wind! Finally, your party members feel on par with you again!

...For a time. And just like that, they're irrelevant again, just as helping them gave Siffrin a brief moment of hope that the power of friendship could fix everything.

In Act 5, your memory is set to "Memory of Emptiness." It allows you to loop back in the middle of combat. You literally can't die anymore. Not that Siffrin could've died by this point in the first place, unless you forgot about the King's instant-kill attack. This one memory takes away the false pretense that combat ever had any stakes. Siffrin's level being set to 99 means even the scant exp you get is completely wasted on them. All stakes and benefits from combat have been removed. It has become utterly pointless.

Frustrating, right? It's an artistic frustration, though. It traps you right here in Siffrin's shoes, because he hates that all these blinding Sadnesses are still walking around just as much. It all inspires just a tiny fraction of that deep rolling anger Siffrin experiences here in the player.

And listen, it was cathartic, that one time Siffrin snapped and stabbed the tutorial Sadness, wasn't it? Because who enjoys sitting through the tutorial that often? Siffrin doesn't. I don't, either.

So, since combat is an useless obstacle now meant to inspire frustration, what do you do for a boss? You can't well make it a gameplay challenge now, no. The bosses of Act 5 are an emotional challenge: a painful wait.

First, Siffrin fights the King, alone. This is already nervewracking because of one factor - in every other run, you need Mirabelle's shield skill, or else you're scripted to die. You're actually forced to fight the King multiple times in Act 3, and have to do it at least once in Act 4, though you'll likely do it more. Point is: you know how this fight works.

You know Siffrin's fight is doomed from the outset, but all you can do is keep slinging attacks. Siffrin is enough of a powerhouse to take the King's HP down, what with the healing and buff skills they have now, not to even mention you can just go all in on damage and then loop back.

(And no matter which way you play it, whether you just loop or use strategically, it reflects on Siffrin, too. Has he grown callous enough not even death will stop their mission? Or does he still avoid pain, as much as he can?)

This fight still allows you the artifice of even that much choice, not that it matters. The other shoe drops eventually - Siffrin becomes slower, and slower. Unsettling, considering this game works on an Action Gauge system. You barely get turns anymore. The screen gets darker, and darker. Until Siffrin is frozen in time, just as you knew he had to be, because you know how this encounter works, know it can't be cleared without Mirabelle.

And, then, a void.

Siffrin awakens to nothingness. The only way to tell you've hit a wall is if Siffrin has no walking animation to match your button inputs. You walk, and walk, until you're approached by.... you. The next enemy encounter of the game, and Siffrin's absolute lowest point: Mal Du Pays.

Or, "Homesickness," in english. If you know the game, you know why it's named this, but that's not the point at the moment.

Thing is, where you could damage the King and are damaged in turn, giving you at least a proper combat experience, even if its doomed to fail, Mal Du Pays has no such thing.

You can attack. You can defend. But it is immune to all attacks. And in return, it does nothing. It's common, at least, for undefeatable enemies to be a "survive" challenge, but nope. The entire fight is "press button and wait." Except, remember the previous fight against the King? The entire time, you were waiting for the big instant death attack to drop. That feeling, at least for me, carried forward. I was incredibly on edge just waiting for the other shoe to drop. And, as is a pattern, Siffrin is, too. As Siffrin's attacks fail to connect, they start talking to Mal Du Pays.

But he gets no response, as you get no attacks to strategize around. The wait for anything to happen is utterly agonizing. You and Siffrin are both waiting for something to happen. This isn't a fight. It just pretends to be. It's an utter rugpull, because Siffrin was so undefeatable for most of Act 4 and all of Act 5 so far. It's kind of terrifying!

and it does. It finally does something. Ma Du Pays speaks, in the voice of Siffrin's friends, listing out their deepest fears. I think it's honestly fantastic. You're forced to just sit here and listen to Siffrin's deepest doubts, things you know the characters could not say because it references the timeloops they're all utterly unaware of. This is all Siffrin, talking to himself. And all you, all Siffrin, can do, is keep wailing away on the enemy to no effect whatsoever.

So of course this ends with Siffrin giving up. What else can you do?

And then Siffrin's friends show up and unfreeze them and it's all very cool yay. The pure narrative scenes aren't really the main focus but I want to point out here:

A) Mirabelle is in the first party slot here, referencing how she's the de facto protagonist, and Bonnie fills in the fourth slot left empty, which shows all characters uniting to save Siffrin

B) this is the only instance of the other party members having act specific battle icons: they're all smiling brightly, further pushed by the upbeat music

C) the reflecting shield Mirabelle uses to freeze the King uses a variation of her hangout skill cut in, marking it as her true "final" skill and giving the whole fight a more climatic feeling.

It's also a short gameplay sequence with Siffrin utterly uninvolved in the battle. You can't even see them onscreen. But... it feels warm, doesn't it? Everybody coming together. Siffrin doesn't have to fight anymore.

At last, the King is defeated. Siffrin and co. make for the Head Housemaiden, to have her look at Siffrin's sudden illness. Siffrin is utterly exhausted, famished, running a fever. And this isn't unexpected - after all, their skills in Act 5 had no cooldown. For context, instead of featuring any sort of MP system, all skills work on a cooldown basis, where a character can't use it for a certain number of turns. The lowest cooldown is actually Siffrin's Knife to Meet You, which has a cooldown of 1. In universe, this is reasoned as the characters needing a break from spamming craft in order to not exhaust themselves.

Siffrin's skills in Act 5 having no cooldown/being infinitely spammable isn't a sign of their strength - it's a sign that he refuses to let himself rest in order to rush through as fast as possible.

Moving on, Siffrin panics when seeing the Head Housemaiden, because seeing her means one thing: the end. Prior to this in the game, every single time you beat the King, the loop ends when you talk to the Head Housemaiden.

Reality breaks down, the whole shebang. It's here that Siffrin realizes - they don't want the loops to end, because the end of their journey means their family will leave, and he'll be alone again. The happiest time of his life will be over.

Siffrin goes totally ballistic, to say the least.

As it turns out (and was heavily foreshadowed narratively), Siffrin has been using Wish Craft to subconciously cause the timeloop because of their abandonment issues. It's rather predictable if you paid attention to literally anything, but it's extremely notable how heavily Siffrin is paralleled to the King, the antagonist they swore to kill by themself at the start of Act 5. The King wants to freeze Vaugarde in time because it is, in his mind, "perfect," for accepting him after he lost his home - a backstory he shares with Siffrin.

Siffrin has become the exact antagonist he swore to kill, and it's shown by how the next fight utterly flips everything on its head.

Siffrin is the final boss.

In a towering form made of stars, Siffrin looks down at their friends. His face is terrified, because of his internal conflict; he can't hurt his friends, but he can't let them go, either. The combat prompt is simply changed to "END IT!"

This fight is similar to the previous, in that you just need to wait a certain number of turns until its over. However, this time, it's not dreadful suspense. It's... confusion, and hesitance.

You have two options for combat: Attack your friends, or attack yourself.

And... you don't really want to do either, I think. I certainly don't. But what else can you do? It's Siffrin's desires clashing in full force. Attack your friends, and force them to stay? Or attack yourself, and let them go safely without you?

Worth noting, here - when you attack Siffrin's friends, you can't harm them. Isabeau will shield all attacks. And when you attack yourself, Mirabelle will heal you back to full. And the friends don't... do anything, either. How could they? Occasionally, Mirabelle heals you and Isabeau shouts words of motivation, but the main thing is...

(Your friends don't know what to do.)

None of them want to harm Siffrin. Both sides simply stare at each other, resolute in their conviction but unwilling to end it with violence. It's of note that this loop, the last one, is the only loop where the King isn't killed. Just frozen. And now here is Siffrin, clamoring for the same eternity the King was. Of course everything ends in a tearfilled conversation as Siffrin sees their friends won't leave him, even after the journey ends, but I still have to appreciate this moment.

Siffrin is directly put in the position with their friends as his enemies, forced to physically reckon that keeping them in this loop is an act of violence, against both their friends, and against himself.

It's a happy ending. But... what does it mean?

Of course, ISAT is obviously about the fear of change. Siffrin is afraid of the journey ending, and of being alone. However, ISAT is also a game about games. Siffrin is playing the same game, over and over, because it's comforting. It's familiar. It's nice, to know exactly what happens next. These characters might just be predictable lines of dialogue, but... they feel like friends. Have you ever played a game, loved it, put countless hours into it, but you never finished it? Because you just couldn't bear to see it end? For the characters to leave your life, for there to be a void in your heart where the game used to be?

After all, maybe it became part of your routine! You play the game every day, slowly chipping away at it for weeks at a time. For me, I beat ISAT in four days. It utterly consumed me during this time. I had 36 hours of playtime by the end. Yeah, in that week, I did not do much more than play ISAT.

And once i beat it, i beat it, again. I restarted the game to see the few scenes I missed, most specifically the secret boss I won't talk about here. I... couldn't let go of the game yet. I wanted to see every scrap I could. I still do. I'm writing this, in part because I still do. It's scary to let go.

Ever heard the joke term of "Postgame Depression?" It's when you just beat a game, and you're suddenly sad. Maybe because the ending affected you emotionally and you need to process the feelings it invoked, or you search for something that can now fill your time with it gone.

The game ends, for real this time, the last time you talk to the Head Housemaiden. But Siffrin gets... scared. What if everything loops back again? And so, his family offers to hold his hand. They face the end, together.

For all loops, including the ending, you never see what happens after. After they leave the loop for good. Because the loop is the game itself. It's asking you to trust that life goes on for these characters, and it holds your hand as it asks you to let go. There's a reason for Siffrin's theater metaphors. He is the actor, and the director, asking everyone to do it over one more time. He's a character within the game, and its player.

There's a reason I talked about endgame content. This, the way it all repeats, there's nothing new, difficulty and stakes bleed away as you snap the game over your knee - it's my copy of White 2 with two hundred hours in it. It's me playing Fire Emblem Awakening in under 3 hours while skipping every cutscene. Are you playing for the sake of play, for the sake of indulging in your memories, because you're afraid of the hole it'll leave when you stop?

Of note: the narrative never condemns Siffrin for unwittingly causing their own suffering. He's a victim of circumstance. It's seen as endearing, even, that Siffrin loves their friends to the point of rather seeing the world destroyed than them gone. But Siffrin is also told: we'll stay with you for now, but we'll part ways eventually. And one day, you'll have to be okay with it.

Stop draining the things you love of every ounce of enjoyment just because you're afraid of what happens next. I'm not saying to never play your favorite games again. Playing ISAT a second time, I still had a lot of fun! I saw so many new things I didn't before, and I enjoyed myself immensely, reading the same dialogue over and over. But... it makes me look at other games I love and still play, and makes me ask... is this still fun? Do I still need to play this game to enjoy it? Even writing this is an afterimage of my enjoyment, but it's a new way to interact with the game, to analyze it through this lens. Fuck, man, I write fanfiction. Look at me.

All of this, fanart, fanfic, analysis, is a way to prolong that enjoyment without making yourself suffer for it. Without just going through the motions of enjoyment without actually experiencing any. But one day, the thing you love won't be fun to talk and write and draw about. And it's okay. You'll have new things to love. I promise.

In the end.... I'm certain I'll replay ISAT one day. Between great writing, art, puzzles and unresolved mysteries, it's my shoe-in for game of the year.

But I won't replay it for quite some time. I've had enough, for now, so I let my love take other forms.

Siffrin is never condemned, because love is no evil. Be it love for another person, or for a game. And please, if you're overempathetic - it's still a game, at the end of the day. The great thing about games is that you can always boot them up again, no matter how long its been.

A circle within a circle indeed.

To summarize:

The repetitiveness of ISAT's combat, lack of new enemies, and Siffrin's ever increasing strength eventually allows you to snap the combat over your knee, rendering it irrelevant and boring. Though this may seem counterproductive at first, it perfectly mirrors how Siffrin has also grown bored with these repeated encounters and views them only as an obstacle to get past. The reflection of Siffrin's own tiredness with the player's annoyance increases the compassion the player has for Siffrin as a character.

Additionally, the endgame state of the combat system serves as commentary on the state of a favorite game played too often, much like how Siffrin has unwittingly trapped themself in the loop. Despite the game having no more challenge or content left to over, a player might return to their favorite game anyway, solely to try and recreate the early experience of actually having fun with it. This ties into ISAT's metanarrative about the fear of change and refusal to let go of comfort even when the object (here, your favorite video game) offering that comfort has become utterly bereft of any substance to actually engage with. Playing for the sake of playing, with no actual investment to keep going besides your own memories.

Later on, stripping away even the pretense of strategy for a "press button and wait" format of final bosses highlights the lack of options at Siffrin's disposal and truly forces the player into their shoes. Truly, the only way to win is to stop playing.

[grlpartdoll]

Ok so the first post I made about famous!reader and bodyguard!Simon made me think about something interesting. How would Simon react to his lamb actually getting sick or being in a bad place? I am sick, so this is incredibly self indulgent, lol.

afab!reader, mdni with any of my work pls.

You sip quietly, watching through your lashes as Simon types something on his phone. It's late at night — one am. Way past the bedtime established by the man himself.

There's only one light on, and it's the one in the hallway. It illuminates only half of his face, highlighting a sharp jaw, a scarred brow and lip, a once (or twice) broken nose.

When you shift uncomfortably, he peers down at you again, his eyes immediately brought to you when you sputter a little, water refusing to go down.

"Doc's beeper is off." He announces, turning off his phone and bending his knees a little to lower himself to your height. As you slowly move your cup of warm water down on-top of your thighs, you cup your throat, a desolate frown on your face.

He motions for you to open your mouth, raising a hand to pinch your chin gently between his fingers. He looks at the state of your throat, at the cough drop you're using sitting idly behind your teeth.

He shakes his head. "Still inflamed."

You pout. Quietly, you try to speak, but he shoots you a look you know too well.

"Y'know the procedure, Bambi."

You give a glance at the camera crew stuck at the door. The rule that Simon had firmly introduced and stuck to ever since the documentary had begun filming between the walls of your home — no cameras in your room, and none at the door if it was closed. The only reason its open now is because your manager had scolded him about the documentary not containing enough raw footage of what it was like to live in your skin. All of its current footage was made up of carefully nitpicked moments Simon allowed people to witness and nothing else.

Even this, you know, is eating away at him.

And at you, too.

It's shameful, to pull out your rusty signing skills when there are cameras there. When it's just you and Simon, it's.. different. You know he doesn't judge.

His hand tightens around your jaw a little. Nothing painful. But it jostles you back to reality, bringing your gaze back to him.

"Focus o'me. Just you and me." He whispers. You hope the cameras don't pick it up. Maybe, if you're lucky, they won't have. Afterall, you don't have mics strapped on — the whole crew had been sitting in your kitchen eating when Simon called your name, noticing (or hearing?) you tiptoeing to the bathroom for a drink, and none of them had had time to get mics on anyone because of how quickly it had all happened. Or, well, it could also be because he slammed the bathroom door closed and then proceeded to corner you in the bathroom until you admitted you couldn't sleep because your throat was hurting. He only let the cameras film you after you'd confirmed ten times over that you were okay with them filming you.

You start to go through the words in your head, translating them into jerky movements of your hands. He nods as you sign "it doesn't hurt anymore"

"That's the cough drops," he whispers, and his voice sounds so intimate that you want to melt into it. He tucks your blankets around you, and takes the hot pack from your bedside table, silently applying it to your throat.

With your performance just tomorrow where you're supposed to sing live, this is really not something you want. You get the flu too easily, you have a shit immune system, had always been like that since you were a kid, but today, it feels even more disappointing because it's ruining something important you'd been practicing for a very, very long time.

You hum. It feels tight in your throat, and you cough again, trying to alleviate the pressure.

"Alright, alright, get it out," he moves the two of you around until you're on your side, and he's sitting right beside you. You're curled around him, and he's patting your back, rubbing it soothingly. The flue meds would kick in soon enough — knock you out. But for now, you worry, and you're angry.

You stick your hands up at him. You sign too quickly — clumsily ; "told you we shouldn't have went to the award show. Someone there was sick as hell and we all know it was—."

As he glares at the cameras trying to catch what you're signing, he also expertly catches your hands and lowers them to his lap before you can do or say something stupid, warming them in his impossibly warm ones.

"Stop fussing," he grumbles quietly, probably meaning for it to sound reprimanding, but it comes out more like a plea. "Go to sleep. We'll deal with this in the morning."

You sigh, burrying your face in your blankets. He keeps rubbing your back.

You eventually dig yourself out of the blankets, fever making your body run hotter. He helps you move on top of them until you're laying on your back, your upper body raised by a shit ton of pillows. He sits next to you like you're on your death bed. Something about the situation makes you want to laugh, even though you're a bit upset.

He still holds your hands.

When his hold on them finally loosens, though, when he probably thinks you're finally succumbing to the medication, you move your hands up again and sign, calmly this time ; "sorry for waking you up."

He fixes some strands of hair that fall in your face, sticking to the beading sweat on your temples. He shakes his head, his face severe and strangely.. comforting. Every harsh slope, every cruel swipe of scars, every movement. It all feels like home to you. His hand lingers on your temple. Calloused and scarred too, but he touches you with so much gentleness you only feel the soft edges of his fingers.

"Sleep, kid." He finally murmurs. You know the cameras and the crew don't catch that. "Please. You'll feel better in the morning."

You doubt it, but you close your eyes, and let his presence sway you into sleep anyway.

[snackugaki]

.... i have been so normal about wanting to draw tactical!Venus and tactical!Jennika.

hey. HEY. y’all need to go check out @donathan ‘s artwork, and if you are the proper age, go throw some money into their patreon for some... some real, real good art. 👀👀👀 ...but do not if you are a minor, that shit ain’t for you.

some IDW TMNT comic spoilers... and.... I guess... Next Mutation ssspoilers? I know some of you kids haven’t turtled up and watched my beloved childhood iteration yet.

alright, so, y’know, completely normal expenditure of my energy and skillset, amirite? big big thanks to @/donathan for allowing me to play around in their AU’s aesthetic because I have severe, terminal VenusAndJennikaDeserveEverythingoccocal SoIWillManifestItMyselfitis.

and tbh, all y’all’s fics have been, mwah, chef’s kiss. but SOME of you put LORE. delicious, tasty, appetite-inducing lore.

and i am nothing but the littlest hoebag for lore.

okay so, quick rundown for those who both A) are immune to spoilers B) also do not know Venus or Jennika’s origins-- bulletpoint time~!

So Venus de Milo, the “girl turtle”, the “fifth turtle” (not counting April’s extremely brief stint as a white-bandana’d turtle in the Archie comics run) was introduced in 1997′s Ninja Turtles: The Next Mutation

An episode of “The Toys That Made Us” touched upon Venus’ creation so idk it’ll cover what I won’t deign to acknowledge.

her backtory is interesting (just her show was a trashfire /affectionate)

Master Splinter’s frolicking around in the dreamscape where all the cool enlightened old people hang out away from teenagers, right?

but oh no! dragon lord, a bad dude with a widow’s peak to rival Vegeta Dragonball’s widow’s peak; is there too! stomping around, ruining shit!

Splinter’s dreamscape buddy Chung I warns Splinter to stay out of the dreamscape ‘cuz Dragon Lord’s around

And like in true old people fashion, just ignores his friend’s admonition and tries to investigate himself

bad choice, womp womp

Splinter gets trussed up and rendered “stuck” in the dreamscape

cue the catalyst for Venus to make the 10+ flight from China to the U.S

don’t worry about what the boys were doing, just literal surfing in sewer grey water, breaking their little turtle skulls on cinderblocks, and picking fights in warehouses with Foot clan goons

tl;dr Venus still has Sixth Ranger mode on, so naturally she whoops all of their asses in the dark, ties them up (like how some of y’all enjoy writing Leo does huhu nudgenudge winkwink)

venusistheoriginalshibarienthusiastandteadrinkerfightme

and then, y’know, it’s still the 90s and children’s television so blah blah the usual “oH My gOd a GiRL tURTle???/?? AWoooOOogaaa ga ga ga” 

it’s.... I mean, i’m 38 so it no longer strikes me as bad as just really fucking embarrassing... for them. to be written saying. fuck, at least they didn’t make her bandana color pink.

so fast forward to Venus teaching them to dreamwalk so they can go rescue Splinter from Dragon Lord’s clutches in the dreamscape.

unfortunately, Dragon Lord offscreen murders Chung I so Venus is narratively anchorless post-rescue, so she’s invited to stay with them. thus ensues wacky hijinks with their new pal, Venus Boom Boom de Milo.

I glossed over the urge to write a cumulative review of Next Mutation. Just, take my word as the target demographic of the show during the last gasps of 90s Turtlemania that TNM was a trashfire overall but... y’know... if you ever needed a palette cleanser after some grimdark or angsty TMNT content, give TNM a whirl. The slapstick was intentional and The Point in the show. Venus’ circumstances for coming was as serious as it would get.

... Also, yes, they made them not related in TNM, preteen snackugaki didn’t clock why because I watched a lot of wuxia as a kid so brotherhood is a term beyond blood ties to me (and if I’m being honest, martial brotherhood is fkkn metal) and later I heard tell that it was to lure more girls into the franchise with both a girl turtle and romance options. which idk whatevs man. 

I also have to clear that, actually no, Donatello and Venus did not fight EVERY episode. Donatello, despite sprinkling a little too much barely disguised snobbery, did defer to Venus’ expertise in “the supernatural” when the situation called for it, and Venus would commend Donnie on his scientific ingenuity. They even teamed up skillsets to create surveillance drones! She essentially casted Calm Emotions on him while he tried to hack the controls of the Astro Megaship back for the In Space Rangers. They breached the divide between STEM and Humanities! They only had one “real fight" near the end of the season-- because Donnie was playing his containment breach elevator mid trash copyright strike immune proto-EDM too loud while she was trying to meditate. and that’s just being bad roommates tbh.

...christ I know it’s gonna come up too, but also NO, there was not constant advances made toward Venus during the show. At most was Mikey pulling his ol’ “I work out every day~!” schtick for like 2 episodes of the 5 spent to introduce Venus. And then after? A shipper’s desert, you’d have to dig and peer behind like 8 curtains for any viable fodder. 

...OKAY NOW FOR JENNIKA’S ORIGINS: Jennika is an IDW character specifically so, naturally why she isn’t in (or would’ve been, AHEM) a lot of iterations yet (or at all, COUGH) (but to continue in honesty there’s a lot of legal tape to cut through since Jennika is IDW’s while TMNT overall is Nick’s) Introduced as a Foot Assassin, her place in the Foot Clan shifts when Splinter takes over from Shredder (Saki), eventually she forms actual bonds with both the turtles and Splinter to where it’s implied she also saw him as an important figure to her if not an outright surrogate father figure. And because TMNT is mess and drama the other 50% of the time, Karai takes over the Foot from Splinter and shenanigans compounded by Karai’s then-current machinations for the Foot-- results in Jennika getting shanked in the stomach by Karai during a clandestine meeting to resolve clan rivalry. She’s losing blood fast, Donnie works to save her and it’s Leo who volunteers for blood transfusion to keep her stable mid-transit. 

SURPRISE!

Leo’s blood mutates Jennika into a mutant turtle. And then Casey ghosts/dumps her. My poor daughter. She has a real rough time of it before fully integrating with the boys. Raph falls in with Old Hob, gets hoodwinked, and now they live in Mutant Town. Jennika slowly finds herself again, as a mutant turtle, a Splinter clan ninja, a girlfriend, a guitarist in a band she started, a sister in a found family, and a constable to a very little town.

okay! we’re all marginally informed about my two wonderfull daughters, Venus and Jennika~!

so if I can indulge further, I’m going to use my cognizance and make it everyone’s problem because I have beem quietly foaming with ideas for bg lore for tactical!J&V, more bullet points!

ok so, donathan mentioned a bit about their tac! Leo and Donnie being the snipers, Mikey and Raph spotting for them while also being demolitions and heavy ordinance specialists respectively

I would think, then for Vee and Jen, they’d be classified as close quarters combat specialists, complicated extraction? compromised area? call them to clean up and clear out~

give or take “magic” being a thing used in donathan’s AU, or anyone’s AU of this AU, Vee would probably be a close combat specialist along with Jen.

Vee, I feel, would, barring a ...”tactical fan”, (even though in TNM it was just her fists and her little wizard components but her toy came with a fan so.) probably use batons, Jen in lieu of her tekagi-shuko would... most likely use tactical karambit. not that large of a leap really.

for my personal lulz, Vee and Jen are... accurate, height-wise. Raph gets to be the biggest brother since alligator snapping turtles are, in fact, the largest motherfucking freshwater turtles on the north american continent. no getting around it.

my Vee in all Rise AUs is a softshell since the messy hanzi used to write her first given name, Mei Pieh Chi (美鱉气) has the hanzi that’s most commonly translated as softshell turtle (鱉). eh ‘di wow talaga

snacku what do you mean ‘accurate’???? tl;dr female turtles are usually the larger ones in most species.

and listen, I love and I mean LOVE, how some of y’all have written the tac!boys, mwah; but god I’m a professional turtle bully. I need to see them get dunked on. for nutritional value. and if it comes to it, I will provide that food for myself. brb laughing at eventually drawing Venus just offhandedly tossing Donnie into the air to skeet shoot his ass for fun brings me the greatest joy.

they absolutely dote on Mikey, as is the natural order of things. 

and even tho I stated TNM Donnie and Venus got along in the show, and depending on the existence of magic in this AU; I just really love dichotomous rivalries (in as much “science” and “magic” exist as a dichotomy, much less as “diametrically oppose” fields-- just, opposites man. i’m a simple girl with simple trope needs)

Vee’s arms (and legs) are absolutely covered in burns, scars, and missing flesh divots, just as close to swiss cheese limbs as you can be

Jen and Donnie debate tracks that go into their joint “On Our Way To Commit Murder” playlist

if Vee’s tactical look seem very familiar, and you’re wondering if-- yes, you’re correct. and you can “call her ms. de milo if ya nasty”

Vee was actually pretty calm and rational in TNM... but for this AU, she can be a little unhinged, as a well-deserved treat. (and ‘cuz that specific anime unhinged facial expression is fun as fuck to draw, which is my treat)

[spacebarbarianweird]

astarion with wizard!tav

Oh, this one is tricky! Never played a wizard (I am too dumb for this class) and I hope I haven't dissapointed you!

NSFW version

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion x Wizard!Tav Headcanons

You are this bookish person who rarely goes out.

Like, you left home for once, and look what happened! You were kidnapped and got a tadpole in your brains!

You are smart, intelligent, and know a lot of things. Spells, history, religion, and some weird facts are suitable only for quizzes.

Astarion loves listening to you - he's missed a lot of things within those 200 years, and you help him to catch up.

What do you mean there was a Spellplague? And magic stopped working for a whole decade? And the Time of Troubles when some gods ceased existing?

And you somehow know more about elves and vampires than he does.

"I've read the older vampire is, the longer they can spend in the sunlight. Ancient vampires are almost immune", you once casually told him, and this glimpse of hope stuck with him for a long time.

You aren't social - moreover, you absolutely cannot survive in social situations.

And you were oblivious to Astarion's flirting - like none of his seductive words worked on you. You just didn't get them.

But in the meantime, Astarion started appreciating it. Old habits die slowly, so when he sometimes slips back into all "seduce and fuck" things, it just doesn't work on you.

You know a lot of spells, and you are ready to use them. "Silence" during sex not to attract unnecessary attention. "Darkness" to protect Astarion from sunshine. "Protection From Evil and Good," which helps from inner demons as well as real ones.

But sometimes, you overstep Astarion's boundaries because you think you can help him.

Once, you used telepathy to console Astarion, only to hurt him by violating his mind.

"The only thing that was left intact was my mind, and you decided to get in there!" he yelled at you and disappeared for a few long months while you stayed alone in the wizard tower with only books as a company.

He returned. Of course, he did. But he wanted an apology, which you gave him, and the promise to ask about spells to use on him.

You have a shared love for books and a vast library where you read together and discuss things you've just learned.

You are looking for clues to cure his vampirism or, at least, give him the ability to walk in the sun.

There must be something! Something in this hellish amount of books.

Astarion isn't excited. He knows you are ambitious and need to know when to stop.

And there are too many stories of wizards who lost control of their powers and knowledge.

Besides, some artifacts and spells cost too much for the wizard, and he just wants you to avoid risking yourself for him.

After all, in your relations, he is a hero.

He is stronger and a better fighter.

He is street-smart; meanwhile, you are obviously book-smart.

So he knows how to survive.

And if strange visitors want something from you, beware your husband, who will sit them down and question them like a professional interrogator.

If you need a specific magic item - just say. Astarion will bring it. Just don't ask where he got it and how.

"Blood? What blood? Oh, that blood!"

He loves giving you things - books, primarily, but he also wants to ensure you have other things that bring you comfort, like a delicate shirt or a dress. Or a wizard hat.

And you return the favor. Astarion has a fire-enchanted blanket, which is warm on its own, and a darkness cape that allows him to walk in the daylight for a few hours until the spell weakens.

And, of course, the reflection spell. Now, Astarion knows how he looks.

When Astarion is an absolute mess and tells you he feels like drowning, you conjure the spell and let him look at himself, which helps him feel the ground again.

You are easily wounded in a fight - and he does everything to protect you.

"You body is a fragile vessel of fine potion," he jokingly says.

But he always worries sick - especially when your wounds are of magic origin.

He just doesn't understand what is happening to you, and it makes him sick.

Of course, there is Gale to ask for help from, but he soon realizes that the two wizard nerds aren't as powerful as they think.

Books. You read "useful" ones on magic, history, and others. You have never had time to read for fun!

So Astarion starts bringing you fiction novels. Some stupid adventure stories or straightforward erotica.

Initially, you were hesitant - you aren't used to spending time on nonsense.

But later, you found yourself enjoying a series of novels about the adventures of treasure hunters in the deserts of Halrua.

And love stories. You are absolutely lost in them, especially if they are somewhat spicy.

But you don't want to read yourself - you need Astarion's voice to narrate them!

Astarion mocks you often, but you know that behind your back, he can't shut up about you.

He admires your abilities, your skills, and your intelligence.

In his eyes, you are the most powerful wizard the world has ever seen.

And he makes sure you follow your routine.

Because, of course, you fall asleep on your books and forget to eat or change your clothes

So Astarion takes this role of a "caregiver" - he makes sure you eat regularly, get enough sleep hours (even if he has to drag you to bed against your will), always have a fresh set of clothes, and don't forget to walk at least once a day.

"No, please, one more chapter, I am almost done!"

But no objections - this fantastic brain of yours needs some rest.

--

Tag list

@tragedybunny @caitlincat-95 @tallymonster @astarionsbeloved @lumienyx @fayeriess @elora-the-slutty-songstress @veillsar @astarion-imagine-archive @micropoe10 @starlight-ipomoea @herstxrgirl @theearthsfinalconfession @ashrio20 @not-so-lost-after-all @vixstarria @wintersire

[g1rld1ary]

hope your requests r open! lockwood x reader where lockwood think reader likes george (but she doesnt) and reader thinks lockwood likes lucy (he doesnt). basically just a whole bunch of misunderstandings with angst and a happy ending please <3

miscommunications - anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wc: 6316

cw: swearing, angstish, series typical injuries

i am SO sorry this took so long lovie i had the biggest writers block but i loved loved loved this request so thank u for sending it in i hope i did it justice!!!! love u xoxo

Lockwood and Co was absolutely the weirdest psychical detective agency you’d ever been a part of. Not only were the actual case methods… unusual, but you were a bunch of kids. You didn’t know anything about running a company; the logistics of managing four teenagers and trying to be responsible whilst also experiencing hormones and teen dramas, all while living in the same house with no adult supervision. But it was great, most of the time at least.

However, even teen psychical detectives weren’t immune to the trap of cliques and you often ended up spending much more time with some members than others. For example, it often ended up being Lockwood and Lucy, and you and George.

It wasn’t necessarily a conscious decision or something that happened because you didn’t like the other two members of the agency, it just tended to be the easiest decision. Lockwood and Lucy were undeniably in perfect sync on the field, and you and George worked better in the research department, so it only made sense that those pairs spent more time together.

The only problem? You were totally in love with Lockwood. And you were pretty sure he was basically fucking married to Lucy Carlyle. They were the dream team on and off the field, you were half convinced they could actually read each other's minds. Plus, they were both genuinely amazing people. Lucy was your best friend and roommate at Portland Row, and you loved her with all your heart. And Lockwood? Well, there were a million and one good things to say about Anthony Lockwood. So who could blame you if you spent more time with George? It hurt less than watching the love story unfolding in front of you, and George was good company anyhow.

You couldn’t avoid them though, nor did you really want to, so life was testing your limits as to how much Locklyle you could handle at once.

You and George had been cooped up in the library most of the day looking through archives and research for the agency’s next case, so you’d been glad to get home and have a long warm shower in the evening. Lockwood and Lucy were off on a smaller case together so you’d had the bathroom all to yourself while George was cooking; a small luxury when living with three other teenagers.

Your hair was still wet as you sat down at the dining table in the kitchen, droplets sinking into the paper of the thinking cloth. It was a lovely dinner with George, he’d made your favourite meal upon request, the most glorious dish of butter chicken you thought might’ve ever been made. Everything should have been perfect, except that it was just the two of you. Again. It seemed like you never had family dinners as a four anymore, you and George stuck eating across from each other amongst empty chairs and untouched plates.

“So, anything new?” You made conversation in decent humour, picking at the chicken you weren’t quite as pleased to be eating anymore.

“Anything new in the twenty minutes we’ve been apart all day?” George replied in his characteristic dry tone. You rolled your eyes, trying to stay playful.

“Just checking.”

You took the cleanup after George did all the cooking, switching on the radio as you stood in front of the sink and washing the dishes in peaceful quiet. It was past midnight when the door jingled and creaked open and you could hear Lockwood and Lucy’s tired chatter floating through the old house. Even their damn voices belonged together, making the perfect cadence. You calculated whether you could get away with running up the stairs and pretending to be asleep before they really made it inside, however, agents are known for their speed, and you could hear boots hitting the floor before you could move.

“You’re still up?” Lucy asked as a greeting, stretching out her arms with a sigh. You smiled, shrugging as you began pouring hot water into the mugs you’d prepared earlier, making you all tea how you liked it. Lucy took hers gratefully, adding in the sugar as she pleased, but you were still yet to see Lockwood, taking the initiative to prepare it for him.

He came in a few minutes later, smiling softly as he looked at you.

“You’re a godsend.” He took the mug gratefully, visibly relaxing as the heat penetrated his body. You just smiled, turning back to the dishes.

“Thanks for the tea, I’ll head up to the shower,” Lucy said, patting you gratefully on the arm as she passed. That left you and Lockwood in the kitchen in careful silence.

You talked about nothing for a while, Lockwood filling you in on the tabloids he’d read the night before, and you told him all about the music and news you’d been listening to on the radio.

“How was the research, how’s George?” Lockwood was beside you now, taking a few of the plates you’d finished drying. His tone sounded almost bitter, but you figured it was his exhaustion taking hold.

“It was fine, I think we’re pretty much good to go for this weekend. Oh, you should have seen it! George absolutely stacked it on the steps of the library earlier. He’s fine, of course, but I nearly pissed my pants laughing, it was so funny.” Lockwood managed an unenthused chuckle, turning away to put the cutlery away in the drawer. “How was the case?” Lockwood made a noise of affirmation, coming back next to you, your shoulders brushing lightly.

“As well as cases can go,” He said, smile back on his face. You listened to him tell the bloody details of the case, illustrating his own heroic moves with a full production of actions and impressions, drawing giggles from you as he fought around the room. “And of course, Luce was brilliant as always, saved my arse for the millionth time.”

Fuck. Of course Lockwood was singing Lucy’s praises again, right in front of you! You couldn’t catch a break. You finally got a moment alone with the boy you had a massive embarrassing crush on and he was talking about your best friend! You could feel your smile fading fast, jealousy bubbling in your chest as you imagined them out on a case together, all quick banter and soft touches while you were at home. With George.

You tried to stay obliging, giving him a small smile and finishing up the drying quickly.

“Well, I should be off to bed. Goodnight, Lockwood.”

“You’re not gonna read with me?” You could have sworn that Lockwood had disappeared and been replaced with a kicked puppy the way his eyes were making your insides twist with guilt. You often sat up in the library with Lockwood; he could never sleep and you often made up for the late nights in the mornings, starting your days hours after everyone else. You held eye contact for a moment, willing yourself to be strong.

It didn’t work, and you found yourself back in your familiar spot in front of the fire, digging into your novel as he flipped through a magazine. When your eyes began to strain in the low lamplight you closed it softly, chancing a glance over at Lockwood. He looked almost perfect in the moment, yellow light illuminating the highlights in his face, his eyes glinting as he found humour in the dramatised tabloids.

He looked up suddenly, his senses evidently alerting him to your staring. His head tilted almost imperceptibly, curiosity seeping from his features. You smiled softly, unable to give him any explanation, so you were glad when he returned it in a way that made his whole face light up. You looked away first, studying your hands intently as you heard Lockwood breathe a subtle laugh.

Another case later, you were going crazy. You’d hit an obstacle (of course) and the case had started going awry. A few relicmen interfering with the site threw you all off your game, the original case put aside in favour of your lives. You and Lucy had been together when the ambush happened, both fighting as a team to protect yourselves. Admittedly you weren’t as fluid as her and Lockwood, but you blamed that on the lack of opportunity. You were doing pretty well for yourselves, all things considered. Still, you were grateful for the two boys to come bursting in like heroes, rapiers at the ready. What you didn’t appreciate was the way Lockwood immediately leapt to Lucy’s side, falling into their familiar rhythm. That left George to help you, the both of you sharing the quickest of looks, your eye roll lost to the fight.

You’d all made it out alive but were severely battered and disheartened. You’d all sustained a few cuts and bruises, you knew you were bleeding from somewhere in your midsection, but the adrenaline hadn’t worn off yet so you pushed through.

You also weren’t particularly glad to see Lockwood looking at Lucy like she’d hung all the stars in the sky in the cab on the way back. He hadn’t spared you a glance.

“I know this wasn’t exactly what we planned,” He said, still not making eye contact with you, “But we’re all okay so I think that’s a win. Luce, good job on the defence and keeping the relicmen at bay. George, brilliant catch with the source, mate, you saved us all. And, uh, good work.” He looked over briefly, but you thought he was looking slightly above you still. He didn’t even care enough to look at you on the case! It was absolutely maddening.

Sometimes, like now, you wondered why you even liked him. He was obsessed with another girl, barely paid you attention and had you begging for crumbs of affection. And yet, sometimes you were sure he liked you back. The soft smiles, the time together in the dead of night, the moments he showed you such gentle care. Lockwood was a puzzle you just couldn’t solve, but you were really, really trying.

You weren’t in the best mood when you all arrived home. Your case had been compromised, you were injured, and Lockwood was basically ignoring you. The night was not looking good. And, on top of all that, George called the first shower so it was unlikely there’d be any hot water left by the time you got in. Silently, you peeled off your overcoat, hanging it on your designated hook before discarding your rapier in the umbrella bin. The cut on your side was beginning to sting, the adrenaline having worn off in the cab, but you powered through, figuring you’d take care of it when you had privacy in the bathroom. Instead, you followed Lucy into the kitchen, chatting away as she made some toast.

She’d already left when you got up from the dining table, motivating yourself to make some tea and something to eat. Your body was starting to ache though, and you really didn’t want to be moving much longer. It was all mostly fine, though uncomfortable, until you were reaching up for the sugar for the tea. It was a little out of your reach up on one of the higher cupboards which usually wasn’t so much of an issue — you were a high jumper — but raising your arm above your head was making it feel like your cut was splitting open, pulling a strangled hiss from you.

“What is that?” Lockwood’s voice made you jump, the harshness unfamiliar. You turned slowly, folding your arms across your stomach in vain.

“It’s nothing, I was gonna look after it in a bit.” It was the first time you’d made proper eye contact with Lockwood all night, and he looked pissed.

“Bullshit,” He argued, gaining proximity, “Sit down.” You weren’t typically in the habit of being bossed around by a man, but you could tell Lockwood was serious so took a seat. He stomped around the kitchen rather dramatically, tossing you an ice pack from the freezer. You placed it tentatively over the cut, groaning and throwing your head back when it stung. Your breathing was shallow, erratic as you waited for the icepack to do its job and start numbing the pain.

When you unscrewed your eyes Lockwood was standing at the kitchen bench, aggressively buttering your toast. You watched him put together the meal you’d started, all with deep furrowed eyebrows, ending with him placing it in front of you, looking at you expectantly. You smiled at him despite the pain in your side, pulling the mug of tea closer. He’d made it just as you liked it, too much sugar and a bit of honey. You sipped it pathetically, tension bubbling between you and the boy in front of you.

“What’s new?” You asked in what you hoped was a lighthearted tone. Lockwood wasn’t impressed.

“Eat,” He urged, “You’ll already be weak from blood loss, don’t let yourself get dizzy from hunger too.” You took an exaggerated bite of the toast to appease him, melting into a moan when the food hit your mouth. Somehow, it tasted better than all the millions of times you’d made your own. Lockwood had found the perfect balance of butter and bread, soft in the middle but the crusts were still crunchy and satisfying. The corner of his mouth flicked into the smallest smile seeing you enjoy the food he’d made you, but it was clear he still wasn’t happy with you.

You continued to eat as he got up from his seat, disappearing out into the hallway for a moment. He returned with the first aid kit and you groaned. This was going to suck. Lockwood, ever the gentleman, asked for your permission to start helping you, lifting your already cherry red case shirt up to tuck under your bra, out of his way as he examined the cut. It wasn’t too deep, you didn’t think you’d need stitches or anything, but it was long, wrapping halfway across your stomach.

“This is going to hurt,” He said simply, but you could have sworn there was some gentleness there. Lightly, Lockwood began to clean your wound. Initially, it wasn’t so bad as he cleaned what had already spread and dried away from the cut which lulled you into a false sense of security. You cried out as he touched the wound itself for the first time, grabbing onto Lockwood’s shoulder for stability, though you were already seated.

“It’s okay, I’ll be quick. Promise,” He hushed you, offering his hand for you to grab instead. You clutched onto it for dear life, squeezing until both your fingers were turning white. Lockwood never uttered a complaint, working away at cleaning and treating the wound one-handed until it was done, stopping every so often for breaks when he thought you needed them.

When he was done he looked up at you from his position on his knees and it suddenly felt like the world around you was quiet. Lockwood’s eyes were so pretty. You’d always thought so, but it was particularly relevant when he was only inches away from you, sparkling in the amber light of the kitchen. Neither of you spoke, staring into each other’s eyes. You weren’t sure what to do, you didn’t want to end this moment between you but you didn’t know how to make it last. Well, you did, but that was highly inappropriate given Lockwood was in love with another girl.

“Thanks,” You settled on awkwardly, cringing as Lockwood seemed to realise where he was and what was happening.

“Any time,” He jumped up, backing up towards the sink and busying himself with pouring his own cup of tea.

You left the kitchen shortly after, unwilling to sit in the awkwardness any longer. The first step was to get out of the soiled clothes and clean yourself up a bit, the second was to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling of the attic.

“I’m going to die alone,” You said to the roof, catching the attention of your roommate.

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucy said simply, “You’re hot, anyone would be lucky to have you.” That pulled a smile from you, tilting your head back to look over at Lucy on her bed.

“Thanks, Luce. You know what I mean though.” Lucy rolled her eyes with a soft smile.

“If Lockwood can’t see all your brilliant, attractive qualities then he’s a prat.”

“I’m sure he sees many of my great qualities — he hired me. The issue is that he’s blinded by your brilliance.” It was a conversation you’d had countless times before; you decreeing Lockwood’s love for Lucy and Lucy being disgusted by it.

“You know that I have zero interest in Lockwood. Like, zero. Honestly, I’d sooner get with you than him.”

“Alright, alright, I get it. I have terrible taste in men,” You laughed, mostly cheered up.

Lucy flicked off the lamp, putting you to sleep with a story from before you’d joined the agency.

Lockwood had a similar conversation with George a few weeks later. It was after another case, all had gone well and the four of you were strewn about the house, tending to various chores that needed to get done. Lucy was mopping the floors, you were organising and putting away the mountain of books that had been used over the case, and Lockwood and George were both in the basement, tidying the store room and going over paperwork.

Lockwood looked at George, hunched over the form he was filling in, and wondered how to broach the subject. He thought you might’ve been avoiding him lately, which wasn’t exactly wrong, and thought it might be because you were trying to make your feelings for George known. In fact, it had nothing to do with George and everything to do with Lockwood. You figured if Lockwood hadn’t noticed by now that you liked him he never would, so you’d started the mountainous task of getting over him. It was unsurprisingly extremely difficult, given you lived and worked with the man. Still, you were doing the best you could.

“So, gone on any, uh, dates recently?” The sentence was awkward and Lockwood cringed. It was so unlike him and George to talk about anything emotional, especially romance.

“What are you on about?” George didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was just one of Lockwood’s moments that he’d move on from soon enough.

“It’s just, you’ve never really dated anyone, at least while living here, so I was just asking. Um, maybe there’s someone in the house you’d like to take out?” George looked up, turning his wheelie chair to face Lockwood, resigning himself to the conversation he knew would follow.

“Yes, Lockwood. Can’t you hear Lucy and I having loud, passionate sex every night?” Both boys rolled their eyes.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lockwood grumbled.

“Then say what you mean. You’re trying to figure out if I like her because you do and you’re too scared to say anything about it.” Lockwood was silenced, caught out with his true intentions. “Let’s face it, you’re about as subtle as a car horn; you moon over her. She’s the only one who hasn’t noticed.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Lockwood mumbled, “She likes you.” George burst out into uncharacteristic laughter, wheezing and gripping his stomach.

“God, you’re daft!” He laughed, “The two of you are perfect for each other, you’re hopeless.”

Lockwood made an excuse to leave, something about folding his laundry. George watched him go, rolling his eyes before turning back to his paperwork. If the two of you weren’t going to get his exceedingly obvious hints, you were going to have to work it out between yourselves.

Your angst was bleeding into the company. You were trying (and failing) to get over Lockwood which was not only making you generally miserable, but it was impeding your ability to be a good agent.

You were on a relatively easy case, and for some reason you’d been paired with Lockwood, a rarity. Lucy and George were on the second floor of the house scoping out where the source may be whilst you and Lockwood were on the ground floor, preparing your defences and putting on the tea kettle. It was extremely awkward. Lockwood was trying to make conversation and you were trying to keep it as short as possible. If you fell into conversation you’d be reminded of Lockwood’s many wonderful qualities, and it would just get harder to get over him.

“Did you end up finishing that book?” He asked as you pulled the chains out of their duffel bags. You perked up for a moment before forcing yourself to relax. You had finished the novel and absolutely loved it, you wanted nothing more than to talk about it. Still, you controlled yourself, shrugging off the question with a “Yeah, it was pretty good.” Lockwood hesitated, caught off guard by your answer. Usually you were keen to discuss what you’d been reading, especially if you liked it.

“Are you alright?” He asked, softness in his voice and eyes. Your heart clenched for a moment, you didn’t want to worry him.

“I’m fine, Lockwood, promise.” You busied yourself with arranging the salt bombs but you could still feel his eyes on you.

The case progressed, all four of you ending up on the second level of the house to confront the visitor, each splitting up to cover the different rooms. You were in the master bedroom when the en suite bathroom caught your eye. You could have sworn you saw movement near the shower and crept towards it, trying to stay focused and address the urgency on hand.

You were immediately distracted by the similarities between the en suite and the bathroom in Portland Row. Set out almost identically, it was almost scary how similar they were; George’s soap (fancy and way more expensive than the one the rest of you bought) was on the ledge of the shower, and Lucy’s blue hairbrush sat by the basin.

It wasn’t necessarily surprising that either of those items were there, they were both bought for cheap at a grocery store so ought to have been common, but it surprised you nonetheless. You’d been so distracted by the weird similarities that you didn’t notice the figure floating through the shower curtain until its translucent hand was beside your face. You panicked, the only thing you shouldn’t have been doing, and flailed about in the tiny room, rapier knocking bottles off shelves and creating a general racket that was not pleasing the ghost.

You stumbled on the tiles trying to get your footing and get the fuck out but slid on a slippery substance — probably conditioner from the bottle you’d sent flying to the ground. It was a comedy of errors you would have quoted as impossible in an old slapstick comedy, but there you were, and the consequences were infinitely more dire than those faced by Charlie Chaplin.

The proceeding moments vanished from your memory; a violent fall, a sickening crack and an overwhelming darkness. Three more moments of light where you caught visions of the ghost, Lockwood, and aggressive flashing lights.

You woke up in hospital. You wished it was the hazy, unsure innocence that you saw in movies, but the incessant beeping and sanitised smell had you groaning as you gained consciousness. Lockwood was slumped over in the chair next to your bed, breathing uncharacteristically calm as he slept.

You watched him sleep in the least creepy way you could manage, admiring his features when they weren’t scrunched up in worry or stress. He must’ve felt you watching him as his eyes fluttered open, doe eyes overflowing with relief as he saw you awake.

“You’re up, thank god,” He said, pulling his chair up even closer to you.

“Why am I here?” You asked, examining the various wires and machines you were plugged into.

“What aren’t you here for?” Lockwood joked and you tried for a smile. He straightened himself out and continued, “Linear skull fracture, concussion, scary-looking cut on your forehead. We think you slipped and bashed your head on the countertop.” You grimaced, the pain of the fall manifesting in your head.

“That would be right,” You agreed sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably in your hospital gown, “And the hand?” Your left hand was bandaged up so thick it looked more like an oven mitt than a hand.

“Ghost touch.” Lockwood didn’t sound so happy and casual now.

“Oh.”

“What happened? It’s not like you to put yourself in danger like that; it was stupid and reckless.” You didn’t understand why Lockwood was getting so angry. Clearly, you didn’t intend to get injured, it was an unfortunate accident that you would have avoided if you could.

“As opposed to you, who never gets injured and always sticks to the plan?” You couldn’t help the venom seeping into your voice but you detested being criticised by Lockwood when he was just as bad, usually worse.

“This isn’t about me,” He said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to keep his cool while you were vulnerable. You were angry though and didn’t want to back down.

“Of course this is about you, Lockwood! You wouldn’t blink an eye if it was you who’d ended up here, or George or Lucy. It was an honest mistake, why are you being such a dick about it?” You were raising your voice but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, the tension that had been bubbling for weeks coming to the surface.

“Because you could have died —”

“So could any of us, that’s the job! I still see you jumping head-first into danger.”

Lockwood groaned your name, hands in his hair and pulling in frustration. “You’re misunderstanding me, I just don’t want to watch you get hurt—”

“Then close your fucking eyes, Lockwood. I fell and I got injured. It happens and I resent having you treat me differently than the others. Fuck this, I want Lucy here instead, or George.”

“Of course you want George here, why wouldn’t you?”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” If you could stand you would be shoving past him and out the door, but you were at a significant disadvantage being hooked up to so many machines, stuck in your place.

“You know what I mean, you and George are such a close pair, aren’t you? Always working together and laughing about your own inside jokes,” He spat and the burning anger only got hotter.

“Are you fucking crazy right now? Or are you forgetting that you’re the head of this company and therefore you’re the one pairing us together in every case? Or are you so fucking busy making heart eyes at Lucy that you don’t even notice that we’re actually getting work done? Forgive us for trying to make ten hours of research bearable!”

“Heart eyes at Luce? You’re the crazy one, she and I are just friends, I swear. But you and George will make a great couple, I’m sure.”

“George and I couldn’t be less interested in each other! And if you could see past your own nose for once maybe you’d see why!” You all but yelled, surely alerting the whole floor of your argument, “Leave me alone, Lockwood, I don’t want you here anymore.”

Lockwood looked as if he was going to dispute that statement as well but a nurse came to your rescue, clearly hearing the disagreement from outside. She ushered him out, claiming it wasn’t good for your vitals to be getting angry and that you could continue the fight when you were discharged in a few day's time.

Alone in the sterile hospital room, you felt yourself beginning to cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks and landing on your embarrassing patterned hospital gown. In a perfect world, that conversation would have gone completely differently. In a perfect world, Lockwood’s eyes would have softened when he saw you were awake. He would have confessed how worried he was about you and how much he truly cared for you. He would have brushed his lips across your hand that he was holding, then pressed them again against your own as he admitted how he’d always been in love with you. You didn’t know that it was your own defensive nature that had stopped that from happening.

But it wasn’t a perfect world and you were alone, overwhelmed by the various noises and movements going on around you. You did eventually fall back asleep, a fitful, unsatisfying nap that had you groaning and exhausted when you woke up. You weren’t alone though, which did make you feel better. George and Lucy were sitting next to your bed, deep in a whispered conversation.

“Hey,” You said, shimmying up to a sitting position. They both stopped talking immediately, turning to face you with small smiles on both their faces.

“How are you feeling?” Lucy asked, pulling her chair up to be right next to your bed.

“I’m alright now, just tired and worn down.”

“You scared us,” George added, characteristically stiff but clearly trying to be sensitive.

“I’m sorry,” You admitted, “I really didn’t mean to. And believe me, Lockwood’s already yelled at me enough for it, please just forgive me.” They looked at each other, communicating non-verbally.

“We heard,” George said, “He basically punched a hole in the wall trying to recount it.” He let out a clipped laugh before Lucy shoved him, signature glare working its magic.

“You should really apologise, he’s cut up about it.” Your mouth dropped open as you stared at Lucy. How was this your fault?

“I’m not apologising, he was the one who got angry. Right, George?” You pleaded with him, praying he wouldn’t let you down now.

“I… I don’t think it has to be right now, but you two should get over it after you’ve cooled down a bit.” Ok, it wasn’t exactly what you’d hoped he’d say, but it was better than nothing. And better than the moral lesson you knew Lucy would try and impose — what a hypocrite.

“But he was so mean!” You whined, “I seriously just had an unfortunate fall, I didn’t die.”

“But you could have,” George quipped and you rolled your eyes.

“You know it’s because he really cares about you, right? He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t save you.” You couldn’t tell if Lucy’s statement was making you feel better or worse.

“Yeah, really felt like it when he was yelling at me,” You grumbled, fidgeting with the hem of the scratchy blanket.

“Well, you know Lockwood is emotionally constipated,” George added and you couldn’t help but burst into laughter — what a statement to come from George.

“OK,” You agreed finally, “I’ll apologise when we get home. As long as he stops being a massive prick.”

You were discharged a few days later, healing nicely. It would have been sooner, but the head injury worried your nurses and kept you there, not trusting you would stay on bed rest. Lucy came to your rescue, posing as a very concerned caretaker who would ensure your safety.

In fact, it wasn’t Lucy who was enforcing your bedrest. It was George who was cooking every meal and Lockwood doing all the other motherly fussing. You hadn’t discussed your fight yet, both too exhausted and too awkward to broach the subject. You hoped your six-to-eight-week recovery time wouldn’t consist of the same heavy tiredness, but you figured it would improve once the concussion had faded.

The rest of the company had started doing two-man cases so that someone was always home to supervise you. It was a little stifling but you appreciated the effort. It also shook up the status quo of the company, Lockwood and Lucy’s perfect partnership being disrupted by no one wanting to be left at home each time, which was both a blessing and a curse.

In your first few days of being back home at Portland Row, Lockwood was home with you, helping wash your hair. You’d whined so much about how gross it felt, still blood-stained where you cracked your skull open that Lockwood gave up and told you he’d wash it for you. Of course, you’d protested, saying it went way beyond what you could expect of a friend or coworker, but Lockwood would not take no for an answer, justifying that it would be more dangerous to let you do it yourself since you could mess with the stitches since you couldn’t see the back of your own head.

You sat awkwardly in the bath, dressed in an old t-shirt and bikini bottoms to preserve what dignity you could. Lockwood stood outside the bath behind you, preparing the bottles of shampoo and conditioner to his side. The anticipation was destroying you, becoming fidgety and uncomfortable even in the perfectly warm water. The second Lockwood’s slender fingers threaded through your greasy hair you felt your body soften, relaxing into the feeling with no opposition. The feeling was heavenly, the careful but thorough massaging of your scalp could have sent you to sleep in three seconds if you weren’t simultaneously on edge at the proximity.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, your head lolling back subconsciously against Lockwood’s forearms, drawing a small chuckle from him.

“I’m sorry for arguing with you the other day,” You said out of the blue, your voice cutting through the radio that was sitting next to the basin.

“It’s no worries, just forget about it,” Lockwood replied instantly, continuing his labours.

“No, I want to take this seriously. I said some terrible things I didn’t mean and I want you to know that I’m sorry for it. And, as I understand it you think I have some big crush on George which I would just like to disprove. I don’t. Like him like that, I mean.” Lockwood paused for a moment, hands going still in your hair.

“Oh,” He said after some time, “Well thank you for the apology but it is completely unnecessary. I started the argument and I was way out of line, I didn’t mean a word of it. What I meant to convey was that I was worried about you getting hurt because I… care about you. A lot.” You knew that was hard for Lockwood to say, vulnerability never coming easy to him. You turned to face him in the tub, knees pulled up to your chest as your just-rinsed hair dripped down onto your t-shirt.

“I care about you a lot too, Lockwood,” You smiled sweetly, glad you were finally getting over the weird tension that had been between you. Lockwood didn’t look as satisfied.

“No, it’s, fuck. I care about you in a different way than the others. I really like you, like, romantically.”

“Shut up,” You said quickly, not wanting to wake up from a sick dream. There was no way that Anthony Lockwood, after all these years, was telling you that he liked you. Lockwood looked lost for words. Obviously it wasn’t the impassioned reciprocation he hoped for, but it also wasn’t exactly a rejection. What was he supposed to do?

“I, uh, understand if you don’t—”

“Shut up,” You affirmed again. “I have been madly, foolishly in love with you since I started here, and you’re telling me this now? After we’ve screamed at each other and been moping around?” After a moment of him processing your statement, he began to laugh, mouth breaking into one of his light-up-the-room smiles.

“I guess so.” You joined in his laughter, admiring the way his eyes crinkled and his nose scrunched as he did it.

“So what now?” You asked once your giggles had died down, leaving you two looking at each other across the edge of the bath.

“Well,” Lockwood inched closer, “We could try this?” He leant in for a soft kiss, pressing his mouth against yours lightly. You subconsciously followed his mouth as he pulled away, unwilling to open your eyes just yet.

“Mmh, maybe we could try that one again?” Lockwood laughed at your daze and happily obliged, swooping back in for a longer, deeper kiss that set your nerves on fire.

And if Lucy and George returned from their case to find the two of you still in the bath fully clothed, that was none of your business — and neither was the ten pounds that George reluctantly handed Lucy.

[patdkoala]

I Think We're Alone Now

Pairing: Joel Miller x female reader

Warnings: Takes place in the show after the last episode. SPOILERS FOR TLOU SHOW, Smut, use of nickname (Baby), pullout method™, cumming on chest, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), edging, Joel Miller being a slut (yes that is a warning)

Joel has always been there for me and Ellie ever since we all met. I became really close with Ellie in a sort of motherly older sister way.

I look out for her when it comes to womanly things and I have let her know many times that I am always there for her to talk to about anything she doesn't feel comfortable talking to Joel about.

"So, are you and Joel fucking?" Ellie asked as she ate the soup that Maria had made her. Joel choked on his soup, Tommy just looked at me, and I smacked Ellie in the arm.

"I regret teaching you what that word actually meant," I muttered under my breath. Joel just glared at me from across the table.

"So? Are you?" She asked again as I looked over at her and I took another bite of my soup. "Well, uhm. Ells, I don't think that's any of your business. I also think you are way too young to be asking me and Joel this type of question," I said as Ellie shrugged.

We all just sat there and finished eating out soup. Joel kept looking up at me every few seconds. I ignored his glances.

"We should get going. I'll leave the rest of the soup in a Tupperware for you guys," Maria said as she and Tommy put on their coats and started walking toward the door.

"Can I join you guys?" Ellie asked as I looked over at Joel who was already holding her jacket and backpack.

"Oh! Sure! I'll get the guest room all nice for you, sweetheart," Maria said as Tommy took the backpack from Joel. Joel then helped Ellie put on her sweater.

"You call us if anything goes wrong. Also, call us if you just want to talk to us," Joel said as he gave a quick kiss on the top of Ellie's head just as she walked out the door. "I know I know. I'll be safe and I'll call if anything goes wrong. Love you guys bye," Ellie said as she waved at me and then saluted to Joel.

After Joel shut the door, I walked back into the kitchen of our beautiful home.

Maria, who is now heavily pregnant with Tommy Miller's baby, finished setting up a house for Joel, Ellie, and me to live in once we came back from getting Ellie back from the fireflies.

Sure, Joel and I lied to Ells about what really happened but that was just to protect her from the real dangers of what could have happened. They were going to kill her if Joel and I hadn't killed every son of a bitch that laid a hand on her.

After we saved her, Joel and I took her back to the town where Maria and Tommy seem to run.

I told Joel that it would be good for him to be around family whether they get along or not. And that it would be good for Ellie to be in a town where she can act like a normal teenager.

Of course, we didn't tell anyone that Ellie is immune but we did tell them that we need to be bunked together. Like a family because that is what we have made ourselves into.

Joel and I hadn't really had time together alone since moving in.

"You know, this was Ellie's idea right?" Joel said as I cleaned up the bowls and I took out ingredients to make some cookies.

"What was?" I asked as Joel got closer to me.

"She said that you and I needed a date night so she asked me and Tommy earlier today if after dinner she could go home with him," He said as I smiled.

"So, the little girl that just asked if you and I were fucking, she set you and me up on a date?" I asked as I poured some of the ingredients into a bowl.

"Yeah she- what are you doing?"

"Making cookies. What does it look like I'm doing?"

"I just didn't know you knew how to bake. You seemed much more dangerous than that."

"Dangerous women can bake," I said as he stuck his finger in the bowl and licked some of the cookie dough off of his finger.

"You know I don't like it when you do that," I said as he smirked at me. "You've never complained about me putting my finger in things before," He said as I rolled my eyes at him.

"No, but I do always tell you it's better when you use two fingers," I said as Joel picked me up and moved the cookie mix onto the floor in one swift motion.

I was now seated on the counter and Joel was standing between my legs. We kissed roughly I then pulled him closer to me by wrapping my legs around his waist.

My hands moved through his greying hair and I tugged at the root as he moaned into my mouth with the sudden tug.

"Tell me what you want, baby," Joel said as I moaned out into his neck as he held the back of my head.

"You, I want you, Joel. Please," I said as he smiled and looked at me. "What about my cookies?" He asked as I smiled back at him.

"Later, baby. I need you right now," I said as he nodded and then held onto my legs that were still wrapped around him. I held onto him by also holding onto his neck.

He walked us into our fresh new bedroom that had clean sheets on the bed and it also didn't smell like a dead person or an infected because we were finally safe.

"What are you laughing at?" Joel asked as he took my shoes off me. I hadn't even realized I had been giggling.

"We are okay. And we are about to have sex in a clean bed," I said as Joel smiled right before taking off his many layers of clothes and then he got on the bed over me.

He slowly unbuttoned my jeans since I was still mostly clothed. He then unbuttoned his jeans and then he started to kiss up and down my body again.

When he was closer to the bottom half of my body I would grab hold of his hair and tug lightly which would, of course, cause a moan to escape his lips.

"Is this where you want me, baby?" He asked as I didn't make a sound I just nodded and then tugged his head towards exactly where I wanted him.

He moved my underwear down my legs and then before I knew it, his mouth was on me and I was moaning like a mad woman.

He stopped right before I came into his mouth which of course pissed me off.

"Hey, don't edge me you sick son of a bitch."

"I'm sorry baby but I need to feel your body pulse around me," He said as he got back on top of me and he removed his cock from his jeans, and pushed it inside of me.

I moaned so loud that I got worried Ellie might be able to hear me from next door.

"It's ok, you can be as loud as you want Ellie is at Tommy's remember?" He said as I nodded and then he continued to move in and out of me with such intense motions.

I screamed out as I came with him still inside of me and he then pulled out and came on my chest.

"Remind me to get Ellie her own place for her birthday," I said as Joel smiled at me and rolled over. "Now why would we go and do a thing like that?"

"Because then maybe we can keep doing whatever the fuck that was," I said as he just nodded and smiled his perfect Joel Miller smile.

"According to Ellie, we were fucking," He said as I hit him in the face with a pillow.

[orion4ever]

qiu and tamarack with an mc that seemingly NEVER gets sick and then one day they are just in bed an entire day with the worst fever, they're loopy and dazed and more prone to crying just because they accidentally stubbed their toe or sneezed one to many times.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this, I am sort of like this. One day id feel fine and then the next day my stuffy nose basically suffocates me lol

I wrote this for Step 2 but if you wanted Step 1 then please do request again!

Pairing(s): Qiu Lin x MC and Tamarack Baumann x MC

🍂🗒️

QIU LIN🗒️

They always wondered how you never got sick.

I headcanon that Qiu gets colds often so they’re curious about what witchcraft or tricks your pulling that make you immune.

So when you do get sick, they are surprised, to say the least.

If you were feeling loopy and saying random gibberish then they can’t help but tease you a little.

“Do you think, If you road your bike..fast enough *sneeze* you could…*sniff* rewind time.”

“…Probably.”

When you do end up emotional maybe after leaving your chicken noddle soup to cool down for a bit and then eating it to realize it was cold

Or

Coughing hard enough that it hurts your throat and start crying. Then Qiu would be so doting and sad that you have to go through this.

They’re an angsty teenager but have the biggest soft spot for you and hates seeing you so miserable and ill.

They don’t try and invade your space when you’re sick since as I said, they are somewhat sick prone.

When your mom has to eventually ask Qiu to leave so that you can rest, Qiu will write notes and slide them under your door and talk to you from the other side.

Or maybe even, cup phones. They see them as childish but it’s just you and them anyway so who even cares?

Once you feel better or at least better enough to rejoin society, Qiu is definitely making sure you get some fresh air.

You owe them the time the two of you missed from being sick and they missed you!

You were sick.

You got caught in the rain yesterday and thought it was the best idea to tough it out after forgetting your umbrella.

Your dear mother had banished you to your bedroom, leaving a bowl of hot soup and some water on your bedside table.

You were miserable, today was such a nice day. The days after a rainy day were always the best so it sucked that you were stuck in your room. You had nothing to do and were spacing out while constantly readjusting your pillow.

You heard noise from downstairs and slumped out of bed and cracked your door open to see who it was.

“I am sorry, Qiu. MC is sick today. I don’t think it's best to have a hangout.” You heard your mother say, sympathetically to your crush.

“Really? They never get sick..” Qiu replied, a confused tone making an obvious appearance in their voice.

“MC got wet while it was raining yesterday-“ your mother explained, her voice becoming more muffled; like she was moving around.

“Aw, man. Ms. L/N, Could the two of us hang out, I promise to “ They’re voice also begun to be muffled up, like the walls were swallowing their words.

You had already assumed that your mother would be true to her word and keep you quarantined until you were feeling better and you hated how much she cared about you at that moment.

You were so drowsy from the medicine, the lights were too bright and you accidentally knocked your hand on the bedpost and everything just SUCKED.

You slowly closed the door and slid down it. Becoming too lazy to bother. You wanted to cry a little, You didn’t cry that often; I mean you were 14. What 14-year-olds cries because they’re sick? Like, please.

You brought a hand to your eye to wipe a stray tear from your eye, I guess you were the rare instance of crying teenagers. Contemplating crawling back to your bed, you suddenly felt the door open a little before something was thrown into your room like a grenade.

The door closing was barely noticed by you as you quickly turned to see what was thrown into your room.

A paper cup, with a string attached to it and leading out the door.

A small smile appeared on your face, your eyes glossing over at the gesture; You already knew who was the culprit behind it.

You picked the cup up from the floor and put it up to your ear.

“Hey. Sorry, you’re sick..” they apologized sincerely.

“It’s fine, really *sniff*” you replied, getting comfortable against the door and talking into the cup.

“I am not used to being sick.”

“I can tell. In the four years I've known you, You have NEVER gotten sick.” Qiu said, a little surprise in their voice.

“I know right, I hate it!”

And the conversation went from there, You two talked for what seemed like hours.

Debated about if you churned premade butter, would you get more butter or if it would turn to milk?

Played hangman with a shared paper that was pushed under the door multiple times.

They hated hearing you cough and suffer and hoped that you got better.

Qiu stayed with you until it was late, promising a fun day at the diner tomorrow.

TAMARACK BAUMANN🍂

She unintentionally babies you so hard when you get sick.

I have a headcanon that Tamarack barely gets sick, mostly due to her just being able to run around in just a scarf and no hats or jackets.

She believes that no one is immune to sickness but when you finally do get sick, she’s a little surprised but is ready to bring you her Omi’s soup and her company.

If you were feeling especially loopy or dazed then she would giggle A LITTLE, but then stop because she felt bad.

“pfft hehe- Oh no, that's not right. I am sorry!”

“…Do you think when you are born, that you’re the youngest person in the entire world?”

When you do get sad and emotional over small things and start bawling over it then Tamarack is so quick to try and help.

Accidentally slam your hand on a table? The table is now moved away for now. The water scratches your throat when you drink it? She’s getting you some tea, you like honey with yours; right?

When you are stuck in bed and have nothing to do, then count on Tamarack to give you some company. She doesn’t even really care if she’s potentially getting herself sick by being around.

She’s bringing stuff from outside and putting it on your table as a gift and chatting with you.

She understands not having someone around your age to talk to and she doesn’t want you feeling abandoned when you’re stuck in your room until you feel better.

And when she eventually has to be asked to leave from your mother, she will be writing you letters, drawing, and collecting forest finds to either wait to give you or give to your mother to send up to you.

She even gets a ‘Get well soon’ card and tries and get everyone to sign it for you.

Which admittedly isn’t all that hard.

You have lots of lovely people around in your life, Tamarack being a special one.

“MC, You are burning up..” Your mother said worriedly, laying the back of her hand on your forehead.

“*sneeze* this is the worst.” You groaned, regretting your past choices up to this point. This morning, you had forgotten to bring a jacket and it was much chillier than you were used to.

“That's why I always remind you to bring yourself a jacket.” Your mom sighed, getting up.

“I will start making you something to eat. I will make you some oatmeal, stay all cozied up in bed and take it easy.” She gave you a motherly smile, patting your knee before leaving with the door closing gently behind her.

You were now alone.

This did suck, You had promised you would go over to Tamarack’s and you hated flaking on your promises.

So you just sat in your bed, twiddling your thumbs. Maybe you could start on assignments right now..? Nah. That was boring, your body’s immune system was already torturing you; let's not add homework to it.

You could draw something? Reorganize? Watch a video online-

Before you could bore yourself to death, you heard a pebble being thrown at your window and moved your attention to that.

You got up from your bed and wrapped yourself in your blanket before stepping over to the small window to reveal...

Tamarack!

You opened the window and received another pebble, barely missing you; earning an apologetic gasp from the ginger girl outside.

"Sorry! I wasn't aiming for you!" she apologized, waving her hand side to side as a greeting. You smiled before moving your face away from the window to cough.

"It's okay, Tama! *wheeze*" You reassured her, leaning on the ajar window to hear her better.

"I wanted to come inside but your mom said you were sick and was quarantining you.." Tamarack sighed before pulling something from her pocket.

You could barely make out what it was, that's until Tamarack got into paper airplane position and aimed for it at the now open window.

You moved out of the way just in time for her to throw it and......

She sticks the landing! The paper airplane flew right into your room and onto the ground. You picked up the white and red lined paper and turned back to Tamarack to open it.

Inside the airplane were a few pressed flowers and a little note.

'Get Well Soon!' was written in big letters; little notes from other people were below it.

'I hope you feel better'-Ren

'Expect me to break into your house soon.'- Qiu

'Make sure to get lots of rest'-Vianca

'See you when you get better!!'-Serenity

and finally, the sweetest one.

'Thinking of you, always! I will keep you company until you feel better! :)'-Tamarack

You smiled big before yelling down from your window. “Tamarack?”

“Yeah?” She replied , looking up with a shy smile.

“You are a angel”

[see-arcane]

WARNING: Spoilers for The Vampyres, Dracula, and "Clarimonde" below the cut.

Also a bit of knife-twisting of the metaphorical variety. (Not that it hurts any less than steel.)

Rather than throw myself into another scribbling digression to take a break from other scribbling digressions, I’ve scratched a story itch via the sketchbook. This is the result.

I’ve gotten questions about what happens to ‘Quinn Morse’ aka a certain knife-swinging solicitor who God, the Devil, and Death itself won’t let die after the events of The Vampyres. The obvious answer is: dude’s still doing the job appointed to him by the Powers That Be. Poor guy is stuck paying a Faustian due of wiping out the predatory undead before he can ever put down the blade and hop in the grave himself.

Enter Clarimonde, from Théophile Gautier’s short story of the same name (also “La Morte Amoureuse” “The Dead Leman” “The Dead Woman in Love”) who’s still out here breaking hearts and ruining sleep schedules. The girl’s an undead party queen and a romantic hedonist, but is so terrible at the vampire part of vampirism she regularly drops dead(er) from being too hesitant about taking blood and/or conscripting. She takes barely a drop of blood when she does get to it; though that sin was enough for her own heart and physical form to get broken with betrayal. She got better—corporeally, at least—and carried on.

Until she crossed paths with Mr. Tall Dark and Sold His Soul for Love. And vice versa, our good friend the ex-Victorian psychopomp has finally run into a vampire it would be immoral to slay just for the sake of erasing another undead ‘to-do’ off the list…even if she’s temporarily the only one in the world. And therefore the only barrier between himself and finally getting to rest with his loved ones. He doesn’t even have the impetus of killing to save someone’s life as an excuse. Damn it.

I won’t say I’m not thinking about fully scribbling out the bizarre/sweet/likely doomed companionship that could exist between these two love-powered angst machines. The idea’s got teeth, pun intended. Plus there’s definitely an itch to be scratched regarding my old headcanon that Clarimonde was the Pretty Girl in Piccadilly that Mina and Dracula nearly broke their necks trying to get an eyeful of once upon a time. There’s some loaded ammo there for Clarimonde to really test her safety by mentioning, ‘Hey, your wife would have wanted it. I know, I read her mind that one time. We can break out a Ouija board and confirm.’

But I am trying to reserve the bulk of my writing juice for the current Big Project, so it’ll have to be something to poke at around the corners for now. Just wanted to share the concept with folks who might be interested.

Also, some deleted dialogue:

Clarimonde, posing in her sheerest funeral veil: “So, what are your thoughts on casual intimacy?”

Jonathan, sharpening the kukri: “I’m a big admirer of the praying mantis’ approach.”

Clarimonde: “The male’s or the female’s?”

Jonathan: “Either.”

Clarimonde: “So no romancing unless it’s to pull some psychosexual chess master mess on a villain?”

Jonathan: “Supposing the villain in question used said intimate betrayal on their own victims, yes. Also, they’d know something was wrong if I was ‘immune to their charms’ and—what’s this?”

Clarimonde, handing over several centuries’ worth of letters: “Documented evidence from members of aristocracy and clergy that I am a nefarious succubus in need of punishment for my preying on the morals and hearts of pious citizens. Look, they even included illustrations of how they’d do it.”

Jonathan: “…And were these documents attached to deliveries of jewelry or just sacks of gold?”

Clarimonde: “Both. On account of my evil coercing them into it.”

Jonathan, handing the letters back in a portfolio: “I’m afraid your villainy does not qualify for my services at this time. You’ll have to reapply with one or more proofs of murder and/or predation upon mortal innocents at a later date.”

Clarimonde:

[theimaginethinker]

Beyond the Walls (Gally x Female! Reader)

Masterlist

Chapter Warings: Language, Violence, Death, Use of Y/N

Chapter 1: Introduction

I stood at the gates of the maze with Harriet and Sonya waiting for the walls to open.

“To tell you both the truth, I’m ready to get out of this icy hell.”  I told the girls with a little laugh. Looking around the spring, seeing girls get up to get ready to go to work.

“Us too.” Harriet said back to me, rubbing her hands together.

“Well, look at this way we do get another girl today.” Sonya interjected with her joyful glee she always seems to have.

 “Well, a newbie for Ximena to welcome into our lovely Spring.” I said sarcastically and tightened my laces. The gates start to open, and I turn to the girls standing next to me. “I’ll see y’all later.”

“Stay safe” They yell at me as I take off down the corridor.

(7 hours)

“Hey, let me go” I yelled as men dressed in all black clothing carried me away. I had just found a way out and when they came out of nowhere to grab me. They put me in an all-white room, reminding me of when it snows in the Spring.

“Hello Y/N. Do you know who I am?” A woman much older than me in all white asked me. She was a little taller than me with blonde hair and a few wrinkles in her face. Her skin is fair with some color in her cheeks. Her hair was pulled back tight making her round face pull back with it.

“Should I?” I asked.

“No, you should not. But you found a way out faster than we planned.” She sat down in a chair across from me. “And we can’t have you go back in. So, we are going to put you through another test while we wait.” she told you with a smile. A smile I didn’t like, one that told me that the ‘test’ wasn’t going to be one that I’ll like.

“What is tha-” I started before I felt a prick in the side of my neck, and everything went black. When I awoke, I was in the hottest place I ever remember being in. Looking around all I see is sand, blue sky with a hot sun, and what looked like a building in the distance. “Well, this is different.” I said to myself, I put my hands in my pockets to find a piece of paper. ‘Survive. Find Safe Haven.’ is all that is written on it. Great.

Time skip (A week)

“Come on this way.” A man told me leading me down a tunnel underground. I had been in what these people have been calling the Scorch for about a week before these men found me. And decided that I was worth keeping after I was able to steal from them without them noticing, and that I was from WCKD.

“Lawrence, we found this WCKD Immune walking around the scorch. What should we do with her?” The man said, not mentioning I easily steal from them. Another man stood next to a plant that held flowers. The man turned to me showing that he didn’t have part of his nose. He stared me up and down, thinking.

“We could sell her back to WCKD. Bet they pay good money for an immune.” The man told the man who found me. No. I’m not going back to those people ever, if I go back terrible thing will happen.

“Or I can help you. I used to do the maze and I was also a medic in my maze. I’m one hell of a problem solver and a great negotiator. I can do anything you give me and help any way I can. Plus, I stole from your man without them noticing” I said quickly to not be sold back the WCKD. “Something this guy forgot to mention, probably to save his humility.” Both heads quickly turn to me then they look at each other. 

“Why were you in the Scorch by yourself?” The man asked me as he waved to me to come closer with his hand.

“I found my way out of the maze quicker than WCKD intended. They didn’t know what to do with me, so they stuck me in the middle of that waist land and told me to find a way. That was it. I wanted to go back for my friends, but they grabbed me before I could do so. Guessing so I couldn’t go and get the rest of them out, ruining whatever plans they have.” I explain to them.

“We keep her. Train her. She is going to become a great aspect to our cause.” He said, giving me a small smile. “She is not afraid to stand up and talk. We can use that to make alliances. She may also be able to help us with WCKD compounds.” He went back to his roses. “Jasper, get her a place to rest and new clothes.” the man nodded at me to follow him. “What’s your name sweetheart?” He asked me.

“Y/N.” I stopped and turned to him.

“Welcome to our world Y/N. You can call me Lawerence.”

“Thank you.” I gave Lawrence a nod before going back to following the man named Jasper.

Time Skip (4 months)

“Okay, this should be Maze Trial A. An all-boys group, from what we have gathered, they escaped just a few days ago. So, the compound should be abandoned.” I told my group as we got out of our vehicles. “What we are here for is information we can use, and any weapons left behind. But stay sharp. We don't know if WCKD has put any hidden sensors or anything like that.” We open the door with our guns ready. Walking in I see two bodies on the ground. The first one I came to was a boy no older than 14 years old, curly hair and a round face. God why does it have to be the younger ones. I pulled my mask off after feeling his pulse looking at the gunshot wound in his chest. His skin was cold and the was no pulse, not even a shallow one. “He's gone.” I told them moving to the older blonde headed looking boy, who looked to be my age. I hear a few curses from the men towards WCKD as I walk over to the other boy. He had a spear in his chest. Checking his pulse, I could feel a very light pulse. “He’s not thought. I need help over here, we got a live one.” I yelled out.

“Y/N he’s not going to make it.” The other medic of the group tells me.

“We need to save him, if he's immune. He’s worth saving.” I told him. “I need everyone else to spread out and search the compound. We move out in 30.” I yell out to everyone else as we get to work on the boy. Slowly getting him back stable and the spear out of him. That's when I notice his vines and start searching, seeing a needle looking thing next to me. “Hey, he’s been stung. I need the antidote.” I yell out, and he starts to shake. He gains some sort of consciousness back as he opens his eyes up some, looking at the other medic before looking at me. We lock eyes I give him a small smile. “Don’t worry we got you.” I told him as his eyes closed.

Time Skip (A few days)

I sat in my living area, being of a higher rank gives me a better space. Being a good friend to Lawrence gives me an even better space. I’m going over the files that were collected from our Maze A mission. Information left behind was more than we expected as WCKD usually wipe everything. I guess they didn’t have time to wipe everything, just the info on the test subjects that were being held and tested in the maze. I was focused on the task at hand when I hear a cough coming from my sleeping space. As I was the one that wanted to save the boy, I had to be the one to take care of him. One of the rules made by Lawrence. Getting up I walk over to see him already sitting up in my makeshift bed.

“How are you feeling stick?” I asked. The boy immediately jumped up and looked at me. Getting into a fighting like stance.

“Who are you, where am I, and how did I get here?” he questioned. I put my hand up to stop him.

“My name is Y/N. You're in my apartment, in a safe compound just outside the last city. We saved you from WCKD compound Maze A, a few days ago and brought you here to heal. And just so you know we are not WCKD nor selling you back.” I told him, walking farther into the room.

“How can I trust you?” He asked angrily standing up, walking towards me and towering over me. Something I didn’t take too kindly to, but it was kind of hot. Well, I can emit that the boy is a little cute.

“Because WCKD decided that they were going to take me. A female who spent the time of her life that she could remember in a frozen hell and throw her into the middle of the desert. Just because she finished one of their trials too quickly. The same female who saved you after the other medic in her group told her that it might not be worth it. That same female who gave you her bed to recover in, has been watching over you and who’s been changing your bandages for the past few days.” I say to him before turning around to walk out of the room. “You’ll meet with Lawrence in an hour, he is the boss around here. And you're welcome for saving your life.” I said as I walked away. “Oh, your new clothes are on the chair.” I called behind my shoulder. I told someone to inform Lawrence that the boy was awake.

A few minutes later the boy walks out now dressed in black pants and a gray hoodie. And if I was to tell you the truth, the boy is cute. With his short but not shaved hair and warm brown eyes. He was skinny but still built, most likely from the food WCKD gave them to eat. “You hungry?” I asked and all he does is nodded his head. I get up heading to my small kitchen, as he follows me. I make him a plain meat and cheese sandwich and he quickly eats it. Making me have a small smile which he gives back.

“Um…” he starts getting my attention. “You said something about WCKD, were you a part of it at some point?” He questions as I sit across from him at the small table.

“I’ll tell you, but you have to tell me your name first.” I told him.

“Gally.” He said very quickly as I chuckled at it.

“Hello Gally. Well, I’m just like you, a test subject of WCKD. I was put into a maze to be tested on. I got out too early and so they put me in the middle of the desert.”

“You said you came from a frozen hell. The maze I was in  wasn’t frozen, and it was all boys. Well, we were all boys until.” he cut himself off.

“They made our maze different. Yours was more of a heat and humidity type environment. Mine was cold and icy. I mean we had to use ice skates instead of running the maze because it was just covered in ice. They probably did it to see which environment worked better for whatever they were needing it for.”

“And then were you all girls or?”

“We were all girls, when I was there­.” I replied as there was a knock on my door. “That's the cue. Time to find out your fate Gally.” I told him with a smile as I walked him to where Lawrence was. “You’ll be fine. And don’t stare.” I said with a smile, and he just looked at me confuse before walking in.

tags list

@rosesareyellowtoo

[jayladfanpage]

Hi! Tq for the help. Sort of fanon-just-getting-into-canon writer here. I've read Barr's Detective Comics Run + Starlin's run for Robin Jason and UTRH + Lost Days + Countdown to final crisis for RH Jason. Going to be reading more but this is where I am at.

I just wanted to know, how would you approach a story where Robin Jason and RH Jason meet? What are the considerations from canon someone should take writing it? They're complicated, both of them. I don't think RH Jason even likes it all that much but morso deems it as 'necessary' and has made himself a moral casualty.

I'd be happy to have another viewpoint on this! But basically although Jason was an angry teenager, rightfully so, about the unfairness towards victims and the justice system itself being rigged against poor people (the whole diplomat's son fiasco and even adtif discussing immunity) I think he was the type to still view his bleeding empathy and compassion as righteous. I think he'd be vv put off by murder? Atleast the extent to which RH Jason is doing it?

Trauma changes people and grief is such a heavy driving force and I'd want to explore it but I feel iffy on many aspects.

How does RH Jason see himself? Does he see that love and open heart as weakness? It's a mess ;-; I feel my RH Jason characterisation isn't hitting at all. Does he have a moral compass (I don't think so???) Plus for all his love, he's also an asshole (imp information to me). Plus I just don't think Jason as a whole is suitable FOR vigilantism. It's an absolute mess. So if you have any input lmk! Tq.

— ヾ⁠(⁠*⁠’⁠Ｏ⁠’⁠*⁠)⁠/

OMG I LOVE LOVE LOVE TIME TRAVEL AUs!!!

I think a key part here is to not ignore Robin!Jason's anger. He was, generally, kinder and sweeter than Red Hood Jason is, but he was still angry and plagued by violent instincts. You can play this up, have Robin realize that if he continues on this cycle that he doesn't know how to break, he'll become Red Hood. He'll become apathetic to victims and grow hypocritial and, most importantly, alone. Jason, especially as Robin, is desperate for connection and affection. He would genuinely recoil at the idea of having no one that loves him -- it is, after all, what drives Red Hood to demand Bruce kill the Joker.

I do, yes, believe Robin Jason would be put off by the rampant murders. Not that Red Hood kills, I think after Felipe Garzonas he could realistically see himself becoming a killer even if you don't believe Jaybin pushed Felipe off, but he would be upset about the sheer extent of it.*

*You can tie in some of the Batman mythos here. Jaybin fully, throughly believes in Bruce's mission, fully believes that Batman is capable of saving Gotham. To see or know that Red Hood murders people would imply to him that he loses faith in Batman. It would break his illusion that Bruce is all-knowing and all-powerful, and that's GREAT angst potential.

Red Hood Jason believes himself to be right. Judd Winnick said on an interview something that's stuck with me-- Jason does not see himself as a crimelord. He does not see himself as a mass murderer or a villain. He believes himself to be a better Batman. Jason has full faith in his methods and his aggression, and he would not take kindly to anyone (especially a past version of himself) who told him he's wrong.

He does NOT view love and an open heart as a weakness. Red Hood is perhaps even more open with his emotions than Robin has ever been. He's loud about his feelings and he demands people listen to him, forces them to understand and sympathise with him. It hardly ever works, but he does try.

Lastly, Jason actually has a very strong moral compass, he's just wrong. He's headstrong and stubborn and sure of himself. He believes that his murders will change the world, he believes he's a good person. He thinks taking control of crime is the only way to truly stop it. He thinks if you're a horrible enough person then you're no longer a victim, you're a casualty.

None of that applies to himself, of course. He thinks he's good, and kind, and understands politics like nobody else does. He thinks he's saving people when he tells them to join him -- see Green Arrow (2001) #69-72 with Mia.

Hopefully this helps!! Don't be afraid to reach out again if you need anything else, and may the inspiration gods bless you!!<3

[katiekatdragon27]

Guys sorry, I am not immune to Hazbin/Helluva propaganda. I am also not immune to criticizing the designs and character motivations.

So! Let’s start with one of the most redesigned characters in the show: Beelzebub^^

So, sorta hot take, I really like the idea behind Beelzebub in the show. Ik "boo tomato tomato," but hear me out. I like how she is meant represent the hellhounds she rules over (ik she actually is a reference to Jay Jay, but let me have this connection PLEASE). However, the source material is very bug-like and compact.

The HB Beelzebub is NOT that bug like. Or compact.

With this redesign, I decided to pick all the stuff I liked about the og, and what I wanted to see more of. I kept her colors and general vibe but made her more built like a bumble bee with more inspo from the fly Beelzebub.

This is what I got.

Progress doodles n stuff below cut (it's gonna be an essay, y'all know the drill):

(She was much sharper in the sketch lol)

DESIGN EXPLANATION:

Anyways, I always imagined Beelzebub to be, y'know, more BEE like. The show did not give me that, so I did it myself. I made her wings bigger, gave her an actual bee tail and face (with the proboscis and stinger too), and more stripes and fluff. I also made her small and slightly chubby. Gotta hone the bumble bee.

I thought the hair made the original design too cluttered, but I wanted to keep the party colors. To compromise, I stuck all the goop in her tail. It sort of works like a firefly's abdomen and a lava lamp. I also nullified her cloths, so they would blend more with the body and help pop the neon colors in her eyes, antenna, and tail.

When she stands at her normal form, she is the smallest of the sins. But when she is in her "true" form (that I have not illustrated yet), she is the biggest of the sins. This is a reference to how gluttony starts small but gets really large over time, both mentally and physically.

As for additional details, I wanted to keep her "foxness". So in a brilliant brainstorm of ideas, I came up with the concept of "Masks". Basically, all the sins I'll redraw will have them. The masks are meant not only to represent their hellborn, but to represent how the sins pretend to be good things at first.

Stuff like "Rest a little more, it won't hurt" and "Be proud and don't care for what others say" are how they present on the surface, but if you continue those mindsets in a toxic way, it turns into sloth and pride and stuff instead of self-care and being proud of things.

For Bee specifically, it's "Have a little more, you deserve it!" and she has a hell-hound/fox mask. This also feeds into her personality change.

PERSONALITY CHANGES:

In the og, she's a party animal who cares for... moderation??? Yeah, I hate this about Helluva Boss. Why is it so hard to write *sshole/negligent people in power and why is it only Mammon who's allowed to be like this? Give me more morally dark grey powerful people!

That's where Bee is different for the redesign. She runs te lowest ring in hell and is in charge of hellhounds, the lowest species in hell. B/c of this, she is much more lenient compared to the higher ranked sins in hell, which is why she is often seen talking and hanging out with lower classes. (She gets slack for this from the other sins). She is also the only sin who has had open relations with lower class citizens all the way down to hellhounds. However, none of them last. Most of her relations outside of the sins are one-night stands and flings.

As for how she sorta sucks: she is still a party animal, yes, but she purposely chooses to be blind and ignore all the suffering that occurs at the parties. People have fun, but they overindulge, and as a result get sick, sad, and violent. However, Bee leaves the parties before they get this way. She does not want to see it. She is negligent. When she comes back to the party aftermaths, she quickly gets her workers to clean everything, so she does not have to discover anything gruesome and sad. She just wants to live, party, and see people "happy". (Sort of like Gatsby's parties minus the pining for a single woman who does not care for her).

... I wonder what would happen if that mental image she had shattered? I guess only the future will tell.

But anyway, if you have any questions or characters you recommend I design or redesign, feel free to ask lol.

I hope this made at least a little sense. Have a lovely day^^

[gummybearstastelikesadness]

Alrighty pals, bear with me on this one, it’s 2am and I’m running on 3? monster energy drinks.

Danny’s stuck as Phantom for an indiscernible amount of time and needs to hide as a human. His human disguise includes dyeing his hair any colour other than impossibly white, dark coloured contacts for the glowing eyes, and what amounts to daylight rave makeup to hide the glowing and otherly features. He also ditches the hazmat suit completely if possible for normal clothing, otherwise turtlenecks and layers for the Ghost Boy.

The most difficult thing to hide though is that he doesn’t bleed red he bleeds neon green. This is where things get funky, Danny as a ghost is immune to human poisons. So to hide the blatantly obvious not human colour he dyes his ectoplasm.

To achieve anywhere near a convincing red a 130lbs/59kg individual would need to add at minimum 32.5lbs/15kg of a red dye to their body to even change the colour. Meaning Danny’s “blood” would be around 20%-25% dye. (I used a fabric dyeing guide for colour changing clothes, to get an actual number. Along with both solid and liquid calculations.)

Make this a crossover (example DC Batman) have Danny be on the run stuck in “No Metas Allowed” Gotham. His disguise works, except he catches the Batfam’s eye and they start trying to interact and “help” him. Danny emotionally hurt and scared refuses to tell any of them anything and when he has too he lies, fake name, fake address, fake age, etc.

They get attached to the kid that reminds them of all the Robins in one and the whole family wants him to take him in, one major problem they have no idea who he is legally. No prints, facial ID, or matching appearance in any system and none of them had gotten a DNA sample yet to check that.

Danny eventually gets hurt and ends up bleeding, one of the bats patch him up and get a sample of his blood to check. They get to the cave and try to test it and it’s not blood. It’s mostly an unknown acid and fabric dye?

The bats panic because their newest civilian adoption target is made up of what appears to be the contents of a crafters cleaning closet and still functioning.

Danny eventually trusts them and tells them about the half ghost stuff. They help him transform back in to Fenton (via magic, science, therapy, IDK) but before actually transforming back he goes intangible and a 32.5lbs/15kg goo pile of red dye hits the floor.

(Update it is now 6 am I’ve had a coffee and 2 cups of black tea and am now thinking about how much easier it would be for Danny to use thinned red paint, it’s lot cheaper and easier to get 520oz of it.)

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I had…the weirdest thought/idea while reading through your mermay stuff. This can be h2o no au or just general mer shenanigans but…what if reader was allergic to shellfish/fish in general before becoming a mer/siren? Like- for h2o it just adds to the “ocean and fish bad” mindset and trauma reader has. But also when they become a mer that would bring up so many questions. (Do you think they’d become immune or just stay allergic bc the human part of them is still technically the same???)

When they become a mer they just suddenly have this urge to consume something that quite literally will kill them. When they eventually wind up with the yans and the caretakers try to feed them reader once again just sees it as an attempt on their life and not some caring gesture. The adults are so concerned and confused that their guppy won’t eat anything, but it doesn’t seem like a hunger strike they literally freak out when food is put toward their mouth. Maybe reader finally explains it and the adults are just CONFUSED.

“Reader please eat your food.”

“I can’t I’ll literally die.”

“…..what?”

If reader is still deathly allergic they become the mer equivalent of a vegetarian or idk marine animals are weird, if fate is kind reader is partially a type of sea creature that just filter feeds or something (ex: whale shark, or manta ray)

(Idk all of this is coming from the mind of someone who cannot eat fish, had a very violent reaction to it, and has been scared of it happening again ever since)

I’m curious what you think, does the moon pool just heal the immune response? Is reader only allergic while in a human form but fine to eat fish as a mer? Or is reader plunged into an even worse situation bc when the yans find out about the allergy they become 100x more protective, treating reader as the most fragile guppy on the planet that needs even more of their attention and care? Like- allergies aren’t a thing for mer so they don’t really understand it so they’re just like: “No Reader! If that fish gets near you you’ll die!” Imagine someone like Sabertooth being like that one uncle that’s like “you’re just faking it” or “that’s not a thing!”, playfully force feeds reader a crab or something and suddenly reader’s gills swell and they can’t breathe. That makes x2 murder attempts on reader by Sabertooth. And then from that point on everybody in the pod is traumatized by the experience, reader is even further from being assimilated, and the yan adults are so much more worried about their reluctant guppy.

Weird funny concept. This became so long, I am so sorry.

Been binge reading your work and I think it’s awesome! You’re a really creative writer, and I love everything I’ve read from you!

Idk how your anon system works

Call me rhino anon 🦏 if that’s available?

Oh wow! Okay, I have a family member who is also allergic to shellfish (I'm not sure about fish, but they're allergic to shellfish), and I hope you are okay after that experience, 🦏 Anon.

I can see it working as Reader is either immune as a mer but can't eat shellfish as a human, or as them being unable to eat, well, any seafood at all.

They're basically stuck eating seaweed, kelp, and/or filter feeding, and Reader isn't happy, and neither are the platonic yans, especially the adults. Their kid/sibling isn't eating, they're worried Reader will starve, and they want to help but are confused by being allergic to what is a sirens main diet.

If Sabretooth did force Reader to eat shellfish or fish, he'd be lucky, and so would Reader, if they didn't die or have a severe allergic reaction. Reader does however fear him even more after it, regardless of if they almost died or if they actually stomached fish for the first time in their life.

I think if Reader had to have a meat to eat, it would have to be sea birds or sea mammals. So, seagulls, albatross, terns, for birds... or seals, dolphins, or orcas for mammals... It's still a hassle, but it's worth it if Reader doesn't end up with anemia or sick from only being able to eat seaweed and kelp and seagrass...

The adult platonic yans at this point are having to fist fight or tail fight who is and isn't allowed near Reader as one of their main caretakers, because they need someone they will listen to yet have a chance of liking. Reader is scared of all of them, but some more than others, so it's best to pick the ones who haven't traumatized them, and go with the ones who at least they won't faint from seeing...

(Welcome to the platonic yandere X-Men club!)

[dokidokitsuna]

...I just remembered I wanted to make my own statement on the AI thing. ^^;

So you've probably heard, but in case you haven't: Tumblr just sold out everyone's data to the AI trash compactors, they probably did it long before they gave us the option to opt out, and even if you do opt out they're probably still taking and using your work anyway (telling people to opt out instead of actually asking for their permission is already scummy business practice, but when it comes to AI it's functionally meaningless. :/ It's always "well, we're telling them not to use these people's data and we're hoping they'll be nice and go along with it" with no regulations or consequences if they decide to just steal everything indiscriminately...)

Despite that, I am not leaving Tumblr anytime soon. I'm looking into other sites*, but at this moment in time, I have nowhere else to go. ^^; Besides, I still like it here. When I left DeviantArt I was already getting sick of the place, having my art stolen regularly by "fans" and paradoxically getting less and less interest in my work over time. By the time the devs turned the website into eye-blinding slop with Eclipse, I was more than ready to move on.

But I still enjoy using Tumblr. I like writing long text posts that no one would bother to read anywhere else, I like answering asks, and I like the unique sense of humor and style among the users here. ^^ It would take a lot to force me out.

Also, I can take a little solace in the fact that AI-bros do not value "low-quality" art like mine. ^^; If messy cel-shaded sketches with visible pixels ever become popular, then I'll worry, but for now I think it's highly unlikely that anyone will want to wholesale regurgitate my art. If anything, I think prioritizing it in their datasets would only make them worse...and on that note, if you do have "high quality" detailed/painterly/semi-realistic art that would be targeted, I'd recommend 'poisoning' it with Nightshade/Glaze. Although I heard a rumor a while back that AI is "building immunity" to Nightshade and already learning to work around it, but I'm really hoping that was just a wishful lie from the trash compactors themselves. I haven't heard it repeated since then, so I think it's still worth a shot. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

So anyway, like the post I reblogged said, I think the best thing we can do now is to make it clear that WE DON'T WANT AI ART. We don't care how easy it'll be to instantly generate thousands of hours of mindless 'content' to look at; we don't want it. Since regulation is lagging so far behind (wanna know why Disney's copyright hounds didn't shut this down on sight? Most likely, they're hoping to profit from it down the line) the only way to fight this right now is with individual litigation and consumer demand.

Don't support projects made with AI**; don't hate-watch them or spotlight them. Focus your energy on the millions of human artists who are still here, and need your support now more than ever.

*I've heard people mention moving to Twitter and/or Artstation: fam, you're jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. ^^;;; IIRC, Arstation was one of the FIRST art sites to start flirting with AI, and Twitter has been selling off its users' data for several months already. Go there if you must, but don't go under the impression that it's "safer".

**Please keep a cool head when discussing AI art, and keep in mind that it used to mean something other than "mass theft". Artists have and still do create AI tools that are built on limited data sets with permission/compensation, that are used to aid them in their work and encourage human artistry (Vocaloids and DAW's, for instance) rather than stamp it out. Until a specific word evolves into popular use for exploitative AI, we're kinda stuck with this confusion, so remember to get the facts before you speak out.

P.S. Praying every night that this is a dumb fad that will soon die and go to the same hell as NFTs. >_< Praying every morning that the influx of AI art into its own datasets will eventually corrupt itself and make it useless. >_< >_< Praying every afternoon for both at once! >_< >_< >_< Like to charge, reblog to cast, all that

[mellowwillowy]

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐚

Soft Yan! Gods x GN! Reader

ANGST (Reader died but there's a bit comfort by the ending) Remember, everyone is humanized and depicted in my own view so obviously, they are very OOC. You don't have to understand everyone's origin (like me) to be able to read this.

"𝑯𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝒇𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒓 𝒐𝒇 𝒊𝒕?"

“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺.”

-Hastur

--

"Hastur, please, bring me along to Carcosa."

You tugged on his yellow cloak, eyes shimmered in numerous stars of hope that could even outshine the cosmic. The man only pinched his temple, eyebrows furrowed with the same answer repeated.

"No."

“Why? It’s not like I’m there to destroy the whole city! I’m only there to gaze upon its intricate beauty!”

“You are quite the persistent one for someone who knows how to word it out innocently.”

Hastur paid no mind to you and continued his stride to his chamber. You followed behind him like a sheep herded by the shepherd. Still unwilling to give up, you jumped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks.

“But Hastur! Why am I not allowed to? The others could so why couldn’t I?”

His patience grew thinner, his eyebrows evident. His hands went to hold you still in place, “Who exactly is anyone?” His hold tightened a bit, but he was careful enough with it to not hurt you, “The sacrificial lambs? Do you want to be one of them too?” His eyes darkened a bit as though the gold had been covered in dust. You whimpered from his tightening grip, you could feel your eyes watering.

“But you can just bring me there without having to turn me into one no?”

“You can’t even maintain your sanity and form around us in this world, let alone in our world, my city! I can even ask you to jump down and die now!”

He wasn’t wrong, an anomaly had happened to you. You were no longer capable of using your immortal form for you were only a mortal out of a sudden. You who were able to live freely without the fear of dying were no longer immune to threats. Purifying yourself to maintain your sanity around the other cosmic creatures was also tough for you, it wasn’t rare for you to suffer from a breakdown when you failed to purify yourself against them.

“… But I want to see where Hastur spends most of his time, I want to see the place you live!”

“And you can’t even stand next to me for a moment without having to purify your internals!” His grip tightened as his voice grew louder. It seemed like he had reached his limit of patience.

“I can! If Cassilda can then why can’t I? Are you scared that I might get all green on her again?”

You tried your best to remain calm and act like how usually do, slipping jokes every now and then. But you could feel your internal organs started to fail to function as you failed to collect your mind to purify yourself against him.

“Cassilda? Is she even still alive? No, is Leviathan still alive inside of you? Are the seven sins even still inside you?!”

“Why does that matter? I just want to visit Carcosa! All you have to do is bring me there!”

“Why,” His grip started to hurt you,” are you,” you whimpered at his strength, “always so persistent of what you want?!”

“I’d… rather.. not die.. in vain.,… hurts..” Your pleas did not reach his ear as he was too clouded by rage.

“Why are you always so insistent?! Always showing your neck to be taken for granted to hell? You are no longer immortal, you are stuck in the body of a mortal, can’t you understand that?! Why are you always so-“

“Hastur, you are hurting me!”

Hastur immediately jolted out from his daze, his hands raised away from your arms, his eyes wide from shock at what he had done. You tried your best to not let any tears slip out of your eyes but the grip hurt you more than you expected.

“Hastur, you idiot!” You ran away from him with both of your legs. Had it been the usual you, you would have levitated and dispersed into the air with the scent of flowers filling everyone’s nostrils. Hastur clenched his fist, his long bottled conscience battling of whether he should chase you and clear everything or not.

It chose to not.

--

“Woah, baby! Wait, wait, wait, no! You are bawling like a baby!” Yeb caught you before you bumped into him, running blindly as you tried to purify everything inside of you before your whole organs failed to function. Nug’s eyes did not leave you, you could feel it despite your eyes being unable to see anything.

“… crying, what happened?” It was evident that he wasn’t one who was good at managing and understanding emotions, let alone handling someone who was having a breakdown. Your hand went to reach one of the twins, you were not sure who you had your hold on.

“Can you two walk me to my chamber? I feel like half of my head is going to split open..” Your other hand clutched them tightly, while the other clutched your head, you felt like you were about to burst it open to make it feel better. The twins nodded to each other, the whole walk was filled with Yeb's endless chattering, trying to relieve some of your pain with Nug trying to find a shortcut to reach your chamber. The Capital of Life was a cruel place for one who could only walk and not levitate.

Upon reaching your room, you were put to bed immediately, just before they were about to leave, your voice stopped them in their track.

“Please, sing for me…” You tried your best to talk, but you could feel your voice getting hoarser. You didn't want to die without any comfort given to you. You knew your time was up, and you really wished you could finally visit Carcosa.

Nug looked at Yeb, his head shaking a No so hard that Yeb cackled.

“Looks like Nug can’t sing, How about I sing for you instead?”

You did not care who’d sing, you just wanted to hear, to feel accompanied.

“Please, sing me to sleep” Nug sat next to you, his hands holding yours while Yeb sat on the other side of the bed, clearing his throat while wiping the sweats on your forehead, “Of course, dove.”

--

Your body felt heavy. You couldn’t lift your eyelids no matter how hard you tried to. Limbs? You couldn’t even feel them. Did you perhaps suffer from a false purification? No, it felt too… familiar. You tried to channel your whole mind into your eyes, to lift your eyelids but you could only lift one, your right eye.

“… ceiling..”

You continued to channel it onto your arms and yet only your right arm was connected, with only limited movements. All of these felt too familiar. It almost felt like this was no longer the body you had moments ago, but rather, the body you had aeons ago.

“… Nu..g … Yeb…. Nug… Yeb…” You called out to them, you tried your best to scream but all you could was nothing close to a whisper. You pursed your lip before opening it again, still hopeful for someone to hear and save you….

“Yog… Aza…   Nyarl…. Cthulhu… someone…”

You suddenly felt half of your body burning but you couldn’t do anything to ease it down, your head felt like it was bursting open.

“he…lp…”

It didn’t take too long until it was no longer able to feel anything. It felt dead as though it was rotting.

“… Has… tur…”

Your eye did not leave the ceiling above you, “… Chen..”

--

“Hastur, hand them over”

Your fragment was placed in a glass box, Everyone had tried their best to re-live you but none succeeded. Your body was first found by Nug who sneaked away, worried about your well-being. You were found with your eyes staring into the distance that was limited by the ceiling above you. Unable to see you in that state, he shut your eyelid down.

Times had passed and everyone reached the conclusion that you could no longer be brought back, leaving only a piece of a fragment of you. The fragment was not brimming with light unlike the usual fragments they saw, it was dead and dim.

“… No. I will be bringing them to Carcosa with me”

“No, we will be throwing it into the pit of the Capital, can you not just listen to us?” Cthulhu stepped front, his hand pushed Hastur by his shoulder.

“… No, their last wish was to be in Carcosa, can’t you all respect their wish?”

“Carcosa? Don’t even think about making it their final resting place, you are clearly outnumbered vote-wise.” Yeb spat through his gritted teeth, his fists clenched.

Hastur had enough time to think. Even if he had to make himself an enemy out of the others, he wouldn’t mind that. Nug did not join the others, still in shock with what happened to you. He did not vote for any of the two places as well, all he wished was that you could somehow return by miracle and certainty.

‘Nug, what does Carcosa look like?’

Your voice rang in his head. That was your last question to him. This determined everything, he chose to have you rest in Carcosa. Nug stood and walked toward Hastur.

“Go, now.”

“What?!” Yeb yelled toward his brother. Just before he could do anything, he helped Hastur run away through his own portal.

“Their last wish,” ‘I wonder how the black stars shone like too,’ “was to see Carcosa with their eyes!”

Everything was decided too fast, leaving almost everyone stunned in shock before they could do anything to prevent it.

--

Hastur walked toward the lake, his hands carrying your fragment as he showed you around.

“And we have arrived at our last destination, the Lake of Hali. Worry not, I won’t let you join the others down there.”

Hastur raised his arms, clasping his hands before letting the fragment fly into the sky.

��You’ll be surrounded by the stars so that you will never feel lonely.”

Hastur eyes were dim until he saw something lighting the dim city.

𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆,

‘Ahahaha! Hastur! Look at the stars! They are so beautiful!’

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒄𝒊𝒓𝒄𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒌𝒊𝒆𝒔,

‘Ohh! Twin Moons! It’s been a while since I saw a place that has twin moons!’

𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔

‘Hastur,’

𝑳𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑪𝒂𝒓𝒄𝒐𝒔𝒂.

‘Good night.’

Your illuminated figure hugged him before you finally dispersed. For the first time, a white star appeared in the sky.

“I’ll show you my dream.”

--- 𝙻𝚘𝚐 𝙴𝚗𝚍

𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬:

The last lines are cut of the lyrics from 'Cassilda's Song'.

A Guide to Reoccurring Characters, Hastur was the one under the spotlight here, Nug and Yeb were the supporting characters with Nug showing up more than Yeb (this time), and other Gods were only mentioned briefly.

The 'Good Night' line is inspired by Baby in Yellow's game where Hastur said that in one of the endings, Hastur also said 'I'll show you my dream' in the game and I can't help but write it down!

What is the Capital of Life? Since I only gathered some of the deities, it was kind of awkward for me to make the setting somewhere in the cosmic. I decided to turn them into some sort of 'Guests' and that was also the reason why everyone was getting along because they were not in their respective universes, worlds, and places.