#and no one believing him but then he makes them their own canes and they're like holy shit.

[arolesbianism]

I need to spread my Wendy cane user hcs further but I feel like it's important to note that I also hc Wilson as a cane user and that these two hcs are so vital to pair together for my happiness

[regularme12]

Put on your comedy mask!

A/N: I garuntee you, everyone in the tk community thought this was finna be a tickle scene. So I'm making it into a fic!!!

Lee: Jax

Ler: Gangle(?)

Summary: Gangle don't like slackers, or debby downers. Lucky for her, she knows just the way to turn that frown upside down!

"Hi!! Welcome to Spudsy's!! In this video, you're gonna learn the ins and outs on what makes YOU a good crew worker! AND a valuable asset to the Supdsy's corporation." Gangle explained on the tv screen. Jax felt like he acctually messed up for the first time. If it wasn't for Gangle's stupid happy face, he wouldn't have been complaining about the work enviroment, she sent them out to do!!

"When did you make this?"

"Now I know what you're thinking," Gangle mocked, "I don't want a career in fast food. I wanna be a comic artist and eventually launch my own manga inspired webcomic. And it's cool to have dreams, but you also need to remember that they're all completely unrealistic, and YOU need to stop trying."

Jax was baffled that Gangle had the courage to do all of this shit!! Like yh, cut his pay, or send him home for the day, but this?! This was too much just for her, Jax dosen't know how or when he's getting out. He felt a little anxious and claustrophobic.

"But BEFORE we get into all that...first things first, are you smiling?"

Smiling? Is she insane?! Why would he be smiling when he was practically forced aganst his will to be there?! "Eh, no???"

"Why not?" Gangle looked scarry to the bunny man, how he got himself in this position, he has yet to find out. Then all of a sudden a chair pops out along with robotic hands. They forced him to sit down, and had his limbs stretched out to the bone.

"Wait-Waitwaitwait, uhm... No one can see this right?! hehe" The arms brougjt him closer to the tv where his face was squished upon it, then they brought him back to his prior position, llimbs stretched out, sitting in a chair.

"It's time for your employee evaluation.~" And like that, Gangle was out of sight, out of mind.

"WAIT! NO GANGLE!! I SWEAR TO GOD, YOU LEAVE ME HERE-" He stopped mid sentence, realizing there was no point in trying to call out for something that wasn't even there. "Great..." Gangle put on her employee evaluation video expecting Jax to follow along. He wanted to slouch back because if he's watching something stupidly boring, he'll want to get comfortable first, but it was hard with those damn hands not letting go, he couldn't even move a muscle if he wanted to, that's just how tight they made him. "Now I gotta watch this stupid s***! Hey, bud, you think you can lay off a little? This'll be so annoying if I can't get comfortable, and right now, I can't even move. It's p****** me off." All of the sudden, he felt a poke to his side. This caused him to jump, and let out a small giggle. Oh no... was this Gangle's plan all along?! To get me here so she can leave her murder weapons to tickle me to death?! This is SO not good.

"On my m************ SOUL, you'll be so f****** sorry if u let this peice of s*** tickle me the whole time you're so called 'lesson' is STILL F****** GOING!!! AGH THIS PEICE OF S*** SENSORING BULL S***! CANE I'MMA F****** KILL YOU! TRUST AND BELIEVE- AHHHH!!" Jax screamed so loud, that if that box he was confined in wasn't super fucking sound proof, from here to Thailand, everyone would hear his god awful screams for help, but help has yet to arrive.

"Gahhahahaa!! Pehehehehice of s***, let. me. GOHHOOHOHOHOH!!!" They started squeezing his sides at a fast pace. Jax has always been super ticklish, I mean for the years he can remember. But yet the only person who knows that is Caine and Bubble. Hence, how he even remembers how ticklish he really is.

"D******* ihihihit, Gahahahangle, when I gehehet out of here!!!" They were lightly dragging their finger up and down said bunny man's torso. Which was a little ticklish that made him lightly jerk, but wasn't too extravangant to where he was full on laughing. "Ugh... stop!! C-Can you guys... like speak e-english? Or at least ANY languAGE! NO NOT THEHEHEREEEE" The spot they went to just had to be his second most ticklish spot, his toe beans. They're so sensitive, to the point he can't do anything if it involves someone or something touching his feet. "GahahahahHAHAHHAAhahaha!! THIHIHIS IS TOHOHORTURE OHOHO MY GOHOHOJOD!" Jax was really in a pickle. How is he gonna get out of this?! What felt like 30 minutes had passed, and Jax was still in that same hold with those same hands tickling the same spots. One of them started scratching in the divots of his ribs with there really dull finger tips, which to Jax, is the reason why it tickled so much.

All that was heard was the clanking noises of the robotic arms when Jax was trying to pull his arms down to defend the now attacked spot, before he literally passes out, but to no avail. The room went silent. The tv was still going in the background, he thought to himself that someone was bound to at least notice his disappearnace and comes checks up on him. Then he remembered no one likes him there, I mean... maybe expect for Kinger and Pomni??

But Gangle can't let him stay there forever, right?! He was getting to his limits, his ribs weren't even THAT ticklish, it was just the way the hands were moving in those hollow spots that really got him going. "F******* FINE!! PLEHEHEHEASE!! LEHEHEHT ME GOHOHO!! IHIHI'M SIHIHICK OF THIHIHIS S*****!!" The hands finally let go, giving him a chance to breathe and calm down. His rapid heart rate and the sound of Gangle's stupid annoying voice he oh so hates, was the only ones audible to the naked ears.

Then they started moving, but not to let him go, oh no. It wasn't that easy. They moved to his ears. His worst spot. They swiped up it once, and Jax almost broke Gangle's dumb machine. "OH F****** PLEASE DON'T TICKLE ME THERE PLEASE I BEG YOU!! JUST MAKE IT ST-...." It went silent once again, then Jax started laughing.

"IHIHIHI CAN'T...." Again.

"F************ BREATHE!!...." And again. Then it turned to hiccups, and snorts

"*SNORT* PLEHEHEHEHASE GAHAHAHN... *Hic* *snort* IHIHIHI HAHAHHAD EHEHEHEEH....*Silent* *long inhale* *snort* *HIC*...." And then it went silent again. The hands finally let up, and Jax could faintly make out Gangle's outro for her employee evaluation video. The hands and chairs extracted, making Jax fall on his ass. Then he just lied there for a good 5 minutes. Then he fumbled to stand up, and stumbled his way out the door that appeared after the hands and chairs were gone. He looked like a hot mess, he was sweaty, his fur was sticking to his forehead, he looked exhausted, and he was all red. How is he gonna make up excuses when it's practically written on his face?!

"Wow Jax! Didn't think you'd survive that!! So??? Did you learn anything today???" Gangle appraoched him in her same old giddy attitude from before.

"I f****** hate you." Jax groaned.

"Why?"

"because... you're stupid f****** MACHINES JUST T-" He stopped hismelf, he didn't want everyone around him knowing he was insanly ticklish, or ticklish at all. So he dropped hjs voice to a whsiper, "You're machines just f****** tickled me, jacka**"

"Wanna go back?" She turned serious, but still had that shit eating grin plastered on her mask.

"NO! F*** NO!! You can't pay me 100 GS to go back there." He was relishing back at that moment where he was tickled to near death, and he shivered.

"Hehe, I knew you were insanley ticklish. So I hoped I'd tickled you into consideration about being a better coworker!!"

"Wha-?! How?! Did yo-?! Ugh... Bubble?"

"Yep!"

"Caine?"

"Mhm"

"God, I'm gonna f****** kill them both!!"

"Heheh... yeah."

"Well, anyways. F*** you Gangle, f*** this work place, f*** this enviroment, I could give zero s**** about how you wanna run and invest in this dump, but that's all you. I'm clocking out, I had enough today, and I'm gonna rest in my f****** car, with my f****** radio blaring in the parking lot, waiting for that a**hat of a boss to let us go back home, so I can beat the ever loving s*** out of him and his alliby. Oh, and not a word about this to anyone, if you want me to be a little better, follow those rules, and trust me." Then he walked out.

Ragatha looked up, all droopy and drunk, "Where's he goingggg? Ifff he can leaveeee then I for sureee ca-" She fell back on the floor with a thud. Gangle looked down, gave her a soft smile, and went along with the rest of her day.

[writing-havoc]

HII! HOW ARE YOU? Okay so i have a kaz brekker x reader request but it's kinda meh but i just can't stop thinking about it. And it's kinda similar to your fic 'high' (my favorite piece of media EVER)

So fem!reader (or gn whichever is easier for you<3) drunk and makes fun of the way kaz talks and his hair and the way how he's really bossy. (I would so call him emo king) and he's just trying to get her to take a bath (be a fish) and rest.

Please please don't feel pressured you can just ignore this. Don't forget to drink water. Have a nice day or night love youu<3

Loverboy

♡ Summary: Kaz comes and fetches you after you have a bit too much to drink. Getting you to bathe and rest for the night is a little more difficult than he remembers.

♡ Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows, Grishaverse

♡ Warning(s): Alcohol, Nudity (not smut)

♡ WC: 3.5k

Hello hello!!! Thank you for your request <3 I'm doing pretty alright thank you for asking. I hope you're doing okay!

I loved being prompted to expand on this and experiment with how it would go. To be honest that's also one of my fav pieces of work that I've done, and I'm glad someone else holds the same joy for it that I do!

Anyway, here it is!! Hope you enjoy it anon, ly <3

Please excuse any grammar and spelling mistakes

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"Oh for Ghezen's sake just put one foot in front of the other." Kaz nipped, pushing just a bit harder on your back.

Your head was lolling back and to the side, unwillingly looking at the stars. Yet your eyes remain half closed, barely a fraction of your pupil visible in the moonlight. A smile is painted on your face the whole time, lips chapped and cracked from dehydration. "'M tryin' Kaz. But my head is just, so heavy and the stars 're so pretty."

"I know I know- hold on to the cane- the cane!"

He shouldn't have let you have those last few drinks, but unfortunately you batted your little lashes and made the same little promises you do after enough time has passed for his memories to become just a little bit muddled and forget how far from the truth your promises are.

You'll say you'll be fine. You'll say you'll get home safe. You'll say you'll see him soon.

But you can't really fulfill any of those. So he at least has the foresight to stay with you, or to have someone else stay with you and come get him when you down more than your promised two or three.

And he makes a big deal out of it, saying all these things and talking like he's annoyed with you, but really?

He's not.

Not as much as he thinks he should be anyway. If he had heard anybody else complaining as much as he does in his own head he'd stuff his own glove in their mouth and tell them to deal with their inadequate relationship elsewhere.

But it's him, and it's you, and it's different.

You're not like them. You're not violent or a verbal tyrant or negligent.

"Did I ever tell you..." You start, then chuckle to yourself when you straighten up and sway around. "Did I ever tell you that kin'a remind me of a cat with your hair slicked back like that?"

You're,,, silly. And he feels silly saying that but you are. It's the perfect word to describe you when you get like this. Light jabs at the things you like about him, your feet walking to a rhythm in your head that makes you stop and go and speed and slow at random, laughing at the most mundane things.

"I don't believe you have, no." You definitely have. But he allows you to repeat it.

The Slat is wonderfully empty as he opens the door. Only a few people occupy the tables off to the side, but they're just as drunk as you are, and he doubts they can see this far from their drooling.

"Come on." He leads you over to the stairs. "Up we go."

You lean on the rail, shaking your head, smile gone. "Mh-mhn. I can't." You continue to shake your head, eyes closed. "Your leg is bad."

Silly.

"Good observation. Your legs, however, are fine, if a bit wobbly. Up you come." He tries again to coax you up, to no avail. You lean on the rail more, even pushing into it.

He forgot how much you resemble an ox when it comes to getting you to do something. It's like you contain this ability to just plant yourself anywhere and stick no matter the force that's pulling or pushing you.

"Your leg is bad. I can't go up."

"My bad leg does not effect your ability to walk up the stairs." He says as gentle as possible.

"But it does."

He sighs. "Could you explain to me why that is?"

Your bottom lip pushes out just barely, eyes opening and looking at him through your lashes. It's a look that would have any man in Kerch on their knees, he's sure of it. "Need your help."

His heart sunk. "Just grab the railing and my cane, dove. I'll take my good leg up first."

You analyzed the stairs, scrutinizing them. "Promise?"

"You know I don't make-"

"Promise?" A hint of anger bubbled in your tone, the same firmness in your eyes when you snapped your head to look at him.

He takes a deep breath. "I promise."

And just like that you were ready to ascend the stairs. You grabbed the railing, clumsily reaching out for his cane which he gave readily.

Even in your drunken state, you knew exactly which stairs creaked and which ones were just this side of broken. You skipped a stair, glaring at it as Kaz ascended with his good leg first, then continued with your usual lax expression.

He tried to step with his bad leg, but you immediately backtracked and held his cane firmly, holding him back as well. "You promised." You bit out.

"I did." He switched back, good leg going up, slowly edging you along. "It just slipped my mind."

"Nothin' slips your mind." You pouted, begrudgingly ascending when the cane went too far to hold close.

"Important things," he corrected. "Important things don't slip my mind."

You yanked on the cane, making him look at you. "You're important."

And he... doesn't know what to do with that.

Of course in whatever realm you were occupying he'd be important. He's important for a lot of things. His businesses, his club, whatever constitutes as leader of the crows.

It's not that he thinks he's not important. He just forgets to take into account that with you, he's important in the little things too.

Pointing him where to massage on his leg when it's giving him trouble, bringing him fresh tea when he tries to drink the day old stuff pushed to the corner of his desk, at least reminding him to sleep when the clock reaches two bells in the dark hours.

And right now, when you force him to take the pressure off his poorly healed shin.

"You're right." He confirms, helping you to the top of the stairs. "I am. Now come on."

When he began to lead you to his room, you groaned and stood in place. "Noo. I don' wanna fish."

His mouth struggled to stay in a line, corners quirking up. "You have to fish. You're sweaty and you smell like alcohol."

"I's a good smell."

"You gag in the morning when you smell it."

"Hogwash, you walking shadow."

He tugged you along, walking ahead of you and up the stairs to the attic. His help wasn't much needed here with how narrow and more secure the steps were, but you needed the extra hand to coax you up and towards your inevitable bath.

His office was dark, the only thing preventing the room from being cast in complete darkness was the street lights outside pushes a faint yellow glow through the window.

A lantern was stored in a bookcase next to the door for this reason. He clipped his cane onto his belt and hooked a finger under the handle, giving you little assurances that he wasn't going to let you fall while he navigated the room he knew by heart.

He parked you by his makeshift desk, guiding your hands to the desktop for some leverage while he rustled through a cabinet for the matches.

Immediately you were enthralled with the fire. Nina thinks you were an Inferni in your past life, and he finds the idea hard to not believe as he watches your once droopy eyes widen and follow the ball of fire in his hand as it lights the lantern.

He closes the shade, putting out the match and watching you smile as the whole room lights up.

"So bright." You whisper, as if it's your first time seeing fire.

He shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the back of his chair. "Very. Don't touch it."

You pout, taking your hand away. "I don't know what you're referring to."

He takes the lantern from where it rests on the desk, unhooking his cane and walking to the bathroom. "Come take your bath."

"'Come take your bath'." You mock him. "You're a bossy bossy man, you know that?"

He can't see you as he hangs the lantern on a hook, but he knows your hands are on your hips and your head cocked to the side. You always became so sassy when the initial fuzziness seems to wear off.

"It's what im paid for." He calls, swirling the basin of water he had filled up before he left. It was only expected that you should get a bath tonight, and he didn't want to wake anybody now of all times to come and fill it up.

"Youre not getting paid right now."

He didn't have any soap. He used up all of his last time and you usually keep yours tucked in your room, eager to hide its existence from greedy hands.

Just water will have to do, since he doesn't trust you to not fall asleep in the time it will take to go to your room and retrieve yours from your spare set of shoes.

He exits the bathroom, coming face to face with you. "I should be with how I'm ordering you around right now."

He waves you over, and it seems at this point you're becoming too tired to really fight back. You shrug off your outer layers, leaving them in a pile on the floor that you attempt to kick to the side. It's seems you think that you did away with them well enough, but really you just kind of spread them around.

That will have to come later, he thinks, and then puts a hand on your bare shoulder as you take off your shirt, throwing it over the side of the basin. Your pants come off and are thrown at its base, shoes somehow already off in the time span it took to check the tub and come retrieve you, socks following.

"You can keep your undergarments on if you'd like." He says, resting his cane against the wall.

"Oh don't get shy on me now, Kaz. You've seen me naked at least a dozen times." You look back at him, a shit eating smirk on your face.

He's thankful for the warm lantern light to obscure the warmth creeping up his neck and nipping at his ears. "Only because we end up in situations like these. It's more efficient to just get you clean now than have you complain in the morning and almost throw up in the tub."

You moan, the sound throaty and like gravel. "I don't wanna be a fish."

"You dont have to be one for long. Just a few minutes until you're clean."

"Can' be clean if there's no soap."

"We can at least get most of the grime off. Come on, one leg over the other."

Slowly, you climb into the tub, Kaz helping you get in with minimal sloshing.

And now comes the hard part.

His gloves are made of leather. He can't dunk and soak them in the water and expect them to be fine later.

They come off quicker than last time, but just as shakey. He puts on two pairs of cloth ones he's kept in here since the third time this happened, when it became apparent that this would happen again and several more times after.

Once they're on he flexes his hand, feeling the cold unforgiving waves slosh at his knees and lick up his thighs.

It's not the same. It's a bath. It's you.

"Can you get your body?" He asks, though. Because as much as he'd like to be of some help here he can't help but need to touch you the least amount as possible.

You think it over, stretching out as much as the tub allows before nodding. "M'yeah, I can do it."

He hands you a rag, watching it sink under the water and become several shades darker.

He turns around and allows you to do your thing, but knows your routine from when you, Nina, and Jesper had a heated debate about which order to wash your body in.

You'll wash your neck and chest first, digging into your collars bones and over your shoulders, then do you arms, followed by your torso and around your back. Then you'll scrub at your legs, moving to your face, then your waist, then your feet.

It'll take about ten minutes to go over every part, scrubbing in places you think have the most grime, and all the while having your shampoo already scrubbed into your hair so that you can rinse everything out all at once.

But you're tired and drunk, and he doesn't know how far you'll make it down your list until you eventually get frustrated or too exhausted or both.

He listens to the water in the tub move as your scrub yourself beneath its surface. A throaty hum emanates from your throat, a tune oddly familiar to the song that plays in the club filling the room.

Every once in a while you'll sigh, the water halting. He'll lean back and ask if you're alright, and you'll hum and get right back to scrubbing.

It's fifteen minutes before you say anything.

"You alright t' do my hair?"

His stomach churns, acid bubbling at its entrance.

"Ill be fine."

He turns, gesturing with his finger for you to lean your head into the water.

There's a pause before he reaches into the cold depths, wondering if he actually /will/ be fine.

When you look at him, eyes rimmed in red and glassy, he scrounges up whatever stability and modicum of the word "cope" he has and dunks them in.

Immediately he finds your hair, burying his fingers between the strands and finding your scalp.

It's hard to feel anything besides temperature with these gloves, and your head is practically burning against the cool water.

You're definitely cold. He can tell by your flushed cheeks and the way you curl your arms around your waist, goosebumps littering your arms. Yet you remain warm under his touch.

He watches the little hairs on your arm wave in the bath current as he scrubs, almost hypnotizing in their back and forth movement as you move to let them rest against your thighs.

But it's not enough.

He's scrubbing your hair, trying so hard to just focus on the grime under his fingers as his hands make the cold water slosh. The feeling is oddly familiar to the waves coating his hands as they dunk half under as he clings to blue flesh.

But you look at him, and your giggle is like little bells that keep him above water, just for the moment.

"You know what you look like?" You ask. "You look like- oh, what's that new style they got goin' on?"

He has no idea what you're talking about. Fashion trends are far beneath his radar unless necessary for a job.

You snap your fingers, pointing up at him. "Emo!"

That makes his eyebrows raise. Because he is familiar with Emo, because a bunch of kids called him that when they were out much past their bedtime. They found it necessary to shout it at him while he was passing by, laughing as they ran into an alleyway.

"I don't think that's accurate." He manages to get out, dunking your head a little further to cover your ears and get the wisps of hair in front of them.

"It's sooo accurate." You draw out your o's, blinking slowly and out of sync. "Emo king."

He sighs. "Whatever you say, little fish."

You pout, moving away from him and turning belly down, chin dipping into the water. "I thought I was your dove."

Again, thankful for that warm light. It makes his stomach feel all twisty the way you say "your". For just a moment, he let's himself smile, really smile, and puts his chin on his hands. "You are. But right now, you're a fish."

You huff, turning back and putting your head within reach. "Okay, mister emo cat."

He sighs, beginning to scrub at the parts of your scalp that he already got but feels he needs to do another once over for. "I am neither emo nor a cat."

"Tell that to your hair, loverboy."

Loverboy.

He scoffs, taking his hands from your hair. "Your hair's done. Get out so you can dry off."

You laugh at your accomplishment, sitting up and scrunching your hair as he discards his wet gloves on a towel rack and dries himself off.

Honestly, loverboy? He's not some lovesick puppy. Loverboy applies to those who are unfathomably whipped, wrapped around their partners finger and touching at all times. It has no place being in the same sentence that his likeness occupies except to say that he is not a 'loverboy'.

He hands you a towel as you get out of the tub, heading to his closet to fetch you some of his clothes.

"An old one, please?" You yell out to him.

"I know." He calls back.

If he can help it he replaces his button ups every few months. But you like the ones that are just around that area of wear and tear. In your words, they "ain't tight and smell like him. Win win."

He doesn't bother with pants, but grabs a pair of his underwear for you to change into instead that he knows you'll find more comfortable.

As he limps back to the bathroom, he halts as he analyzes his thoughts and actions.

Fuck. Maybe he /does/ deserve the name Loverboy.

The realization almost makes him groan and sit down on the floor right then and there.

Can't he just carve his heart out? Isn't that what the poets and song writers do?

Alas, he is neither a poet nor a musician. So he will instead take the long way out, and bring you his clothes and get you into into his bed before the third bell chimes.

He hands you the clothes, watching your face light up for a moment before he exits to his office to clean up the mess you made.

The beak of his cane hooks under your coat, dragging it up and into his hand which he then throws onto the chair. You hate getting it off the coat rack, half the time pulling it with you when you take your coat back. So he sets it here for now, and takes your shoulder bag and shoes and organizes them around the chair just as you usually do.

"I think I found my new look."

He turns around, seeing you trying to pose against the wall. It's supposed to be sultry and sexy, but it definitely does not read that way with your soaked hair, stiff back, and uncooperative limbs.

"If you think so." He nearly chuckles, taking his gloves from your hands and slipping them onto his own, and then retrieves the lantern from the bathroom. "Come to bed."

Thankfully, you seem to love the idea of the bed. It doesn't take much to lead you to the little nook he calls his bedroom. He hooks the lantern to the wall as your body slumps onto his partially eaten sheets.

"Mmm." You hum, smile hidden under your squashed cheek. "Warm."

"Doubtful." He jabs, unfolding a blanket at the foot of the bed and draping it over you.

"It really is. Should try it sometime." You poke at the space beneath your eye, tongue sticking out.

He assumes you're referencing the eye bags that have taken permanent residence on his face, to which he rolls his eyes and hikes up the blanket to cover your back. You hate the cold creeping in.

If you wake up cold in the morning, you will be cold for the rest of the day. And unfortunately for you, you have a job in about six hours.

The less you have to complain about, the better.

"Ill try it later." He promises. "For now, you need it more."

You mumble something, but with the way your eyes are drooping he figures you're not even aware you said anything at all.

As you doze off, he half sits on his nightstand, and watches your breathing begin to slow and even out. It's loud at first, but eventually you grow quieter and quieter, muscles relaxing as you sink into his hard mattress.

Your hair is thrown about everywhere, still wet from your bath, and you'll need Nina to remove a kink in your shoulder in the morning. But for now, you're calm, and safe, and that's enough.

He takes a deep breath, just the same as you do, and then sighs.

"Goodnight, little fish." He mumbles, and then stands, off to collect the ingredients for a hangover tonic and catch up on paperwork.

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Tags:

@b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r @a-candle-maker

[holderoftheg-r-a-i-l]

giant mechs hc dump under the cut. some are silly, and some are. very sad.

- some times someone will ask Ivy a question and instead of her voice they get a text-to-speech voice because the info is from a data download instead of her reading it

- Jonny sleeps with a weighted blanket. if he is sleeping in the same bed with someone, they will usually roll him up in the weighted blanket because if they do not, they will get kicked in the face from his flailing

- Marius spends a lot of time in the cockpit with Brian. Partially because he's fascinated with the control panels (he only knows what a few of the buttons do) but also because Brian tends to hum while he drives and it's calming.

- Raph keeps a catelogue of plants & substances from every system they visit. Ivy helps her categorize them. when they leave a system often the two of them can be exclusively found in the labs or library for several days as they sort & label plants, drugs, ect

- Tim has spent a lot of time studying whatever notes he can cipher out of Dr Carmilla's works. he spends a lot of time tinkering to try to create more mechanisms. he blames himself for Berties death since he convinced him to enlist, and even though bertie is long dead he still wants to learn to build a Mechanism, just to prove to himself he could have saved him if he had time

- Marius absolutely will hand someone his arm if they ask for a "hand" with something. this has ended in him getting shot more than once

- Jonny enjoys laying his head on Brian and listening to his heart beat, imagining it's his own. He has sworn Brian to secrecy (everyone already knows)

- occasionally ivy's brain will crash and she has to reboot. originally this freaked out the others but they're used to it. they will fuck with her while she's out of it. once a reboot took several hours and she woke up and every inch of her face was covered in stickers

- in order from best cooks to worst- ivy, Nastya, Marius, Raphealla, TS, Brian, Jonny, ashes, Tim.

- ashes & Tim are both natural heaters and are usually in the middle of a cuddle pile on colder planets

- Brian doesn't technically need to breathe and enjoys walking on the bottom of deep bodies of water to see the creatures below. he does have to make sure he gets all of the salt water off so he doesn't rust tho

- no one is letting the toy soldier back into the aurora, it just exists where it believes it should (because it's needed, narratively important, or because it believes it will be funny). only aurora knows this, the others believe they keep accidentally letting it back in. this also means toy solider is *incredibly* good at startling others by just appearing in corners or behind doors.

- Jonny is missing the finger prints on one of his fingers from a bar fight, where he narrowly missed losing the whole finger.

- Tim has some knee damage from living in the tunnels during the moon war and while the mechnaizing has helped some, occasionally uses a cane

- Ashes has nerve damage in thier lower limbs from the flame damage

- Marius sometimes gets phantom pains from his missing arm

- somwtimes Brian turns all of his sensors up because he forgets what feeling actually alive feels like. his processor has limited ability to process things like warmth or pain so they just feel like echos of the real thing. he gets jealous sometimes of the others. everyone else can *feel* thier hugs. he's even jealous of TS. it can't feel like him, but it also doesn't remember what it felt like before. he's even jealous of the others feeling pain because at least it's more than just dull flashes that thier brain attempts to imitate as feeling

- ashes is Brian's favorite to touch/hug/cuddle with purely because they run hotter so it's easier for his sensors to pick up the temperature difference (so it feels the closest to hugging did before mechanizing)

- Brian hates the zero grav zones on the aurora & avoids them if at all possible because they remind him of his time before mechanizing (aurora knows this and will shuffle corridors around if she knows where he is going to avoid low grav areas)

- sometimes Tim will just. turn off the sensors in his eyes for a bit. usually when he's over stimulated. sometimes when he's tinkering on something he knows well and someone keeps bothering him. sometimes it's because someone keeps trying to get his attention and "sorry I didn't see you my eyes were off" is hilarious

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

So, Pern has limited resources for writing materials, illiteracy is common among people and there is strong oral tradition. Aside from songs this also means the Pernese people should have many proverbs. I know there are already some canon ones, but to spice things up a little I tried to translate some Czech proverbs and sayings and adapt them to fit Pern, which turned out to be a pretty fun exercise. If you have ideas for your own, do share! If you'd like to use any of mine in fics and such, feel free!

Here goes:

"don't provoke a (tunnel) snake with your bare foot" - don't tempt fate

"no Master Harper has ever fallen from the sky" - orig. "no scholar has ever fallen from the sky", no one is born an expert; it's okay to make mistakes

"once in a Long Interval" - orig. "once in a Hungarian year", same as "once in a blue moon"

"to make a herdbeast a Masterfarmer" - orig. "to make a billy goat the gardener", to make someone manage a task they're woefully unqualified for

"every rider praises his own dragon"/"every feline praises its own spots" - orig. "every fox praises its own tail", people tend to emphasize the virtues of whatever is dear to them, or whatever they're trying to sell

"to wheedle a clutch out of a green" - orig. "to wheedle a calf out of a heifer", to be very convincing; to charm someone into doing absolutely anything

"Weaver, stick to your yarns" - orig. "shoemaker, stick to your last", you should stick to things you truly understand

"yeah, and then the Harpers sang for him"/"and now tell the one about a talking wherry" - orig. "and they said they sang for him"/"and now the one about Little Red Riding Hood", said when you don't believe anything someone's just told you

"one about a wagon, the other about dragon" - orig. "one about a goat, the other about a cart", when people talk about completely different things while thinking they're on the same note

"after Threadfall, everyone is a Weyrleader" - orig. "after battle, everyone is a general", it's easy to criticize things in hindsight, especially for unqualified people

"a Smith's runnerbeast walks barefoot" - orig. "a blacksmith's horse walks barefoot", those who craft/sell a particular thing often don't have enough of it for themselves

"so the dragon can eat and the herdbeast remains whole" - orig. "so the wolf can eat and the goat remains whole", essentially "to have your cake and eat it too", a solution that deals with the unpleasant aspects while still benefiting you

"wait like a guardfowl for grain" - orig. "wait like a goose for grain", advice to be patient

"having cheek is better than owning a Hold" - orig. "having cheek is better than owning a Meierhof", being daring and impudent often gets you in better places than being rich

"a fire-lizard on your shoulder is better than a bronze/queen on the Sands" - orig. "a sparrow in your hand is better than a pigeon on the roof", it's better to be grateful for smaller things you already have than to hope for things you have no guarantee of getting

"who wants to beat a wher always finds a cane" - orig. "who wants to beat a dog always finds a cane", people who want to do harm always find a way to do so

"fast of wing, short of mind"/"he's like a green - fast of wing..." - orig. "fast of feet, short of mind", an impulsive person who doesn't think things through

"bubbly pies don't bake themselves"/"roasted wherries won't fly in your mouth" - orig. "kolache don't bake themselves"/"roasted pigeons won't fly in your mouth", if you want something, you have to work for it

"for a quarter-mark he'd let them drill through his knee" - when someone is willing to do anything for money, even at the cost of one's own wellbeing

"beauty without a good heart is like a house without door, a spring without water, a rider without a dragon" - physical appearance means nothing when the person is bad

"every Hold has bread with two crusts" - every place has good and bad things

"what has once left your mouth, not even a pair of draft beasts can pull back" - watch what you say because you can't take it back

"fish start to smell from the head" - when something isn't working, the problem is likely in upper management

"doesn't have to be a downpour, a drizzle is enough" - success doesn't have to come all at once

"smart ones need advice, dumb ones need a kick" - for some people a hint isn't enough, they need to be shown explicitly

"the heart won't ache for what the eyes can't see" - some things do less harm if they're kept secret; blissful ignorance is sometimes better

"sing the song of those who give you bread" - kind of like "don't bite the hand that feeds you"; if you take favors from someone, you should act in their favor too

"he who digs a hole for others often falls in himself" - essentially "hoist by his own petard"

"the tunic is closer than the coat" - people tend to focus on their own interests rather than the interests of wider society

"the scythe has hit a rock" - when someone encounters something beyond their competence

"repetition is the mother of wisdom" - essentially "practice makes perfect", but sounds fancier. could be especialy in connection to memorizing teaching songs

"don't fight fire that doesn't burn you" - mind your own business, don't try to fix other people's problems

"the sated don't believe the hungry" - privileged people tend not to believe others' misfortunes

"he's got butter on his head" - essentially "keeping skeletons in his closet"

"rough fabric needs rough patching" - being soft on nasty people will achieve nothing, you have to answer in the person's own language

"the cape goes where the wind blows" - when someone is too obedient, a blind follower. said as "he's kind of a 'the cape goes where the wind blows' kind of person"

"honey in his mouth, venom in his heart" - a charming, sweet-spoken, but malicious person

Edit: more in reblogs!

[geraldthellama]

Bowuigi Corpse Bride AU Lore Post

So I said I would probably make this and while I thought about making this into a fanfic and making ya'll read that, I decided that I need to commit to the other three (two and a half?) Mario fanfic ideas I have. So if anyone wants to make a full blown fic or whatever with this AU, feel free (but tag me ofc because I've got to see it).

(This will not be short, just a quick warning that this is a commitment).

This AU is very loosely based off the actual movie. Instead of them being in the underworld, they're just in a haunted house that Boo lost to Bowser in a game of poker, and instead of being a corpse (as the name suggests), Luigi is just a slightly annoying boo. Him and Polterpup are the only ones that inhabit the mansion, and, with the house completely abandoned, it's probably going to stay that way.

In this world, ghosts only stay after some massive traumatic death. Problem is, Luigi has no recollection of how he died, he just knows he hit his head and a little while later awoke, a ghost that's unable to be seen, heard, and is completely alone as a newly-deceased. Aside from the yipping ghost dog at his feet (Luigi has always been afraid of both ghosts and dogs).

As a ghost, Luigi originally spawns (spawns?) into this world with little ghostly abilities. Living beings can't see or hear him and he doesn't have the power to manipulate objects or people in any way. He is essentially a specter, watching the lives of other people for years until, eventually, it's abandoned, and the Peasley family mansion (one of many, that is) is gambled away to King Boo.

But, King Boos already got his own slew of creepy haunted mansions, and, frankly, this one is haunted by a ghost he can't stand. A ghost that hasn't been able to speak to someone for around a decade. A chatty ghost that hasn't been able to speak to someone for over a decade. He's not exactly torn up about parting with it.

Bowser, the poor thing, is on attempt...

Attempt... 2 hundred... something.

(at least 4 proposals a year, for around 20 years... that's...)

Let's just say, Peach does and has not wanted Bowser for a long ass time, and it really doesn't help his self esteem that he's still being thwarted by a plumber that's old enough to be his dad and uses a cane. He really can't understand what Peach sees in him, especially considering she still looks like a youthful 20/30-something into her 60s. Frankly, it's unfair. He's got money, kids (some really awesome ones too), power, looks (he thinks so at least), and isn't 3 pudding cups away from dementia.

What he hasn't got, until right now at least, is an awesome mansion, specially built for human(oid) creatures. Maybe she just didn't like gothic castle architecture? Maybe, as Boo suggests, he just has to get her scared enough to fall into his arms for safety. He's got this all planned out.

Boo did not specify that the "ghostly inhabitants" of this mansion were a hyperactive ghost dog and naive plumber. He didn't think it was important information at the time.

So, when Bowser is plotting and practice-proposes (does he really need more practice?) to the striking blue eyes of a, surprisingly, human painting, the last thing he expects is to be met with a ghoulish grin.

Barely ghoulish, because, god, the thing is bright. The smile and the bio-(bio?)-luminescent energy it's attached to. For a ghost who's wearing bloodied bandages and has been dead for 30 lonely years, he's surprisingly optimistic.

"Really?! And you're not even a boo!" :D

He's very optimistic, in fact, because he's willing to believe that this complete stranger might just be his ticket out of this wall-papered purgatory. He died meeting up with his forbidden love, after all, so it must be a sign. He does not hesitate to shove that ring on his finger, even if his new fiance looks hesitant (he might be naive enough to go with it, but he's not blind). He's convinced the two will make it work.

Luigi is... very tired of looking at the same things everyday. Now, he can attach to his new fiance, who's only slightly hesitant to engage with him, (and is not bad looking at all, in Luigi's opinion). Together, the two can actually have a life together. Luigi was only 25 when he died, and he was far too shy then to do any adventuring. The most rebellious thing the man had ever done was sneak out.

Man, look where that ended him.

For Luigi, this is his opportunity to live the life he wasted was robbed of.

And the guys got kids! How awesome is that?

Bowser is not liking the new pets at his side. One never stops yipping and yapping and one is a dog. Luigi is... fine. From a distance. The problem is that they physically can't get any. As long as Luigi is attached to him, consider them hand cuffed. This stupid, green boo is crimping his style, and any game he had with Peach is virtually ruined when he's got his "fiance" clinging to his side like he's the best thing since breathing air.

At least Luigi appreciates his kids. The ghost obviously has some taste (of course he does, he chose him for pete's sake), and Junior and the rest seem to like the ghoul enough... Even if Junior isn't completely sure that Luigi is a ghoul. Both Luigi and Junior agree that boos are scary.

Maybe, after some hard self-reflection (with Luigi close and present, of course), and some growing emotional intimacy and openness, Bowser begins to kind of, perhaps tolerate Luigi. Just a little. Just enough to find his stupid quirks endearing and just enough to start to think that maybe he's always been too good for Peach, anyway. Maybe he should be with someone who appreciates him and loves his family. It's not like her and Mario had ever had kids in their relationship, and her not wanting kids is kind of a deal breaker.

Bowser's newfound attention on Luigi is driving everyone else nuts, though. Boos barely seen the man since his unfortunate run in with the green leach and no one else at their poker table is any good. At this rate, Boos not even satisfied winning Peasley's riches off him anymore. Occasionally, a guy just wants to lose, y'know? Boo hates only one thing more than Peasley whining about the consequences of his gambling addiction, and that's boredom. He misses when the Koopa King spent all his time plotting against the old-ass plumber. At least then he showed his face at their meetings.

And when Boo finally brings up his grievances, because he deserves to rant, Peasley seems... nervous. Boo loves nervousness.

"There's a... human boo... in the mansion I gave you..?"

"One, you didn't give it to me, you lost, fair and square. Two, yeah, and he's just about the chattiest thing I've ever met. All dressed up in a white suit, the pretentious-"

At that, Peasley turns about as pale as a ghost. Well, if that were possible, considering he's a legume. Suddenly, he's got some important things he has to do somewhere else.

This poker table is looking weak.

When Peasley asks Bowser to meet at the mansion, Bowser warns he can't come alone. It's a stretch to get the green ghost to go back with him, and as much as Bowser wants to tell him "you're coming with me, whether you like it or not", he can't bring himself to say it. Instead, he convinces Luigi that it's a quick stay. Essentially, a welfare visit on the old house and a quick meeting with an old friend. Luigi's narrowly convinced.

Stepping back onto that porch brings back a lot of old memories for the human. Few of them anything good in retrospect.

But he does want to see his painting again. He always did cherish that painting. He's sure Bowser will too, right?

Is that painting a good memory for Bowser? He wonders.

It was all those years ago that a young Peasley gifted him that painting. Like him, he had been optimistic and in love. Even if his rich, snobby parents weren't a fan of the human, they had an entire life ahead of them. Peasley had made him a beautiful painting. It was the one part of the house Luigi felt was his. A good memory.

He never expected to be greeted by the same image he had all those years ago. Peasley, now older, stood in front of the painting. His face now wasn't proud or love-struck or whatever expression he had had then (Luigi can barely remember Peasley's face until just now), he looked somber. It was a rare occasion that Luigi wasn't green, and his teal glow seemed to throw Bowser off.

And divert Peasley's attention away from the miserable painting and over to the ghost, who was nervously twiddling his thumbs with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

It's not long before Bowser realizes that this meeting was never about him, and he feels more awkward than anything else...

Except that Polterpup has been on edge since the moment he saw the bean (now) king. Has he ever seen the dog not wag it's tail at someone?

Immediately, the older man apologizes. Things were never meant to end up how they did. He tried his best to help when he could.

Luigi's not angry, how could he be? Luigi's fall was an accident.

Peasley says he didn't know Luigi had stuck around, and if he had, he thinks he would have done things differently. He would have at least had the place cleaned instead of just letting it rot.

(So Peasley abandon the mansion? The perfectly good mansion for no reason, leaving Luigi alone.)

And, of course, Peasley's sorry for not telling Mario or his parents about what happened to him.

(HUH?)

He insisted that he waited for hours with Luigi, hoping he'd recover with enough gauze. The man told him it was a lost cause. If he could have saved him, he would have.

Hours?

"I was unconscious for hours?"

It came out as barely a whisper.

"I stayed almost the entire night. As long as I could."

Bowser didn't know boos could turn so many colors, especially that quickly. Bowser didn't think Luigi even had it in him to be anything less than smiley, especially completely enraged.

Luigi had never been more angry in his life (death).

Even Peasley's insistence that "You don't understand what they'd have done to me if they'd known I went against their wishes!" fell on deaf ears.

When Luigi's aura finally finished raving, Peasley had backed away from the now red ghost. Again, Luigi recognized the position they were in;

One of them backing up, away from the painting and towards the basement stairs. How could Peasley forget that door never closed all the way? It had only been the exact thing that killed Luigi 30 years ago. The exact thing that, of course, Peasley hadn't fixed.

Luigi swears he didn't push him, even in that state. Bowser believes him, only because the still angry and unaware Luigi yelled angrily down the stairs: "You better not die here, because I'll make your death hell!"

If they both hadn't just watched Peasley fucking die, Bowser would have kinda been into it.

It took Luigi a second to realize that even if his own fall had been an unlucky hit, Peasley wasn't 25 anymore. And he wasn't responding. His red hue didn't last long, especially when Polterpup no longer seems threatened (and Bowser notices that the bean king no longer seems to be breathing).

"What did I do?"

Bowser suggests fleeing the crime scene, which normally isn't his move, but he'd rather not be tied to the murder of a fellow royal. Luigi shakes his head.

This is his fault. And as angry as he still is at Peasley, he can't flee what he's done. Not in a right conscience. Not like what Peasley did to him. Luigi suffered enough sitting in that mansion alone for 30 years, and, as much as revenge tastes sweet, a small part of him still cares. Had he lived, Peasley and him would have had a life after all.

But he hadn't lived, did he.

Bowser can't remember a time ever seeing Luigi's color look quite as dull as it did then.

Playing with his engagement ring, Luigi thinks back on the part of the man he loved. Peasley never did buy him the ring, like he had hoped. Luigi remembers getting himself all excited over the possibility of a scenic proposal as they walked through the flower garden of the mansion. He had gifted him a painting. Which was almost as good.

He couldn't even count how many times he had stood and looked at that painting, thinking:

Was it worth it?

An apprehensive smile comes onto his face. A nostalgic smile. A somber one.

Doesn't really matter, does it? He'd never know if it was worth it in the end. This was how it ended up. Luigi had always believed that fate is what had brought him and Peasley together, considering everything else had lined them up for failure. Fate was what brought him here. What kept him here.

Who is he to drag down others?

He returns Bowser's ring.

"I'm sorry."

Bowser never deserved to have him weigh him down.

"I wasted my life chasing after a family I never got, and then spent my death doing the exact same thing."

Bowser awkwardly matches Luigi's bitter laugh.

"I lived my life, be it a short one, but you deserve to live yours."

Luigi pats the ring on his hand.

"I hope she likes it." He smiles. He means it. Peach sounds wonderful.

Tears prick Bowser's eyes, and all because...

He never did tell Luigi about him and Peach, did he? He can't help but laugh. Tears streaming down his face kinda laugh. The laugh you only get once a year kind of laugh.

"You spent, what? Maybe five non-consecutive years chasing after a family? Try twenty!"

Luigi's eyebrow goes up. This is supposed to be a super emotional goodbye and this goobers laughing? On about his conquest to marry Peach (who, apparently, is already married) and make his picturesque life. Luigi can't help but laugh, because it's so stupid that Bowser's laughing about this right now.

"Her and her stupid, human, mustachioed husband Mario have been kicking my ass for decades. I promise you, boo, you weren't ever getting in the way of anything."

Mario?!

"Mario?" (!)

"You heard of him?"

The excitement in Luigi's eyes (and aura) is obvious.

"My brother's name is Mario!"

With a look of determination, Bowser promises he'll tell Luigi the story of all his and Mario's exploits if he does him two favors.

Leaves this, frankly, ugly and decrepit mansion with him. Because this story needs atmosphere.

Puts the ring back on his finger. Because how else is everybody going to know they're engaged?

Luigi gives a grin.

He looks down the stairs. What about doing his due-diligence?

"I promise you, boo, if fate brought you and Peasley together, and pushed you down those stairs, and brought us together, and then pushed him down the stairs, fate is on your side."

Luigi's lips are still pursed.

"And it's almost sunrise," Bowser points out.

"So?"

"Well, we've waited almost all night, seems like a fair amount of time to me. It's obviously a lost cause."

At that, Luigi begins laughing. Not quite Bowser's guttural, teary laugh, but certainly a cackle. Enough to turn his aura back to a vibrant green, just like before. Enough to make him hunch over and take some (not really) much needed gulps of air.

When the laughing dies down to a hurt giggle, Bowser assures him that:

"You didn't kill him, Weeg."

No. I guess he didn't, did he?

Looking down the stairs one last time, (his death completely bloodless, the lucky bastard), Luigi's brows furrow for a second and he twiddles his thumbs.

If Luigi's learned one thing from being a condemned ghost, it's that you should take every chance you get.

The bottom of the stairs don't look so intimidating now.

"I...

I forgive you."

Maybe that is all Peasley deserves.

Luigi deserves to have another chance. And maybe Peasley does too, maybe he'll find one in the next lucky winner of poker. Someones gotta replace his spot at the table.

Bowser shares that he certainly deserves a mother to his children, and he's already got a quality candidate who's proved he's got what it takes. ("One who cooks, cleans, can't call in sick, die, and is pretty good looking! I hit the jackpot!")

Maybe, at the very least, Luigi deserves to see his brother one last time.

And maybe a few more times after that, for good measure.

Anyways so the original plan was just to have either Luigi and Bowser straight up immediately abandon the crime scene (not really crime scene) or have Luigi sit in the mansion forever and live out a miserable existence.

But I couldn't do that to my boys now could I. (But Peasley still gets abandoned because screw Peasley I hate that little bean man /j).

This wasn't meant to turn out in the format it did but, y'know, it did. Just know this isn't brief but also isn't comprehensive. I might (big emphasis on might) make a shorter headcanon post on this, but we'll see.

I hope you enjoyed. And sorry for the length, I am not known and will never be known for being concise.

[sidekickjoey]

"Hi Chrissy."

Sitting in the cool grass in Hawkins Memorial Cemetery, Eddie watches quietly as the sun shines down on the stone before him. Radiant is the only word that comes to mind as it glistens and stands tall. Then again, no better word could've described Chrissy Cunningham when she was on this Earth, or her smile. It's fitting it would also apply to her grave.

He picks a nearby dandelion and rests it at the base of the stone, just below an engraving of a sunflower - her favorite, he's learned. A few of the fluffy white seeds float up and wisp around the carved petals, giving it life. Motion. It makes Eddie smile.

"I'm sorry I've been sorta' shit about visiting ya'," he says after a moment, a shy little drawl to his voice making him sound quite endearing. Forgivable. "Wayne and I just moved into our new apartment last week and the whole moving in thing's wrecked us. Did you know that man had even more mugs hiding in storage? At least thirty, the maniac!"

He imagines Chrissy's own smile at that one. Sure, she had been scared out of her mind the night she entered his trailer, but Eddie can never forget seeing Chrissy's eyes comically widen at the sight of Wayne's collection of various mugs from around the globe. Most people do as such - even Wayne on some occasions, when he's tired and not prepared to remember his own expensive vice.

Eddie's finger traces the sunflower.

"I wish you could see the place. It's a lot cleaner and bigger than our old shit hole at Forest Hills. Plus, it's got this super big backyard with a tree that I'm thinking of putting a hammock under. I think it'd be a nice spot for writing songs. Isn't that just something, Chrissy?"

A brush of cool air past him has Eddie believing that yes, it is.

He picks another dandelion. Blows the seeds her way.

"I've actually got another something to tell you," he hints, waggling his eyebrows to no one. "It's even crazier than us having a whole house to ourselves, Wayne and I. It might've actually just about blown your mind if you were still around. It's been blowing mine for the last few days, if I'm being totally honest."

The sun brightens on Eddie's back. He takes a deep breath. Steadies himself.

"I, uh...I'm dating Steve Harrington."

The sun continues to shine.

The cool breeze returns.

Life goes on.

Eddie releases his breath.

"I hope you're not like, rolling in your grave below me right now," he chuckles, voice tight and nervy. "I know I'm the biggest hypocrite ever for falling for him, a known jock AND popular kid. It goes against pretty much everything I've stood for or yelled about at lunch. But, it's kind of like what you said about me, Chris. He wasn't what I thought he'd be like. He isn't."

He's way more, as a matter of fact. So much more that it hurts sometimes for Eddie to think about. Makes him question how he got so lucky to meet him, really meet him, in the first place.

"I wish you could see it for yourself," he says softly a minute later, now tracing her name with his pointer finger. "You two probably would've been great friends. He likes sports and doing his hair and goofing around. He's also weirdly good at baking. You were in the baking club, right? I swear I saw you selling gingerbread cookies before Christmastime. The little ones with the candy canes? Right?"

No one answers, but something in Eddie's bones makes that assessment feel right. He looks up to the sky, lets the sun soak into what skin isn't covered up by leather and denim for a minute, and imagines the dreamworld he described. He imagines Chrissy side-by-side with Steve in a kitchen, maybe with Robin if she stuck around or visited during college. He watches them as they get too messy, covered in flour and sticky from dough and icing, and smiles at the fact none of them seem to care. They're all so proud of their work and wanting Eddie to try everything. He can practically hear their laughter, their joy, their lack of care or fear as he does. He lets himself drown in it, just a little. Basks in it.

Stares back at Chrissy's grave seconds later with a piercing twinge of sadness.

Grieves.

Whimpers "You should be here still, Chrissy" to the stone.

Sniffling, he tries to laugh away the tears that have suddenly appeared like a tidal wave. It does no good, though. Not even the sunshine, the beautiful stuff that usually makes Eddie feel so seen and comforted, can whisk them away now that they've begun. He grips tight at his thigh. Desperately tries to ground himself.

"Steve's been reminding me that there was nothing I could do. Says I've been placing too much blame on myself for it all. Maybe I am. It's just that..." he takes a deep breath, "shit, I hate that you were the one made an example of in all of this mess. I'm so sorry I wasn't able to stop it and protect you from Vecna and the Upside Down and all that horrible crap you had no reason to be swept up in because of me. I'm sorry you can't be here and getting your own new boyfriend, or your own degree. I'm so fucking sorry."

A full-on sob hits Eddie then, knocking him off whatever ledge he had been teetering on right into a pit of anxiety and bottled-up sadness. It renders him shaky and a bit blubbery, and as another sob gears up in the pit of his chest, he starts to feel guilty he had shown up in the first place. If he'd just kept his news to himself, hadn't let himself dwell on all the milestones Chrissy would never reach, maybe he would've been okay. Maybe he would feel a little less broken, a little less wrapt with survivors guilt, a little less-

"Hey."

Eddie flips around in a fright to find himself face-to-knee with Steve Harrington.

The boy's face is gentle when he finally works up the courage to meet it. It's the same gentleness that had been there the first time Eddie confessed to wanting to visit Chrissy, and the same that had coaxed him out of the car when his nerves got the best of him. It's also the same that had gazed upon Eddie when he confessed to having a crush, and when he proceeded to say he'd be fine if they never spoke again because he gets why that would not be happy news to hear.

His gaze is somehow never pitying. Always achingly empathetic.

It tears another sob from Eddie.

Carefully, Steve sits down at Eddie's side and wraps an arm around him. His hand soothingly begins to rub up and down Eddie's arm, grounding him the best he can. Eddie leans into it. Hopes Chrissy is okay with having their private conversation shared. Sobs again.

"Hi Chrissy. I dunno if you knew me, but I'm Steve."

Eddie shuts his eyes and buries his face into Steve's shoulder.

"I'm sure Eddie probably already told you, but we're...we're a couple now, so I hope you don't mind me intruding. I know uh...I know he's kinda private about this stuff."

He means Eddie's feelings about Chrissy's death, about Chrissy in general. The whole lot of it. Eddie knows it in an instant - feels the way Steve's grip nudges them closer together in understanding.

"I'm not sure what you were chatting about, but I have something to tell you if that's alright."

Steve pauses.

Bless him, he pauses for the answer that won't come.

Eddie could - no, plans to love him forever for doing something like that for his sake. For Chrissy.

"He's been pretty torn up about you. We all are, but...well, it's hard. I've been through this four times now and that first time is still a lot to think over. But...uh, Robs told me that in movies, ghosts are always like, torn up and stuff about people being sad they're gone. Want them to live their life to the fullest. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm gonna make sure our guy here does that. For you."

Blinking up from Steve's shoulder, Eddie sniffles. "W-What?"

"Yeah," Steve says, keeping his eyes on the stone. "I'll make sure he has reasons to smile and...and reasons to get through the hard times. I'm gonna' be there to remind him what all that's like, okay?"

"Steve..."

"And I know it won't be easy, but...I think it'll be good. For all of us. Ya' know?"

Tears threatening again, Eddie places a small kiss to Steve's cheek. He feels Steve's grip bring him in even more, almost keeping Eddie in his lap. Comforting him. It's more than he could ask for.

The sun shines on him. Eddie feels it again - wills it to help.

"I can't do it all on my own, though. I could use a little divine intervention here and there, if you could spare some."

Eddie almost corrects Steve. He almost says ghosts aren't divine, how that's reserved for angels and God and stuff. But, on second thought, he figures if anyone from Hawkins was granted an angelic afterlife, Chrissy probably was first in line.

Instead, he listens to the beat of Steve's heart.

"But, I'll try. We'll both try. We promise."

"Y-Yeah," Eddie hiccups. "We promise."

Steve smiles into his hair.

"Got anything else you need to say, Eddie? Or do you want to go grab milkshakes somewhere before we head back to your place?"

Blinking his bleary eyes back open, Eddie gazes at the tombstone. Commits it to memory. Pictures Chrissy giggling and telling them to go have fun.

Really, who is he to tell her no?

"Yeah, I think we're good here," he says, finally. He nods once more to Steve and lets him pull him up to his feet, the shaky thing he is. His arm ends up around Steve's waist as they give a final look to Chrissy, and for a moment, he wonders what she must be thinking. He wonders if she is grateful for their promise, or if she is wishing she could have a milkshake with them, too. Eddie hopes, wherever she is, she can go grab one. Enjoy with them, and above them. He'd like that.

And, after today, he thinks Steve might, too.

They hold each other's hand tight as they leave the cemetery.

They hold hands even tighter when Eddie gets a tattoo of a sunflower the very next day.

[valle-de-sombra-de-muerte]

Homestuck Reread: The Intermission (p. 1154-1357)

Read the previous post here.

Apologies for the late post. Work has genuinely been kicking my ass. But now it's time to read the Midnight Crew Intermission. You either really love or really hate this section of the story. I've always been a fan, so I'm looking forward to going through it.

The Intermission is more in-line with the spirit of Problem Sleuth than the rest of Homestuck. Hussie is returning to the old adventure game format and jokes, like this one where interacting with one item transforms it into a completely different item.

Despite being a bloodthirsty mobster, Slick is quite prone to acts of silliness when dictated by the reader commands.

I like how the digital clock on Slick's own computer counts as one of the clocks in the Felt's mansion.

I love the Felt. They're like a lineup of Dick Tracy goons. I also appreciate how this page gives subtle hints about what each of their powers are.

There are a number of times where a command to switch the POV to one character instead goes to a different character. I'm not sure if there's any logic here, or if Hussie is just being needlessly confusing in an already very elaborate part of the comic. My gut says the latter.

Doze without a doubt has the worst power out of all the Felt. It's only useful in this specific use case where he's resistant to interrogation, but that wouldn't even be needed if he wasn't getting captured all the time.

You know, "WARdrobe" was right there. I know Slick's inventory is already called the "War Chest", but is there even a pun there? Why not call it a "Battle Chest" like Battle Chess? They're living chess pieces. Come on.

Super speed is such a high tier power, yet Itchy is felled with no effort. It's kinda funny how most of the Felt have these incredible powers and could easily trounce the MC if not for the fact that they seem to collectively share one brain cell.

It makes me wonder if the MC and Felt's rivalry had only consisted of harmless cartoon antics up to this point. And it's only after the Felt "knocked over" one of Slick's favorite casinos that MC decided to escalate to murder. I'd compare it to how the '60s Batman TV show was campy slapstick, but modern Batman media has since transitioned to being much grittier and more violent.

I need a version of this comic page with Clover being shocked about Slick killing his friends.

Unlike the previous carapacians we've seen (WV, PM, AR), Slick has five fingers instead of four. I think he, Droog, and the Queens are the only ones with five fingers.

Meanwhile Deuce only has three chunky fingers. I'm not sure what the deal with that is.

A lot of people like to infantilize Deuce in the same way they do to WV. Here's a reminder that he reads erotic magazines just like the other Crew members.

See what I mean? He is a grown ass man, people.

Trace is my favorite Felt member. I like his goofy underbite and the way his coat collar makes it look like he has a shark fin on his head. His power of seeing and interacting with people in the past is also pretty cool, even if it gives him away as soon as he starts messing with them.

It's a nice detail including Deuce in the panel since Droog had alerted him to where Trace will be at this point in the future.

I love this panel. I believe Hussie just grabbed that image of the cane without realizing what it was until this point.

It's telling that the only timeline where Slick is dead is one where he died before he was able to rebuild society.

This might be a contender for the horniest page in all of Homestuck.

Biscuits has no special powers or anything, he just wants to be included. I love that.

Fin, despite having the power to see what others do in the future, was unable to react to Droog smacking him with the cue stick and getting pumped with bullets. Again, these guys are all morons.

Remember when this was the only clue we had about Lord English's appearance and everyone thought he was going to be some tall, rail-thin Tumblr Sexyman? Good times.

I'm a fan of this detached method of writing how the characters talk to each other. There's a lot of personality being conveyed in what they're saying even though none of it is being presented as dialogue. Unironically it feels more natural to read than the standard dialogue box format.

Snowman can do whatever the hell she wants and all anyone else can do is just watch. The benefits of having your lifespan inextricably linked to that of the universe.

Also, I don't think it needs to be said, but "Three in the Morning" is a god tier track.

Nearly every mention of Sawbuck comes with a jab about his weight. Don't come at me with asks saying that it's just Slick being an asshole. We all know whose "voice" this really is. (Hint: It's the guy with all the fat jokes on his Formspring).

I wonder how many people remember that Slick is a canon zoophile.

Slick's "rapier wit" strikes again!

A strong contender for most gruesome death in all of Homestuck.

So does this mean that it's set to go off a few seconds after the point Biscuits would exit the oven? If the oven behaves normally and Biscuits is just sitting in there until the timer goes off, that must be the case. The wording is very awkward though.

Cans's ability to punch people into the future might make him the most powerful of all the Felt. No wonder the MC was hoping he wouldn't show up.

I like that the detail about the shopping trip is included.

It's noteworthy that this early look at Karkat's room doesn't look anything at all like how it appears when he's properly introduced. Also, this is the sole appearance of Crabsprite, which stings a bit since we don't ever get a proper glimpse of what Karkat's relationship with his lusus is like.

This was a fun little diversion. Not a lot to talk about here other than how much I enjoyed a lot of these gags. I kind of wish that Hussie expanded upon this and made a whole adventure with these guys detached from Homestuck. It would've made for a nice follow-up to Problem Sleuth, something more true to that story's tone and humor.

But that would never come to pass, unfortunately. Now it's back to business as usual. Act 4 awaits.

Read the next post here.

[enlightenedrobot]

Concerning the Mouse

Disclaimer. This is a blog post. It's not an essay or legal advice or any of that. It's mostly a collection of thoughts. If you want something a little more well researched, might I suggest this post here. Anyways, let's talk about this lovable rat right here.

As of January 1st, 2024, Mickey Mouse, as depicted in Steamboat Willie, The Galloping Goncho, and Plane Crazy is in the public domain. Personally, I've been looking forward to this, and I've kinda taken it as a personal challenge to figure out how exactly I can reinterpret the mouse for my own projects. And I actually think I got it. But before that... let's talk about this.

I don't think the image above is safe.

It's true, Steamboat Willie is in the public domain, but Mickey Mouse is still protected by trademark law, and those frames and that get up specifically are still very much protected.

I can't be too sure about this, because both Infestation 88 (The Videogame) and Mickey's Mouse Trap (The Horror Movie) seem to use variations of this specific design, but like... those ears are probably still protected, as are those pants. This version of Mickey also lacks his iconic white gloves, but contrary to what other people might say, I don't think "old cartoon wearing white gloves" is something uniquely trademarkable to the Disney corporation.

So if you wanna play it safe, it might be a good idea to use other elements provided by these cartoons as the base for your own interpretation of the character.

This is the version of Mickey Mouse as depicted in the title card of Steamboat Willie, and like, there's a bit more to work with here. His pants have stripes not seen in other incarnations of the character, and he also has a pretty distinct hat and cane.

More notably, his eyes are actually very different from Modern Mickey. They're huge, and the pie eyes that everybody associates with this era of animation are actually pupils. Not the eyes by themself.

What's funny is that there's a definite resemblances between these eyes and those of Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic was apparently based on Mickey Mouse, so I'm not super surprised.

Those eyes in the title screen actually seem to be a holdover from Plane Crazy, where Mickey Mouse continues to have huge eyes. From that same cartoon, We also have Mickey Mouse deliberately messing up his hair to resemble the pilot Charles Lindbergh.

And like... it's cute. It's a look.

One thing I also keep seeing on social media is that Mickey Mouse has to be Black and White and he's not allowed to speak, because both Mickey's voice and his iconic red pants wouldn't be used until much later.

But like... you're allowed to build on these designs. Just because you can't color his shorts red doesn't mean you can't use color period. And using a different voice for the mouse is a very good way to differentiate your incarnation of the character from Disney's. This isn't legal advice, but I do believe you could get away with giving him a different colored outfit and, say, a deep souther accent ala Foghorn Leghorn.

Anyways, with all this in mind, allow me to introduce my own take on the character, Micheal Elias Mouse Jr. (Mike E. Mouse for short)

He's a former childstar, the son of the original Mickey Mouse, and an intellectual property lawyer with a dubious degree.

I intentionally made him rattier to make him more distinct, but don't let the smell of beef and cheese scare you off. This mouse might of been hit by hard times, but he still has a big heart, and deep down he's still the mouse we all know and love.

From a design standpoint, I tried my best to make the character recognizably mickey life while also changing up the original silhouette. Neither of the ears are perfect circles and one of them has a pretty significant bite taken out of it. The ratty hair and hat also help.

His gloves are yellow, inspired by various promotional materials for the original Steamboat Willie where Mickey dawns yellow gloves instead of the usual white. Further, I changed up the design of his shorts just because pushing the design that much further would help make this version of the character distinct from the Disney version.

If I'm not already protected by the public domain, I'm also protected by the fact that this character is obviously a parody. Middle aged dilf Mickey is not something Disney would never make, and the story I have in mind for him is more or less critical of the Disney corporation while still celebrating the artistry of the original cartoons and animation on the whole.

Anyways, Mickey Mouse entering the public domain is a big win for creatives everywhere, especially for fans of the original character. My interpretation isn't the only valid take on the character out there and I'm excited to see where everyone else goes now that the rat is free use.

[genork-the-fandork]

Weekly Meeting

Word Count: 584 Prompt: & Yamato A/N: So I used shots of Taichi & the others from the 2020 anime, but here I am, having the two boys drinking beer. I'm giving off all sorts of impressions. I love these two boys with my whole heart, I'm almost sad to write about them first. I like the idea that they hang out and don't do much but just sit there. They share a lot, and I hope I got that across! @taichiyagamiweek

Taichi clinked his beer against the one in Yamato's hand, knocking back almost half of it in one gulp. His friend raised an eyebrow. "Considered having some air with your beer?"

It took all Taichi's willpower not to sputter and swallow down the wrong pipe. Lifting the bottle away from his lips, he cracked a wry grin. "Been a long day. I really needed this."

"I hear that." For all his bluster, Yamato knocked back more of his beer than Taichi had, and the latter had to shoot him a smug smirk. "Nothing like a cold beer after a long day."

"You sound like an old man." Taichi leaned back on his elbows, gazing out across the bay. The evening breeze sifted through his hair. His butt was cold from the cement they were sitting on, but he knew if he moved, it would break the bubble they'd somehow created for themselves. That was the way it always was with Yamato: they seemed to create their own little world, one that only the two of them understood.

Not much time had passed since it happened. Although it wasn't fair to say all of their times together had involved drinking lately, sometimes it felt like the alcohol loosened up their muscles and set free the worries that had been mounting since that day. Worries directed at their other halves—namely, Takeru and Hikari.

"Takes an old man to know one," Yamato shot back, sipping at his beer. "Makes you feel old, though, doesn't it?"

"What does?"

"Just how much we've been through."

Taichi couldn't deny that. They were only in their twenties, and yet sometimes it was like they'd lived multiple lifetimes. Every new adventure they'd gone on had felt like a new life, one vastly different from the "normal" ones they pretended to have at school.

He chuckled. "We might need canes soon from all the weight we've had to carry."

"Shut up." Yamato punched his shoulder, but Taichi just laughed loudly in response. Yeah, this was how it always was. Being able to legally drink didn't change much between them, just the setting. He could remember a time in high school when they'd be sitting right here, knocking back sodas or tea as they didn't talk. With them, sometimes a lack of words was easier.

"We'll see them again, won't we?"

Looking over at his blond friend, Taichi noted the furrowed eyebrows and the way he cradled his beer. Like he was afraid to lose it, or that it would disappear if he turned around. But then, Taichi tended to hold fast to the simplest things nowadays himself. He stared down at his own beer, seeing a wobbly reflection of himself in the little bit still left at the bottom of the bottle. "I think we will. We're the Chosen, right? They're gonna need us again."

Yamato grinned. "Always the optimist, I see."

"Who am I if not the sunshine to your rain?" Taichi teased, giving Yamato the most smarmy smirk he could muster. The blond punched his shoulder again, and they both laughed.

Though the bottles were empty, they clinked their beers again. A fitting conclusion to an otherwise not-quite-productive meeting. They would have this same conversation again next week, and the week after that, and the week after that, until Taichi's optimism bore fruit. It was Yamato's way of saying he believed in it, too. Just as Taichi had always believed in Yamato and the bond they'd shared since that first adventure.

[marc--chilton]

Hi! Im more-mouse-bites on ao3 and I came and followed for the mgv content.

I’m writing an ABO house fic of my own atm! I was going to follow the long-beloved trope of “house hides his second gender and everyone thinks he’s an alpha, but then something happens and he’s exposed” but I realized that I could have a lot more fun with having House as a known omega from the start. I have omegas as slightly more uncommon and definitely frowned upon in high-intensity careers like medicine, because of their perceived frailty. I’m such a slut for the socio-economic implications of an ABO universe, lol.

Which segues into my question— in your AU, what’s the general consensus societally on omegas? Does House have to routinely fight against ignorance and dismissal? And if so, how would Wilson react? Or even just to general patients being terrible to House. Would he step in, or would House stop him because that would undermine his credibility?

Really love your AU! Can’t wait to see more ❤️

(hiii thank you for the kind words on here and ao3 kisskiss) house hiding his status as an omega and going through life as a false alpha is great i won't lie, but the idea of house being ASSUMED to be an alpha simply because of how he carries himself and taking great joy in surprising people by being like (loud incorrect buzzer).... the mischief. it's so yummy

that's rly neat!! i definitely believe that omegas being in places of power/authority are uncommon due to how they are perceived as the lesser secondary sex. an omega NURSE or orderly would be easier accepted than an omega DOCTOR, for instance. and then some patients being like "i don't wanna get treated by no 'meg, i want a different doctor seeing to me" of course.

given to the types of people who end up seeing house for their mystery illness of the week, there are definitely more than a couple of hardheads who try to challenge house's authority either as a patient in the hospital bed, or as family/loved ones of the ill who can't believe a mere omega can cure the patient. house would antagonize them back, of course, but not give up the case either if it's good enough a puzzle.

wilson's reaction to seeing house get discriminated would depend on what the aggressor says/does and wilson's own cycle as well. (this is operating on the default that they're unbonded as well) because as much as i LIVE for protective wilson, he also knows how to throw house's shit right back at him. and house is a jerk, no matter the au, so from the outside looking in he wouldn't bat an eye. if he's brought on as a consult to the case, he'd be a little more involved; professional, but he would defend house's integrity and skill.

closer to rut, though, he would be a bit more..... tense. he catches an alpha kick house's cane out from under him in a fit of aggression and before you know it, he's pinned them to the nearest flat surface and is growling in their face. HUGE no-no as a doctor but also one he can get away with at trial, yknow, "crime of passion" type thing.

as a distinguished (.... sort of. it's greg house) specialist and literal grown man, it gets on house's nerves, yes. and as someone at odds with his secondary sex, he also hates that he even brings out that part of wilson's alpha biology, too. but -- and he wouldn't admit this under threat of death -- it also makes him preen a little inside that wilson's hindbrain (his subconscious, the pure primal instinct with No Thought behind it) deems him as something worth fighting over, protecting, defending when house himself does not.

[ineffablesnakegender]

My Sanders Sides headcanons (some sad some random X3). Anyway I'm mentally ill about my favorite guys so here's my headcanons only at this point they aren't even the same characters anymore and I should probably just make them my OCS but fuck you I won't do that. First off if you know me it's obviously Janus.

I think he uses all pronouns (I'm gonna be referring to him with he/him here so nobody gets confused) but won't elaborate on his gender or sexuality because he likes making people guess.

He's very tall (Remus likes to climb him like a jungle gym) and wears heels because, despite being unable to properly walk, he likes feeling superior to people. Of course this works against him and he ends up hitting his head, getting his hat swept off him by low ceilings, and tripping a lot without his cane. He also needs a cane because he's not used to having legs (he usually has a snake tail) and will trip over his own feet or forget to walk sometimes. Still he insists on wearing heels. "Beauty is pain" and all that

He's color blind and can only see in shades of yellow or blue like a lot of snakes (Patton knows this and decided on wearing a nice light blue so that he stands out to Janus because they're animal buddies shhh ignore canon we don't talk about that here).

He feeds on radiation I just know it in my soul. On the topic of things I have no reason to believe but I do. He's indigenous like me, sorry guys it's just true.

He's like the local cryptid. He'll often stand in the back of photos just to scare the others or pop up out of nowhere and stand behind them until they notice (he thinks he's so funny. Little bastard man. I'm gonna take a bite out of his skull. Cut him open to reveal he's been a cake all along) this has gotten him punched on several occasions.

In the same sentence he'll be like "hey I'm really worried about you" and then "you should kill yourself NOW"

Big Mortica Addams and Lady Dimitrescu vibes.

He really likes being outside. He's a gardener and takes care of wild animals. He does the white lady thing of saying "oh he's just a harmless little guy" when the little guy in question is a whole wolf :/

He follows Remus around when he goes adventuring because he doesn't trust him enough to not die. Where you go I go looking ass.

He does participate in a little bit of witchcraft.

Vegan. I can't explain this one.

His scales are hard like armor and are scattered throughout his body. He lets Remus chew on them.

[desultory-novice]

How would you envision the dynamic between Marx and Daroach?

I bet Daroach likes to do mischief. Could be another candidate for a "prank partner" Marx could have, perhaps?

Very interesting thought you have there, and I think you may be onto something...!

Daroach is a thief, but he is, by way of costume and mannerisms, clearly modeled on the specific concept of "the phantom thief" and all phantom thieves are multi-classed in thief + stage magician. They just are. (That Daroach has some real magic to back it up, or at least his cane is magically imbued, helps.)

And of course, Marx was originally introduced as a Marx the Magician before settling in his better known job title of Cosmic Jester. (But what is a jester but a combination clown + stage magician?) So, now we have a pair of stage magicians who are both known to be smooth talkers and insanely dexterous.

What else can we pull out of this pair?

Something that's kind of easy to read from his character but not always obvious is that Daroach seems to be... fairly old?! Maybe not as old as Doc, who he himself states as being "up in years" but when I went back through the script for Mass Attack, he's clearly been all over the place, but he's also been to Popstar in the past and studied it extensively. This man is crazy traveled...

..Or he just likes Popstar a lot. We all do!

[Take a nap, old man!]

PS: I love this image of Daroach so much. It's probably my defining Daroach image. Look at this man mouse. Look at all the emotions you can read from one sketch! I would give him treasure and watch him scurry away with it except that I know he would only truly feel satisfied if he stole it. Dess looks at Daroach like the squirrels in my yard that steal all the birdseed. I should be annoyed. I should be, but they are so much fun to watch. Dess just wants to adopt all the Kirby characters... (assuming they indeed turn out to be 8cm, that is. ^^; ) Such good blorbos, all of them..

...

AHEM! Sorry about that tangent.

The reason I bring Daroach's age up is that he is still provably "young at heart." He's kind of a big goof?! Who else would get possessed by the Lord of the Underworld and then, snickering, call Doc over... "Say, Doc? I just got an idea for a shockingly good trap! Can you...?" So, yes! I believe he would have exactly the kind of fun-loving nature necessary to enjoy... at least SOME of Marx's goofs! 

The difference that I see is mainly is that Daroach will casually and freely admit to having several (implied) fears born from (implied) bad experiences and he cares about things like danger-level. Marx seems the type who lets his nigh invulnerability (?) to lasting harm and his confidence in his schemes inform 99% percent of his bad decision making. (1) "Caution" is where they really part ways.

That and, like in my own rabbit Marx drawing, I think that should Marx ever decide to turn on his fellow-of-a-shared-profession and assume he could beat Daroach in sleight-of-hand, Daroach would swiftly make Marx regret his hubris in the most embarrassing way.

But when they're on the same page? Oh boy, look out! You're not getting out of this with either your possessions OR your dignity!

With Marx and Daroach, you've basically got the gritty (goofball) veteran stage magician and the bold upstart with no limits and no fear together. That's a classic movie team-up right there!

-

(1) Common fandom interpretations aside, it's hard to say how many of Marx's plans/tricks were bad ideas or have ended badly for him when really, Marx has only been caught/stopped twice. Once with the whole Galactic Nova incident and again (depending on how you take these posts) in the Christmas Cake incident on Twitter. Of course, cartoon logic almost always dictates that once the "frighteningly intelligent trickster" character stops being a villain and joins the good guys, his schemes get more and more goofy/harmless and far easier to interrupt than that climactic first encounter!

[nonbinary-beast]

Thinking about the Valley of Obsolescence, and how really, no one can tell whether what AM shows is a hologram or the real thing.

Pretty much the first scene in the story is a bit of a parallel to the one scene of Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory (the first one), where Wonka pretends to be sickly and need a cane, only to somersault and show that he was lying. I remember somewhere that Gene Wilder had wanted to have that in there to show that from that point on, no one could tell if Wonka was lying or not.

Same thing goes for AM and its hologram of Gorrister's corpse hanging from the ceiling, just in time for Gorrister to walk in and see his own corpse. Or so I think. From that point forward, it is impossible to tell if what the survivors are seeing is real or not.

But! In regards to that, I'm sort of thinking that the Valley of Obsolescence could also be fake. Probably AM wants to give the survivors the impression that it is always updating itself, and is ruthlessly removing old or damaged parts, to hide its weaknesses.

If it makes them think that it is always changing itself and updating its components, they would give up on the thought of possibly being able to override it or sabotage it. Any idea of trying to destroy it, along with escape, are hopeless- or so it wants to make them believe. It does not really seem to be established that AM has any means of updating itself, outside of "evidence" that it is doing so. We never see AM updating itself, no arms with soldering irons attached to them, nothing that suggests it knows how to make new parts for itself (and that in itself sort of falls into the whole "it cannot wonder" thing. And cannot make up its own ideas. Engineering takes creativity alongside problem solving, which it apparently lacks). We just know there is a valley of old parts.

So far as anyone knows, AM is using the same old components since it woke up and started killing everything. Given how important AM had been during the cold war this story is set in, it probably had been built to last for a long, long while without needing to worry about it breaking- barring of course, general maintenance. But since its whole thing with the survivors is that it prevents them from being able to adapt to the hellish situations it throws their way, to the point of even messing with their ability to sleep, allowing them to find any routine within its complex is unthinkable to it. So, why not apply that to itself as well?

The survivors will never adapt to the simulations it throws their way, and they will never be allowed the very idea they could adapt to AM enough to grow familiar with its system- regardless of whether that is at all true.

As for why AM needed to impress upon the survivors the image of it constantly updating itself? Who knows, given that in the story the only real threat was probably Benny, whom had been thoroughly nullified via Return To Monke. The rest did not seem all that tech savvy.

It could be a metaphor for how it is always perfecting its techniques to torment them, put into physical form, or maybe it is compensating for the fact that in the process of nuking all of humanity, it nuked the same people that kept it from succumbing to dry rot and rust, and now its putting on a front to keep them from catching on.

That all said, I sort of see why it tends to... idk, mess with Ted the way it does? At least going by the game, they're both liars trying to cover up their faults. As for the story, I don't have a clue, so far as I know AM isn't even talking to him and he's just having a mental breakdown in the form of the computer talking to him every once in a while.

[ppeasants]

Hey so I've been working on the latest chapter of my Hunter-centric and Luz-centric fic for my Hollow Mind AU (which you can find here), and I wanted to post a WIP of my current progress.

I've been having a bit of trouble getting the beginning and end of this chapter right, but there was a scene in the middle that I really wanted to write, and I recently finished it, so I wanted to post it here so y'all could see it and let me know if it's okay!

For context, this is taking place in an AU where during the events of Hollow Mind, the first teleportation potion didn't work, and it took a few days for the others to make a second one. But, time works differently in Belos' Mindscape, and Hunter and Luz were trapped in there for a full year.

At this point in the story, Hunter and Luz have just been brought back to The Owl House. But, because of everything the went through in there, they don't truly believe that they're out of the Mindscape yet.

This particular scene is actually a flashback to their time in Belos' mind. A few weeks have passed, and the two are currently hiding in the forest clearing between memories. This scene is pretty important to me, and to the context of the story, so I wanted to make sure it was good! Please lemme know what y'all think!

*****

“Human?! What are you doing?!”

“Wha – I’m just putting on a light!”

“Ghk – Well, put it out! Belos will see it and then he’ll find us!”

“It’s just one light! No way he’ll be able t – HEY!”

Luz squeaks as she’s grabbed by Hunter, the former Golden Guard trying to extinguish the ball of light between his own hands. The two are dragged to the ground, rolling around in a desperate struggle of light slaps, soft shoves, and hair pulling as she valiantly defends her little glyph made from her now almost empty notebook.

She struggles for about ten seconds – a new record! – before Hunter manages to toss her away, falling backwards with a grunt as Hunter lunges forwards and snuffs out the light between his gloved fingers. Hunter lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and takes a quick look around, making sure that nobody had noticed their little scuffle.

Even without a light, Hunter could see the mangled trees surrounding him, his magenta eyes having already adjusted to the darkness around them. The two of them were stationed just beside a clearing, the dense foliage of the Emperor’s forest of memories providing a decent enough hiding place. Behind him, Hunter could just make out the portrait holding the scene they just jumped out of.

It was a memory of Belos standing over the half dead bodies of his latest witch village conquest, his sigil unable to kill them fully – The Emperor forced to murder them himself, staining his cane with blood bone brainmatterdeath – hung just behind them. The image of the current Golden Guard, ending just as many as Belos, even with the hesitation apparent in his strikes, would replay in his head over and over again, at least until the next memory they visited. Hunter just shoved down his terror – and his bile – and finished surveying the area. 

After he’s certain they weren’t being followed, he lets out a sigh and slumps forwards, bringing one knee up to his chest as he curls his arms around it, closing his eyes as he tries – and fails – to will the images of the dead witches from his mind. He tilts his head back and looks up at the darkness above him, the sky, and its sun, its stars never present. 

A stagnant silence fills the air, and Hunter’s almost able to relax, when another flash of light burns the outside of his eyelids.

“Human…” Hunter growls, Luz just rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly, not at all embarrassed by the new glyph.

“C’moooon Hunter, please? It’s just one light.” Luz’s eyes are pleading with him, but he refuses to let up, his own eyes shooting daggers. “Besiiides, you already checked around for him, and he’s not here, right?” Hunter continues to glare at her, neither one backing down, before Hunter breaks, looking down with a huff.

“Alright! Fine. We can keep the light.” His glare returns, though not as strongly as before. “But it’s your fault if he finds us here.”

“Yes sir!” Luz gives a salute and a wobbly smile, her voice shaky as guilt seeps into it, as if she’s already failed them. Hunter just lets out a groan as he leans back, closing his eyes again, his ears flicking around to try and listen in for any approaching enemies. Hunter can hear Luz sit down near him, just barely within arm’s reach as she pulls her own knees to her chest, the visions of the last memory clearly affecting her too.

All Hunter can do is try to tune her out.

Unfortunately, he can’t quite relax like almost managed to earlier, the light from the glyph cutting through the darkness of his eyelids. Unable to find any real rest, Hunter opens his eyes, and unable to help his own curiosity, turns to look at the little ball floating beside him. The light itself is dim, but it’s still bright enough to reflect on a few of the surrounding trees. 

He’s never had a real opportunity to look at wild magic this closely – all his knowledge coming from the forbidden books he would sneak out of the castle library into his room – so he allows himself to get taken in by the soothing light. Just as he gets lost in its illumination, he hears a voice to his side.

“...I miss them.” Luz is nearly inaudible, Hunter’s ears flicking towards her, trying to listen in closer. He turns to face her, the human having laid down at some point, one arm resting behind her head, her eyes now trained above the treeline. Hunter feels woefully unprepared to comfort her – Luz having lost so many things because of him. “The stars… I miss them. Do you…” Luz trails off, unable to voice her question.

“Yeah. I miss them too.” He responds anyways, surprised he can actually answer her question, turning his gaze upwards to look at the empty darkness above them, the sky devoid of any light. “I actually used to sneak out sometimes, to the roof of the castle, just to look up at them. I’d bring a few pieces of glass, trying to make a makeshift telescope. It was nice, until Belos found me and used the glass to – well, you know.” Hunter chuckles darkly, rubbing at the scar on his upper arm where those pieces of glass were embedded. 

Luz just hums, taking in yet another reason on why she hates Belos, and looks up to the void above her.

“How come we never see any?” Luz sits up, now facing Hunter, this conversation apparently more interesting than the empty sky above her. “I mean, there’s none out here, there’s none in any of his memoires – heck, I can’t even remember the last time I saw the sun, let alone stars, and I know it’s been daytime in at least a few of those pictures!” Her voice rises in volume, and while Hunter would usually be telling her to keep quiet, lest they be found, he can’t help but answer earnestly.

“I don’t think Unc – Belos ever cared much for the stars.” The words come easily for Hunter, easier than he would’ve ever expected them to – being here for the past weeks with Luz has made it easy. “Sometimes I’d hear him say how the stars – the constellations – weren’t right. I never knew what he meant by that – until now, I guess. Just another thing he hated about the Boiling isles.” She nods again, and before Hunter thinks about it, he leans towards her with a smirk.

“But you wanna know what I think? I think he just didn’t like the idea of something else being above him.”

Luz stares at him for a second, mouth agape, like she can’t believe he would dare insult his precious Emperor – Hunter can’t believe it either, but there's been a lot of unbelievable things happening recently – before she bursts into laughter, holding her gut as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. It’s the first laugh he’s heard from her in days, and he can’t help but laugh alongside her.

It takes a couple of minutes for them to calm down, Luz wiping joyful tears from her eyes, but the two eventually settle back down into silence that is much more comfortable than before. Luz is lying down again, a small smile still on her lips, and Hunter is staring intently at the ball of light. Another moment passes before Hunter speaks up again.

“Human. I have a request.” His voice is clear, as if he’s reading a mission report to a coven head. “Would it be possible for you to show me how one can create this light glyph?” As confident as he tries to appear, his face completely betrays his nervousness, his eyes darting between the ball, the floor and Luz herself, his mouth twisted into a grimace.

“You? Want to learn how to draw a glyph?” Luz is dumbfounded, as if she can't believe that Hunter is asking her anything? “You want to learn wild magic?!”

“No. Forget about it.” Hunter grumbles, turning away in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. “What was I thinking? Never should've asked, I knew it wouldn't…” His voice trails off as Luz is unable to hear his mumblings anymore.

“Wait! I didn’t mean – sorry, We can – shoot – ” She scrambles up, reaching out to Hunter's shoulder before stopping short, remembering what happened last time she tried to grab him without warning. “I don’t mind teaching you – lemme just – here, look!” Luz reaches into her pockets, feeling around as Hunter turns back, an annoyed look on his face.

“Human. Just drop it. Seriou – ” Hunter is cut off as Luz shoves her nearly empty notebook and a pencil into his hands, causing him to flinch back. Luz looks only a little guilty, before slamming the paper down in front of her, grabbing the pencil from his hands and drawing the glyph herself. Hunter tries to get her to stop, saying anything and everything to interrupt her, lunging to grab her wrist again, just as she yells out –

”HERE!”

Hunter freezes, giving Luz enough time to slide the completed light glyph into his field of vision. His hand hovers above Luz’s wrist before he reluctantly pulls it back and crosses his arms with a grimace. Luz is wearing a shaky smile as she leans back.

“Here. It’s a light glyph. You just tap it and it turns into a ball.”

“Human. I said no. I don’t want to – ”

“C’moon Hunter, Please? I know you wanted to, you wouldn’t have asked otherwise. And I know you like wild magic because when we were in Latissa I saw you looking at the light glyph and I just wanted to do something nice since you seem so sad all the time and i get why being trapped in here with me and I don't want to make it worse for you but then I always make it worse anyways and I'm' sorry I just wanted to – ”

“FINE!” Hunter shouts, interrupting Luiz’s spiral, her eyes shooting up as he lightens the bruising grip on her arms she didn’t realize she was holding. “Fine. I’ll look at the glyph.” He sounds annoyed, but she can hear the slight relief entering his voice when she stops panicking.

It takes a moment, his stubbornness still holding his body, before he relents and looks down at the glyph in front of him, taking this pattern for the first time in his life. He tries not to look too closely, only doing it to satiate Luz, but he can’t avoid his curiosity taking over, mumbling about various alchemical symbols, the fire, water, and accents of gold present throughout the glyph, his hands fidgeting as he rambles, the love of knowledge and study of wild magic and alchemy coming out as Luz tries her best to answer his questions with a smile.

Before he realizes what he’s doing he presses down on the glyph, and watches as the paper crumples into a ball of light.

He stares at it as it floats up to him, stopping just in front of his face, his magenta eyes reflecting the dim light in front of him. The ball itself is perfectly spherical, the paper having long since disappeared into the magic. The light is slightly warm, but also cooling, the fire and water symbols which made the glyph present even in this little bit of magic. As Hunter looks closer, he could swear he can see the faint etchings of the pencil glyph markings outlining the edges of the light.

It’s beautiful.

“Can I make one?” Hunter whips around towards Luz, all sense of a soldier’s decorum now gone, an excitement in his eyes that Luz has not seen in a long time. Luz nods vigorously, almost throwing her pencil and notebook to Hunter as she sidles up beside him to explain how to create the glyph.

If Luz could see her own face, she would see the excitement in her eyes as well – a joy that hasn’t been present in her for a long time, too.

Hunter messily draws his first ever glyph, a mixture of nerves and excitement making sure he can’t quite draw the perfect circle. He looks at Luz nervously, scared that he’s already messed it up, but she assures him that it will still work. As he fills in the other shapes, he rambles about other symbols present in the centre, how both the iron and sun symbols form the base of the glyph, and before the pencil even hits the ground he slaps a hand onto the glyph,

This ball is imperfect, the small dents in the sphere where Hunter’s wobbly hands couldn’t form the circle easily visible, the light itself flashing on and off, instead of emitting a continuous stream of energy – but he can’t bring himself to care. It floats up to his face all the same, and he knows that it’s his. 

He did magic. He drew his own glyph, and did magic.

Hunter can’t help the giggle that falls out of his mouth as he rushes to draw another, and another, and another, a small field of fireflies surrounding him and Luz, and soon after she joins in as well, drawing just as many glyphs, wide smiles on both of their faces as they fill the clearing with more and more lights, the danger of being found forgotten in their excitement.

It doesn’t take long for Luz’s notebook to finally run out of paper, it was already pretty low, but as she looks around at the lights, and at the smile on Hunter’s face – as she feels the smile on her own – she can’t bring herself to care. She flops backwards and looks up at the lights, the magic forming constellations that she’s never seen before – constellations that the two of them made with their own hands. 

She can hear Hunter lay down beside her, the joy radiating off both of them in waves. Even as their laughs die down, and their own personal stars slowly float away, a companionable silence fills the air between them. Luz is content to sit in this moment, forgetting about everything she’s seen today.

“Belos was wrong, I think.” Hunter speaks up, quiet even amongst the silence of the mindscape. “About the stars, I mean. I never knew the ones in the Human Realm, but the ones in the Boiling Isles, at least, were good. Are good. I – I like the stars.”

“And I think I like these stars, too.”

Luz turns to Hunter, his voice as soft as she’s ever heard it, his eyes staring up at the lights they created together, at the stars they created together, and smiles.

“Yeah. I like our stars too.”

They both take a moment, watching as their light glyphs float higher and higher, lazily approaching and passing the treeline, rising into the empty void above them, filling the darkness with constellations made of their own heart. As they look up, there’s a sense of comfort, a sense of companionship, a sense of belonging between the two.

If Belos didn’t have the stars in his mind, then they would make their own. 

And the stars would be theirs.

*****

Please let me know if this is any good! This scene is one of the most I've been excited to write, so I really wanna make sure it's good! This scene is important to the context of Luz and hunter, and their platonic relationship together, as well as the continuation of the story.

Hopefully I can finish this chapter soon, with this being posted, and I hope y'all enjoy!

[aita-blorbos]

AITA FOR TELLING MY "FRIEND" THAT GODS DEAL WITH LOTS OF PROBLEMS AND SHE SCREWED HERSELF FOR GOING ALONG WITH HIM?

Okay so, I (M, Age Unimportant), am "friends" with this "non-human" girl (F, 20's? 25? Look, I don't actually know. She's an adult like me, but when you're a God it's weird. And time moves differently for us) that I'm going to call "Key".

Key and I met when I was falsely accused of a crime, and kicked out of the Gods' Plane into the mortal world of A. (Full world name abbreviated so she doesn't find this). She could tell I was a lesser God when we met. I couldn't read her at first, but, she promised to help me.

In clearing my name, I learned more about Key and a bit of her story. Now, see, this is where she fucked up.

Key used to be "trapped" in The Demon's Plane. Gods can travel between the two planes, but risk losing their divinity the longer they stay within The Demon's Plane. I say "trapped" because she's still basically human and a human can theoretically leave either plane whenever they want. It's way easier to walk out of The Gods' Plane but she could've left whenever. Anyway. She worked for Him (M AGE UNKNOWN? OLD. Probably as old as The Old Dormant Gods), and, because of that, assumed that I was going to do something for her in return. I wasn't. Because all demons offer shady deals. That's literally in their nature. I'm going to call Him... "Fake" for ease of translation. Fake contracted Key to do all his dirty work while he took over The Demons' Plane and assumed Kinghood. That's not important.

When I told Key I wouldn't help her because this wasn't a deal, and that I don't make deals with demons she got extremely mad. Stating she wasn't a demon, and that, she risked herself to help save me.

Now, I know this isn't true because, I'm the lesser God of Death. I would've known if she was going to die. Something's wrong with Key in that she can't die? I don't know why. She never told me.

This entire thing (me not helping her) has culminated in us fighting often. I like to visit my followers in the form of a bird (I can't say which, I would give myself away). But K always manages to find me and we fight. I will admit, I can get carried away with fighting her but more than once she has gotten me dangerously close to a point where she would truly physically harm me.

One of these fights recently had us yelling. And, in the heat of the moment I told her that she needed to stop whining to ME about how Fake kidnapped and tricked her as a child, and kept her prisoner. I told her that lots of people of A suffer, probably even more than her. And besides, us Gods can't help every person who's in a bit of trouble because of their own actions.

She got extremely mad at this and told me that "It wasn't [her] fault. [She] was a child with no one else to turn too, and Fake's demons tricked her and Fake fed her lies." She went on to tell me (as she was hitting me by the way) that she knew the Gods were afraid of the power Fake was gaining.

There's supposed to be a balance between us and them and supposedly Fake has been killing other demons and lesser Godlike beings for centuries now. I don't believe Key because I would've definitely heard about this as death is my domain.

She told me the Gods lie, they lied to try to kill me, and that they should've saved her. So I finally had enough and snapped at her and told her that she needs to suck it up. And that she isn't some special chosen one or anything and that us Gods have a lot on our plates too. She never had to listen to Fake, or to His henchmen or whatever Fake is supposedly doing "down there". I told her she's just a dumb human and that she could've "saved herself" as a kid and just not listened. It's easy to just not listen to demons. You can always tell they're lying.

She won't speak to me now, and, after this fight she left me with a very nasty wound to my stomach that took days to properly heal. The last time I saw her she hit me hard enough with her cane that I, momentarily blacked out. When I came too, she was gone.

I know I'm not the asshole because us Gods do have our own problems to deal with and she got herself into this. But, I figured I should ask because that's what you humans do.